Chapter 9
Even though she hadn’t set foot in the pub all day long, Bryan hadn’t been able to get Kiera out of his head. One minute he was annoyed that she’d once more tried to give him unsolicited advice. The next he felt oddly warmed by the offer of friendship. That she was so willing to make the effort with him, despite his often surly attitude, suggested she was either astonishingly kind or a glutton for punishment. He wanted to believe it was the latter, because genuine kindness was something that had been in short supply in recent years, mostly because he’d done his very best to discourage it.
Kiera, however, clearly wasn’t someone he was going to be able to keep at a distance. It wasn’t just the physical proximity of her cottage. It seemed it was her nature to ignore barriers or to keep pushing at them till they fell.
He recalled Moira, worrying that her mother was returning to the time when she’d been closed off, lonely and bitter, something to which he could totally relate. Just his luck that she’d apparently changed. Just his luck that she’d apparently developed the same stubborn streak that made Luke’s life with Moira so challenging.
Though he hadn’t realized he was doing it intentionally, in an attempt to avoid another disturbing encounter, he stayed at the pub well past closing. When Luke paused to question him on his way out, Bryan insisted he had things to organize in the kitchen, supplies that needed to be checked and an order to prepare. Given the skeptical expression on Luke’s face, Bryan concluded he might have overdone the list of chores.
“Is that so?” Luke asked, glancing around the spotless kitchen in which not a single thing seemed to be out of place. Then his gaze drifted to the well-stocked shelves with only a scattering of empty spots.
“You gave me an order earlier,” he commented, his tone casual, but his eyes dancing with humor.
“And now I’m telling you it might not be complete,” Bryan said irritably. “We had a big crowd tonight. I used a lot of our staples. Now we’re running low.”
“On?”
Bryan scowled at him. “Are you questioning my assessment of what’s needed to run this kitchen?”
Luke grinned at that. “Never,” he said at once. “I’m questioning your skill at fibbing, either to me or yourself. You don’t seem to want to leave here tonight. I’m wondering why. It wouldn’t be because Kiera’s right next door and you’re hoping she’ll be safely tucked in bed and therefore no temptation, is it?”
“Kiera has nothing to do with anything,” Bryan insisted emphatically, which only seemed to make Luke’s grin spread.
“Whatever you say,” his boss commented with a knowing look. “Just be sure to lock up when you do leave.”
“So you’re done badgering me?” Bryan asked, startled.
“For tonight anyway,” Luke responded. “Unless you’d really like to sit down and talk this through, man-to-man.”
Bryan rolled his eyes at the offer. He’d stopped discussing girl troubles with his buddies in ninth grade. “Nothing to discuss.”
“Then I’m going home to my wife, whom I’m happy to admit I’m eager to see.”
“Have a good night, then,” Bryan said, his relief plain, though he held his breath until Luke was out of sight and he heard the front door of the pub close and the lock turn. Then he released a heartfelt sigh, well aware that his escape from the knowing looks and intrusive questions was only temporary. O’Briens, from everything he’d observed in recent years, seldom kept their noses out of others’ business for long. And heaven forbid that Mick O’Brien scent even a whiff of romance. He was the absolute worst of all with his meddling.
* * *
Sitting in the shadows outside her cottage, Kiera heard Bryan’s car as it drove in, saw the glow of the headlights go out and then heard what sounded like a muffled curse as he came into view.
“You’re still up,” he said, sounding not the least bit happy about it.
“I am, and since we’re stating the obvious, you’re later than usual. Any problems at the pub?”
“No, I just had some things to finish up,” he claimed.
Kiera didn’t entirely believe him, but she let it go. “I’m having a glass of wine,” she said. “Would you like one?”
“Are you sure you want company?” he asked. “Especially mine? We parted on a bad note this morning.”
“A common enough happening,” she retorted. “I can suffer with the company, if you’ll tell me why you took off so abruptly. I know I ask too many questions sometimes. Did I hit a nerve again?”
His laugh sounded forced. “You should probably know that I’m a bundle of nerves. It makes me an easy target to hit.”
Kiera stood up. “I’ll get you a glass of wine and perhaps you’ll tell me how that came about.”
“Or not,” he said, his tone wistful.
She paused, looked into his troubled eyes, then nodded. “Okay, then. I can leave it alone for now. We’ll just have a chat about inconsequential things or say nothing at all.”
When she came back with his wine, he’d finally settled into the chair beside hers, his long, denim-clad legs crossed at the ankles. He accepted the wine in silence, then glanced her way. “On nights like this, with a full moon and stars scattered about in a pitch-black sky, I can almost believe it’s possible to find peace.”
Kiera nodded in perfect understanding. “I’ve just been thinking much the same thing.”
He regarded her with surprise. “Are you in need of finding peace, Kiera?”
