The Summer Garden (5 page)

“I’ll do it,” Luke said at once, then took another look at her flushed cheeks. “Are you sure that’s all it is, Gram? You seem a little short of breath.”

She gave him a defiant look. “Don’t be ridiculous. Now get back to work. I don’t have all day to spend on this. I have preparations of my own to make. There will be a crowd here in a few days to welcome Dillon to town. I want to get most of the food done early, so I’ll be able to relax and enjoy the party.”

“You know everyone would be happy to pitch in and help,” he protested. “Don’t wear yourself out.”

“We both know there’s not another soul in this family who cooks as well as I do,” she countered. “And I won’t have Jess asking Gail at the inn to cater a meal for us, not on Dillon’s first night in town.” She gave him a wry look. “And though you’re improving, you’re not up to the task yet, either.”

Luke smiled at her. “You’re really looking forward to his visit, aren’t you?”

This time he had the feeling that the blush in her cheeks had nothing to do with being overheated. “I am,” she admitted. She hesitated, then said, “Can I tell you a secret?”

“Of course.”

“I’m going to do everything in my power to convince him to stay right here,” she said, defiant sparks in her eyes. “I imagine Mick will have a thing or two to say about that, but it’s my decision. And Dillon’s, of course.”

Luke knew his own surprise was nothing compared to the tizzy Uncle Mick would have over this news. He tried to tread carefully. “Have you and Dillon already discussed it? I thought the plan was for you both to travel back and forth.”

“Plans sometimes have to change,” she said, her voice turning sad. “I think Christmas was probably my last visit to Ireland.”

Once again Luke had the sense that there was much more to the story that she wasn’t telling him. “Gram, what’s going on?”

After only the faintest flicker of despondency on her face, something so brief he couldn’t even be sure he’d seen it, her expression brightened. “Not a thing,” she said. “I’m just being realistic. It’s a long way to go at my age.”

“Are you sure Dillon will want to pack up and leave the life he’s always known?”

“I’m certain of only one thing,” she said, giving him a pointed look. “The only way to know a thing like that is to ask, and I intend to do just that. It’s advice you might consider taking to heart.”

Though the obvious inference would have been to assume she was talking about the call she’d advised him to make to determine the measurements of the bar, Luke knew better. It was her subtle way of reminding him not to wait too long to ask Moira to be a part of his life.

What bothered him wasn’t that she’d made the suggestion, but the urgency he sensed behind it and behind her own plan to invite Dillon to stay. Something was wrong, and he knew in his gut he needed to find out what it was. What he didn’t know was how he was going to pull that off without offending his grandmother’s independent spirit.

Everyone in the family credited Jo O’Brien with being the most practical, sensible O’Brien aside from Nell. Luke was still in awe of how well his mother had handled Susie’s ovarian cancer and kept everyone else from falling apart. He concluded that she was his best bet to get to the bottom of what was going on with his grandmother.

She was easy enough to track down. After school, where she was both a teacher and a women’s track coach, she was usually at practice with her team. Luke found her standing at the edge of the track with a stopwatch in one hand and a whistle in the other. With her hair caught up in a messy ponytail and dressed in jeans and a hoodie on the cool early May afternoon, she looked little older than her students.

“Hey, Mom!” he called out as he joined her.

Barely taking her eyes off the track for more than a split second, she gave him a smile. “What brings you by? I thought you were swamped getting the pub ready to open.”

“I am, but I need to talk to you. Can you spare a couple of minutes? If not now, could you drop by the pub when you’re finished here?”

She must have heard something in his voice, because she blew her whistle to get the attention of the girls. “That’s it, ladies. It was a good practice. Take your showers and head on home. I’ll see you tomorrow.”

When they were finally on their way, she gestured toward the bleachers, then followed Luke over. “What’s up?”

“I’m worried about Gram,” he blurted. “Something’s going on with her, and I don’t think she’s told anyone about it.”

His mother regarded him with surprise. “Are you sure? She’s seemed fine to me when I’ve seen her the past few Sundays.”

“She can put on a good show for a couple of hours,” he said. “I’ve been spending more time with her lately. She’s said a couple of things. When I called her on one of them, she told me I wasn’t to blab.”

“And yet here you are,” Jo said. “Since I know you wouldn’t break your word lightly, what exactly has happened?”

He told her about the casual mention of blood pressure medicine, then today’s incident, when Nell had seemed overheated and short of breath. “It doesn’t sound like much when I say it, but that’s not all. She was talking about wanting Dillon to stay on here, about not being able to make another trip to Ireland herself. She sounded—I don’t know—resigned or something.”

To his relief—yet in a way his regret—his mother didn’t laugh off his concerns. “That doesn’t sound like Nell,” she conceded. “You’re right about that. When we got back from Ireland, all she could talk about was the next trip over there.”

