Farraday Country

by Chris Keniston

  Torn between past and present, will choosing her future be the hardest thing Eileen’s ever done?

  CHAPTER ONE

  “Of all the gin joints in all the world.” Eileen Callahan, known as Aunt Eileen to half the town, swallowed hard and blinked. When two more steps left Glenn Baker towering over her table, she squeezed her eyes tightly shut and grabbed onto the edge of the table. Slowly opening her eyes, the vision was still standing in front of her, sporting a shaky smile.

  “Hello,” he croaked out.

  “Why, Mr. Baker,” Meg Farraday, Eileen’s niece-in-law, pushed to her feet. “What a pleasant surprise. Glad you decided to venture out of your room.”

  His gaze locked on Eileen. “Decided I was hungry after all. There was no one at the cafe.” He shifted his attention to Meg. “Followed the music here.”

  “Then you are in luck because O’Fearadaigh’s has the best corned beef and cabbage this side of the Blarney Stone.”

  “Does it now?” His gaze once again shifted to Eileen. “It’s nice to see you, Leeni.”

  If for even a moment Eileen had considered her mind was playing tricks on her, the use of the nickname that only Glenn called her removed all doubt–this man was no hallucination. “Glenn.” Nothing else came out. Her senses and too many questions battled each other for first words. Any fool could see the man still looked swallow-your-tongue good. A little gray at the temples, a little more meat on his bones, but still tall, still fit, and still too handsome for his own good.

  Glenn’s attention shifted briefly from Eileen to Meg standing beside him, her brows arched in confusion, then back to Eileen. Letting his hands come to rest on the back of the chair, his eyes leveled with hers. “Mind if I join you?”

  Her mouth still dry, Eileen gestured toward the chair he’d been leaning on.

  Meg’s eyes darted back and forth between the latest guest at her bed and breakfast and her husband’s aunt. One smart cookie, Meg opted to have a seat, and rather than ask pointed questions, she continued to observe.

  Settled into the ladder-back chair, Glenn leaned forward, talking over the music. “Would you ladies like another drink?”

  Eileen shook her head and Meg mumbled, “No, thank you.”

  Turning in his seat, he waved down the waitress, ordered a dark beer, and spun around to face the two women.

  Forcing a polite smile, Eileen gave words to the one question that had finally jockeyed into lead position, begging to be asked. “What are you doing here?”

  The man she’d known so very well, so very long ago, leveled his gaze with hers. “I wrote you that I had business in Midland and was hoping to make time to stop by.”

  The letter still sitting in her dresser drawer.

  “You didn’t read the letter?” His pointed look told her that even after all these years, Glenn just might still be able to read her mind, or perhaps he’d simply become better at guessing.

  “Why would I?” She lifted her chin and kept her gaze level with his. “I’ve gotten two letters from you in my lifetime. The first over twenty-five years ago didn’t go over so well. I figured why play with fire.”

  Meg’s eyes circled big and round and Eileen could almost see her efforts to connect the dots.

  Despite the music playing behind them, Glenn lowered his voice. “I should have handled things better.”

  Of course he should have. After she’d postponed the wedding for the second time, he’d had the nerve to hang up on her. She’d been hurt and furious. What had he expected her to do? Her sister was gone and Eileen was the only mother her infant niece had come to know. Lord knows in those early days Sean had been so overwhelmed with grief he’d barely managed to put one foot in front of the other for the sake of the boys. The only one able to care for Grace the way Helen would have wanted had been her. And thank heaven for that. Grace had been Eileen’s link to her sister, her salve for the heartbreaking grief. “I had my hands full.”

  “I hadn’t understood.” Glenn blew out a deep sigh. “At least, not then.”

  Meg waved the waitress over. “I’ve changed my mind. I think I may need another drink after all. Aunt Eileen?”

  She shook her head.

  “I have two daughters. Grown now.” Glenn fingered the rim of his longneck. “As an infant, Charlotte had colic. I’d pace with her in the middle of the night, try and give Sally a break, but only her mother could ease her discomfort.”