“Isn’t everyone to one degree or another? If life’s chaotic enough on a daily basis, the idea of calm holds great appeal.”
He smiled at the evasive answer. “Now who’s dodging the personal questions?”
“Not dodging them,” she insisted. “Just trying not to spoil a rare moment of agreement between us.”
She waited several minutes, allowing the night’s soothing calm to steal over them before saying, “I noticed your garden earlier. Would you mind if I helped out with some weeding sometime?”
She held her breath, anticipating an immediate rejection. Normally the thought of her invading his space would have annoyed him, but tonight his mood seemed mellower, so she concluded it was a chance worth taking. Perhaps he wasn’t quite as territorial about his garden as he was about his kitchen at the pub.
Instead of objecting to her request just on principle, he asked, “Do you enjoy gardening?”
She nodded. “Though it’s not as if I’m any sort of expert. I only had a tiny bit of space in Ireland, nothing like what you have here, so I only grew a few herbs, many of them in pots sitting in the wee bit of sun they’d get on my back steps, but I found it soothing.”
He smiled at that. “And I find it practical, which just shows even when we have something in common, we’re coming at it from different perspectives.”
“Does that mean we have to be at odds on this, too?”
“No, the two views can be compatible, I suppose. And I can admit that I like the feel of the sun on my shoulders when I work in the garden and the feel of the soil on my hands. But I also appreciate knowing that the vegetables I’ve grown are going into the food I prepare at the pub, that my ingredients are organic and grown close by, so they’re as fresh as they can possibly be.”
“There’s a movement toward that, isn’t there?” Kiera asked, trying to recall what she’d read.
“Farm to table,” Bryan replied. “Restaurants have been built around the concept. Most chefs rely on nearby farmers and markets to meet that goal. Here, for me, it’s been even more satisfying to know that much of the produce I use I actually grow myself. And what I don’t have room to grow, I get from a couple of local farmers I’ve gotten to know. Our eggs and milk are supplied locally, too. And, of course, you already know that our fish are freshly caught in local waters and picked up at the docks on the day we serve them.”
Kiera was surprised by the enthusiasm in his voice, the rare passion. She’d known plenty of cooks over the years. This was her first experience with an honest-to-goodness trained chef, a man who cared deeply about the food he served. Perhaps she hadn’t been giving Bryan enough credit. He might not have the experience with Irish dishes that she or Nell had, but she shouldn’t be doubting that the commitment he’d made to the quality of ingredients he used carried over to getting the recipes just right, as well.
“You’re suddenly awfully quiet.”
“I’ve a feeling that I’ve misjudged you,” she admitted. “I’ve accused you of being careless and inexperienced.”
“Walking into a kitchen filled with smoke rather than the delicious aromas you were expecting could have given you that impression,” he conceded, his tone wry.
“That only happened the one time,” she said. “Anyone could have an off night.” Because it seemed only right to admit to her own flaws, she added, “Ask my children how often their evening meal consisted of a grilled cheese sandwich, because I grew distracted and let the meal I’d planned overcook. Interestingly, it happened most often on the nights I was preparing something they didn’t particularly like.” She chuckled. “I just realized that. I’ll have to ask Moira if it was an intentionally devious game they learned to play with me, asking questions about homework just when I should have been standing at the stove paying close attention.”
Bryan faced her, his expression startled. “Is that an olive branch, Kiera?”
“Perhaps.” She smiled. “I suppose we’ll have to wait and see what tomorrow brings.”
He lifted his glass and waited until she’d lifted hers as well, then clinked the two together. “To peace and harmony.”
“To peace and harmony,” she said, feeling the oddest sense of something shifting between them.
When he stood to go, regret stole over her, but she forced another smile. “Good night, Bryan.”
“Sleep well, Kiera.”
Once again as he walked away, he paused and turned back, just as he had that morning. “If you’re wanting to weed the garden, you’re welcome,” he said. “But if I find you can’t tell a weed from a tomato plant, we’ll be having a discussion about it.”
She regarded him very solemnly. “If I have any doubts, I’ll ask before I yank something from the ground. Your tomatoes will be safe, I promise.”
Quite likely a lot safer than her heart, which suddenly seemed to be opening to possibilities yet again. Her relationship with Peter had begun in just such a way, with baby steps and fragile trust. Did she dare risk such a thing happening again, especially with a man whose secrets had made him so wary?
* * *
Deanna had taken her anatomy textbook to her favorite bench beneath a huge oak tree on the university campus with every intention of studying for tomorrow’s final, but she couldn’t seem to focus. She’d been staring at the same page for an hour now, more aware of the mild spring sun filtering through the leaves than of any of the information she was supposed to be memorizing.
When a shadow fell across the book, she looked up to see her roommate studying her with a worried expression.
