Chapter Seventeen

A loud shrill jarred me awake. My phone lit up on the nightstand like a beacon in the dark room. I shook the groggy haze from my head and snatched it up. It wasn’t Mom forgetting the time difference and calling at 3:00 a.m.—it was the airline, advising me that my flight had been canceled.

Again?

I shot up in bed. I flipped on the lamp and almost screamed, startled by the wire sheep staring me in the face. My stomach dropped as I read the text informing me that my flight was rebooked for Christmas day!

I was going to have to spend Christmas with two hundred strangers flying over the Atlantic, dining on peanuts and swill wine while watching sitcom reruns. Even more upsetting, I’d be spending another day at Declan’s.

No way was I staying here another day.

Declan didn’t have to know my flight was canceled.

How was I going to keep that a secret when I didn’t have a car? And, I had nowhere to go…

Yes, I did.

I needed to return to Grandma’s home for a souvenir stone. To go to the post office and get the address for the woman who lived in the Daly home. Even if she wasn’t related to Grandma’s husband John Daly, she or a family member might know about Grandma’s past. Nicholas Turney was right. I had to follow every lead. There was a reason my flight had been canceled the first time, so I could meet the local historian. There was a reason it had been canceled this time. My journey here wasn’t done. My visit to Killybog wasn’t about Declan. It was about Grandma and my family history and my family’s future.

My future.

Feeling inspired, I convinced myself that I could drive in Ireland. Mullingar likely had a car rental agency. Declan had been a crappy navigator. I didn’t need him sitting by my side or to have my back.

It was time I had my own back.

* * *

Early the next morning, I hauled my suitcase down the stairs, my carry-on bag weighing heavily on my shoulder, even though it didn’t contain Declan’s painting. I’d left it sitting on the dresser, not wanting a reminder of him hanging in my bedroom. I hadn’t fallen back to sleep after my 3:00 a.m. wake-up call. I’d gone online and reserved a car from a rental company in Mullingar. Now I just had to figure out how to get there without telling Declan and his family that my flight had been canceled. An icky feeling tossed my stomach. Over lying, facing Declan after our argument, and saying good-bye to him and his family. I was going to miss my talks with Zoe and Jane. But it would be too difficult to stay in touch with them when I had to cut ties with Declan.

I hadn’t merely lost Declan but also his family.

Zoe waited at the bottom of the stairs in her blue flannel jammies and her new fancy red hat. Not a red maple leaf out of place, she apparently hadn’t slept in it.

She frowned. “He’s not here. I’ll take you to the airport.”

I set my suitcase on the floor. “Where is he?”

She shrugged. “Supposedly had something important to do but promised he’d be back to take you.” She glanced at the clock on the table. We’d planned to leave now.

“I’m such a bloody muppet sometimes. Should have left everything on the walls.”

I stared at Zoe in disbelief. “You took down the picture and painting?”

“I thought if he got upset about them, he might leave again and ruin Mum’s Christmas. But if I’d left them, maybe he’d have said something and we’d have talked about what happened.”

I shook my head. “He wouldn’t have. He’d just have taken them down.”

Good to know Jane hadn’t hidden them away. Maybe I had helped her. And Zoe had good intentions. Declan running off again reinforced that I’d made the right decision.

“I don’t need him to take me to the airport anyway. I booked a train. But if you could take me to the station, that’d be great.” I hated lying to Zoe, but if she discovered my flight had canceled, she’d insist I stay here tonight, as would Jane. They wouldn’t want me spending Christmas Eve alone. I wasn’t keen on spending it alone either, but I had to.

“It’s insane for you to drive me all the way to the airport when it’ll be a madhouse today. Besides, I’ve never taken a train.”

“A train doesn’t go straight to the airport, ya know.”

“Yeah, I know,” I lied.

“I’ll get dressed, and we can talk about it.” Zoe trudged up the stairs.

I followed the scent of fresh-baked scones into the kitchen. Jane was sliding a tray from the oven. She forced a bright smile. “Happy Christmas Eve day.”

I smiled. “You too.”

“I’m packing a few sweets for your flight.” A baggie on the counter contained Minion cookies. “He left before I was up this morning, or I wouldn’t have allowed him to leave.”

