“How in the world did you get here?” Mike leaned across the small dinner table and handed a cloth napkin to little Taffy, but his words were for her, Aideen knew.
“Just put one foot in front of the other and Bob’s your uncle.”
“You walked all the way from Wales?”
“Mum said we’d get a ride part of the way.” Taffy, a mulatto child with large expressive eyes, pulled her bowl of stewed rabbit with pole beans closer to her. “But we only did the one time. We walked the whole way.”
Aideen smiled at her daughter. It had been difficult trying to make the journey an adventure, especially when Aideen had been nearly frightened out of her wits a good deal of the time. She’d heard the stories of the terrible things that happened to women in the backcountry of Ireland after The Crisis, especially women traveling alone.
“Did living with your aunt in Wales not work out then?” Mike asked.
It had been a little less than a year since the last time she’d seen Mike and, if anything, Aideen had to admit he looked even more handsome. She knew that was likely because he was happy. He certainly looked happy. And that was likely because he’d found that woman he’d been looking for last year.
“You could say that,” she said, her eyes trying to express her unspoken words over Taffy’s head, silently asking him to reserve any questions until they were alone.
He seemed to understand, because he nodded and looked back to his meal.
“You always made Donovan’s Lot sound like Eden.” She turned to Declan, Brian and Fiona, who were sitting at the table with them. “He said it was a community of like-minded people, some family, but mostly people brought together by circumstance and that you all lived and worked together. So I thought, why not? Why not start a new life in this new world where I have at least one friend?”
“I’m new here, meself,” Brian said.
Aideen thought Brian had interesting looks. He was good looking in a rough sort of way, with a slightly pocked complexion but because his eyes were so kind, the flawed exterior came off rugged and honest.
“It’s really as grand as it seems,” he said. “Everyone supports each other. Just as you’d think they should.”
“Are you planning on joining the community, Mr. Gilhooley?” Aideen asked. She noticed Mike lifted his head from the study of his plate to hear the man’s answer.
“I am. That is, if they’ll have me. I have a wife and some family back in Dublin. I wouldn’t want to bring them out until I had a place for them.”
Mike grunted, noncommittally, it seemed to Aideen and she wondered if the two of them were at odds in some way. She knew that Mike was the leader of the community.
“So you’ll build a cottage for them?”
“Well, me father-in-law and brothers can build their own homes. They’re all healthy and quite capable. They can live in tents until then. The gypsies don’t seem to mind living rough, do they?”
Aideen turned back to Mike. “Does everyone have jobs here? I’m a good seamstress and a fair cook.”
“Aye,” Mike said, turning back to his own meal. “Everyone takes care of their own families and then contributes to the community whatever skill they have to give. Families take turns feeding the bachelors and widows in camp, and newcomers like yourself and Mr. Gilhooley. Then everyone pitches in on the planting and the harvesting since we all benefit from that.”
“And security measures,” Declan said. “My job is to patrol the perimeter and keep an eye on things.”
Fiona turned to Aideen. “We had a terrible incident last year when Sarah…when a few things happened…and we were attacked by a gang from the UK.” She put a hand on her husband’s arm as it lay on the table. “My Declan and his family came in the nick of time to help us beat the blackguards back.”
“Well, true enough, it was mostly me,” Declan said, scooping a squealing Fiona into his lap. “But me family helped a bit.” The two of them began snuggling, shutting out the rest of the world.
Brian attacked his plate with new fervor but Taffy stared at the newlyweds, her eyes wide, her little mouth open.
“Finish your tea, Taffy,” Aideen said.
“Sure, I’m glad you came, Aideen,” Mike said suddenly. Possibly prodded by the infectious display of affection from his sister and her new husband? “It’s good that you’re here.”
“Is it, Mike?” She made sure that he caught her meaning with no mistake. She’d walked many miles—been hungry more times than ever before in her life—and went to bed each night with terror as her sleep mate—and the one thing that kept her going was the memory of Mike Donovan.
Before she could underscore her meaning to him with anything more, Fiona hopped up and grabbed the pot on the stove behind the table.
“So how old are ya, darlin’?” Fiona asked Taffy as she ladled another serving of food into the child’s bowl.
“Seven. Almost.”
“Such a big girl.” Fiona turned to Aideen. “My brother tells me the two of you met last year on his hunt for Sarah?”
“That’s right. In Boreen. He…” She stole a glance at him to see if he was listening. He was. “He stayed with my father a few weeks to earn passage on the ferry to Wales.”
“But you said you never made it to Wales,” Fiona said to Mike, frowning.
