Chapter Twelve

“Don’t be too disappointed the marriage certificate you found wasn’t your granny’s,” Declan said, pulling out of Sadie’s drive. “Knowing her husband’s name was John, and likely from Dublin, is massive. How’s your mum going to react to the snap?”

I stared at Grandma’s wedding photo, nibbling on my lower lip. “I’m not sure if I’m going to tell her. My mom wore that same broach for her wedding.”

“Ah, right, then. That could be a wee bit disturbing.”

“My mom and she were never real close, and I’m afraid this is going to be pretty upsetting.”

Declan reached over and placed a hand on mine. I relaxed back in the seat. Our trip had gotten off to a rough start, encountering Liam in the pub, but our relationship was getting back on track.

“You’ll know when it’s the right time to tell her.” He slipped his hand from mine and shifted into third gear. “We’ll look up the Flannery china factory when we get home and see if we can find any information.”

When we get home.

That further calmed the uneasy feeling in my stomach over Grandma’s wedding photo. I slipped it in my purse. Sadie and Seamus had offered to contact a cousin, who knew everything about their family—and everyone else’s—to ask if she knew the background on Grandma’s husband. Knowing I’d return in March with Rachel had made saying good-bye easier.

When we arrived at home, Declan’s mom ushered us inside and caught the front door before the wind took it off the hinges. “I’ll put the kettle on, and you can tell me all about your visit.”

I swept my hair back from my eyes, no beret to contain it. “I’ve never been so windblown in my life.”

“It’s going to get worse,” she said. “They’re calling for gale-force winds late tonight, up to one hundred twenty kilometers per hour. They’ve already hit England. Hopefully, our electric stays on. Would be a shame for the yard not to light up.”

Zoe came bounding down the stairs. “Would be mad to see the Grinch and his sheep flying over the pub tonight during the Christmas party.”

“It would not,” Jane snapped.

“Are you connecting in Heathrow?” Declan asked me.

I nodded, my heart about stopped. “You think there might be an issue with flights?”

“If the winds are fierce, they might already know if the incoming flight from the States is messed up. It’s likely the same plane returning to Chicago. Do you get text alerts from the airline?”

I shook my head, unaware such a thing existed.

“We should check your flight.”

I’d been worried about transferring planes by myself at one of the world’s busiest airports. I’d never dreamed there might not be a plane to transfer to! I grabbed my flight info from my purse while Declan booted up the computer on a desk in the living room. We all peered anxiously over his shoulder while he accessed my reservation.

Canceled.

My stomach dropped. “They have me rebooked on a flight getting in at noon Christmas Eve day. My mom is going to freak. We spend that day preparing food for our annual party.”

So much for making up for being a bad daughter the last two years. I couldn’t blame this year on Andy.

Declan checked flights at Dublin airport. “It’s already knackered from delays at Heathrow.”

“What about another airport?” Desperation filled my voice. “Isn’t there a Shauna airport?”

Jane and Zoe exchanged panicked glances.

Declan’s hands froze on the keyboard, his body tense.

I’d said Shauna instead of Shannon.

Who named a flippin’ airport after a girl? I had Shauna on the brain. And now Declan knew I had Shauna on the brain! I’d lucked out that he hadn’t heard me blabbing to Rachel, but he’d definitely heard me this time.

A cow mooed in the distance. Peat crackled in the fireplace. It was as if Shauna’s name hadn’t been spoken in the house since her death. It undoubtedly hadn’t.

My heart thumped wildly in my chest. I finally muttered, “I’m sorry.”

Jane blew out a ragged breath. “It’s about time we talked about her. Shauna died, but we act as if she’d never even lived. That isn’t right.”

Declan shook his head, gaze glued to the computer. “We’re not discussing this right now.”

“Then when?” Jane demanded.

“Not now.”

“Well, I’m sorry, but I want to.” Jane frowned. “You aren’t the only one who loved her.”

Declan shoved his chair back, the legs scratching across the wood floor. He sprang up. The look of pain in his eyes made my heart ache. Before I could extend a comforting hand, he stormed from the room. The front door slammed shut. A car hummed to life, and Declan sped out of the driveway.

“I’m so sorry,” I said, staring down the hallway in shock.

“He’s as stubborn as his father.” Jane burst into tears and flew up the stairs.

