Chapter Five
February arrived with an arctic blast that left all of Northern Florida in a deep freeze. It was less than ten days until Valentine’s Day, and Marissa was going through her closet trying to decide what to wear tonight. Finn was making dinner for her. Apparently, Tuesdays were Grandda’s poker night, so she and Finn would have his house to themselves. Needless to say, she was nervous. She had never been to Grandda’s house before, but it was less than five minutes from her home. Finn had offered to come pick her up because the roads were a little icy. He was worried about her driving on them, but she assured him she would be fine.
She arrived on time at seven.
“Hi,” he said at the door, giving her a quick kiss. Jack’s house was a carpenter-style bungalow, built in the nineteen-forties. Finn led her from the large foyer into a cozy den. There was a fire roaring in the large open fireplace. There was an overstuffed sectional sofa facing the fireplace, with an oversized ottoman and end tables, and an old beat-up recliner took the place of honor, right next to the fire. A sixty-inch flat-screen television hung mounted over the mantle. “You can see Grandda loves his TV,” Finn said.
“I love his TV, too,” she laughed.
“I hope you’re hungry,” he said, feeling a little nervous about cooking for her. Finn prided himself on his cooking skills, and if Marissa didn’t enjoy the meal he prepared, he would be devastated.
“I am starving as a matter of fact,” she admitted. “What’s cooking? It smells delicious!”
“Well, I promised you a taste of Ireland,” he said.
“Yes. Anything but haggis, you promised!” she teased.
“Haggis is Scots, not Irish,” he explained to her.
“Oh. Thank God!” she teased.
He laughed. “Roast leg of lamb.”
“Oh, that sounds delicious!” she said. “I have never had roast lamb before, and I’ve always wanted to try it.”
“Well, it will be ready soon. Please get comfortable, and I will get you something to drink. Would you like a glass of wine?”
“Yes, thank you,” she said emphatically. Anything to calm her nerves.
Marissa sat down on the soft sofa and looked around the room. There were lots of old photographs on the walls and the tables, as well as a half-finished crossword puzzle from an Irish newspaper.
“So how long ago did your grandfather move to the States?” she called to Finn.
“About twenty years ago,” he told her, reappearing with two glasses of wine. He handed one to her and sat next to her. “A few years after my wee grannie died, my da’s mother, he fell in love with an American and moved here to be with her.”
“How romantic!” she said.
“Well, at the time it was quite a scandal in the family,” he said. “With him moving away. My da was no happy about it a’tall.”
“Really? Because his dad was re-marrying?”
He laughed, “No. He wanted Grandda to be happy. But Grandda had only known Penny for a week when they eloped to Ballybunion and got married.”
“Ballybunion?” she just loved the crazy place names Finn would pull out of his hat with no warning.
“It is a sea village in County Kerry. A hot spot for elopements.” He wiggled his eyebrows.
She laughed. “How did he meet her?” she asked.
“She was on holiday and was looking to rent a boat to visit the Inishmaan. Grandda offered to take her there in his boat, and the rest is history.”
“What is the Inishmaan?” she probed.
“Islands just off the coast of Galway. Inis Árainn, Inis Meáin, Inis Oírr…you probably know them as the Aran Islands,” he explained.
“Oh! Okay, I got ya. Grandda really is a romantic!” she said. “Wow, only a week?”
“Well, when a McKenna man falls, we tend to fall pretty deep pretty quickly.” He replied without looking her in the eye.
That shut her up quickly. What could she say to that?
She smiled. After a few moments of silence, she said, “So, what happened to her? His second wife?”
“Penny passed away about seven years ago,” he told her.
“Oh, I’m sorry to hear that,” she said.
“Well, I never got a chance to know her very well, with them living here and all. They visited us every few years, but never stayed more than a week or two at the time.”
The conversation was taking a depressing turn, so she said, “Man I’m hungry. Is dinner almost ready?”
“It is ready. Would you like to join me in the dining room, madame?” He stood and held out his hand to her.
She laughed as she took it.
He led her to the formal dining room, where a white linen tablecloth covered the large table set for two. He had placed the settings on the corner of the table, where they could sit close to each other. Two purple taper candles in tall silver candlesticks were already burning on either side of a single beautiful purple orchid. It was elegant and romantic. Cloth napkins were folded into the shapes of birds of paradise and sat in each of the gleaming porcelain plates. There were water goblets already filled with ice water, and a set of clean wine glasses above the plates.
He pulled out her chair. She smiled at him, impressed. He returned a shy smile.
“Stay right there,” he said, and disappeared into the kitchen.
He reappeared carrying a platter with the leg of lamb in one hand, and two more dishes in the other. He sat those down on the table and headed back into the kitchen.