“He didn’t,” Aideen said. “He gave his passage money to me so Taffy and I could leave.”
“Ahhhh,” Fiona said and returned to her chair at the table.
“And what’s that supposed to mean?” Mike growled. “Oh, never mind. I don’t want to know.”
Aideen took a breath and, affecting insouciance, leaned across the table for the water pitcher and said, “You mentioned Sarah in the altercation you had last year. Does that mean you found her after all?”
“I did.”
“But she’s leaving now,” Fiona said. Implied, it seemed to Aideen by the way Fiona spoke were the words, after all that effort and worry.
“Leaving here? Why ever for? She found something better than this?”
“She’s going back to the States.”
“Oh, my. Well, good for her.” And very good for all the rest of us, too.
“Not that any of that matters,” Mike said with clear irritation at the route the conversation had taken. “The point is, you and Taffy are here now and very welcome. Are you thinking of staying?”
“If you’ll have me.”
“Aye. We’ll have you,” Mike said spooning into his meal. “With pleasure,” he muttered.
Aideen forced herself to say nothing. Plenty of time to seal the deal later, she told herself. Take it slow for now. You’ve got your foot in the door. The rest will come.
She let the feeling of immense relief and peace envelop by relaxing her spine deep into her chair. She let out a long breath to help remind herself that her journey was over and she was finally home.
“This stew is wonderful, Fiona,” she said, smiling at her hostess.
“Oh, yes,” Brian chime in. “It’s delicious.”
It hadn’t escaped Aideen’s notice that Mike’s sister was incredibly sharp and seemed unusually alert to people and their motives.
That would be important to remember going forward.
The new woman was different, Sarah noted. First, even though she was Irish, she didn’t sound it. Second, unlike every single other woman in camp—herself, included—she wasn’t half-baked from the sun or scrubbed raw with the wind. If Sarah had to conjure up a picture of the perfect English rose, unfortunately, Aideen Malone would come to mind. It was pretty clear the woman wasn’t used to physical labor. Whatever she’d done in the months since the bomb dropped had obviously been indoor work.
In Sarah’s mind, the first profession that came to mind literally was the first profession. There was just something about her she just didn’t like…
Fiona had the newcomer by the elbow and was going down the very short line of camp women clustered around the potato sorting tables. The weather was fine, almost hot, and there had been general rejoicing that the pickers in the field would be able to make up time for the two days earlier in the week when rain had prevented them from harvesting. Sarah watched the camp women giggle and grin as they were introduced to the woman. One of them nearly curtsied, but caught herself in time. Was it just because Aideen was a stranger with a different accent? She knew how the English were about their class system but she hadn’t really seen anything like that in Ireland.
Had the camp women ever treated Sarah with this kind of deference?
If anything, the women had always seemed a little resentful of Sarah. Her relationship with their camp leader hadn’t helped things. She’d heard rumors they believed she and John enjoyed unfair advantages because of her close friendship with Mike.
Hell, they were probably right.
“And this is our Sarah,” Fiona said as she brought the newcomer over to where Sarah waited. “And you’ll notice she wasn’t with the other women because, being American and all, she thinks she’s kind of a special case.”
Sarah’s mouth fell open. Her friend looked at her with a mirroring startled expression. Too far? she seemed to ask.
Aideen held out her hand and Sarah shook it.
“I’ve heard so much about you, Sarah,” Aideen said, her accent clipped and precise, her voice soft and honeyed. Sarah could see why the women were treating her like royalty. She sounded like Princess Diana.
“Have you?”
“Aideen was able to put Mike up last year when he was on the road looking for you,” Fiona said.
Put Mike up? What the hell did that mean? If Aideen’s sly and self-satisfied expression meant anything at all, it seemed the words meant exactly what Sarah was afraid they meant. She pulled her hand out of Aideen’s clasp.
“Well, if Fiona hasn’t thanked you enough yet for that, then please allow me. I’m sure it was as a result of your helping him that he was finally able to lay hands on me.” She could see Fiona jerk her head at her in surprise at Sarah’s choice of words, but it didn’t matter. All that mattered was that Aideen’s smug smile had dissolved from her lips.
“My pleasure,” Aideen said, biting off every syllable.
Sarah turned to Fiona. “So, will Aideen be joining us today in the spud sorting department?” She looked at Aideen. “It’s hard work here and we don’t get many days off, especially not during harvest time.”
“So I see,” Aideen said pleasantly.
“No,” Fiona said, her hand back on Aideen’s elbow. “Go on and get started if you would, Sarah. I’m to deliver her back to Mike. He’s giving her a full tour of the place today and helping her move into her new cottage.”
