The Parting Glass (29 page)

“Worth a badge by itself.”

They had secured the bike and were in the car pulling away from the curb before he spoke again. “Sisters, aunt and father. You’ve never mentioned your mother, Peggy.”

“She died not long after I was born. I had an eclectic up-bringing. My father disappeared soon after—I told you about his problems. My oldest sister fought to keep us together, but she was too young to be in charge. So I went to live with my aunt and uncle, and Megan and Casey remained in our apartment over the saloon. I went to stay with them whenever I was allowed.”

“No mother, but a lion’s share of mothering.”

“Exactly. They’re all wonderful women. I’m luckier than I can say.”

“Not everyone would look at it that way.”

“They would if they knew my sisters and aunt.” She paused. “They’re a large part of the reason I thought I could manage being a single parent.”

“Are you?”

“Managing? What’s your take on it?”

“I don’t know anyone who would do a better job with Kieran.” He paused, knowing the next part was none of his business, but forging ahead anyway. “But you shouldn’t be so alone. I’m sure your sisters and the rest of your family help enormously, but this ought to be a partnership.”

“Phil, you mean?”

“I suppose that’s what I’m saying.”

“He’s not as irresponsible as you think. He offered to marry me when I told him I was pregnant. And he’s generous with child support, even though I suspect his wife isn’t happy about that.”

“You didn’t want to marry him.” It wasn’t a question.

“Scarlet woman and all that?”

“I’m not judging you. Not at all. It’s just that it would have been an easy choice for someone who wasn’t as strong as you are. Marry the man and share the burden.”

He had driven steadily uphill. Now he pulled off on a side road that climbed higher into one of the area’s rare forests. At the top he parked on the roadside and came around to open her door. She let him, which pleased him for no discernible reason. He knew she was used to taking care of herself.

He held out his hand, and when she was standing beside him, he didn’t let go. Her hand was warm and soft and seemed to fit with his. He linked fingers. “Come on.”

She didn’t resist. “My aunt told me not to follow men into the forest.”

“Those were American forests.”

“I’ve heard my share of Irish fairy stories. The grogochs, the banshees, the dullahan. Your forests are more dangerous than ours.”

“Not when I’m with you.”

“That was the part my aunt had in mind. Internationally.”

He knew they were flirting. So many years had passed since he’d tried that he doubted he was very successful. And even now, part of him was screaming no, that the pleasure of her touch was a blasphemy. He did not deserve to feel this youthful giddiness. Never again.

“Oh, will you look at that.”

He had led her to a clearing looking over Shanmullin. Now he dropped her hand regretfully. Beyond them was the ocean, sparkling faintly under the sliver of moon. Lights shone from dozens of windows below them, but they were already being extinguished for the evening. The view was enchanting, and the clearing well known to local lovers. Tonight, luckily, they were alone.

“Do you come up here often?” she asked.

“Not in many years. It’s one of those things you take for granted if you’ve lived somewhere forever.”

“I feel that way about Lake Erie. I forget to appreciate it. Then one day I’m passing by, and I realize all over again what a treasure the Great Lakes are.”

“This isn’t a place anyone passes by. There’s nothing here but this view.”

“Reason enough.”

He was wearing a light jacket, because even though it was July, the evenings could still be chilly. He took it off now and spread it on the ground. “I know you have to get back, but let’s stay a few minutes and admire it.”

She smiled and lowered herself gracefully. “Room for two.” She patted what little was left.

He chose the ground beside it. For a change they’d had little rain that week, and it was dry enough.

“In the car you seemed to want to know why I didn’t marry Phil.”

“I shouldn’t have brought it up.”

“I wanted more. Silly and romantic, I know. I’ve always taken relationships slowly and carefully. I had too many plans to let myself fall in love. Unfortunately, Phil and I had one of those instant attractions that disappears almost as instantly, but since it was a first of its kind for me I thought it was the real thing. Fortunately I figured out right away that it was a flame that had burned out, and we went our separate ways.
Un
fortunately, good intentions didn’t prevent pregnancy. I considered Phil’s offer of marriage, but I thought Kieran deserved better.”

