Chapter Six
The next two weeks seemed to go quickly. Maggie went to another destination every day, and met Colin for a drink at the pub every evening but Wednesdays. That was the night he had dinner with his daughter, and one of his sons too sometimes. So that was the night she chose to stay in her flat and catch up on organizing all her notes, writing about where she’d gone and what she’d seen, beginning to make a report for her employer more cohesive instead of being overwhelmed at the end of the job.
She wanted this to be a solid piece. She took pride in her work, and had never been hired to do something on this grand a scale. If she did it well, perhaps she’d be able to parlay that into another similar job, one that paid well and allowed her to spend time in another wonderful place.
Funny how completely comfortable she was in Dublin. She’d never settle down, but if she ever did… which, of course, she figured she’d have to one day, when she was a little old lady on her own… she gazed out the window of her living room, down to the bustling street below. The more time she spent in this charming city, with its unbelievably friendly people, great food and drink, and vibrant culture and history, the more she loved everything about it.
Zack’s face appeared in her mind, unbidden. A flash of memory: him wrapping his arm around her shoulders and pulling her in for a quick kiss as they’d strolled down a street in Dublin on their first trip. His dark eyes merry as he said, “This is an amazing city. We should drop anchor here once we’re done traveling. Let’s move here.”
“Okay,” she’d said, smiling back up at him.
It was the first time they’d played that little game, which became a running joke between them. When they loved a place, one would say to the other, “Let’s move here.” The list had grown long over their few years together, but they’d made a second trip to Ireland a few months before the accident. The Emerald Isle held a special allure for her, even more than for Zack, and he’d gladly indulged her. They’d spent a few days at an inn on the west coast, taking in the wilder countryside before going on to Belfast and Dublin.
After, when Maggie was alone, she’d gone back to Ireland a third time, a quick two-day visit to Dublin to visit Ciara before flying across to the highlands of Scotland for a three week tour. And now this job, her fourth jaunt to Ireland… the country did seem to keep drawing her back.
But three months here. Three whole months. That was a long time. It was enough time to feel weighted by the connections. To get to know people on a deeper level and forge routines. Saying hello to familiar faces in the grocery, or down at the pub. People who recognized her, day after day. She hadn’t done that in years… it was a curious thing, and she didn’t quite know how she felt about that yet. It made her wonder how long it’d be until the itch would kick in, the little nagging feeling that hit, the one that whispered, Don’t get comfortable. Gotta keep moving. And she’d always heed that voice.
But so far, so good. She was happy in Dublin.
Her cell phone dinged with a text, jolting her from her thoughts.
Hi, it’s Colin. Are you around?
There was the other added bonus about spending time in Dublin. Her growing acquaintance with this wrapped up tight, slow burn of a handsome man. Maggie glanced at the time. A bit past seven. Hi yourself. What’s up? Weren’t you seeing your kids for dinner tonight?
Still with them, he wrote back. I told them I’ve been going places on the weekends with a female American travel blogger and they didn’t believe me. Can you tell me the name of your YouTube account? Or the website? Can’t recall either right now and they want proof you exist.
Maggie chuckled to herself and texted back the info. Then she took a quick selfie of herself and sent it to him. Show them this and tell them I said hi. See, I exist!
Well done, lass, Colin wrote back. Thanks! Talk to you later.
Enjoy your kids, Maggie texted, adding a smiley emoji.
Smiling softly, she settled back into the couch. Colin McKinnon was warming up to her. She wondered if he realized it. Getting him to smile and talk, much less slowly emerge from his self-imposed cage, had become something of a personal mission for her. He was a good man. But holy crap, so deeply wounded. His regrets over his past and his failed marriage had left him drowning in self-flagellation. Left him adrift.
She recognized a fellow wounded soul who needed a life raft. A line to tow him back to shore and help him find his footing again on steady ground. That had been her not so long ago.