“Fancy some tea?” Zoe asked.

Seriously?

She shrugged. “It wouldn’t be Christmas without some family drama. After three years, the silence is finally broken. About time we talked about Shauna. Mum and I don’t even talk about her to each other.”

“Declan probably won’t talk to me ever again.” A sick feeling tossed my stomach.

“If he doesn’t come back, I’ll take you to the airport.”

“You think he might not come back before I leave?”

“Who knows. Mum’s right. He’s a stubborn arse sometimes.”

I went from bringing Declan home and saving their family Christmas to ruining it. Maybe Cullens B & B still had room at their inn. If I couldn’t get out of the country, I had to at least get out of this house.

* * *

I trudged outside in the duck wellies to the far end of the backyard, attempting to get cell service, steering clear of the barking-dog alarm. I also didn’t want everyone to hear what would undoubtedly be more family drama when I told Mom about my flight and ruined my family’s Christmas.

I avoided calling Mom and checked my e-mail. Bernice had sent me several links to contests she’d entered on my behalf. I clicked one, and up popped a picture of an Irish terrier puppy, a Dublin dog club giveaway. A dog? Besides the challenges of getting a dog back into the US, I’d never owned one. My last pet was our cat Izzy while growing up. Maybe Declan’s parents would want a real dog rather than merely a barking alarm. I replied, thanking Bernice, debating whether to tell her I traveled too much to own a pet. If I sounded unappreciative, she might stop entering me in contests. Yet, what other crazy contests was she signing me up for?

The cold, brisk wind whipped my hair against my face, making my eyes water. I took a deep breath, inhaling the scent of freshly fallen rain and damp earth, trying to calm the icky feeling in my stomach as I called Mom. Plastering on a perky smile, I started our conversation with my visit to Sadie’s house and Grandma’s childhood home. I left out the part that I’d hoped it might have been next door to her husband’s family estate. And that a stupid bird living in the dwelling had stolen my beret.

“Did you know your grandma Mary Coffey’s family owned a teacup manufacturer, Flannerys? That’s where Grandma’s cups came from. She couldn’t have hated her entire family to have kept the cups and traveled so far with them. Do you still have some of her collection? Mine says Flannerys on it.”

“Teri kept them. With her hoarding issues, I’m sure she still has them. I’ll ask her.”

A sense of relief washed over me.

Mom sounded genuinely enthused and a bit intrigued for the first time since I’d started researching Grandma. Was it because she was currently on the green tea health bandwagon, or was it relief that I’d discovered Grandma’s family had been china makers rather than sheep thieves?

“I was thinking I might make my mom’s bread for the party.”

It’d been so long since Mom had made the brown bread that my memories of its taste had long faded. Her desire to bake it was a good sign my research was bringing her closer to her mother. A sign that I shouldn’t tell her the truth about Grandma’s first marriage and her wedding broach.

Instead, I broke the bad news about my canceled flight.

Silence filled the line. A sheep baaed in the distance. A text alert shrilled in my ear, startling me. I pictured Mom’s lips pressed into a thin line, disappointment in her eyes.

“I’m so sorry. I’ll take the bus from O’Hare so nobody has to pick me up. I’ll be home to help before anyone arrives. I’m sure Rachel will help out.”

“I’ll be fine.” Her tone was matter of fact. “But what about you? Over in a strange country all by yourself?”

Grandma must have been lonely that first Christmas in America without her family or friends, if her husband hadn’t immigrated with her. How difficult, moving to a new country and building relationships from scratch. However, I had few relationships in the country I’d lived in for twenty-four years.

“Sadie lives nearby if I need anything.” However, she was on her way to Cork to spend the holidays with her son. “And my coworker Declan lives in the area.”

That Declan was a coworker was the only thing Mom knew about him. Even though Rachel was now aware of our relationship, I still wasn’t prepared to deal with Mom’s concerns over my ability to choose a nice young man after dating Andy for two years. I was a total hypocrite, wigging out on Declan for wanting to introduce me as merely a friend to his family.

“Rachel’s helping with Dad, isn’t she?”

Mom was likely rolling her eyes at the thought of my sister helping out. I’d have thought the same thing a few months ago, but Rachel was changing. She’d gone home to help with Dad. Before, she’d have sent me home and stayed in Dublin to work on Flanagan’s meeting.