“Is there anything I can do to help?” she asked.
“No thanks. Stay right there,” he repeated from behind a sliding pocket door.
He returned with three more bowls and went back towards the kitchen.
“Oh my god, is there more?” she asked quietly.
“Just need to get the bread out of the oven,” he called.
Marissa looked at the veritable feast on the table. The aroma of roasted lamb and vegetables made her stomach growl. She had debated whether or not to ‘pre-eat’ for the date, in case the food was not good. In the end, she had decided not to. She figured that she would trust Finn, and besides, if she were hungry enough anything might taste good. Looking at the food laid out before her, she was afraid she may end up making a glutton out of herself.
“Oh my god, everything looks and smells delicious!” she raved when Finn returned with a wooden platter that held two rounds of warm bread and two ramekins of cold butter.
“Well, I hope you think it tastes as good as it smells,” he said, carving slices of roast lamb, and placing two slices on each plate. As he served her a small helping from each dish, he explained what it was. “This is roasted carrots, with garlic and clementines. These are baby leeks with oak-smoked bacon croutons, butternut squash with garlic and parsley, and no Irish meal would be complete without a helping of colcannon and a piece of soda bread.” By the time he was finished, her plate was overflowing with fragrant and colorful food.
“Colcannon looks like mashed potatoes,” she commented.
“It basically is mashed potatoes,” he explained, “with finely shredded sautéed cabbage, and lots of cream.”
“It melts in my mouth,” she said swallowing a mouthful. She took a bite of the heavy brown bread. “Oh my god—is there beer in the bread?” she asked.
He laughed. “Well, it wouldn’t be Irish if there wasn’t any Guinness.”
“This is extraordinary,” she marveled, tasting the meat. It was flavored with rosemary, garlic, and again, a light flavor of Guinness Stout and honey. “Finn, where did you learn to cook like this?” She was absolutely amazed at the quality of the meal.
“Oh, I worked in a restaurant during my undergrad days in uni. I guess I picked up a few things,” he said.
“Well, I hope you understand that this means I can never cook for you,” she joked. “There is no way I can compete with this.”
He laughed. “I’m really glad you like it. I was worried that the taste of Irish food would be too heavy for you.”
“Oh no, it is very good! It’s a wonder you don’t weigh five hundred pounds! I know I would, if I could cook like this,” she sipped the ice water to clear her palate for the carrots and clementines. “Who would have ever thought to pair carrots and oranges?”
“I don’t get to cook a full meal as often as I’d like. I’ve probably cooked more here for Grandda than I have in the past few years combined!”
“No wonder he tricked you into visiting. You can cook for me anytime,” she said.
Marissa ate until she felt like she would burst, and managed to clean her plate. Between the two of them, they also managed to empty a bottle of Châteauneuf-du-Pape. Finn pointed out that even though the meal was Irish, there was no substitute for a good bottle of French wine. By the time dinner was over, she was completely full and her head was buzzing.
Against his strenuous objections, she helped him clear the table and put away the leftovers, and they retired to the den (with a second bottle of wine) to watch a movie on Grandda’s enormous television.
Marissa couldn’t remember ever feeling so happy. Outside the weather was stormy and freezing, but inside was cozy by the crackling fire and she was snuggled up to her Finn. The wine had definitely gone to her head, making her feel sappy and romantic.
She slowly ran a finger from his chin, down his chest to his thigh. That got his attention. He turned to her and tilted her face toward him and kissed her softly, placing small kisses across her mouth and cheek to her ear, then gently nipped at her earlobe and neck, while his opposite hand wandered across her shoulder and collarbone. His touch traced a trail of electric sparks on her skin that permeated the surface and began to glow beneath her abdomen. She wanted him desperately. She held his head between her hands and kissed him deeply, trying to show him how he was making her feel. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders, pulling him closer, and knotted her fingers in his hair at the back of his head. Her entire body was humming.
He responded by running his hand down her leg, and then laying her down on the couch while he kissed her. With the full weight of his body pressed against hers, she sighed.
Just as she was about to ask him to show her his room, they heard a key turn the lock of the front door.
They sat up quickly, pulling apart to leave just a few inches of space between them. The absence of his body physically hurt her.
“Grandda, is that you?” Finn called in a ragged voice.
“Aye, its me,” a voice replied from the foyer. They heard him throw his keys in the ceramic bowl that was on a table by the entry.
Finn didn’t take his eyes off Marissa, silently apologizing. “You’re home early,” he said.