Sarah watched the two move toward Mike’s hut and saw him come out onto his porch. He was holding a small girl in his arms, who instantly ran to Aideen when he put her down. Sarah could hear her excited prattle from fifty yards away although not her words. Even so, she could guess. Mike had that effect on children.
She hurried over to the potato sorting table, smiling broadly at the two women waiting for her—and was met with surprised return smiles. She picked up the first potato from the rag sack of them on the ground and brushed the dirt from it. At the first melodic tinkle of laughter that caught the summer morning breeze and carried back to her, she turned her head to see the figures again in front of Mike’s hut.
Fiona was leading the child away toward where the rest of the children were being watched behind the new makeshift schoolhouse they were building.
Mike and Aideen walked toward the stables. Sarah could see he was pointing out something to Aideen that was out of Sarah’s line of sight.
He had his hand on the small of Aideen’s back as they walked.
***
“Really? She just waltzes into camp one day and she’s in?”
“Mike vouched for her.”
Sarah grabbed two more potatoes and began vigorously scrubbing their jackets with the small brush she was using to clean them. Fiona stood next to her with a paring knife, attacking the eyes and bruised spots or insect damaged areas.
“I’ll just bet he did. And where is she staying? Has Mike arranged that, too?”
“Of course. You know Mike. He wanted to give her his hut because it’s so close to the camp center, only it’s hardly bigger than an outhouse so she’ll take Old Lady Mordor’s place for now. It’s been vacant since she died and it has a pretty setting. Too late for flowers this year, but it gets full sun in the morning when—”
“Okay, Fi, I don’t care about the damn sun her new place gets.”
“Sure, why am I rattling on? In truth, she won’t even be there in the spring anyway.”
“So she’s just here temporarily?” Sarah’s arms dropped to her sides. Was she really getting unglued over nothing? She turned and picked up the small basket of potatoes she’d finished cleaning.
“Of course. Just until you leave. Then she’ll take your cottage.”
Sarah dropped the basket in the dirt.
“Hey, watch that! Some people have to eat those things. So what did you think, Sarah? That’s we’d keep your place as a shrine to you? It’s one of the nicest cottages in camp, if not the nicest. Two bedrooms, big kitchen, facing the center of camp, and Mike is just two doors away.”
“I get it, Fi. She’s here to take my place. I get it.”
“Oh, I think she can do a little better than take your place, luv. It’s pretty clear by the moon eyes she was making last night at dinner that she means to get that big stubborn brother of my mine hitched and in her bed. Oh! I guess that would be your bed, now, wouldn’t it?”
Sarah turned on her heel and stomped off to her cottage. It was all she could do not to slap Fiona first. She could hear her calling to her, “Oh, come on, Sarah, I was just teasing! Come on, I’m sorry if I went too far…”
She slammed the front door as hard as she could, wishing the windowpanes would pop out and the doorknob would fall off at the impact. A heavy door, it was, nonetheless, solid and slow and only made a small shushing sound when it closed. She had an overwhelming urge to break something or scream at the very least. Trouble was, screaming would sound an alarm that she didn’t have the right to sound, and breaking anything when everything was so valuable was just wrong.
She sat down and thought about crying but decided she was too angry for that.
Worst of all, she knew she needed to go back outside and resume cleaning and packing potatoes. She took a long breath and straightened her blouse and smoothed out the lines of her jeans.
I’ll go back and do my part, she thought, marching to the door. And if Fiona Donovan Cooper says one word to me I swear I’ll soak her head in the vinegar brine bucket.
***
Aideen wrinkled up her nose at the smell of the place. Mike had to admit, the Widow Mordor hadn’t been the most conscientious of housekeepers.
“It’s just temporary, mind,” he said to her as he stepped into the cottage. He should have had Fiona air the place out or take a hose to it, more like, but what with the wedding and all—and not needing the place—that had taken a back seat to more pressing things.
“It’s fine, Mike. Better than fine,” Aideen said. “It’s a real roof over our heads and everything else can be made lovely.”
“It’s further away from the center of camp than I’d like,” he said. “But when Sarah moves out, you can move in closer.” As if taking his words as an invitation, she turned to him and put her hand on his arm.
“You know where I came from,” she said quietly. “You know what an improvement this is over that.”
“Aye,” he said. He couldn’t help the feeling of wanting to protect her from her past, from the people who’d hurt her, as daft as that notion was. There was something about her that made him want to keep her safe. “This camp will be a good home for you, Aideen. And for Taffy. I swear it will.”
