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Liam spent most of his Sunday afternoons sitting on a bench under a shady tree overlooking the River Liffey. He would listen to the gulls and terns giving their shrill calls, and his mind would travel back to Howth, the seaside town where he’d grown up. He liked Dublin, but at times, he felt homesick. Sunday afternoons at the water eased that longing.
He found, however, sitting in his usual spot the afternoon following his very pleasant day with Winnie, that his thoughts were on her more than on home. Had she enjoyed their exploits as much as he had? Did she think of him? What would she think if she knew the real reason he’d made her brother’s acquaintance or why he had taken the extra effort to seek out Fred’s flat?
Rev. MacDonnell had sent a note just that morning thanking him for helping with the matter of Fred Fitzsimmons, especially in light of Liam’s upcoming examinations and his, no doubt, already burdened mind and schedule. Assisting with the investigation was gaining him precisely the sort of approving notice that would do him worlds of good as he embarked on his post-Trinity life.
Yet, he felt more than a little guilty about the whole thing. Was it simply that he’d come to like Winnie? Perhaps that he felt a little sorry for Fred? He didn’t know the answer to his own puzzle, let alone the one handed to him by the provost and medical professor.
A seagull shuffled closer to him, no doubt hoping to be tossed a bit of bread or a crumb of some kind. Even the birds in Dublin were citified.
“Liam?”
So far afield were his thoughts that, for a fraction of a moment, his mind refused to let go of the idea that the bird was speaking. Fortunately, he came quickly to his senses and looked, rather than at the bird, at the newly arrived woman standing beside his bench.
“Winnie.” He was both pleased and shocked to see her there. For four years, he’d sat on this bench under this tree watching this river and had never once seen her. Then again, until very recently, he’d not known her. She might have passed by him here for years with neither of them the wiser.
“I debated stopping to give you a good day,” she said, “but it didn’t appear I’d be interrupting anything.”
“Nothing at all.” He scooted over to free up the side of the bench nearest her. “I’d be honored if you joined me.”
She sat and set a small basket on her lap, not the same one she’d carried the day before. “If I attempt to eat m’ lunch, do you suppose the birds will allow me to do so in peace?”
“They’ll likely squawk your ear off, but if we keep an eye on them, I’d wager you’ll manage to finish your meal.”
“Have you eaten?” she asked him. “I’ve an extra vegetable pie. I made them m’ own self this morning.”
“I’ll not say no.”
She smiled at him. Nothing in the expression was any different from any other smile, yet it settled in his chest like warm sunlight on a cold winter’s day. He’d known her mere days, and yet he found himself more pleased with her company than nearly anyone else he knew.
“How are your studies coming along?” she asked as she unfolded the cloth tucked in her basket. “You are closing in on your final examinations.”
“I’m near drowning in studies at the moment,” he said. “Which makes an afternoon at the river all the more needed.”
She looked over at him. “And I’m interrupting.”
He shook his head. “Your company is more than welcome.”
“Is that because I brought you food?” She raised an eyebrow.
He shrugged. “Doesn’t hurt.”
Winnie laughed. Just as her smile had a moment earlier, her laugh warmed him through and through. How was it possible that someone he’d only recently met could have such an impact on him?
He was soon in possession of a beautifully golden hand pie. She had one of her own. And they sat there on the banks of the river, talking as easily as they had the day before. They laughed at the antics of the birds and enjoyed watching the people walking up and down the river or poking their heads from windows on either side. Her company was so natural and easy. He couldn’t remember the last person he’d been instantly at ease with.
“Do you have a river in Kinnelow?” he asked her.
Her eyes pulled wide with pleased surprise. “You remembered the name of my home village.”
“It is in County Wicklow,” he recounted, “and is smaller than Bray, which is the largest town in your county.”
He’d discovered she didn’t blush easily, but color touched her cheeks in that moment.
“I suppose I am not accustomed to people giving much heed to what I say.”
“Does your brother not listen to you?” He worried a little about her brother’s treatment of her. He’d not been able to ascertain if Fred was neglectful or dictatorial or simply a grump. But he suspected living with him would not have been Winnie’s first choice.
“Fred keeps very much to himself,” she said. “And he, like you, is very near his final examinations. That has him even more distracted than usual.”
“But he’s not unkind to you?” Liam pressed.
“He’s not.”
That was, at least, a relief. He took another bite of his vegetable pie, enjoying the food nearly as much as the company.
“We have a small river,” she said. “Not nearly so impressive as the Liffey.”
“I’m not certain I could live anywhere that didn’t have at least some water,” he said. “I’m so accustomed to it that I’d likely feel utterly lost without water nearby.”
“Did you grow up near water?”
He nodded. “In a seaside town called Howth. ’Tisn’t terribly far from Dublin but is a far sight smaller.”
“Then you are country, no matter that you don’t sound like it,” she said.
“Has Dublin invaded my words?”
Winnie wiped a crumb from the corner of her mouth. “I assumed you were from here. You don’t have country heavy in your words like I do.”
“Your brother does as well,” he said.
“I’m surprised he’s said enough words to you for you to hear anything in his voice.”
“Other than annoyance?” Liam asked dryly.
Her expression, rather than amused, looked a little apologetic. “He is uncomfortable in company.”
He reached over and set a hand on hers. “I hadn’t meant to insult him, I swear to it. I can tell he’d rather be left alone, and I can’t say I fault him. Not everyone’s company is worth keeping.”
“Is mine?” she asked quietly.
“Exceptionally.”
She kept her hand in his. They continued watching the birds and people, chatting effortlessly and comfortably.
How easily he could imagine himself sitting with her like this every Sunday afternoon, and walking around Dublin every Saturday. He stopped himself before allowing a mental picture to form of evenings spent at their flat, speaking of their days, and feeling peaceful and at home.
A man of sense and logic, which he considered himself to be, didn’t jump to such things after so short an acquaintance. He simply didn’t. And yet, his mind and heart found the possibility almost unbearably appealing.
He needed, for the sake of his own sanity and conscience, to sort out the matter of Fred and the puzzle he’d been given. He needed to untangle himself from that particular web before allowing even another moment of daydreaming.
If only his logical side was the loudest in this matter. But it wasn’t. Not at all.