  Eileen bit down hard. For Grace the hard time had been teething. Eileen paced alone many a night.

  “Pacing, worrying, trying to make Charlotte feel better, well, sometimes I’d think of Grace. And how you must have felt.” He paused, shifted in his seat and leveled his eyes with hers. “I’m sorry. I just didn’t understand. Didn’t know.”

  A plethora of comebacks danced on the tip of her tongue: too little too late, a day late and a dollar short, not worth a plug nickel. Swallowing the words, Eileen opted for the golden rule: if you can’t say anything nice, don’t say anything at all. “And how is Sally?”

  His finger stilled. “We lost her almost three years ago.”

  “Oh, I’m sorry to hear that.” She sank against the chair back. “Really sorry.”

  “I think,” Meg’s gaze followed the waitress juggling a tray of drinks two tables over, “I’ll go get the drink from Jamie at the bar.” Her questioning gaze bore into Eileen.

  Of course she wouldn’t leave without Eileen’s assurance all would be fine. Forcing a brighter smile, she patted her niece’s hand. “I’ve changed my mind as well. Ask Jamie to pick something for me.”

  “If you’ll excuse me.” Meg nodded and pushed away from the table.

  The place was crowded. Not only were the locals standing elbow to elbow, there were plenty of new faces Eileen didn’t recognize. Just like Jamie had predicted, a little reminiscent of the movie Field of Dreams, if he brought a taste of Ireland to Texas, folks scattered around the county would come. Who knew Glenn Baker would be one of them.

  ****

  Breathe, Glenn repeated to himself for the umpteenth time since deciding to step out of his room at the B&B in search of Eileen Callahan.

  Stowed away in his room for the last few days, he’d thought he’d prepared himself for the reunion. Until he saw her sitting under the dimmed lights of the old pub. How, after all these years, could the sight of Eileen Callahan still strike him in the solar plexus like a pugilist’s blow? She hadn’t changed a bit. He also realized the reason she hadn’t responded to him was plain and simple—she hadn’t bothered to read the letter. And yet, despite the initially frosty reception, here she sat smiling at him.

  Her gaze drifted to the band and then back to him.

  “Do you miss it?” he asked.

  “No.” Then leaning back, she smiled. “Maybe sometimes. What about you? Are you still playing?”

  He shook his head. “After our second daughter was born, I took a break from touring but we continued to do local gigs and studio sessions. With the girls only two years apart they didn’t need a father on the road for weeks or months at a time. Then when Sally got sick, well, it was time to stop. She needed me more.”

  The light in Eileen’s gaze dimmed and he knew exactly what she was thinking. That very concept was what she’d tried to explain to him when Grace was born. They needed her home, not on the road. He’d behaved like an ass and no amount of apologies would make up for that, but maybe fate had finally given him a chance to at least make it up to her a little.

  “Here we go.” The owner of the B&B reappeared, setting two glasses of wine on the table before retaking her seat.

  Raising her glass to her niece, Eileen waited for him to do the same. “Sláinte.”

  The band chose that moment to shift from Irish to American tunes, starting with Neil Diamond’s “Sweet Caroline.” With the crowd chanting the chorus at the top of their lungs, conversation suddenly became near impossible without shouting. Call him fickle, but he didn’t want the entire place to hear
what he had to say. “Join me for coffee tomorrow?”

  Leaning a fraction closer, she cupped her hand behind her ear. “Say that again?”

  “Coffee,” he said more strongly, “tomorrow. Join me?”

  The way her eyes suddenly popped open he was pretty sure she’d heard him. Her gaze darted over to the bartender huddled with another guy staring at them, and back to him. He could see her chest rise with a deep intake of breath and fall again as she exhaled and nodded.

  “Nine o’clock?”

  “Make it ten. I’ve got morning chores and the ranch is nearly an hour away. Café is the only place in town at that hour.”

  Pushing to his feet, he couldn’t help the grin that threatened to take over his face, before nodding and repeating, “Ten o’clock.” Turning to Meg, he smiled at her too. “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  “What about your dinner?” Meg asked.

