Never Never (29 page)

Fiona reached up and touched Sarah's shoe to get her attention.

“Today's the day, isn't it? The day he said he'd come?”

Tears sprang to Sarah's eyes that Fiona remembered. December first. It was the day John had told Sarah he'd come back.

And miracle or not, Sarah had no doubt he'd be there—waiting for her. She had an image of him, six years old, his little backpack at his feet, as he waited for her to pick him up from carpool all those many years ago—his face searching for each car to see if it was her, his eyes brightening when he found her.

He had to be there.

“Oy! Mike!” Tommy called down from the top parapet where he was scanning the environs before the door opened. “There's people coming!”

Mike frowned and Sarah grabbed his arm. “Mike, we're still going,” she said.

“Aye, Sarah. Let's just see who's come calling first though, do ye mind?”

Frustration welled up inside Sarah to see her journey delayed even an hour. It was probably nothing. People came down the road from time to time. Half the time they didn't even call up to the castle. It occurred to Sarah that it might be one of the castle women coming to beg to be taken back in.

She squinted up at Tommy. He had the pair of binoculars they'd taken off Hurley.

“Can you see who it is?” she called up to him.

Suddenly, Tommy turned away and disappeared down the stairwell. When he emerged, in the courtyard he ran to where Terry stood by the drawbridge handle.

“Raise the drawbridge! Raise it!” he shouted. “It's John! He's come home!”

T
he grand hall
was festooned with pine boughs along all three of the ten foot high stone fireplaces. Many white candles created a glow that illuminated the whole room.

The full week before Christmas had been like that. Like a step back in time before the EMP. Like magic had returned to the world.

Sarah tucked her feet up under her in the big chair by the fireplace. A glass of Irish whiskey was on the table before her and a warm wool blanket was across her knees. They'd been hard pressed to find a Christmas tree of any size in this part of Ireland so in the end they'd settled on quantity. Four short, fat Christmas trees anchored each corner of the grand room, decorated with whatever piece of brightly colored fabric, plastic or metal that anyone could find.

Mike had vetoed the idea of candles on the trees but Sarah thought they were still beautiful.

But nothing was more beautiful than the sight and sound of John, Gavin, Robby, Tommy, Sophia and Regan playing Monopoly at the end of the grand dining table.

Not only had John come home—all the way from Oxford where he set out from the day after the second EMP went off—but he came home with every one of the Sisters from the order and with dear Regan, too.

Regan had indeed survived her run-in with the army and melted away into the woods. She'd made her way back to the convent where she and the nuns created a temporary tent encampment while they waited for John. Regan knew John would come to the convent first if he made it back to Ireland.

And he had.

Literally two days before Regan decided they had to leave for the castle or risk freezing to death on the road, John had walked through the woods and into the convent garden in front of the burnt remnants of the convent.

They left for Henredon Castle the next morning.

As Sarah listened to the young people laugh, she thought she noticed a special affinity between Tommy and Regan. Regan was determined to continue her plan to help the raped women of the compound reunite with their families—those that still wanted to go. Tommy had volunteered to go with her—in memory of Jaz—but as Sarah watched him look at Regan, she thought it likely that something else was driving him too.

Sarah looked into the fire as the whiskey warmed her through to her toes. Nuala would bring the little ones in as soon as the feast was ready to be served and then peace would be gone. Sarah grinned at the thought.

Christmas Day. A castle full of babies and nuns and people grateful to God to be alive.

A motion out of the corner of her eye made her turn in time to see Mike enter the room. He was talking to Davey—Liddy's disgraced husband. He'd been living in the woods for the past eight months and met up with John and the nuns on the road to Henredon Castle. Sarah already knew Davey had thrown himself on Liddy's mercy and begged her forgiveness with promises to be a good dad to little Roice. Now it looked like he was clearing it with Mike too.

Sarah watched Mike clap Davey on the shoulder and she found herself relaxing.

You never know what you can live without until you're forced to.

Mike made his way over to her by the fire. The young people called to him to get him to play but he just grinned and shook his head. He took a seat next to Sarah and relaxed with a heavy sigh.

“Merry Christmas,” she said.

“And to you, darlin'. Happy?”

“I am.”

“Young John coming home like that…” Mike shook his head as if he still couldn't believe it.

“I know. And Regan.”

“I hate letting her out the door again.”

“Plenty of time to worry about that later,” Sarah said.

He turned to look at her and smiled. “Isn't that what I'm always telling you?”

She laughed and leaned toward him. They kissed and she could taste the whiskey on his breath. Obviously the men had been celebrating Christmas by the outdoor fire pit in the courtyard.

“You did it, Mike. You said you'd get us somewhere safe. And you did.”

“Aye, well.
We
did. But like everything you and I do, nothing is ever as easy as it sounds.”

“I'm sorry I doubted you.”

“Pssht! None of that,” he said. “Blimey. Looks like it's time. No rest for the weary.”

She turned to follow his eyes and saw Nuala, Fiona and Liddy coming into the grand hall with babies in their arms and children squealing and running around them.

The sight of the delighted children combined with the aroma of evergreen pine boughs and the roasted meats made Sarah turn again to Mike. He reached for her hand.

“You're not going to believe this,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears, “but I think this might be the best Christmas ever.”

“Funny,” he said, kissing her hand, his eyes twinkling. “I was just thinking the same thing.”

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S
usan Kiernan-Lewis
lives in Ponte Vedra, Florida, and writes mysteries, romantic suspense and dystopian thrillers. Like many authors, Susan depends on the reviews and word of mouth referrals of her readers. If you enjoyed
Never Never
, please consider leaving a review saying so on your purchase site.

Check out Susan's blog at
susankiernanlewis.com
and feel free to contact her at
[email protected]
.