“Will you speak to her? Maybe she’ll open up to you.”

“Nell’s not going to open up to anyone unless she wants them to know what’s going on. It’s not her way. I will keep closer tabs on her and, if I sense that it’s necessary, I’ll get your father, Mick and Thomas to look into it.”

“Do you really want to get them all worked up, especially Mick? You know how he is. He’ll haul her off to Johns Hopkins to be checked out whether she wants to go or not.”

His mother laughed. “He would, wouldn’t he? Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. She has a lot going on right now. I’m sure she’s overly tired with all this planning for Dillon’s visit. I’ll go by this afternoon and offer to help.” When Luke started to protest, she held up a hand. “I know she won’t let me near her kitchen, but she might let me dust and vacuum for her.”

Luke nodded. “I should have thought of that. The kitchen could use a good scrubbing, too. I offered to do it before I left this morning, but she told me she had her own ways of doing things.”

“She didn’t get to this age by not being independent and stubborn, like the rest of the O’Briens,” Jo said.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Luke responded.

She squeezed his hand. “It’s a good trait some of the time. Thanks for telling me about this. It’s good she has you around so much right now. I know she’s enjoying these lessons. Last Sunday at Mick’s, your progress—or lack thereof—was all she could talk about while we were in the kitchen cleaning up.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Today might have tested her limits,” he said, explaining about the mess he’d made of two batches of scones. “If she offers you one, I’d advise against taking it unless it comes with an affidavit that it’s one she baked.”

Jo laughed. “Trust me, if yours were that awful, they’re in the trash by now or she’s fed them to the birds.”

“Poor robins,” Luke said with a shake of his head.

“You’ll get the knack of it. I believe in you. So does Nell. I can hardly wait to see how the pub is coming along.”

“Stop by anytime,” he said, though he’d been discouraging visitors. He wanted the family to be wowed by the finished product.

“I’ll wait,” she said. “I know you want to knock all our socks off on opening night. Have you set the date?”

“Tentatively,” he confessed. “I’d like to open before Dillon goes home again. He made a lot of introductions for me in Ireland. I’d like him to see how much they helped.”

“Oh, he’ll love that,” she said, then gave him a sly look. “Shouldn’t you be inviting Moira over for the grand opening as well? She played a role in this, too, didn’t she?”

The thought had occurred to Luke more than once, but he’d vetoed it. As much as he’d like to have Moira here to share the big opening, a part of him was afraid she might make too much of the invitation. He didn’t want to send any more mixed signals than he already had.

No, when he invited Moira to come to Chesapeake Shores, it would be because he was ready for more than a date to a party, albeit the most important party of his life.

4

“C
hesapeake Shores is a long way to go chasing after a man,” Kiera said when she learned of Moira’s trip. “You’ll only be disappointed.”

Moira regarded her mother with annoyance. “Thank you for the support. Are you sure it’s not that you’re jealous that Grandfather is taking me and not you?”

She saw that she’d hit the mark by the tightening of her mother’s lips. Surprisingly, Moira felt bad about it, which proved just how much her attitude toward her mum had changed now that she’d finally put some distance between them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you of such a thing.”

Kiera sighed. “It’s never wrong to speak the truth,” she said, sounding weary. “I suppose I am a wee bit jealous that you have this chance and I don’t.” She held Moira’s gaze. “But my concern for you is genuine. I don’t want you to go over there with high expectations about what will happen when you and Luke are reunited. Men like Luke move on at a whim.”

“The way Dad did?” Moira said, understanding with unexpected clarity exactly where the concern came from—her mother’s own experience.

“Yes, as your father did,” Kiera said, her usual bitterness giving way to what almost sounded like sorrow.

Moira hesitated then asked the question she’d never dared to utter before. “Was it me? Was I too much for him?”

Kiera looked startled. “Is that what you think?” she asked in dismay. “That your father left because of you?”

“It’s what I’ve always believed,” Moira admitted. The timing of his departure could hardly allow for any other conclusion.

“Oh, my darling girl, it had nothing to do with you,” Kiera said at once. “It was all of it—the pressure of me wanting more and more for our children, a job he hated, needing to come home at night rather than spending his time and money in a pub. He wasn’t meant to be a family man. He liked things easy. In truth, the only surprise wasn’t that he left, but that it took him so long.”

Moira felt an odd sense of relief at that, but then thought about what her mum had actually revealed. She couldn’t help wondering if the same mind-set applied to Luke. It was hardly the first time such a thought had crossed her mind.

“Does Luke remind you of Dad?” she asked. “Is that really why you’re so worried about my going over there?”

To her dismay, her mother nodded. “I see some similarities, yes. And hearing that’s he’s opening a pub?” She shook her head. “It brings back too many memories of the pull such places had for your father.”

