Chapter Fifteen

My pace slowed at the sight of Declan’s car sitting in the drive, a spare tire on the front passenger side. The nervous flutter in my chest intensified as I neared the house. Had Declan noticed our redecorating, besides the outdoor décor now being inside? If his family and he were sitting around the kitchen table discussing Shauna, I shouldn’t intrude. Yet it’d be awkward to wait in the car for a few hours.

Wouldn’t it?

Taking a deep breath, I stepped inside. The smiling wooden Minions greeted me in the foyer, and laughter, rather than crying or arguing, carried from the living room. I hung up Jane’s yellow vest and my coat. I slipped off Zoe’s muddy duck wellies, glancing up the stairs at the empty nail on the wall.

The picture was gone.

My stomach dropped.

At least I knew Declan’s reaction.

I entered the living room, now known as Whoville, housing the wooden village square and character figures. Jane, Zoe, and Declan sat sipping mulled wine. Quigley lay in the Grinch’s sleigh in the middle of the room. I discreetly glanced over at another empty nail on the wall. Had Declan also taken my painting from the dresser? I wanted to demand he put them back. Wasn’t Jane upset? Why hadn’t she made him leave them? Maybe she hadn’t noticed they were gone.

Stay calm.

I smiled at Jane. “I hope you guys haven’t been waiting on me. It took a bit longer than expected.”

“No worries. Colin won’t be home for a few hours.”

“And then we have a surprise,” Zoe said.

“What?” I asked.

“A surprise.” Declan’s teasing smile didn’t hide the uneasy look in his eyes.

The only open spot was on the couch next to him. I debated sharing the sleigh with Quigley, but the cat was sprawled out, hogging the entire seat. I sat on the couch, leaving plenty of room between Declan and me.

“Declan was just telling us about the fox he swerved to miss and the pothole that blew his tire,” Zoe said. “It could have been a wicked accident.”

“He could also have had one driving home on that tiny tire,” Jane said.

“Shops were already closed for the holidays.” Declan handed me a glass of wine, his fingers grazing mine, causing my breath to catch in my throat.

Don’t cave!

“How’d it go at Nicholas Turney’s?” he asked. “He have any new info for ya?”

I took a sip of wine, trying to relax. “The Dalys next to my grandma’s in the 1911 census were Richard and Emily, with sons James and Richard, but no John. Nicholas gave me a list of several dozen John Dalys born in Killybog and Dublin, 1910 to 1916.”

“The registrar’s office is closed for the hollies,” Zoe said. “My friend Siobhan works in the building.”

“I can go after,” Declan said. “Shouldn’t cost just to have a look. If I find any Johns with parents Richard and Emily, I’ll pay the fee.”

I gave him an appreciative smile.

“A nice man that Nicholas, isn’t he?” Jane said.

I nodded. Everyone acting so pleasant made me want to scream out Shauna’s name, forcing us to discuss what had happened. I took a gulp of wine.

Apparently sensing my tension, Zoe and Jane exchanged glances and stood. Not obvious at all.

“We’ll get some snacks,” Jane said as they fled the room.

Declan set his wine on the table. He moved closer to me, raising his arm. Instead of slipping it around my shoulder, he propped an elbow on the back of the couch, peering over at me. If I stared into those blue eyes, I’d be a goner, so I focused on my finger tracing the rim of the wineglass.

“Sorry about all of this. My tires are shite. Need new ones.”

He was apologizing for shite tires?

“Where’d you go?”

“Over by Galway.”

My gaze darted to his. “Isn’t that on the West Coast?”

He nodded hesitantly, glancing away.

“You drove hours before you got a flat and had to stop for the day?”

He peered back over at me. “Sorry. Let’s just forget about all of this. I don’t want to ruin the rest of your visit.”

No way was I forgetting what had happened. Jane and Zoe weren’t going to let it go, were they? If they didn’t say something, I would. Then I’d be the one ruining everyone’s Christmas once again, not Declan. Yet I couldn’t ignore everything that had happened between Declan and me, and also between Jane, Zoe, and me. I was so certain I was reaching them. I didn’t want the lonely nails on the walls to once again speak for everyone, or rather, keep them from speaking.

