The Emerald Isle (8 page)

The kitchen door creaked then, and we heard the sound of quick footsteps on the solid oak floor. Fiona O’Neil entered the dining room with a tray loaded with three steaming plates of eggs, bacon, sausages, fried cherry tomatoes, and some dark bits of something I wasn’t sure I wanted to taste. She set our plates before us with an ease any waitress
would have envied, then lowered her tray and breathlessly asked if we needed anything else.

Hans, Aleen, and I shook our heads and murmured our thanks. Mrs. O’Neil nodded brusquely, then turned and hurried away, her footsteps thundering down the hall.

I looked down at my breakfast and saw more food than I usually ate for lunch and dinner combined. Fiona O’Neil had provided her best for her guests—the outsiders.

I had not been in Ireland twenty-four hours before realizing that Cahira O’Connor might prove to be my salvation. Without her, I would have nothing to do but sit around the farm and feel useless. In the space of a morning Mrs. O’Neil had made it quite clear that I wasn’t family, nor would they treat me as such. Even Mr. O’Neil, who had smiled warmly at me during our introduction, had neither the time nor the strength to entertain or guide a bored American tourist. Maddie was no help either. Eager to introduce her American fiancé, she took Taylor off in the family car to make the circuit of friends and relatives. Even Hans and Aleen, with whom I’d had a remarkably pleasant conversation at breakfast, hopped into their rental car and drove off to find a riding academy.

I found myself alone.

Solitude has its pleasures, I’ll admit. If not for the strange sense of disconnectedness that left me feeling confused, I might have enjoyed wandering through the fields and tramping down the country roads. But some irritating little voice kept whispering that I didn’t belong here, that I had no purpose for coming.

After breakfast, I thumped up the wooden staircase to my room, then stared at my open suitcases and the bed’s wrestled sheets. One thing was clear enough. Mrs. O’Neil may have considered me a guest at breakfast, but she certainly didn’t when it came to cleaning my room. My wet towel still hung on the back of the door, and the stillrumpled bed meant no one had even entered my room.

I sat on the edge of the bed, wondering if I should unpack or call a travel agent for the next return flight home. A strange thought struck me: I could go where I wanted, when I wanted, and if I were to fall down dead in some peat bog, no one would miss me for hours, perhaps days. This aimless pace was so unlike my minute-to-minute New York existence…

“The thing you need is a plan,” I told myself as I bent to unpack my suitcases. “Find the nearest library. Take your notebooks and your tape recorder and ask if you can borrow the family car. Soon Taylor will be ready for a break from Maddie’s relatives, so he’ll be glad to go with you and help navigate these country roads. You’ll feel better once you’re elbow-deep in note cards and history books.”

The simple act of formulating a plan did brighten my outlook. I stacked my jeans and underwear in empty bureau drawers, tidied the bed, closed my suitcases, and pulled out a canvas bag of note cards and blank spiral notebooks. As I was pulling my laptop out of its protective case, the sound of voices drifted in through the open window. I looked out to see Taylor and Maddie walking up the drive, hand in hand. Maddie’s cheeks were flushed with excitement, and the wind had blown Taylor’s hair into the same tangled riot every rural farmer wore. If Maddie had dressed him in a sweater and knee-high boots, he’d look like an Irishman altogether.

I left my supplies on the bed and skipped down the stairs to greet my friends. “You two were up early this morning,” I called, my boots crunching the graveled drive as I walked toward them. “And I heard you were up late, too.”

“I guess so.” Taylor smiled at Maddie as she leaned into him. “Fiona started telling stories about Maddie and her brother—”

“Whist now, that’s enough,” Maddie teased, her Irish accent deeper and more melodic now that we stood on her home turf. “You behave and keep my secrets, or I’ll make you eat blood pudding every morning till you grow to like it.” She stood on tiptoe, kissed Taylor on the cheek, then released his hand and moved toward the house. “Let me check on lunch. I’ll call you directly.”

Wearing an unusual expression of contentment, Taylor thrust his hands in his pockets and watched her go.

“Nice morning?” I asked, my voice dry.

“Yeah. We drove around to several farms. I’ve met so many O’Neils and Kellys and Murphys that I’ll never keep them straight.”

“That’s nice.” I folded my arms and looked toward the horizon as a heavy and uncomfortable silence fell between us. Taylor should have noticed it, but he kept his eyes focused on Maddie’s retreating back.

“I ate breakfast with Hans and Aleen.” I glanced at him, searching for any sign of comprehension. “They were interesting people from the Netherlands. Mrs. O’Neil said they were here for the riding, and I was thinking bicycles until I saw them in jodhpurs.”

Maddie went into the house, and as the door closed, Taylor finally turned to look at me. “That’s nice. Say—what are you going to do this afternoon?”

Relief struggled with irritation as I stared at him. He hadn’t forgotten me, and he wouldn’t leave me here alone…as long as Maddie wasn’t around to interfere.

I slipped my hands into my jeans pockets and stepped in front of him, blocking his view of the front door. “I thought I’d ask to borrow the car and see if I can find a library nearby. I looked at the map, and Terryglass is a good-sized city just north of us. If they don’t have a decent library, Birr is just a few miles to the northeast.” I playfully punched him in the shoulder. “So—do you want to come with me, or do you have to stay and play house?”