“Was Dad a drinker, then?” Moira asked.

Her mother nodded. “He had a problem. I didn’t see it when we met, because all our friends liked to have a pint or two and enjoy the music on a Friday or Saturday night. It was only later, after we were married, that he spent more and more time with his mates and came home reeling. I can’t tell you how often we argued about it. Ask your brothers. They’re old enough to remember some of it, I’m sure, though we’ve never spoken of it.”

“And isn’t that our way?” Moira said with a touch of bitterness. “To never speak of the things that matter? How many years did it take before you even acknowledged we had grandparents living in Dublin? It was only when your mother became ill and Grandfather came looking for you that we discovered we had family.”

Kiera sighed heavily. “You’re right again,” she conceded. “I’m sorry.”

Moira found herself apologizing as well. “But Luke’s not like Dad in that way—a drinker, I mean,” she said earnestly. “I know he’s not. In all that time we spent together and in so many different pubs, he rarely had anything to drink. He was totally focused on his research. It wasn’t about the drinking, not at all.”

“He wouldn’t be the first man to open a pub so he’d have a ready excuse for being around alcohol,” Kiera said.

Though Moira understood that it was Kiera’s own experiences that had shaped her opinion, Moira still found it worrisome. She believed her defense of Luke and seized on Peter McDonough to prove it. “I’ve never seen Peter lift even a pint of ale during the course of an evening,” she said. “How long has he owned that pub? Twenty years? Even longer?”

“Peter’s a paragon, he is,” Kiera said wryly. “Your grandfather has told me that often enough.”

Moira couldn’t hide her shock at the innuendo. “Grandfather has been encouraging something between you and Peter? For how long?”

“Since I was in my teens,” Kiera admitted. “He was cited as the epitome of respectability, which I stupidly ignored in my pursuit of rebellion. Now that my marriage is over, his name is dropped into the conversation every chance your grandfather can find. Didn’t you notice how many times it was suggested we drop in at McDonough’s over the holidays?”

Moira tried to imagine a romance between her mother and Peter. Surprisingly, she could see it, though she wasn’t sure she could explain just why. Maybe it had to do with Peter’s easygoing nature, his willingness to meet people as they were and enjoy their company. Had he spent more time than usual hovering over the family when they’d made those holiday stops? Had the extra attention been about more than respect for her grandfather? As Luke had done with Moira, Peter had certainly been able to ignore Kiera’s stubborn testiness and find ways to coax her into laughter. He’d even gotten her onto the dance floor a time or two, fighting off her reluctance with teasing determination.

“Peter’s been very kind to me,” she said, testing to see her mother’s reaction.

Kiera frowned. “In what way?”

Moira explained about the photos. “Maybe you could come by while I’m at work tonight and see them for yourself.”

“Peter says they’re good?” Kiera asked.

Moira nodded. “And the proof seems to be that people have been showing an interest in hiring me. I’ve already had one job, and more are lined up for my return from this trip with Grandfather. Enough that I might not have to wait tables for too much longer.”

“Then why on earth would you pick now to leave town?” Kiera asked, looking more animated and approving than usual. “Shouldn’t you stay right here and make the most of this opportunity? You’ve been talking about photography for years. I thought nothing would ever come of it.”

“I honestly didn’t know how to make anything happen,” Moira said. “But Peter did. And he says this trip won’t harm anything. He’ll keep track of any potential bookings for me. Please, Mum, come by and take a look.”

“Of course I will,” she said.

Moira nodded. It would give her the chance to see if there were any sparks there between her mum and Peter, sparks that could be fanned a bit.

Kiera gave her a knowing look. “Don’t be getting any ideas,” she warned. “This is about looking at your pictures and only that.”

“I understand,” Moira replied dutifully.

“I don’t need you joining your grandfather in meddling in my life.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it,” Moira said.

But the truth was, she thought maybe her mum was protesting just a little too much. Surely, after all these years of being a struggling single mother, Kiera wasn’t totally immune to the possibility of love.

Dillon had had his share of surprises through the years, but none had startled him more than the invitation by his granddaughter to join her and his daughter at McDonough’s pub on the evening before their departure for Chesapeake Shores.

“What’s this about?” he asked Moira when she called. “Usually it takes all my persuasive skills to get your mum to set foot inside that place.”

“There’s the lure of seeing some of my photos on the walls,” Moira told him. “I’d like you to see them, too. I know you’ve been too busy to stop in since Peter hung them up.”

He heard the hint of nervousness in her voice and knew these pictures meant more to her than she wanted him to know. “Peter’s told me about them, you know. He thinks you’ve a real gift.”

“He’s told you that?” she asked, sounding pleased.