“Aye, I am. Old Walter was feeling poorly and wanted to go home. Seein’ how he was my ride, I had no choice but to leave with him.” He walked into the den and flicked on the light. “Why are you two sitting in the dark? You’ll ruin your eyesight. Take it from an old man, you need to take care of it while you have it.” He plopped down in his brown recliner. “Hello darlin’! I am happy to meet ye,” he said to Marissa.
She smiled at him, hoping her embarrassment didn’t show.
“Grandda, this is Marissa. Marissa, this is my Grandda, Jack McKenna.”
“Well, now. I know it is Marissa. That is the only name I have heard for more than a month now. Marissa this, Marissa that. Darlin, you are just as pretty as Finn described ya.”
“Hello, Mr. McKenna. I am really happy to meet you, too,” she said.
“Oh now, you’ll be calling me Jack. That is what all my friends call me, and I’m hoping you’ll be one of ‘em.”
“Oh I have a feeling that I definitely will be, Jack,” she chuckled.
In spite of the fact that he interrupted her passionate embrace, Marissa took an immediate liking to Finn’s grandfather. Jack McKenna was a quintessential old Irishman. Tall and skinny, with weathered tan skin, a full grey beard and mustache, and very intelligent blue eyes, he wore a tweed hat and had a carved ivory pipe sticking out of his front pocket.
He nodded at her amiably and said, “So what’s on the TV?”
“Close Encounters of the Third Kind,” Finn said flatly. It was obvious that he was not quite as infatuated with Jack as Marissa was at the moment.
“Oh, aliens, eh?” he said. “Well, those flyin’ saucers ain’t got nothin’ on the ones that showed up in Moycullen in fifty-eight.”
“Oh God, here we go,” Finn dropped his head in his hands.
“You saw a UFO?” Marissa took the bait.
“Oh aye! Me an’ old Collum McGee, well, he wasn’t so old back then, but neither was I,” he winked, “…had went to go hunting in the bog. Lookin’ to bag us a couple of hares, don’t ya know….” Jack launched into a thoroughly delightful tale of the two of them wandering the bog, bright lights in the sky, strange noises, and disappearing rabbits. He was a masterful storyteller, and Marissa did her best to pay attention while at the same time struggling to get her hormones back under control. She hoped Jack didn’t see her trembling. “…and so we went home empty-handed, a’right. We didn’t catch us any dinner, but we sure snared us a story.”
“They took all the rabbits? Why would the aliens want all the rabbits?” Marissa asked.
“I’m sure I don’ know. But I am also sure that there wasn’t another hare spotted in the bog for more than thirty years.”
“Wow,” was really all that she could think to say.
“Well now, I’m hungry. What you got in here to eat, son?” It was a rhetorical question because Jack knew exactly what Finn had been cooking. He disappeared into the kitchen.
“Oh my God, I am so sorry,” Finn whispered. “On poker night he usually doesn’t come home before two am and then he goes straight to bed.”
Marissa laughed quietly. “It’s okay. I like him.”
“It is not okay,” he said, rubbing his hand on her thigh.
“It’s just bad timing,” she whispered and kissed him quickly. She took his hand from her thigh and knitted her fingers between his. “There will be other chances.”
Finn took a deep breath, mentally counting downward from fifty, willing his blood to cool. The desire this woman enflamed within him was raging through his veins, and it took almost superhuman strength to restrain it. She had no idea what she did to him. But she would find out. God as his witness, he would show her as soon as possible.
Grandda returned and resumed his seat in the recliner, holding a plate and a large glass of iced tea. He put the tea down on the table beside his chair and held the sandwich with both hands.
“What are you eating?” Finn said.
“Some stuff I found in the icebox,” he said, taking a bite.
He had two thick slices of the soda bread slathered with colcannon, and layers of lamb, carrots, leeks, and butternut squash. He had taken their entire dinner and made it into a sandwich.
“I wish I wasn’t so full,” Marissa said, “That sandwich looks delicious.”
“Mmm-hmm, it is delicious,” he said with his mouth full. He swallowed and took a sip of tea. “Did Finn tell you he trained with a three-star chef? What are those stars called, Finn?”
“Michelin stars,” Finn said.
“Yes, those.”
“No, he didn’t mention it,” Marissa said, looking sideways at Finn.
Finn shrugged.
“Well, that is his biggest problem,” Jack said as he took another bite, “The boy just don’t know how to take credit when it’s due.”
“You know, Jack, I think you are exactly right!” she said, leaning back on the couch.
Although it didn’t go exactly as planned, the evening was fun. Jack told stories about Finn when he was a boy, and Marissa learned a lot about growing up in Knockferry. “It is a one-horse and three-cow town,” is how Jack described it.
She left after one-thirty am, armed with a sandwich made and wrapped by Jack himself. He assured her it would taste “even better on tomorrow”.