The Mighty Quinns: Riley (15 page)

They walked up the rise behind the house to a spot
in front of a drystone wall. Wildflowers swayed in the evening breeze, perfuming the air around them. Nan spread the quilt out and sat down, then took the glasses from him.

“Tell me everything,” Riley said. “Did you spend the entire day with him?”

“No,” she said. “When I left, I wasn't even sure that I was going to stop at his place. First, I went to see Carriganass Castle and then I went to a stone circle. And I was thinking of going to see him and then this man walked up with a little black dog and it was him.”

“What?”

“Right there. At the stone circle. He was there, as if I conjured him up out of thin air.”

“That's odd. Spooky.”

“I know,” Nan said. “That's exactly what I said. Even if I had decided I didn't want to meet him, we would have met. I went to his house and we talked for a little bit, but then I got overwhelmed and I had to leave. I promised I'd come back tomorrow.” She took his hand, weaving her fingers through his. “You'll come with me, won't you?”

“Sure.” Riley poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her, then filled a glass for himself. “So, why don't we have a toast?”

“To what?” Nan asked.

“To your newfound family. And to your citizenship,” he said. “You are now a citizen of the Republic of Ireland.”

Nan stared at him in disbelief. “No, I'm not.”

“Yes, you are. If either of your parents are Irish cit
izens, then you automatically are. That's the way it works here. You'll probably have to do a few things to make it official, but that shouldn't be too difficult.”

Nan stared at him for a long time, then finally shook her head. “I suddenly feel very Irish. I'm going to start talking with a brogue.”

“Well, Tiernan Galvin,” he began in a deep Irish accent, “let me teach you a few important things. You already know the proper use of ‘feck' and its various forms. ‘Bloody' can be used in almost any situation. But then there's ‘bollocks.'”

“Bollocks,” she repeated.

“No. You have to say it with more attitude. Bollocks!”

“Bollocks!” Nan said, bursting into giggles. “What does it mean?”

“Stupid. A mess. A hames. Ruined. Destroyed. It's just a term that applies to anything that's royally fecked up. It also means testicles.”

“I can't say that!”

“Shag,” he said. “That means anything that has to do with sex.”

“I know that one,” she said. “But what's a culchie? Kellan called you that.”

“Someone who lives in the country. Also known as a bogger or a bog-trotter. Unlike Kellan, who is a jackeen. He lives in Dublin.”

“I have so much to learn,” she said.

“You don't even know the half of it,” Riley said. He grabbed her glass and set it in the grass, then pulled her beneath him on the blanket. “I'll teach you the rest.”

“Are we going to shag now?” she asked, barely able to contain her laughter.

“No. Not until you stop giggling.”

“If we were in the States we'd be doing the horizontal mambo. Or making whoopee. Or boinking. My coworker calls it baking cookies.”

“Well, that's good to know. If I'm ever in the States, I'll know what to say when soliciting sex.”

“If you're ever in the States, you'll get arrested for doing that. And I wouldn't come and bail you out.”

“You're the only one I want,” Riley murmured. He kissed her softly, then covered her mouth with his. His tongue tangled with hers and he moaned softly, already growing hard. Hell, it didn't take much. A little talk, a few kisses, and he was lost.

They kissed for a long time, Riley enjoying the taste of her mouth and the feel of her body beneath his touch. But he didn't want to go any further. He'd leave that for later, when they were naked in her bed. Instead, he curled up beside her, his leg thrown over her thighs, his chin tucked into her shoulder.

“I missed you today,” he murmured. “I didn't know what to do with myself.”

“What did you do before I got here?”

“I don't even remember. But it must not have been very interesting.”

“What will you do after I leave?”

“I don't know. I don't even want to think about that. I'll probably hang out at the airport hoping you'll just decide to come back some day.”

“That's pretty pathetic,” she whispered, turning to look at him.

“I know. But now, you have a reason to come back. Your grandfather is here. I'm not so sad anymore.”

“Mmm-hmm. I don't want you to be sad.” She ran her hands through his hair, then kissed his forehead. “I'm sure you'll be fine.”