“I know it will,” she said, shifting her weight so her hip grazed his thigh. She looked around the dingy little cabin as if imagining its transformation.
“I’ll have Iain bring in food for the rest of the week. We usually parcel it out on Saturday so those wanting a Sunday lunch can have it. You’re joining us in the middle of our time of plenty. So that’s good.”
This tour had seemed like a good idea when he’d suggested it last night but now, with her standing so close to him and the thought of all the work that still needed doing out in the field, he started to feel fidgety. Best he left her to doing her best to tidy the place up.
Because he wasn’t expecting it, he didn’t think to stop her or push her away when she turned to him and kissed him on the mouth. Because he wasn’t expecting it, he automatically dropped his hand to her waist and pulled her to him. And because he had hungered for the touch of another for so long, his body reacted to the moment with instinctive immediacy.
Aideen wrapped her arms around his neck and ground her pelvis into his before he thought to untangle her and hold her at arm’s length. When he did, he realized they were both panting. Her eyes glittered and focused on his lips. He knew that she’d let him take her right there on top of the old widow’s dusty bedclothes and broken curtain rods.
And for a minute, he considered it.
“We can’t, Aideen,” he said hoarsely.
“Sure we can now,” she said, her eyes flitting from his mouth to his eyes. She still held her arms out as if he would move into her embrace at any moment. “Your Sarah is leaving.”
“Yes, but she’s not gone yet,” he said before even thinking.
Aideen dropped her arms and turned around to face the cottage interior. “I see.”
“No, you don’t. It’s not like that. I just need a little time to reorganize things in my head, is all.”
“Seemed to me your body has already made the leap. Maybe you’re thinking too much.”
“Maybe. Can we table this discussion for another time? I really need to get out to the field. This is a very big time for us.”
“Of course, of course. I’ll be fine here.”
She smiled bravely as if he hadn’t just rebuffed her and then suggested he bolt out the door, too. He put a hand to her face, so pale and the apples in her cheeks like a blush about to happen.
“I can be patient, Mike,” she said, her eyes smoldering once more and locked onto his lips. “Take the time you need.”
Twenty minutes later he was on his horse and cantering toward the north pasture where the potatoes had been planted. His blood felt racing and alive as he rode. The summer breeze ruffled his hair and the sun pounded on his back. It was truly a beautiful day to be alive, he thought.
Aideen had just taken a shite week and made it shine.
As he neared the field, he could see the kneeling forms of twenty people digging up the potatoes. He was surprised to see how orderly they seemed to be. Two people dug in each row while a runner—it looked to be an older child—carried a small bag of unearthed spuds back to the end of the line where someone else packed them in larger bags and stacked them on the back of pony carts, which were then driven off back to camp.
At this rate, they’d have the field clear by nightfall. Mike stopped his horse at the pony cart and saw that several people were packing the potato harvest onto the cart.
Brian was one of them. In fact, Brian appeared to be the one orchestrating the runners and the packers.
“Morning, Mike,” Brian called to him as Mike dismounted.
“Gilhooley,” Mike said. “Looks like you’ve got things well in hand here.”
“A hunnert percent,” Brian said, grinning. He ruffled the hair of a boy who walked up carrying a bag of potatoes. “Couldn’t do it without young Liam, here.”
Mike saw the boy beam at Brian as if the man’s praise were all the sustenance he could ever want.
“Mr. Gilhooley’s figured how we only need so many actual pickers to a row,” Liam said. “This way we’re not running over on top of each other.”
“And we can actually come away with larger yields and fewer damaged spuds,” Brian said, patting the boy on the shoulder. “Off you go, now, Liam. Still daylight left.”
“Right you are, sir.”
“Looks like you’ve taken over,” Mike observed.
“Well, the potato picking anyway,” Brian said, his eyes showing no humor as he spoke.
“Brian! You’ll be wanting to come see this,” a woman yelled from the middle of the potato field.
Mike craned his neck and squinted at her in the distance. Surely it wasn’t a snake, although Saint Patrick not withstanding, it wasn’t totally out of the question.
“What is it, Maggie?” Brian yelled back. He began to move into the field.
Mike remounted and stood in the stirrups to see what the woman was hollering about. She stood with her hands on her hips, wiping the sweat from her brow from time to time. If it was a snake, she wasn’t too concerned with getting away from it, Mike thought, frowning.
As he watched, he could see the problem wasn’t in the field but in what was coming across the field at a fair clip. He twisted in his saddle and strained to get a better look, because from what he could see, the thing coming slowly across the potato field looked to be the closest thing to an actual ghost as he had ever seen.