nine

For the first time in two days, Merrit had a few hours in the house without visitors. Starting on Sunday, a constant stream of well-wishers had arrived, all of them bearing food for Liam. Desserts mainly. Creams made with last year’s blackberries and cookies and crumbles and pies and cakes made with alcohol. Enough to last through the summer, so with Liam’s help, she’d banished the sweets that Liam pronounced inedible and now hauled a heaping bag to the rubbish bin.

Merrit paused when she reached the bin, taking a moment to enjoy the vista as a newcomer ready to be awed. About a half mile away, a limestone hill called Mullaghamore spiraled out of the earth like a conch shell. Sometimes at twilight it caught the light and glowed, a bright gold thing, and sometimes the cloud-scapes created a moving light show as sunshine waxed and waned.

Other times, like right now, Mullaghamore resembled the earth’s grey thumb print pressed against a sky bloated with gloomy cloud blobs. The vista didn’t move her the way it had when she first arrived. Varied and beautiful, yes, but it didn’t inspire the same awe. Once the novelty wore off, you returned to your previous normal, baggage and all.

Merrit packed the rubbish into the bin and started back toward Liam’s tidy ranch-style bungalow. Further along the track, his previous home—Fox Cottage—stood empty. Kevin, Liam’s adopted son, had lived there before running away to parts unknown, then Danny for a while after his separation from Ellen, and now no one.

Fox Cottage sat as forsaken and lonesome as the famine cottages that dotted the hillsides. Flaking white-washed walls and disintegrating thatched roof. Maybe she could smarten it up for Kevin’s possible return. Why not? She wasn’t out to steal their father from Kevin or usurp his place in the community, despite what some locals might think. She couldn’t care less about money. She had her own that came from the family business she’d sold off back in California, plus one of the trusts her mom’s wealthy parents had set up for their grandchildren.

She wasn’t sure about Liam’s financial situation—he never discussed it—just as she wasn’t sure about anything at the moment, least of all how she would cope with Liam’s death. Early on she’d promised herself she would care for Liam through his cancer, and here she was again, facing her promise for the second time. But now the promise hurt.

Merrit understood that she was the child of Liam’s loins. Unfortunately, somewhere along the way, he’d become her real dad. Not just biologically but emotionally as well. She hadn’t mentioned this to him. He continued to pine for Kevin’s return, Kevin being the child of his heart. The son might return, but it probably wouldn’t be any time soon. He didn’t know Liam was sick.

The sound of the house telephone jarred Merrit from her reverie. She sprinted the rest of the way to the house and grabbed the landline before it went to voicemail. At first, she didn’t recognize the man’s voice even though he addressed her by name. “Hi, Merrit, has Zoe arrived? She should be there by now.”

“Nathan?” she said. “Hi, sorry, I don’t understand. She’s supposed to visit? Why?”

“To help with caretaking shifts”—Merrit suppressed a groan of frustration—“and I could have sworn I rang. I didn’t? I meant to.”

“I told Mrs. O’Brien to leave off with the caretaking schedule, but Liam welcomes visitors. Hold on a sec.”

Merrit covered the mouthpiece and entered Liam’s bedroom. Bijou lay on the bed beside him with her giant head on his lap. Alan had dropped her off to play therapy dog for Liam. Merrit sat on the edge of the bed and scratched Bijou’s belly. The dog responded with a slobbery sigh.

“Are you okay with a visit from Zoe, Nathan’s daughter?”

Liam set aside his novel. He grunted. Merrit decided to interpret this as a yes.

“How did Nathan get your number?” she said.

“Pfft, my number’s everywhere. Had the same one for decades.”

“It’s fine,” Merrit said into the phone.

Nathan sighed with evident relief. “Sorry for the confusion. I thought today might be a good time for her to visit. Zoe is keen all on her own anyhow.”

Merrit recalled her bedazzling presence in Alan’s pub. She appeared to be a keen kind of person.

“She’s partially through her nursing training.” Merrit caught quiet desperation as Nathan continued. “It would help if she had something to do.”

Ah. Now Merrit understood. Get the daughter out from underfoot. She sometimes wondered if Liam thought the same thing about her.

“What was that?” Liam said when she rang off.

“You met Zoe. What did you think of her?”

“You mean aside from the obvious?”

She rolled her eyes. “Yes, please.”

“Any man she marries had better watch out.”

“Femme fatale in the making?” Merrit rose. “Too bad we won’t have any eligible bachelors on Team Liam.”

Liam grunted again. “Don’t ‘team’ me.”

“Mrs. O’Brien’s words, not mine. I wish you’d put a stop to her.”

The doorbell rang, and Bijou sprang off the bed with a deep-throated woof. She trotted ahead of Merrit to the door. “Hold on,” Merrit called. “Don’t mind Bijou. She’s friendly.”

“Bijou and I are old pals,” came Zoe’s voice. “From Alan’s pub.”

Merrit opened the door to see Zoe stooped and holding her arms out to the dog. If anything, she looked more exquisite than she had when Merrit met her at the pub. She wore a slim-fitting dress in an immaculate ivory under a tailored raincoat. She slipped the coat off with a dainty shrug and rearranged a cobalt blue scarf around her neck. Once again, she’d left her face unadorned except for a touch of light lipstick and the bounteous head of blond curls.