“Either you’re totally fascinated by how the knee bone connects to the thigh bone or there’s something else on your mind. I’ve been standing here for at least five minutes,” Juliette complained. “It was the same when you got back yesterday, as if you were off in another world.”
She sat down without waiting for an invitation, then held out a square of Dove dark chocolate, their indulgence when studying. “You look as if you need this. I have more in my purse, if there’s a real crisis.”
Deanna managed a smile. “Always prepared. Were you a Girl Scout, Jules?”
“I think that’s the Boy Scout motto, but when it comes to chocolate, I’m never without it, as you should know after two years of rooming together. So what’s going on? I know you saw Dr. Robbins before you took off for the weekend. Did she give you bad news?”
“Quite the contrary. She said I was fine, just tired and overwhelmed with finals. She advised me to take a break.”
“And that’s why you suddenly decided to go home?”
“Pretty much.”
Juliette gave her a disappointed look. “I know you think I’m just some flighty airhead who only came to college to nab a husband, but I’m your friend, Dee. I can’t help, though, if you won’t open up. What’s going on? And I can tell this is about more than finals. If that’s all it was, you’d be turning the pages of that book like crazy. I watched you last night and just now. You’re still staring at the same page.”
Deanna sighed. As much as she could probably use a friend right now, she wasn’t quite ready to talk about Ash’s revelations. Instead, she said, “I told my stepfather I’m not coming home to work for his company this summer.”
Juliette’s eyes went wide. “Wow! That’s huge. How did he take the news?”
“I think he was okay with it.” She frowned. “It’s not as if I really gave him a choice. I just said it was what I was going to do.”
“I thought you were worried about disappointing him.”
“I was, but this is something I have to do, and that’s what I told him,” she said, making it sound far less complicated than it had been. She hoped Juliette wasn’t perceptive enough to see through her nonchalance.
“Okay, so this is what you’ve been telling me for weeks now that you really wanted to do. You’ve told your stepfather and he’s okay with it. Why don’t you look happier? Or at least relieved to have the discussion behind you?”
“Maybe reality’s setting in and I’m just seeing that changing directions like this is a whole lot scarier than I thought it would be,” she said carefully. She thought that sounded perfectly plausible, but she could read the skepticism in her roommate’s eyes. Behind that airhead persona was a straight-A student with a kind and generous heart and better intuition than Deanna had credited her with.
“You’re one of the bravest, most determined people I know,” Juliette said. “Why the second thoughts? Were you counting on your stepfather to stop you?”
Deanna actually paused to consider that possibility. It would have been less scary to stay on the road they’d always assumed she’d travel. Now, though, after this past weekend, it simply wasn’t possible. Too much had changed forever.
“You could be right,” she admitted. “Maybe on some level, I was hoping he’d say no and I’d do the safe thing, but it would have been the wrong choice. I wasn’t that excited by any of my business courses, and while I loved going to work with Ash when I was little and could wear the little hard hat he’d bought me, construction wasn’t in my blood, as it was in his.” She was confident of that much at least. And now she had all sorts of reasons to go to Baltimore that were even more compelling.
“So you’re going to Baltimore,” Juliette said. “Is Dr. Robbins ecstatic?”
“She had the arrangements made within an hour,” Deanna said, thinking of the one bright spot in all of this. Her mentor had, indeed, been ecstatic. But, then, she didn’t know the rest of the story, either.
Jules held out her hand. “Give me your book.”
Deanna regarded her with confusion. “Why?”
“Because if you don’t pass that anatomy exam with flying colors, none of this will mean much. I’m going to quiz you until you have it all down pat. I’m counting on your getting your degree in medicine and practicing right here in Charlottesville, so you can take care of my family, which I intend to start within months of graduating.”
Deanna chuckled. “Have you narrowed down the candidates you’ll consider marrying?”
Jules gave her a wicked grin. “The process is half the fun, but there are a few very good contenders. We’ll go over the list one of these days. You can give me your thoughts.”
“Given my lack of a social life, do you really think I’m remotely qualified to help you pick a husband?”
“You’ll be impartial. Some of them make me a little too giddy, so my judgment goes out the window. I want romance, of course, but I also want this to be a sound, rational decision.”
Deanna shook her head at the absurd declaration. “Something tells me you’re going to run off to a justice of the peace one night and my opinion won’t mean a blasted thing. Neither will anyone else’s.”
Juliette’s expression sobered. “Not a chance. That’s what my mother did the first time. And a couple of times after that,” she added ruefully. “My careful, methodical way is better, and nothing is going to throw me off course. I plan to marry only once, so I’d better get it right the very first time.”
Deanna didn’t want to tell her that life had a way of throwing you curveballs, just when you thought you had things all mapped out. Jules would learn that for herself soon enough. Deanna certainly had.