“She’s over at noon today,” Mom said with a hint of doubt.

“I didn’t do this on purpose.”

“I know, dear. I have to go. Your father needs me.”

Click. She was gone. I hadn’t heard Dad calling out to her in the background. Was she upset, or had she really had to go? She hadn’t had a meltdown, yet I was riddled with guilt. Reverse psychology. Act fine to make me feel even worse. Why couldn’t I just be happy that she hadn’t started crying?

The text alert shrilled again.

Rachel, wondering about my visit with Sadie.

Emotionally drained, I had zero energy for another conversation. However, Mom might direct her anger at Rachel, blaming her for my job, the canceled flight, and Ireland’s unpredictable weather. I had to warn my sister so she wasn’t blindsided. And this was our journey. I wanted to share it with her. I called Rachel and recounted my visit with Sadie and promised to e-mail a picture of Grandma’s home and her wedding photo. I told her Grandma’s hubby’s name was John, not Michael, and he’d likely lived in Dublin, not the son of a wealthy landowner next door to Grandma.

Rachel gasped. “How mysterious and romantic would that have been?”

My sister never romanticized anything. I’d bawled through the movie Ghost despite Rachel droning on about the improbability of the afterlife and Whoopi Goldberg’s psychic abilities.

“Why’d she keep the marriage a secret?” she said. “I wonder if Grandpa even knew. They married in 1947, eleven years after she immigrated. What did she do all those years?”

“I’m not saying anything to Mom until I know the entire story. She’s already upset that I’m not getting home now until Christmas Eve day, thanks to gale-force winds.”

“Oh shit. I bet she freaked out.”

“She was actually eerily calm about it.”

“She’s probably popping Teri’s anxiety meds, with everything going on.”

“That would explain it. Can you help her get ready for the party?”

“Of course. Did you get an extra night at the B and B?”

After keeping Declan a secret, I had to tell Rachel the truth. I couldn’t risk damaging our relationship any further.

“I’m staying at Declan’s. His parents are home. His mother insisted.” I sounded like a teenager justifying a sleepover at a girlfriend’s house. “But don’t tell Mom.”

“Oh, okay.”

I wasn’t sure if she sounded surprised that I’d shared this information with her or that my relationship with Declan was more serious than she’d thought.

“I hope it goes well.”

I admitted that it wasn’t going particularly well since I’d blurted out Shauna’s name.

“Wow, that sucks. I’m so sorry.” Rachel sounded sympathetic and genuinely concerned. “Call me if you need to talk.”

“Thanks. I will.” I smiled, relieved that I hadn’t totally effed up our relationship.

“Oh, and Gerry Coffey called me last night.”

“What did he want?”

“To talk. He’d come to the hotel to say good-bye, but I’d already left.”

How romantic was that?

“He wants to get together in March.”

“Do you want to?”

“Yeah, it might be fun to hook up when I’m in town.”

Is that what Declan and I were doing? Hooking up when we were on site together? Rachel didn’t sound like she’d meant to imply that, but the thought had popped into my head…

A flash of red and green ran down the road beyond the yard. I squinted in the distance. “I have to go. There’s…sheep, I think, in the road.” What I was going to do about it, I had no clue. However, if Declan returned driving like a maniac, he might hit them.

Declan had once explained that bright splashes of color on sheep’s cream wool coats helped designate ownership if they wandered off. These sheep were fully dyed, looking like they were wearing Christmas sweaters. I traipsed across the lawn, my feet sinking into the squishy grass and soil. I joined Zoe on the road, thirty feet from the sheep. No cars coming, I snapped a quick pic of the animals staring at us.

“What should we do?” I whispered.

“Walk slowly toward them and baa quietly. It calms them.”

I took a cautious step forward. “Baaaaa.”

Their dark eyes watched my every move.

I leaned over, bracing my hands on my knees, at eye level with the animals. “Baaaa.” My voice grew louder. Looking a tad freaked out, they trotted over to a low-lying fence area and jumped back into the field.

“Oh, hi, Carrig,” Zoe said.

I turned to find a guy, thirtyish, in jeans and a flannel jacket, giving me a curious stare. “A sheep whisperer, are ya?”

“Um, I was just trying to get them out of the road.”