He couldn't bring himself to agree with her. In truth, he knew for a fact that, if today were any example, he'd spend the first month drunk and the second pissed off at the world. Maybe, by the third month, he'd be tolerable, but just barely. “Sure,” Riley said. “I'll be grand.”

N
AN STOOD AT THE GATE
to the old cemetery, running her hand over the ornate ironwork. She was always amazed at how, everywhere she looked, there was something beautiful to see. Even the lichen-covered Celtic crosses, their detail worn away by time, were like little monuments to the past.

She'd passed the cemetery several times on her way in and out of town and had always wanted to take a closer look. It was only now that she realized the importance of the place. Her father, Tiernan Findley, had been buried here. This was probably her last chance to visit him before she left.

The past few days had been an emotional roller coaster, full of tears and confusion, questions and doubts. But she'd survived it all, only a little bruised. And it had kept her mind off the real sadness—saying goodbye to Riley and Ireland.

They'd driven back to Kealkill and spent the morning with her grandfather, sharing a traditional Irish breakfast in Carey's garden. They'd talked about her mother
and she'd answered all the questions he hadn't asked the day before. And when it was time to leave, Nan had felt her emotions well up inside of her, so quickly that she could barely say goodbye.

Standing in the cemetery now, she swallowed the lump in her throat. She'd see him again. In truth, her grandfather gave her the perfect excuse to come back to Ireland. Glancing both ways, Nan stepped through the graveyard gate.

A chilly breeze swirled around her, causing a shiver to run through her body and she pulled her sweater more tightly around her. From a tree on the other side of the wall, a flock of jackdaws cawed. An eerie feeling came over her and Nan nearly turned back, then decided she was being silly. She'd weathered all the other emotional storms that had come her way. What was she afraid of now?

As she began to wander among the stones, she read the names and the dates of death. Some of them were recent, one stone marking a grave that was still covered with dirt. “Aina M. Garrity,” she read from the stone. “Eighty-seven years old. A long life.” She'd died just a month before.

Nan moved to the older section of the cemetery. There were stones from the time of the famine, single stones marking large plots for multiple family members. The children's stones broke her heart. They'd died from scarlet fever or typhus or any of the simple illnesses that were so easily cured today.

The Quinn family plot stood near the edge of the cemetery. “Rory Quinn,” she read. “Beloved wife,
Brenna Rooney Quinn.” How were these people related to Riley? “Jack Quinn. Siobhan Quinn.” Siobhan had lived for eleven years without her husband beside her. Had she been lonely?

She found Tiernan's grave nearby, the newer stone gleaming in the sun. Squatting down, she brushed away the grass to read the inscription. “Tiernan Findlay, born June 13, 1960. Died November 3, 1984.” The next words were in Gaelic.
Go gcasaimid ar a chéile arís.

The sound of a dog barking caught her attention and Nan stood up to see Riley's brother, Danny, striding briskly down the road. Two black-and-white dogs raced ahead of him. He whistled for them and they came running back then sat at the gate and peered inside at her.

When Danny noticed her, he slowed his pace. “Keep an eye out,” he teased. “Aina Garrity has been haunting this place for the last month.”

Nan frowned. “The lady that died?”

He grinned and stopped at the gate. “She's hanging about, waiting for the next funeral.”

“But she's dead.”

“Her ghost can't leave until someone else is buried.”

Nan slowly walked toward the gate, that same eerie feeling coming over her. Now she was spooked. Had Aina Garrity been watching her? Had the dead woman's ghost been up in the trees with the crows?

“It's a beautiful cemetery,” Nan said. “I was just admiring the stones.”

He grinned, reaching down to pat one of his dogs. “They are beautiful,” he said. “We Irish do death so well.”

“Can you read Gaelic? There's an inscription on a stone. I'd like to know what it means.”

He stepped through the gate and followed her to Tiernan's grave, the dogs scampering around his feet. Danny stood in front of the gravestone and stared at it, then glanced over at Nan. “Riley told us about your news.”