  Feeling ten feet tall and the weight of too many years easing from his shoulders, he wasn’t the least bit in the mood to eat. “Guess I wasn’t very hungry after all.”

  Another round of goodnights and he was out the door and making his way up the road to the B&B. So many possibilities had crossed his mind and done battle over what would happen when he came face to face with Eileen Callahan. The way she’d looked at him when he first sat down beside her, he’d expected to be wearing his drink before long. Bouncing up the porch steps Glenn had to admit one thing, tomorrow could prove to be one heck of a day for the record books.

  ****

  Head in the fridge, Sean Farraday pulled out a stack of leftover storage tubs, slammed them on the counter and then one by one shoved them back into the refrigerator. Spinning on his boot heel he stomped to the extra fridge and in search of a beer, almost yanked the door off the hinges. Maybe bourbon was a better idea.

  Storming back across the kitchen, he rounded the corner to the living room and almost crashed smack into his youngest son.

  “Lose something?”

  “No.” He spun about. “Getting a late night snack.”

  “From the bar?” Always a man of few words, Finn crisscrossed the room. Gathering a pair of drinking glasses, a gallon of milk, a platter of his aunt’s chocolate chip cookies and setting them on the table, he slid into a seat at the massive kitchen table.

  Sean stood in the archway connecting the two rooms while Finn filled two glasses from the container. The kid had always been the voice of reason in the family regardless of any turmoil about. Sean didn’t know if he’d been born that way or if it was something he’d had to learn in the midst of the chaos of losing his mother so young. Whatever the cause, right now the last thing Sean felt like doing was sitting down to milk and cookies. He wasn’t six years old, and damn it if that wasn’t part of his problem.

  Shoving a full glass across the table, Finn dipped a cookie into his own glass. “You’re making enough noise down here to wake the dead.”

  “I was hungry.” He still wasn’t used to having Finn and Joanna on the first floor. Only recently had they converted the guest rooms off the kitchen into a more private wing until they got around to building their own home on the property.

  Finn nudged the glass of milk a few more inches in Sean’s direction then took another bite of cookie.

  “Damn infuriating.” Without sitting down Sean took a long swig of the cool glass of milk. He’d rather have bourbon.

  Swallowing the last bite of his cookie, Finn reached for another. “Want to tell me what has your chaps in a twist?”

  “Told you. I’m hungry.”

  Finn nodded. “So this has nothing to do with the man at the pub tonight with Aunt Eileen?”

  “He wasn’t with her.” At least not yet. The moment Meg told him the name of the man seated with Eileen, Sean saw red.

  “Or is it that she mentioned meeting him again tomorrow that has you all bent out of shape?”

  Whirling around, he waved a finger at his youngest son. “Do you have any idea at all who that man is?” Even to his own ears he could hear the gravely distress in his words.

  “Can’t say that I do.”

  “That man,” Sean bit down on his back teeth, “is Glenn Baker.”

  Finn nodded. “That much we all heard. His name and that he’s here for a short visit.”

  “Great,” he muttered. “Just great.”

  “Sorry, Dad, you’re losing me again. Want to start from the beginning?”

  It wasn’t his place to start from anywhere. Eileen was entitled to her privacy. He gulped down the last of the milk and slammed the glass down hard before remembering Joanna was probably trying to sleep. “No.”

  Forearms on the table, Finn leaned forward, shaking his head. “If this man is going to bring trouble to Aunt Eileen then you need to let us in. Farradays take care of Farradays.”

  Except Eileen wasn’t a Farraday, she was a Callahan and if Helen hadn’t died so young and he hadn’t been so needy, Eileen would be a Baker now. No. Seething, he strode to the bar for the bourbon. That SOB should have waited for her. If Glenn had truly loved Eileen the way she deserved, he would have waited for her no matter how long it took. Showing up all these years later wasn’t… fair. Not to anyone.

  “Dad,” Finn grabbed him by the arm, “you’re scaring me. Who the hell is this guy?”