She sighed audibly. “It’s funny, I guess. I don’t know if Kieran will care if his parents aren’t married to each other. I don’t know if he’ll ever be capable of that kind of feeling.”

“You wanted more. Did you find it?”

She laughed, a light, quicksilver sound. “When have I had the time to look?”

“Kieran doesn’t leave you much time or energy.”

“And I was in school, remember.”

“All those young men.”

“I had enough complications in my life, thanks, without having a fling with a fellow student. And now that Kieran’s part of the bargain, it will take a very special man.”

There was no one on the horizon. He heard that clearly but wasn’t comforted. He wondered if he had been looking for an escape from his growing feelings, a way of cutting them off so he could withdraw from her and, to a lesser extent, from the world again.

“Do you disapprove of me?” she asked.

“Does it matter?”

“I don’t know.”

“For the record, I’m not that traditional. I think you did what was right for yourself, and what you believed was right for everybody else, as well. It probably was. No one should be locked into a loveless marriage.”

“You married young, didn’t you?”

She always led him back to his past. Tonight he felt no rush of resistance—he had already told her the worst. “Sheila was pregnant.”

“Please tell me it wasn’t one too many visits up here.”

He found himself laughing. “One visit on my part to her parents’ house when they weren’t at home. We got carried away just once, but that was enough.”

“Infertility doesn’t seem to run in our families, Finn.”

He took her hand and squeezed it, laughing again. “We were parents nine months later, and Bridie was a handful. By the time she wasn’t, Mark arrived, then Brian. Sheila and I never had a chance to really know each other, the way some men and women seem to. I knew her as a wife, but even more so as my children’s mother.”

“And from all accounts she was a wonderful one. Bridie talks about her frequently. She adored her.”

He was surprised to hear that his daughter, who never mentioned Sheila at home, talked freely about her with Peggy. He knew how necessary that was, and how therapeutic. Like the coward he was, he was glad she hadn’t chosen to talk about Sheila with him.

“She
was
a wonderful mother.” He stared out at the village lights, dimming softly, one by one. “She died to save her sons.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think in her final moments Sheila realized no one was coming to save us. I was struggling to hold on to the boys and to get to her, and even though she’d been injured, I think she realized what I was doing. She pushed away from the boat. She knew if she didn’t, I would try to help her, and she knew I couldn’t manage. At first I didn’t understand. Now, of course, I do. She died to save Mark and Brian.”

She brought his hand to her cheek. “Do you believe in heaven?”

“No. Do you?”

“I reserve judgment, I guess. No one’s convinced me otherwise.”

“If it’s true and I’m wrong, then Sheila’s where she wants to be. With our boys.”

“And if it’s true, she knows you’re here, watching over her daughter. Maybe that afternoon she realized you were too far from shore to save anybody but yourself, and she wanted you to live on for Bridie’s sake.”

It seemed strange to Finn that Peggy, who had never met his wife, would think of that possibility. Because he’d thought of it, as well, and even though he always tried to discard the idea, the thought of it stayed with him.

“I didn’t want to tell you about that day,” he said. “I haven’t talked about it unless I had to. For two weeks I’ve been asking myself why I let you convince me to.”

“Do you have an answer?”

He couldn’t put the answer into words. So he showed her. He kissed the back of her hand, and when she leaned toward him, he kissed
her.
She smelled of citrus and jasmine and some earthy fragrance that was unique, he was certain, to her skin. Her lips were warm, and softer than Irish rain. She wasn’t hesitant or shy, not a virgin startled by this turn of events. She wasn’t bold, like a woman so experienced that performance eclipses pleasure. She was Peggy, mature, intelligent, independent, and more desirable than anyone he had ever known.

He dropped her hand and put his arms around her, holding her so that her breasts pressed against his shirt. She ruffled his hair with her fingertips as she kissed him back, and he felt that lightest of touches radiate through his body in waves of feeling.

He felt poised on the brink of something, the world he’d made for himself, the only world he could bear to live in, crumbling under his feet.