Declan changed the topic, rambling on with ideas for researching John Daly. His enthusiasm seemed genuine, yet I seethed, my breathing becoming heavier. He was the master of avoidance. I took a drink of wine, trying to remain Zen rather than flying off the couch in a fit.

Zoe and Jane returned with more mulled wine and a tray of Minion-shaped sugar cookies decorated in green overalls and red Santa stocking caps.

Jane smiled brightly. “Fancy some cookies?”

I forced a perky smile. “They look delish.” Instead of sticking my foot in my mouth, I stuck a cookie in it.

How many cookies would it take to keep me from saying something I regretted?

* * *

Red ornaments decorated a small tree on the marble altar, and evergreen wreaths with gold bows hung from the arched stained-glassed windows. I entered Killybog’s church, imagining Grandma and her neighbors sitting in the wooden pews, wishing each other a Happy Christmas, children squirming, anxious to get home to play with their presents. What had been Grandma’s favorite gift? Had her parents been able to afford presents, or had the holiday been more about joining rellies after church for a festive dinner with potatoes, ham, turkey, and Christmas pudding?

“You look lovely,” Declan said, placing a hand on my lower back.

Between Declan’s gentle touch and his thoughtful surprise—mass at Grandma’s church—I wanted to ignore everything that had happened the past few days. If I addressed Declan running off and refusing again to discuss Shauna, he’d get upset, and things between us would change. Was that why he’d brought me here? To soften me up? I feared it was working…

Declan’s hand guided me from the doorway and into the church, allowing his family to enter. My black heels clicked against the tiled floor, echoing through the quiet church. The few dozen people occupying the wooden pews hugged the outer aisle by the wall registers. They were going to have to pray a bit harder for heat—the place was freezing. Declan directed me into a pew. Colin and Jane sat in front of us, Zoe ahead of them. If the registers kicked in, we’d have optimal seating.

Despite the chill, I slipped off my coat with Declan’s assistance, wanting to show off Zoe’s deep-purple velvet dress and purple lacey hat. Zoe had secured it in place with pins, yet I kept my shoulders squared and chin up, as if I had to balance it on my head or it might fall. It reminded me of when Rachel and I used to walk around the house balancing books on our heads, hoping to develop the posture of beauty pageant contestants.

Rather than telling me I was mad for removing my warm coat, Declan lay it in the pew next to him. He kept his long dark coat on over his dapper navy suit and blue shirt and tie. We were overdressed compared to others in jeans or casual dress slacks, who were likely saving their Sunday best for Christmas mass. I didn’t feel overdressed for long. The five older men from Molloy’s pub filed in wearing the same dark suits as the other day. Maybe daily mass was their excuse to hang out at the pub.

Declan rested his hand on the side of his leg, his pinkie touching mine. His sly smile made my chest flutter. It was kind of nice, yet unnerving, sitting alone with him, like a couple, when I had no clue what we were anymore. I shoved aside thoughts of our relationship and focused on the fact that my grandma’s family had likely once lined this same pew. Had Grandma and Theresa chatted about their new holiday dresses, wondering if the cute boy sitting ahead of them noticed? What had brought them to the church the day their picture was taken out front? From everyone’s dressy attire in the photo, I assumed it had been a wedding. I should have asked Sadie if her mom’s albums had the same photo of Grandma and her sister. Maybe it’d noted the occasion and relative names. It suddenly dawned on me that the photo was dated 1935. Had Grandma been married at that time? Had she still had a relationship with her family and been living in the area? Or had she returned for a friend’s wedding?

The priest walked out a door and stepped onto the altar.

“Jaysus,” Declan said.

Jane shot him a scolding look over her shoulder.

Declan leaned toward me and whispered, “He’s the priest who kicked me out of that church a few years ago. He probably does mass at several.”

Maybe the priest wouldn’t recognize Declan. Getting kicked out of my grandma’s church would not be a good way for Declan to earn my forgiveness.