  “He’s the man who broke your aunt’s heart.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Three in the morning was no time for Eileen to be dragging herself out of bed. Not even for a rancher, but there was no point in battling her pillow or counting a new herd of sheep. Last night had weighed on her mind and kept her tossing and turning. Not just the unexpected visit from the bloody Ghost of Christmas Past, but the prospect of seeing him again today and everything in between.

  With the excitement over the success of the grand opening and Jamison’s proposal to Abby, Glenn’s name had barely been mentioned during the car ride home. That had suited her fine since she hadn’t a clue what else to say anyhow.

  Home, exhausted and a tad overwhelmed, she’d seen the questions in Sean’s eyes and simply wasn’t up to finding the answers. Instead she’d forgone her and Sean’s nightly ritual of herbal tea before bed and gone straight to her room.

  Later she’d heard him still rustling about in the kitchen and considered marching herself downstairs, but when Finn’s voice carried to the upstairs hall, she’d closed her door and crawled back into bed. For all the good it had done her.

  Showered and dressed in the near middle of the night, she’d packed a hearty lunch for her men, scrambled up some eggs and made breakfast burritos for later since she wouldn’t be home when they got in from moving the cattle. Sitting in Sean’s truck, she turned the key and the engine roared to life. The sound brought a smile to her face. Back in the day when she knew nothing at all about ranch life, the only thing she could think of to do for Sean was to warm his truck up from the bitter early morning air. The look of sheer appreciation and gratitude on his face had kept her turning it on through an awful lot of chilled mornings. Even though the night air had yet to reach below freezing, she’d come out here anyhow, and like it or not, it was time to go inside and face the music.

  Back in the house, she filled the thermos with strong coffee and decided if ever there was a reason to call on the social club at this ungodly hour, Glenn was it.

  “Morning.” Sean came to a stop beside her and reached for the coffee pot.

  Eileen pushed the empty mug closer to him. “Morning.”

  Keeping his gaze on his mug, he poured some cream. “Are we going to talk about him now?”

  Almost relieved to have someone she trusted to bounce her thoughts and confusion off of, the words simply didn’t come. She truly had no idea what to say to the man she’d helped to raise seven children. Discussing schoolyard spats, sibling rivalry, and higher education was a breeze. Telling him how her heart nearly stuttered to a stop as her past walked into her present—how could she? She’d barely shared two words abou
t her and Glenn’s relationship all those years ago, and now all she knew was that the man’s daughter had colic as a baby and his wife had died. She didn’t even know why Glenn had detoured to Tuckers Bluff. “I have things to do before meeting Glenn for coffee and I need to… to go now.”

  Lifting his cup, he turned to face her. His normally marble blue eyes had taken on the steely shade of a man with too much on his mind. His gaze shifted out the window into the darkness. No sign of dawn. The door to Finn and Joanna’s rooms inched open and Sean poured another cup for his son, then turned to her. “Stay safe.”

  With a nod and deep breath, she grabbed her purse and keys, and clutching her phone, scurried out the door like a scared rabbit.

  Despite the rancher’s hour, her best friend picked up on the first ring and agreed to put on the coffee and call in the other ladies.

  “All right. You got us here at the crack of dawn. Now spit it out.” From her spot at the large table in Dorothy’s kitchen, Sally Mae skewered Eileen with a piercing glare.

  “Give the woman a chance to absorb some caffeine.” Dorothy walked over with a fresh coffee pot in one hand.

  Eileen held up an empty coffee cup and wondered what in the name of all that was holy had possessed her to call a meeting of the social club. Oh yeah, because her past had just risen from the dead and wanted to share a cup of coffee in—she looked at the clock on the wall—three hours.

  Dorothy filled Eileen’s cup and then moved to pour a mug for Sally Mae.

  A car door slammed and a few seconds later Ruth Ann came huffing through the door and hurried into the kitchen. “I got here as fast as I could. Who’s dying?”

  “No one,” three voices echoed.

  Ruth Ann dumped her oversized purse in the nearest chair. Her mouth slightly agape, she looked from one friend to the other. “Well I know none of you are pregnant.”

  Any other time and Eileen would have laughed.