* * *
Taking Bryan at his word, early the next morning Kiera went over to the garden he’d planted, eager to spend an hour with her hands in the dirt doing something productive. She knew from her limited experience in Ireland just how close to nature it made her feel, how relaxing it could be.
She was about to tap on Bryan’s back door to let him know she planned to work in his yard, but the sound of his voice coming through the open kitchen window halted her hand in midair.
“It’s time to give up, isn’t it?” he said wearily to someone. “I should have done it years ago.”
Kiera was struck by the despondent note in his voice. She had a feeling whoever was on the other end of the line had given him yet more bad news. Perhaps it was the same person he’d been speaking to at the pub a couple weeks ago. That conversation had left him shaken in a way she didn’t entirely understand.
Though a part of her wanted to continue listening to try to get a sense of what was taking such an emotional toll on him, she couldn’t bring herself to eavesdrop a moment longer. She quickly retreated to the garden and knelt down, trying to focus on the task at hand.
The warmth of the sun on her shoulders would have been soothing at any other time, but she couldn’t seem to shake the memory of Bryan’s tone. If only he would open up with her, perhaps she could help. Something told her, though, that this was a burden he’d carried alone for a long time—long enough that he was finally conceding defeat. She knew what that was like. Hadn’t she given up on her attempts to help her sons straighten out their lives? Hadn’t it just about broken her heart to do so, even when she’d known there was no other choice? And hadn’t she been second-guessing herself ever since, especially when anyone questioned her about her sons?
She’d been working for a half hour or more when she heard the slap of the screen door closing abruptly and heard Bryan’s footsteps on the back deck. He came to a sudden halt, quite likely at the sight of her.
She glanced at him over her shoulder and forced a bright smile. “I took you at your word and came to do some weeding.”
For a moment, he looked flustered, but then he rallied and nodded. “Are my plants safe?”
“Come and see for yourself. I think this pile of wilting greenery beside me is made up entirely of invasive weeds. I’ve carefully avoided all your neat rows and the plants that have stakes.”
He grinned then. “Who knew my approach to gardening would provide guidance to a rank amateur.”
“The neat little labels at the beginning of the rows helped, too.” She gave him a curious look. “You weren’t by any chance unsure you’d recognize what you’d planted, were you?”
“In a couple of cases, I did experiment,” he admitted. “I’ve never grown eggplant before, and I added more than one kind of pepper. Adding jalapeño to a recipe, rather than a sweet red pepper, could be a big mistake.”
“And you couldn’t plainly see the difference when they’re on the plant? They look nothing at all alike.”
He shrugged. “Mistakes happen.”
“Not to you, I’m thinking. Why would you be growing jalapeños in the first place? There’s little need for them in most Irish food.”
“But I do love a little salsa when I’m having a cold beer on my deck in the evening. The Irish don’t know what they’re missing. Weren’t you the one who told me it’s important to serve foods that make the customers thirsty for more ale? Perhaps I should recommend that addition to the pub’s menu.”
“And have Nell fainting on the spot?” Kiera asked.
“More likely, I’d be risking your grumbling in my ear,” he retorted.
Kiera sat back on her heels and studied him closely. His mood seemed surprisingly light, given the tone she’d overheard not that long ago. He seemed calm, too.
“Is your morning off to a good start?” she inquired tentatively.
“The sight of you working in my garden is certainly a pleasant way to start the day,” he said, even though they both knew it wasn’t really a response to what she’d asked.
“Well, unfortunately, then, I’m about to ruin things by stopping. It’s time for me to get ready for work.”
She stood up, brushed the dirt from her knees and was about to put the weeds into a bag she’d brought along for that purpose when he stopped her. “Leave that. I’ll finish up.”
“Okay, then. I hope you’ll let me do this again.”
“Anytime.”
She was about to leave, when he called her name. She paused and turned.
“I’ll give you a lift to work if you want.” He hesitated, cleared his throat, his expression oddly uncertain. Finally, he added, “Maybe we’ll have time to stop at Panini Bistro for an espresso or something.”
Startled, Kiera simply stared for a moment. She almost opened her mouth to say they could get all the coffee they wanted at the pub, but she stopped herself just in time. It was another of those rare olive branches being extended by one or the other of them. They weren’t to be ignored.
“That would be lovely,” she told him. “Will fifteen minutes do?” she asked, knowing he was usually in a rush to get to his precious kitchen and begin his day.
“A half hour will be fine,” he said. “It’s early yet. Luke won’t be expecting either one of us.”
No, Kiera thought, but he would find it fascinating if they not only arrived together, which wasn’t that uncommon, but arrived with to-go cups from Panini Bistro. If she knew Luke and her daughter, that was something that wouldn’t go unnoticed and she’d likely never hear the end of it.