Selkie's Song (Fado Trilogy) (31 page)

“Welcome to America. That’s why I don’t drive a car here.”

Muireann was dressed in jeans and a wine-colored, long-sleeved blouse that reflected amber lights in her deep brown eyes. She seemed to lack her usual spark and her eyes had a tired glaze, but she was smiling that slow, mischievous way he’d missed these last weeks.

Tynan wasn’t sure what to do next. Not long past, he would have pulled her into his arms. He’d been naïve then. Now he knew her sting as well as her honey. He didn’t want to get his hopes up just to have them dashed again under a sea of deception. She remained silent, and he knew he should say something.

Muireann beat him to it. “Cat got yer tongue?” She raised an eyebrow in query.

“Yes—uh, no. I’m…It’s been a humdinger of a day here. My sister, Flannery, just gave birth to a little girl.”

“Did she now? How lovely. Are you off for a visit then?”

“No, I mean—yes, she’s just upstairs.” It might have been the stress of what had transpired this day, the whiskey gone to his head, or Muireann’s sudden appearance, but tears filled his eyes and threatened to overflow.

Muireann reached across the table and touched the back of his hand. Her fingers were warm and Ty watched as they played over his knuckles.

His heart raced and Ty’s libido stirred. That response in itself, especially considering his impaired state, did not warrant a confession of undying love, but the truth could not be denied. Love her he did.

As he studied their hands, her fingers seeking to entwine with his, another realization gripped his heart, a picture as lucid as the one of her standing naked on the strand with her skin glistening with salt water.

He desperately needed to know her feelings. However, confessing his love once again and being rebuffed would only reopen the painful wounds he had tried to sooth. Tynan took her hand and stood. “Come with me.” They exited the pub and walked a short distance where horse-drawn cabs parked near the old courthouse on State Street.

Muireann turned to him with a wide grin. “What are we doing?”

“I’m going to show you Boston in style.” He approached an open carriage decked out in red, white, and blue bunting. “Are you still taking fares?” he asked the driver.

A wizened gentleman in an Uncle Sam costume bowed and smiled. “Never turn down a fare on a lovely night like this.” He indicated they should mount the carriage.

Tynan gave Muireann a hand up the high step, even though he knew she was more than capable of leaping the distance with no assistance. He just felt very eighteenth century at the moment. He joined her on the cushioned seat and held her hand as the carriage made its way from State Street down Merchants Row. “Now we can talk.”

“We’re not exactly alone, Ty,” Muireann said with a raised eyebrow toward the crowd that filled the square adjacent to Faneuil Hall.

“They’ve all been temporarily deafened by fireworks, the horse won’t care what you say, and I will bet you this driver has heard everything there is to hear between lovers.” The word
lovers
had just slipped from his lips. The corners of Muireann’s mouth lifted into a whisper of a smile. “And friends,” Ty added.

Neither spoke for several minutes. The air of evening had cooled with a breeze off Boston Harbor. The impact of each hoof, steel against paving stone, punctuated the silence in the rhythm of an era lost in the past.

Muireann wove her fingers through his, took a deep breath, and closed her eyes. “My mother is doing okay. She’s still very confused, but she knew I was coming to see you. She sent her thanks.” Her eyes lifted to him and Tynan tried to read them. “She asked me to give you a message.
Geal bheith ag filleadh go hEirinn. Chonaic mo dhóthair de thíortha í
.
Do you know what she meant?
”

“Bright is my heart and bright is the sun. Bright to be returning to Ireland.”
Ty sang the words to the tune
“Trasna Na dTonnta,” “Westering Home.” “Yes, I do know what she meant.”

“Would you like to let me in on the secret?”

“Amazing how it can be so hot during the day and cool in the evening.” To give him a minute to organize his thoughts, Ty reached across the seat for a lap shawl and pulled it over their legs. “When I was trying to get your mam to come out of the cave with me, she started to sing that old song. I couldn’t remember the last line of the first verse. It had been years since I’d heard the tune. She got frustrated with me and slipped out of my arms for a moment.” Ty’s brow tightened at the memory of the struggle. “I guess she thought I ought to know the whole song. I’ll be sure never to forget it now.”

“That’s why I’m here,” she said. “To thank you.”

Ty’s heart sank. “Oh. Well then, you’re welcome.” He gave her hand a little squeeze.

Without another word, she pulled him to her and kissed him. It wasn’t a sisterly “thank you” kind of kiss. Instead, Ty thought it was too quick, passionate, but with a slight edge of anger. He leaned away just far enough to see her whole face. Her lips parted and she had a look of feral dismay in her dark eyes. “What was that all about?” he asked.

“It’s about why I came all this way.”

“So you didn’t only come to thank me?”

Muireann slowly shook her head. “Can we try that again? I’ve an important decision to make here.” She kissed him again. This time there was no quickness to it. It left him a bit stunned.

“Does that help clarify things?” he queried.

A tiny hint of a smile touched her lips. “One more time…just to make certain.”

Ty held a finger to her lips. “Just hold on a minute here. I know I’m a great kisser, but you did not come all the way from Ballinacurragh for one last kiss. Even for two,” he added.

Muireann looked at the sky, took a deep breath, and turned back to Ty. “No, not really. I came because a selkie told me to.”

Tynan’s hand slipped around her neck and drew her close. “I dare you to say that again,” he teased. “I dare you to say it loud enough that the horse and driver can hear you.”

Muireann stood, rocked a bit with the movement of the carriage, and steadied herself. “I’ll do better than that. I’ll announce it to all of Boston. Hey, everyone…listen up,” she called to anyone within earshot. “I love this man, and a selkie told me to come here and tell him. Now, whatta ya think about that?”

The driver turned with a grin. “I’ve heard a lot of declarations of love in the years I’ve run a carriage here in Boston, but I think this is a first.” A man dressed like the Statue of Liberty gave Ty a thumbs-up. There were whistles and hoots from the crowd.

Tynan took her in his arms. “You will always be for me. I love you, seal woman.” He brushed her long hair behind her ear and whispered into it. “Do you need any convincing?”

“I lied. I was convinced before I got on the airplane.” She kissed him lightly. “Do you really think I’d fly all this way unless I knew I loved you?”

“I was beginning to think you might, just to find out the name of the tune I played for you.”

“I have to confess, two things I cannot abide—losing a dare and admitting I don’t know the name of a tune.”

“I wrote it for you. It’s called
Selkie’s Song
.”

A word about the author...

Clare Austin submitted her first manuscript to a publisher at the age of eight years. She wishes she still had that rejection letter.

Many years and not a few stories later, with characters knocking at the inside of her cranium and begging to be released, Clare’s romantic comedy,
Butterfly
, was published. There followed a suspenseful sequel,
Angel’s Share,
and
Hot Flash,
a women’s fiction/romance for mature women and the men who love them.

Clare lives in the beautiful Rocky Mountains and enjoys her horses, playing her violin, and traveling to Ireland every summer.

Also available from The Wild Rose Press, Inc.

Butterfly by Clare Austin

http://amzn.com/B002OL1XEA

Santorini Sunset by Claire Croxton

http://amzn.com/1612171508

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