“Ah, a Yank.” He nodded as if me being American explained my bizarre behavior.

Zoe burst out laughing. She’d set me up, knowing this guy was heading over to round up his sheep. Yet I was still proud of myself for herding sheep off the road and into the field, possibly saving their lives.

The guy shook his head. “You’re both mad as the arse who dyed my sheep. Would guess it was Declan if he still lived here.”

Zoe rolled her eyes. “Calm down. We’re just having some craic.”

“Ah, great craic, is it? When I find the wanker who did this, I’m going to crack his head and decorate his lawn with sheep shite.” He stormed off, cussing.

“Declan and he don’t fancy each other. Goes back to fourth grade and Megan McDuffy. And when Declan was ten, he painted Carrig’s favorite sheep with a lovely Monet landscape.”

“Omigod. What did your parents do?”

“Told him it was brilliant. They’ve always encouraged his art. He didn’t realize the practical purpose for the dye. He thought their wool was a blank canvas for painting.”

A sheep was nosing around by the lowered fence, planning its escape route.

“Hey, get baaaaack from that fence,” I said.

It trotted off into the field.

Zoe laughed. “Fair play to ya. You’re now an official sheepherder. Like Heidi in the Alps. Or more like, Caity on the Bog. Maybe you could have your own reality TV show.”

“Oh yeah, I’d love the entire world watching me baa like a crazy person at sheep.”

I gazed out over the rolling hills, imagining pastel-painted sheep resembling an Impressionist landscape. I could herd the sheep, and Declan could paint them. Living a simpler, stress-free life where I didn’t have to worry about massive debt and contracting my next job, merely spinning our colorful wool into stylish sweaters shipped around the world. However, learning to spin wool likely required good coordination skills. Maybe we could dye their wool for every holiday and our pictures would go viral on social media, earning us millions.

* * *

Upon returning to the house, Zoe ran to her room, and I went to the kitchen to make a cup of tea. There was something comforting about the saying I’ll put the kettle on. Yet I wondered if many people still heated an actual kettle on the stove. A flip of the switch and the plastic pitcher plugged into the wall was soon whistling, steam rising from its spout. I selected a yellow ceramic mug from the white cupboards and added water and a teabag. I sat at the table topped with a blue-and-white gingham cloth, which matched the curtains. I relaxed, sipping the warm golden beverage, peering out the window at the backyard stretching toward a tree line in the distance.

Zoe flew into the room, holding up a red sweater with a Christmas tree decorated in miniature lights. “You can wear this to the pub party tonight. Try it on.”

It was hideous. However, Zoe was bubbling with enthusiasm, and a party might put me back in the holiday spirit, so I reluctantly slipped on the sweater.

“It looks fab. But here’s the best part.” She pressed a small button on the sweater’s inside, and the tree lit up. She pushed another, and “Rockin’ Around the Christmas Tree” began playing. “You can also make the lights flash.”

How about making them turn off?

Jane walked in and smiled at the goofy sweater. Thank God she wasn’t staying locked away in her bedroom, avoiding me and the holidays.

“I see Zoe sucked you into the ugly jumper contest at the pub tonight.”

My gaze darted to Zoe. “So you think this sweater’s ugly?”

Her top lip curled back. “It’s bloody awful.”

If Andy could only see me now. Last Christmas we’d attended a friend’s party at an upscale downtown hotel and I’d had to lose five pounds to fit into a red designer dress he’d intentionally bought a size too small. He’d had such a fit over my “tacky” jingle bell earrings that he’d given me my present early—the Tiffany diamond studs I’d sold on Craigslist. Despite all the compliments, I’d been bummed about not wearing the festive earrings that jingled every time I moved my head.

“I’ll wear it,” I said.

“Brilliant.”

“What about you?”

“Be right back.” Zoe flew upstairs and returned wearing a green sweater with Jesus in a red party hat and a white tunic that read Birthday Boy.

“Take that thing off,” Jane demanded. “It’s blasphemy.”

“Why? It’s His birthday, isn’t it?”

“Wearing that to an ugly jumper contest is disrespectful. What if Father Doyne is at the pub? Now take it off, and go to the store for me. I need to make party treats, and I forgot the green grapes for the Grinch kabobs.”

“I should bring something,” I said.