The warmth of his smile sent shivers down my spine. “I’d
love
to find a library. Last night I gathered that Maddie and her mother want to do all sorts of female things together—they have to shop for dresses, plan the wedding flowers, make out the guestlist, and that sort of thing. If I can find some good books, I might be able to catch up on my reading and do a little work on my thesis while we’re here.”

I exhaled a long sigh of contentment. “Great. Shall we ask for the car at lunch?”

Taylor pulled a set of keys from his pocket and dangled them in front of me. “No need. Fiona gave me the keys to James’s car. He doesn’t get out much anymore, so the car is ours for as long as we’re here.”

We began to walk into the house together, and I brought up a subject I didn’t dare mention with any of the family around. “How bad is he, Taylor? He didn’t look very sick yesterday.”

“Fiona says he has good days and bad days. Yesterday was a good day, but he was probably running on adrenaline because he knew Maddie was coming home. But he’s already struggling to manage the farm work, and they’ve had to hire a couple of guys when it’s time to sell cattle. But James can still handle the milking by himself, and milk is the mainstay of this farm.” His voice dropped in volume. “When things get bad, though, Fiona is going to ask Maddie’s brother to move back home. I gather she isn’t exactly looking forward to that.”

“Why not? Pretty young Erin is besotted with what’s-his-name.”

Taylor’s brows slanted in a frown. “His name is Patrick, and from what I can tell, he’s sort of the family prodigal. He and James had a falling-out years ago, and Patrick’s been in Limerick ever since. Maddie hasn’t seen him in four years.”

We had reached the door, so I turned on the threshold to ask another question. “So, what does the guy do in Limerick?”

“Computers. Intel and several other major computer corporations have opened offices in Limerick and Dublin, and Patrick does freelance work for most of them. Maddie says he’s done very well for himself, but his success only irks James.”

“So”—I put my hand on Taylor’s wrist as he reached for the door-knob—“it’s James and Fiona now, is it?”

“Well, it can’t be Mom and Dad,” he answered, grinning back at me. “At least not until after the wedding.”

I didn’t answer, but stepped into the house and shivered in the cool shadows of the spacious, spotless front rooms.

I was pleasantly surprised to discover that Mrs. O’Neil set a place for me at lunch. I suppose since her B&B did not serve lunch or dinner,
she either had to feed me with the family or run the risk of allowing me to starve under her roof.

Her cheery kitchen was the sort of place I would have naturally felt at home if given half a chance. A small television atop the refrigerator provided a background of noise, while a hodgepodge collection of photographs decorated the front of the fridge. Red-and-white gingham curtains fluttered from the window, and a matching tablecloth covered a long table with a bench at each side.

Taylor slid onto a bench next to Maddie, and I sat across from them. Fiona took a seat at the end of the table, then nodded toward the bowl of chicken salad in front of Taylor. “Eat up,” she said, her voice warm as she smiled at him.

I felt myself begin to relax. She didn’t know me, she was probably feeling pressure to be accepted by her future son-in-law, and of course she wanted to please Maddie. She probably didn’t mean to treat me with coldness, and truthfully, she hadn’t done anything to hurt me. She had just kept me at arm’s length, but I probably would have done the same thing.

Though I wasn’t hungry after that big breakfast, I smeared some chicken salad on a slice of brown bread and took small bites so I wouldn’t offend my hostess. She ate quickly, talking about the farm and Maddie’s relatives, and the room seemed to warm as she shared a funny story and we all laughed. The temperature plummeted, however, when Taylor announced that we wanted to drive to Terryglass or Birr to find a library.

“A what?” Fiona’s face froze, her brows arched into neat little triangles.

“A library.” Taylor helped himself to the bowl of chicken salad and began to make a second sandwich. “Kathy wants to begin work on her project, and I thought I’d pick up some books on Kipling.” He smiled at Maddie. “I thought I might find some interesting texts that I can’t find in the States. Besides,” he winked at her, “I know you and your mother have lots of girl things to do.”

Maddie’s face fell in disappointment. “You’re leaving me?”

Nonplussed, Taylor froze with his knife in midair. “I’m only going to the library. We’ll be back before dark.”

Maddie nodded, but her blue eyes filled with water as she stared down at her plate. I pressed my lips together and studied my half-eaten sandwich, afraid of what was coming next.

“There’s a nice historic library in Cashel.” A nervous tremor filled Mrs. O’Neil’s voice as she set a heavy bowl of potato chips in front of me. “And Cashel is a famous place—you ought to see it while you’re here.”

Maddie looked up, her lips screwed into a petulant pout. “I wanted to take him to Cashel, Mum.”

“Then go to Terryglass, Taylor, and stick to the bloomin’ library.” Fiona flung up her hands, then leaned back in her chair, her eyes hot with reproach as she glared at her daughter. Careful not to make any sudden gestures that might call attention to myself, I picked up my fork and sliced a tiny sliver of bread and chicken salad.

“You promise you’ll be back before five?” Maddie whispered, glancing at Taylor through lowered lashes. “I wanted to take you to meet Erin’s parents. They’re the next farm over, and they’re our dearest friends.”

Taylor looked at me and blinked hard. “What do you think, Kathy? Can we be back by five?”

I nodded slowly, not daring to object.

Taylor gave Maddie a reassuring smile, then squeezed her hand. “I promise we’ll be back before too late. We’ll leave right after lunch and make great time.”

Mrs. O’Neil shoved the bowl of potato chips toward me. “Have some crisps,” she said, looking at me as if I were the source of every trouble in Ireland.