It made her want to reach out to him. To soothe him, to jumpstart him, to open his eyes, to… she wasn’t totally sure what. Sure, she was attracted to him. And yes, she’d absolutely do something about that before much longer. But it wasn’t just that. She genuinely liked him; in spite of their differences, they’d connected.
Making Colin smile again, perhaps even ease back into living again, was one of her main reasons to travel. When she’d started out again on her own, she’d been so lost, in such a haze of grief. Meeting and connecting with others had helped her gain perspective, learn about herself and what she could do on her own… live again. Now, she liked to pay it forward, bring light to people if she could. Giving to others, doing for others… why had she lived if not to do something magnanimous? Spark some light, connect briefly, then go on her way.
There were no roots for her in this world. She had to keep moving. It was the only way to keep the darkness that crouched and hovered at the periphery at bay.
*
Colin stared at the photo Maggie had texted him. It was pure Maggie Spencer. Her blonde hair in its usual ponytail, face clear of makeup save for mascara and a bit of lip color, a sparkle in her warm brown eyes and that sunny smile. It looked like she was in a flat, from the background; he hadn’t been to her place yet, so he was assuming. She’d probably snapped the quick selfie without thinking twice of it. No attempt at the perfect angle or playing with filters, as he often watched Roisin do. Maggie didn’t need filters. She was unfiltered light and color and energy.
“She’s really pretty,” Roisin said. “Don’t you think so, Da?”
His eyes snapped up. Both she and Stephen were staring at him, inquisitive and a bit mischievous. Colin felt like a kid who’d been caught at something. “Aye, she is.”
“How old is she?” Roisin asked.
“Thirty.”
“Bit young for ya, no?” Stephen quipped.
“No,” Roisin answered before Colin could answer. “Not at all. You’re daft.”
“We’re not dating,” Colin said brusquely. “So you can both just relax with that.”
“What are you doing, then?” Roisin’s brows lifted in demand.
“I told you. Just friends, kinda. Not even. She’ll be here for a short time, then go on her way. I take day trips with her sometimes, go places. I tag along, keep her company.” Colin sipped his beer. “It’s been… fun. Why not? You’re the one who told me to get out more, right?”
“Right. I’m glad you met her and are doing things.” Roisin’s grin turned cheeky. “Helps that she’s so easy on the eyes, too.”
“Stop it, you. You’re a troublemaker.” Colin glanced over at his son, who was staring at his phone. “Find it?”
“Oh, aye.” Stephen’s blue eyes stayed on the screen. “She’s been in Ireland before, ya know. Look.” He turned the phone around so both Colin and Roisin could see. “It’s from a few years ago, mind. I went to her YouTube channel, looked for anything from Ireland, boom there ya go. Who’s the guy?”
Colin’s throat closed up as he realized what he was watching. Maggie at Blarney Castle with a young, handsome man. Dark hair long enough for the curls to peek out from under a ballcap, dark eyes, lean build. Radiating confidence and charisma. “Did either of them say his name?” Colin asked, but he knew of course.
“Sure,” Stephen said. “It’s not what she calls her channel now, but it’s listed in the archive, as ‘ZMTravels.’ She called him Zack?”
“Aye,” Colin murmured, his gaze glued to the screen. The young couple walked along the green at the castle, the very same stretch of land he and Maggie had strolled across just a few days before. She’d mentioned to Colin that she’d been there once before, but a long time ago, so she wanted to go again for the sake of her commentary being timely and up-to-date. He wondered now how many memories she’d wrestled with that day.
The video was slightly shaky; Zack’s long arm was up, he was holding the phone above them as they walked slowly. His other arm was around Maggie’s shoulders, curling her into his side, clearly affectionate. Zack’s voice—was that a Southern twang? Colin wasn’t sure—was strong and filled with humor. Maggie stared up at him as he talked as if he were the best thing she’d ever seen. Her hair was shorter, loose as it fell onto her shoulders, and her expression was open and free. She threw her head back and laughed, that full and wonderful sound Colin had become familiar with, and it made his heart squeeze.