She was the one who moved away. She smiled at him and touched his lips with her finger. In the darkness, he thought her eyes were moist.

“Answer enough,” she whispered. “We’ll take this slowly, Finn. No quick moves for either of us. You can walk away any time you want.”

“And you?”

“Me, too.”

No false promises. No regrets. No warnings. He heard caution and concern, and a decision to live, for now, with both.

He stood and held out his hand, scooping his jacket off the ground when she’d joined him. But she was in no hurry to leave. She kissed him again, leaning against him and reaching up to claim his lips with hers. “Irish magic,” she said at last.

“Fairies in the forest after all?”

“There must be.”

He suspected stronger forces at work.

chapter 19

C
asey’s house was a tasteful blend of simple contemporary pieces and antique reproductions—neither her salary nor Jon’s went as far as the real thing. She liked color and used it lavishly on walls sporting inexpensive framed posters. The living room sofa was covered with faux leopard skin pillows, and a faux polar bear rug adorned the floor in front of the fireplace.

Megan liked earth tones and collectibles, anything handmade or nostalgic, but even though Casey’s taste was completely different from hers, she still felt at home in her sister’s house.

On Saturday afternoon, Megan handed Casey a glass of iced tea she’d brought into Casey’s cozy den. Casey had preceded her with a plate of homemade cookies provided by a grateful client. “I like the color of these walls,” Megan said.

“Aubergine. Just another word for purple.”

A massive gilded mirror hung on the wall opposite the sofa, reflecting colors from the garden behind them. Casey had surprised them all with a talent for growing flowers. The side yard was ablaze with the results of her remarkable green thumb.

The sofa was burgundy suede cloth, and Megan sank into downy softness as she made herself comfortable. “I’m glad you thought of this. I was at loose ends today. There’s really nothing else I can do at the saloon until some more of the big work gets completed. Then I can help with the finishing.”

“You surprise me. I thought you’d be framing walls and installing pipes and insulation with the Brick kids.”

Megan had expected to. She had always been handy, and her years with Niccolo had honed her skills. But she had quickly seen that helping with the saloon renovations was not going to work. Niccolo was distracted and harried, and her irritation with him mounted every time she tried to help.

“I’m trying to save my marriage,” Megan said. “I get so annoyed with everything that if we work together, Jon will have to recommend an attorney.”

“That bad, huh?”

Megan didn’t want to talk about her marital problems. Casey adored Niccolo, and, for that matter, so did Megan. Besides, she had managed most of her life not to ask for advice, and she was determined not to change.

“So, how are things?” she asked instead. “You still like the job?”

“It’s running me ragged, but I do. And the board has agreed to hire another staff member, so that will ease some of the burden.”

“That doesn’t sound like you.”

“No?”

“No, ever since you took over the Albaugh Center, you’ve been one hundred percent hands-on.”

“There was a lot that needed to be reorganized. But the worst of that’s over, and I don’t need to work that hard anymore. Other people can do the day-to-day administration.”

“Leaving you time to do the bigger stuff?”

“That, and other things.” Casey lifted her glass, smoothing the sides against first one cheek then another. “What a hot afternoon.”

Megan was enjoying the weather. Clevelanders liked to complain about summer heat, but most years there were only a couple of weeks when an air conditioner felt like a necessity. This wasn’t one of them.

The scent of newly mowed grass drifted in through the open windows, along with the laughter of children playing in a sprinkler next door. Megan sipped her tea and felt herself relaxing. In a moment she would be asking for a soft bed and a window fan.

Casey set down the glass without a swallow. “Have some cookies. Jon says they’re great.”

“I’m surprised you left the man any. I know you and cookies.” Megan helped herself to a respectable handful. “Which are better, the pecan or the chocolate chip?”

“I don’t know. I haven’t tried either of them.”

Megan stopped mid-bite. She began examining the evidence. Casey had lost her taste for cookies. The tea was herbal. Casey’s color was high, and probably not from the heat. And to top it off, she was looking forward to more help at work.