She nodded. “Do you know what it means?”

“Until we meet again.”

She drew a deep breath, then smiled. “That's nice. I like that.”

“Are you through here? I was just walking into town. I have to open the pub for lunch.”

Nan nodded. “I told Riley I'd meet him there.” She took one last look at the gravestone, committing it to memory, then turned for the gate.

Danny held it open for her and she smiled and pointed to the beautiful work. “Did you do this? Riley said you're a blacksmith.”

“I did,” Danny said. “It was one of the first projects I did. My ma said it would help my way into heaven.”

He closed the gate behind her and they strolled down the road side by side, the dogs bounding ahead of them both. “What did you mean about Aina Garrity?”

“I was just teasing. Silly Irish superstition,” he said.

“Tell me,” Nan said.

“Oh, where should I start? When someone dies, their ghost is required to stay at the churchyard and tend to the dead until the next corpse comes along. They're supposed to carry water to Purgatory for the folks down there. When two people are buried on the same day, the
families race to the cemetery to bury their loved one first so they get the express train to heaven.”

She giggled. “So Aina is stuck until another ghost shows up.”

Danny nodded. “That's not the worst of it. Some of the older folks believe that a dead hand is a cure to all sickness.”

“Ew,” Nan said. “You have to eat a dead hand?”

“No,” Danny cried, shaking his head. “We're not that macabre. If you're ill, you just have to be touched by a dead hand. So all the sick relatives come to the wake so they can be touched by the dearly departed's hand.”

Nan shuddered. “I felt like I was being watched in the churchyard.”

“If a ghost or an evil spirit chases you, they can't follow you across water. So find a stream and jump over it.”

“Good to know,” Nan said with a laugh.

“Don't worry. Aina can't leave the cemetery, so you're safe.”

“I saw some Quinns there.”

“My grandparents are buried there. Rory and Brenna Quinn. And Rory's parents, Jack and Siobhan. Jack was shot during the Irish rebellion and Siobhan also worked for the cause. That was his fishing boat that you and Riley took to Bantry. And Rory was a pilot for the RAF during the second world war. The Quinns have always lived large.”

“Riley said you were an artist. Can I see your work?”

He grinned. “Sure. I have some things in my workshop. We can stop on our way to the pub if you'd like.”

“I would,” Nan said.

They strolled along in the warm noonday sun, watching the dogs run ahead of them. Danny was as charming as Riley, amusing her with a complete education of Irish superstition. By the time they reached his workshop, she could only wonder how the Quinn boys had remained single for as long as they had.

She followed Danny around the back of cottage to what looked like a small barn. He pulled a large door open and Nan stepped into the dimly lit interior. Ornate ironwork hung from the old timber beams and along one wall, large swaths of canvas hid his sculptures. Danny pulled them off one by one, revealing wildly imaginative work. Nan stared in awe at his sculptures.

“This is incredible,” she murmured, walking from piece to piece.

“This is what I do in my spare time,” he said.

She moved to a small wooden case, filled with tiny carvings of animals and insects. “What are these?”

“I did those when I was a kid. That's how I got my start, in bath soap and driftwood.” He reached up to a shelf that hung from the stone wall. “Here. I have something for you.”

He handed her an ornate Celtic cross made from cast iron. The detailing on it was incredible and she gazed at it in awe. “That came from my religious phase,” he said with a wry smile. “I did a whole series of them. This is the only one left.”

“I—I can't take this,” she said.

“Sure you can,” Danny said. “It will ward off evil
spirits and it works as a deterrent to pickpockets and highwaymen.”

“Have you ever shown your work at a gallery?” she asked.

“I have a show every few years in Dublin at a gallery there. But I don't have much time for my art. I spend most of my days making practical things like gates and andirons. They pay the bills.”

Nan stood in front of a sculpture of a giant soaring bird, its wings reaching out like arms to the sky. “I don't know a lot about art, but I know this is good. It makes me feel something.”

“There's one just like it in Dublin. It was a commission from the mayor's arts council.”