I shrugged. “That’s okay. We said our good-byes last night. I’ll feel horrible if he doesn’t come back and I’ll have ruined your family Christmas, twice.”

“Nonsense. You didn’t ruin our Christmas. Declan might still be refusing to talk about Shauna, but the rest of us aren’t, and that’s a good thing. Thank you for that. And I’m putting both the picture and the painting back up.”

I was proud I’d helped Declan’s family. I usually sucked in emotionally intense situations, never knowing how to react. That’s the reason I’d decided not to become a counselor despite my sociology degree and desire to help women like Martha had helped me. I’d wanted to be at least one woman’s Martha. Maybe I’d been two, Zoe’s and Jane’s. My eyes glassed over with tears.

“Ah, come here, luv.” Jane embraced me in a hug, then drew back. “I’m so sorry things didn’t work out for you two. I truly am. But you’re always welcome here.”

“Thanks.” I nodded faintly, knowing I wouldn’t see Jane again. Saying a final good-bye was too difficult, so I said, “I’m bringing my sister, Rachel, over in the spring to visit our rellies and Grandma’s home.”

I’m bringing Rachel? I hadn’t said we were visiting Ireland or that Rachel was bringing me, but that I was bringing her. I’d never have thought myself capable of bringing Rachel anywhere.

But I was now.

* * *

Zoe zipped around a sharp corner, taking it too wide, causing an oncoming car to veer partway onto the grass. We encountered a car creeping along, and she flew past it, branches scraping against my window. I grasped the door handle.

Zoe glanced over at me. “Sorry about that. No worries. I’ve only had two accidents. Three if you count the time my tire blew. But only one was my fault.”

As if that was a stellar driving record. I’d never had one accident.

“Just because my brother is a total arse doesn’t mean I’m not coming to visit you on holiday and see the snow.”

I smiled. “Most people prefer to visit Milwaukee in the summer.”

“I hope there’s a fierce blizzard while I’m there and the snow is to the top of the garage door and we have to tunnel our way out. If you’re back to Ireland before then, we can go boating. Don’t forget to bring your new wellies. ‘So now, all alone or not, you’ve gotta walk ahead.’” Zoe’s panicked gaze darted to me. “Feck. Sorry. I didn’t mean you and Declan. I was talking about—”

“The movie P.S. I Love You.” I smiled. “My friend Ashley and I used to quote it all the time.”

Zoe relaxed back in her seat. “That’s my favorite line even though I bawled. The way her mum and her connected was bloody lovely.” She teared up.

I nodded, my eyes glassing over. “Bloody lovely.” Both the movie scene and this one.

I’d finally found a friend I connected with like Ashley.

Zoe and I sobbed, swiping tears from our cheeks. She pulled off the narrow road into a pub’s parking lot to get a grip and avoid her fourth accident. With runny noses and mascara-smeared eyes, we peered over at each other. We burst out laughing. The last time I’d laughed so hard that my side hurt was over one of Declan’s stories. There was no way I was cutting ties with Zoe because of Declan. I refused to lose them both. And a friendship needed to be built on trust and openness.

I had to confide in Zoe about my plans.

“I need you to keep a secret.”

Zoe wiped tears of laughter from her cheeks, smiling. “Fab. I love secrets.”

“I need you to drop me at a car rental agency in Mullingar rather than the train station. My flight canceled again. I’m not leaving until tomorrow. I’m going to do more research.”

“That’s too bad you won’t be home for the hollies, but I’ll drive you wherever you like.”

Besides needing to conduct my rellie search on my own, I felt this insane need to drive. Like it was part of my spiritual journey in Ireland. Not just because Zoe’s driving scared me shitless.

“Thanks, but it’s family stuff,” I said. “Stuff I kind of need to do on my own.”

“I understand. Where will you stay tonight?”

“A hotel by the airport. I figure it’s best to drive there as late as possible so there’s less traffic and less chance of an accident. You can’t tell Declan my flight canceled.”

“Believe me—I won’t. He doesn’t deserve to know. One day he’ll regret being such a complete arse and letting you go.”

Yeah, he’d chosen to let me go instead of his past.

* * *

I’d taken Declan’s advice and rented a tiny car so I had more room on the road than in the vehicle. Yet, it was hard to tell precisely how much room I did have on the road. A good thing I’d taken out full insurance coverage, even though I was driving so cautiously a long line of cars and tractors trailed behind me. They shouldn’t be going eighty kilometers an hour anyway.