“And he wouldn’t lie to an old friend,” Dillon reassured her. “Nor would he say anything to you if he didn’t have faith in your work. I’ll be looking forward to seeing them for myself. I only wish you’d expressed an interest in this a long time ago. I would have encouraged you.”

“Things happen when they’re meant to,” she replied. “Isn’t that what you’ve told me about you and Nell reuniting after all these years?”

“True enough.”

She fell uncharacteristically silent, which encouraged him to ask, “Was there something else on your mind?”

“Is it true that you’ve been matchmaking between my mum and Peter?”

Dillon chuckled. “Ah, she told you that, did she? It’s true. I always thought they were well suited. Of course, that was the kiss of death back when they were young. If I said there was a pot of gold to the north, your mum would head south just to spite me.”

Moira laughed. “And you think she’s changed?”

“No, which is why I’ll be keeping my mouth firmly shut tonight,” he said. “If there’s any matchmaking to be done, I’ll leave it to you.”

“I can see it, too,” she confessed. “That they’d be good together. Wouldn’t it be lovely if something came of it after all this time?”

“It would,” Dillon agreed. “Your mother deserves to find some happiness. She wasn’t always bitter and sad the way she’s been since your dad took off.”

“I know. I see glimpses of it from time to time. Do you suppose she and I can make peace?” she asked, her tone plaintive.

“She and I have,” he said. “So there’s always hope. We’ll see if tonight can give us a start on that.”

In fact, he vowed to do his part to give things a push in that direction. He had a feeling that if Moira was to find her own happiness—with Luke or someone else—she needed to believe she was worthy of love. Circumstances and Kiera’s own bitterness had done their part to rob her of that self-confidence. It was past time to fix that, too. For a man his age, it seemed he still had a lot to accomplish.

Peter refused to let Moira wait on a single table while her mother and grandfather were in the pub.

“Enjoy your family,” he said. “Bask in their admiration.”

She would have, but she was too nervous. As Dillon and Kiera circled the room, pausing in front of the photos, Moira waited behind the bar, polishing mugs despite Peter’s best efforts to get her to stop hiding out. She couldn’t help noticing that Peter seemed almost as anxious about their reactions as she was.

“Well?” he prodded, when they finally headed back toward the bar. “Is she as amazing as I think?”

“I’m stunned,” Kiera said, a smile on her face. “Moira, they’re truly remarkable.”

Moira flushed at the praise. “Do you mean that?”

“I wouldn’t say it if I didn’t,” her mother insisted, then glanced briefly at Peter. “Thank you for encouraging her.” She looked away almost the instant the words were out of her mouth.

“It’s been my pleasure,” Peter said, his gaze on Kiera steady, despite her doing her best to avoid it. “I would have done the same for anyone, but it’s meant more that it was your daughter I was helping.”

The color in her mother’s cheeks heightened at his words. So, Moira thought, her mum wasn’t immune to him, after all.

She slipped out from behind the bar and tucked her arm through her grandfather’s, then steered him away from the others to stand in front of one of the photos. “You haven’t said much.”

“You’ve left me speechless,” he admitted. “I feel as if I know those people, not as I always have, but as if I’ve had a glimpse inside them. This is more than a hobby, Moira. You’ve a talent you should be nurturing.”

Tears stung her eyes. “You have no idea what it means to me to have you say that. I’m almost starting to believe I could make a go of this.”

“Then it’s something you truly want?”

She nodded. “I’ve never allowed myself to believe it could happen. I was always the screwup, the rebellious one, not suited for anything I was learning in school. I talked a bit to Jess O’Brien about that feeling when she was here. She said she’d felt much the same way till she opened her inn.” She met his gaze. “I think, in some ways, it’s the same with Luke and his pub.”

“I think it is,” her grandfather agreed. “If you can understand that and give him the room to mature and grow, I think he’ll do the same for you. You’ll build your future together, one with room for both your gifts.”

Moira looked around the pub at the photos on the walls, noted the way people were admiring them and felt a warm glow of satisfaction, but something else as well. This faint possibility of a career—this hope she was feeling—it was here, in Dublin, while Luke was across the ocean.

As if he’d read her mind, her grandfather smiled at her. “There are people to photograph in America, too,” he said quietly. “If this is what you were meant to do and Luke is the man you’re meant to be with, you’ll find a way. Believe in that.”

Moira nodded, wanted to believe, but over the years there’d been very little reason to have faith in herself. Suddenly the trip that she’d agreed to with one goal was about so much more.

Luke was standing amid wood shavings, drawing in the scent of paint and wondering if he’d been out of his mind to think he could create an Irish pub in barely more than a month. He’d trusted it to his brother and his uncle, but right at the moment all he could detect was chaos. Only the handsome sign that was meant to go above the door out front—
O’Brien’s
written in the almost traditional raised gold letters against a dark green background—was ready.