He spent the next half hour showing her all of his pieces, explaining each one and answering all her questions. Nan was surprised at how easy it was to talk to Riley's brother. He was just like…family.

He seemed genuinely interested in her opinions and appreciated her comments about her favorite pieces. From the start, with Riley, it had been all about the attraction between them, so powerful and intense. But Danny seemed like a good friend, only interested in chatting with her.

When they'd finished the impromptu show, Nan watched as he covered all his sculptures, wondering what it would be like to become a part of this family. She was all alone in the world now, except for her Irish grandfather.

She could only guess at why her mother's parents never been a part of her life. Maybe they'd never wanted
her mother to have an illegitimate child. Or maybe they disapproved of her marrying an older man. Certainly, an unexpected pregnancy would come as a shock to any parent, especially when the father of the baby wanted nothing to do with the mother. But Laura Daley had decided to do what she needed to do to make a life for her daughter.

Maybe she had still loved Tiernan. Maybe she died with his image in her mind. It was a romantic notion that they were finally together. Was that what the inscription had meant? Until they meet again.

Or perhaps his betrayal had ended any feelings she'd ever had. But one thing was certain. She had wanted the baby growing inside her and she'd probably defied her parents in making that choice.

“So, Riley tells me you'll be leaving us soon,” Danny said as they continued their walk into Ballykirk.

“I go home tomorrow,” Nan said. “I don't want to leave. I haven't seen half of what I came here to see. I had all these carefully laid plans and they all fell apart.”

“Plans have a way of doing that now, don't they,” he said with a wry smile. “Maybe your plans to go home should suffer the same consequences.”

“I have a job I have to get back to,” she said.

“Is it something you love?” he asked.

She opened her mouth to reply, but then realized that her automatic affirmation wasn't really what she felt. Was she as passionate about her work as Danny was? He mentioned that he had to sculpt, that he had no other choice in the matter. But Nan couldn't work up such strong feelings for her own career.

Yes, liked what she did, but it wasn't important work. Not like Riley's music and Danny's art. If Nan didn't do her work, they'd find someone else who would. She was easily replaced.

“Yes,” she lied. “I really do love it.”

“Well, then, it won't be so difficult to leave Ireland, I'd expect.”

When they reached the pub, Danny opened the front door and they walked inside the quiet interior. Riley was standing behind the bar, scribbling something on a pad of paper. He looked up as they came in, glancing between them both at first, his expression unreadable.

“I met Nan on the road into town,” Danny explained.

“He took me to see his studio,” Nan added, wondering at the chilly look Riley gave Danny. “I guess we lost track of time.”

Riley pointed at the clock. “Yeah, well, you're late, little brother.”

“Jaysus, Riley, what's fifteen minutes?”

“Twenty,” Riley said. “And considering I only have today left with Nan, it's more than I'm willing to give up to you.” He tossed his apron at Danny, then circled the bar and grabbed Nan's hand. He drew her toward the door. “Come on, let's get the hell out of here.”

“Thanks for the tour, Danny,” she called, waving at him as she hurried out the door. “If I don't see you again, it was nice meeting you.”

When they got outside, Nan pulled her hand from his and stopped, refusing to take another step. “That was rude.”

“He's my brother. I'm allowed.”

“Why are you such a grump? We just walked into town together. He was nice to me and showed me his work.”

“That usually does the trick with the girls here in town,” Riley said.

She gasped, stunned that he'd think there was something going on between her and his brother. “Wow, you did get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning.”

He cursed softly, then ran his fingers through his hair. “Right. Well, how the hell am I supposed to feel? It's like time is slipping through my fingers and I can't do anything to stop it, Nan. You're going home tomorrow and we may never see each other again and you don't seem to give a shite.”

Nan stared at him. What was this all about? He'd never spoken to her like that and she could see anger in his eyes. She sighed, then turned and walked up the street toward the cottage.

“Oh, that's fine now,” Riley shouted. “Just walk away. We can't even have a disagreement?”

Nan turned to face him, walking backward. “You're making an arse of yourself,” she shouted. “And I don't think I like you anymore.”