My confidence faltered after I drove down every narrow road, searching for Grandma’s house. I finally came across the cemetery where my Coffey rellies were buried and remembered the way from there. I’d driven past the turn twice, thinking the grass-lined road was a farmer’s drive. I parked in the same spot Declan had, at the entrance to a field. I pulled my purple wellies from my suitcase and slipped them on.

My phone signaled the arrival of an e-mail. I’d forgotten to turn off data roaming. My new cell plan should cover all my internet usage. I couldn’t believe I had service here in the boonies. Two e-mails had loaded. One subject read You’re a Winner and the other February Meeting, undoubtedly Heather responding to my question about my cancellation fee.

Afraid to know how little pay I was going to receive, I opened the first e-mail to find big brown puppy eyes staring back me.

I’d won the Irish terrier?

I could barely take care of myself. I certainly couldn’t care for a dog. Besides the financial aspects, what would I do with it when I traveled? Mom wouldn’t dog sit. Speaking of which, I couldn’t take a dog back to the States. Shouldn’t the contest rules have stipulated that the winner live in Ireland? Maybe Bernice had lied about my residency.

The dog’s soft brown eyes brought back memories of Esme, the resident dog at my hotel in Paris. The affectionate springer had greeted me every morning at breakfast and upon my return nightly to the hotel. I missed snuggling in bed with her…

I closed the dog’s picture, cussing out Bernice. I e-mailed her and suggested she and Gracie give the dog to their new Irish hotties as a Christmas present.

The second e-mail wasn’t about the canceled meeting in February. It was from a client of Declan’s inquiring if I could work a Prague meeting that same month. I confirmed my availability and mentally added Prague to my list of firsts. Unable to contain my excitement, I Googled Prague castles. A photo popped up with a breathtaking view of a castle set on a hill overlooking an old bridge and fairy-tale city. Checking off another castle on my bucket list made me almost as giddy as the future paycheck. Declan was going to Florence, the Canary Islands, and Portugal in February. This would be my first meeting without him. Adding this first to my list was a chance to prove I could fly solo without him having my back.

I slipped my phone into my coat pocket. After struggling with the weight of the rusted gate, I finally pushed it open. Wet grass and mud clung to my wellies as I traipsed over to the ivy-covered house. I wiggled a small stone loose from the window frame. Two more dropped to the ground. I hopped back, afraid the entire house was going to crumble down. When it didn’t, I picked up the stones for Rachel and Mom and stuffed them in my coat pocket.

I curled my fingers around my stone. Three months ago, I’d never have dreamed I’d be visiting Grandma’s childhood home. I had never traveled abroad. I’d had no job, no money, no self-esteem, no friends, no relationship with family, no desire to date, no hope for the future, and no courage to drive on the opposite side of the road.

Now, I had all of this.

Well, maybe not enough money to clear my debt, but I was paying bills and no longer hiding them in a desk drawer.

My grasp tightened around the stone. Was this how Scarlett O’Hara had felt when she’d clutched a fistful of soil from the ground of her beloved Tara, vowing she’d never go hungry again?

I’d never let my past hold on to me again.

Words of wisdom from Nicholas Turney.

I had to stop beating myself up about my bleak financial situation, guilt over not always being there for Mom, and especially about Andy. He’d made me a weaker person those two years we were together, but I was now stronger because of it. I’d had the strength to walk away from Declan. Ironically, Declan had helped me regain my self-esteem and confidence. I believed in myself and that without him I wouldn’t take a step backward in healing. Grandma had had the courage to walk away from her life in Ireland and start over on her own.

I was a bit depressed about not being home for Christmas, yet in some strange way I felt like I was home, never having had such a strong emotional connection to a place. I peered out over the fields my family had farmed for generations, savoring the moment…spotting a dark car parked in the distance at the Daly estate.

Did it belong to the owner from Dublin?

If she was a relation, she’d likely know the family’s history and if John Daly had been related. She might also still hate the Coffeys. What if she got upset about me dropping in unannounced on Christmas Eve day? From my experience with the warm Irish hospitality, she’d invite me in for Christmas dinner with the family.

If I was lucky, she wouldn’t serve goose curry.