“What a beautiful scarf,” Merrit said.

“Thanks! This shade of blue is my signature color. I wear it all the time. I love butterflies, too.” She held up an end of the scarf so that Merrit could see the butterflies woven into the cloth in a darker shade of violet blue.

“If you like butterflies, then you’ll love the Burren in the summer. If you’re here, that is.”

“The big if. I’m in negotiations with my dad about that.”

“Negotiations?”

“I’m joking, of course, but I mean, really, my dad is incorrigible. He’s a wanderer, and I’m more the staying-put type. So”—she clasped her hands together—“what can I do to help?”

“Nothing at the moment. Liam doesn’t need round-the-clock care yet. I’m not sure why Mrs. O’Brien is moving ahead with her plans.”

Zoe placed a warm hand on Merrit’s arm. “I’ve heard the gossip, so I know that you came here to be with your father, too. It’s hard, isn’t it?”

Merrit nodded, caught off-guard by Zoe’s sympathy. “I don’t know what your situation is with Nathan, but I hope it works out.”

Zoe’s smile remained, but subdued. “My dad wasn’t the same after my mother died. To be honest, her death left me clinging to him harder than ever, which helped drive him away, I think. I couldn’t see how troubled he was. Still is. He has the funniest notions sometimes.” She clapped her hands. “But we’re not here for me. Can I say hi to Liam now?”

Merrit called out “knock, knock” before they entered his bedroom.

“You’re grand,” he said by way of permission.

“Hello, Mr. Donellan,” Zoe said. “Do you remember me? Zoe? We met at Elder Joe’s wake.”

Liam braced himself as if Zoe were an overexuberant puppy. Which, in a way, she was. Merrit had never heard anyone call Liam “Mr. Donellan.”

“Of course you remember me,” Zoe said. “What a dolt I am. You look very dapper.”

He’d pulled on his bed jacket and tied it with a jaunty bow at his side.

“Bijou needs to be let out,” he said.

“I’ll take her. Glad to help.” Zoe whistled for Bijou, and the dog barreled after her toward the front door. A moment later her voice called to Bijou, ordering her to fetch.

“I don’t have the energy for her today, after all,” Liam said. “She’s the high-maintenance sort, you mark me.”

“Because she might charm you out of your bad mood?”

“Bugger that. I’ll be in a bad mood if I want.” Bijou yelped. “What was that?”

Merrit ran to the living room and arrived at the window in time to see Zoe stooped in front of Bijou, holding her front paw. Bijou appeared to be fine. Merrit sagged with relief, imagining Alan’s reaction if his dog got hurt on their watch.

Zoe opened her hand and Bijou dropped her paw, lifted it, and then settled her weight on it. Zoe’s mouth formed what looked to be the words “good dog.” She patted Bijou’s head and returned to the house with Bijou trotting ahead of her.

Zoe waved and smiled at Merrit. She was already talking when Merrit met her at the front door, saying she’d be happy to walk Bijou if they needed help. Liam had arrived by then also. He leaned on his cane, his breath raspy. “What happened?” He eyed Bijou and then Zoe. “What’s that on your hand?”

“Just a little blood. Poor Bijou stepped on this.” She unfurled her fingers to show them a shard of glass. “I’ll throw it away so she doesn’t cut herself again.”

“Maybe we should take her to the vet,” Merrit said.

She called Bijou to her and stooped to check her paw. Whatever ailed the dog had passed. She wagged her tail and laid a gooey dog greeting on Merrit’s cheek. A close inspection of Bijou’s paw yielded a smudge of blood and a thin, pink scar on one of her pads.

“She’s good as gold, that one,” Zoe said. “I fixed her right up.”

“Be clear, lassie,” Liam snapped. “What are you after doing?”

“A little trick of mine. I’d appreciate it if you’d keep it to yourselves though. I know it’s odd, but”—she looked away—“what can we do sometimes, right? Life is an odd thing.”

Liam threw a see, told you, high-maintenance glance at Merrit.

“Wonderful to meet you again, Liam,” Zoe said. “I hope I can help you and Merrit. I’m a fantastic cook. It’s one of my hobbies. I’m trying to fatten up my dad. You could do with a little fattening up yourself.” She wrote her name and number on a pad next to the phone. “There.”

She picked up her raincoat and purse. “I have some errands to run for Dad. The basics. I swear I don’t know how he’s gotten by. He was using paper towels as toilet paper, if you can believe that.”

“Hold on, missy,” Liam said. “What the bloody hell happened with Bijou?”

Zoe paused at the front door. She raised her hands with palms toward them. “I healed her cut paw. Cheers, then.”

She closed the front door before they had a chance to react to her statement.

Liam’s exasperated expression eased. “Well, well, the girl fancies herself a healer. Intriguing. I’d like to know more about that, and by association about Nathan. I think I could use some extra help around here, after all.”

“No way—” Merrit said.

“No arguments. I must be humored because I’m sick. You can contact Zoe, and I’ll let Mrs. O’Brien know that we don’t need a sodding Team Liam.”

That was good anyhow, but Merrit wasn’t sure which bothered her more: Zoe’s absurd claim or Liam’s interest in Zoe’s absurd claim.