Zoe’s face lit up. “How about egg nog? They’re always drinking it in American movies, like National Lampoon’s Christmas Vacation. I’m dying to try it.”

“I make it for our family party. I have the recipe memorized.”

“That’d be brill.”

I gave Zoe the list of ingredients and twenty euros. “That should cover it. I’ll buy the rum from the pub.”

“Yum, rum.” Zoe licked her lips. “I knew I’d love egg nog.”

“I can stay and help you,” I told Jane.

“That’d be lovely.”

“Leave the reindeer pops for me to make.” Zoe whisked out the back door.

Jane glared at her daughter for not having changed the sweater. “A bit cheeky, isn’t she?”

I smiled. “I have to warn you—I’m not exactly Betty Crocker.” I wanted to ask if their homeowner’s insurance premium was paid but didn’t want to worry her. “As long as we aren’t making goose, I should be okay.”

Jane’s nose crinkled in disgust. “I’d never make goose.”

Deciding she needed some cheering up, I shared my goose curry debacle.

She laughed. “Well, it’s a good thing I’m not making my curry dip or curry cheese melts. Can you stick a marshmallow, banana slice, and strawberry on a toothpick?”

“I can handle that.” How much damage could a toothpick cause? I’d thought the same thing about a baster.

“Grand. I’ll have you start on the Santa kabobs.”

Jane placed wooden cutting boards on the white countertop. I stuck big soft marshmallows on the end of several dozen toothpicks while Jane sliced chunks of bananas for Santa’s face.

“There’ll be melted chocolate for dipping. Light and dark. Declan only fancies dark.” She frowned. “If he’s home for the party…”

“I’m sorry again about before.”

“No worries. It’s not your fault. We never should have gone so long without talking about Shauna. At first I honored Declan’s need to not discuss her because it was too painful. Then, he rarely came home, and the longer we went without talking about her, the more difficult it became. When he was only home a day or two, I didn’t wish to upset him, afraid he’d stop coming home. But we all stopped talking about her, and that’s not right.”

I totally got it. I hadn’t even been able to utter Andy’s name out loud to myself for months after our breakup. Since confiding in Rachel and Declan about him, I’d lost three pounds cutting back on comfort food and was sleeping through the night without meds. Martha would advise me to encourage the family to discuss Shauna. That it wasn’t healthy keeping problems bottled up inside. If I couldn’t help Declan heal, maybe I could help his family so they’d be in a better place to help him.

“I’m just afraid he’s closed himself off to ever loving again.” Jane was slicing the bananas with excessive force. My bagel incident flashed through my mind.

I wanted to confess that Declan and I were more than friends, give her a glimmer of hope to not give up on him—and to not lose a finger.

And to remind myself not to give up on him.

“In Paris, we took the group to a cemetery, and he broke down and told me about Shauna.”

Jane smiled, setting down the knife. “That’s probably the first time he’s talked to anyone about her.”

She didn’t appear hurt that he’d confided in me when he was incapable of saying Shauna’s name to family. I wouldn’t tell her that he’d also made me promise to never bring her up again.

“He admitted avoiding his emotions since her death. That it was easier to just stop feeling, period.” Although he hadn’t promised to start expressing his feelings, I’d assumed he would after our kiss.

Declan was going to flip out that I’d told his mom this. Yet it also affected me, and I needed to talk about it.

Jane gave me a hug. “Don’t give up on him. I fear I had.” She drew back, smiling. “Come here.”

I followed her down the hallway. She snatched a framed family Christmas photo off the credenza and marched up the stairs. With a defiant look, she hung the picture on the empty nail and let out a whoosh of air.

“I feel like a dark cloud has finally passed after hovering over our house for three years. You probably think it’s silly that hanging a snap there is such a big deal.”

Not at all. That empty nail had been haunting me since I’d arrived. Yet how was Declan going to react?

“Shauna loved the holidays. We’re going to honor her memory by celebrating it, not ignoring it.” She smiled with determination. “Whether he’s home for it or not.”

She also believed Declan might not return before I left?

He obviously had a track record of running off, and it didn’t seem to faze anyone except me. I’d never seen this selfish side of him, and I didn’t like it. He was no longer merely emotionally avoiding his feelings, but now physically avoiding them. I didn’t want a guy who ran away from his problems, especially now that I was learning to face mine.