God, she’d been so happy. So in love with her husband. Though a glance at the date showed this was from eight years ago; they weren’t married yet. They were just at the beginning of their journey together, the world their oyster, their whole lives in front of them. A hint of nausea churned in Colin’s stomach, knowing how the story ended.
His stomach twisted harder as he watched the dead man talk. An amiable young man so full of life… it actually made Colin’s gut hurt. After a few minutes, Zack gave the camera a thumbs up, Maggie waved goodbye, and the video ended.
“Good enough, I guess,” Stephen said.
“Whoever he is, he’s dreamy as bloody hell,” Roisin sighed.
Colin swallowed hard. His nerves buzzed and the hair on the back of his neck prickled. It was as if he’d seen a ghost… and really, hadn’t he? “That was her husband,” he said gruffly. “He died a few years ago. Car accident. She travels alone now.”
Roisin’s eyes flew wide. Stephen’s lips flattened into a thin line as he tapped his phone, turning off the app.
“That’s so horrible,” Roisin whispered.
“Yes. But Maggie’s fine,” Colin said. He drew a long breath. No doubt about it; seeing Zack Spencer had spooked him. “It’s tragic. But actually, she’s one of the strongest women I’ve ever met. Seems fearless.”
“It’s just so sad,” Roisin said. “I mean… did you see them? They were only a few years older than us there. Could you see how obviously in love they were?”
Colin swallowed hard. “Aye, they seemed happy.”
“Happy? They were like something out of a movie. Oh God, that poor man. Poor her.” Roisin sighed again, but not with longing this time. With sadness. “He must have been so young when he died if she’s only thirty now. It’s just so awful.”
“Calm yourself,” Stephen said. “Ya don’t even know them, why get yourself so worked up?”
Roisin rolled her eyes at her brother. “You have no heart.”
“Sure I do. I just don’t let it get all twisted up over people I don’t know.”
“Good Lord, Stephen. Can’t you feel for someone, just because they’re human? That gorgeous man died.” Roisin shook her head at him, then turned her mournful gaze back to her father. “How does someone get over that? I can’t imagine what she…”
Colin sipped his drink, trying to ease the tightness inside his chest. He didn’t know if Maggie was over it. He’d never dared to ask. But in spite of her positivity, something told him the answer was that she never would be over it, not completely.
All the sunlight and sparkle he saw in her… he knew now it was different. Still genuine, just altered somehow. Because seeing the younger, married to the love of her life Maggie… that girl had exuded light and love in a way he’d never seen in anyone. That light was real, that was pure. And that pure light had likely been extinguished, eventually replaced by the kind of light that was found again from deep inside, just as natural, but one found again through strength and time. Just as deep, but without… innocence. Maggie had moved on with her life, survived and even thrived, but she was forever changed. Colin knew that now, as much as he’d ever known anything.
It made him feel dark and heavy inside.
“I feel for her loss too,” he finally said. “I can’t imagine it either. It’s a testament to her strength and will, I suppose. She’s made a good life for herself.”
“Yes, but alone,” Roisin said. “She must feel so alone.”
Colin gazed at her. Again he wondered when his girl had gotten so bloody insightful. “You’re a big softy. And a good girl. I love your heart, Roisin.”
She smiled softly, but Stephen snorted in disdain. “She’s no good girl, she’s a pain in the arse.”
Roisin smacked her brother’s shoulder and they started to bicker lightly.
Colin watched them and felt something new snake through him. Gratitude. He knew what it was to feel alone, he had for years. But at least he wasn’t truly alone, when it came down to it; he had his children. He had his extended family. What did Maggie have? Yes, she’d seen the world, and he envied her that. But at the end of it, all she truly had were memories. She was alone in the world, first by choice, then by fate. He couldn’t help it, he felt sorry for her. The more he thought about the pain of her losing her husband, tried to imagine what she’d gone through, the more it ate at him.
Later that night, Colin couldn’t sleep. He lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, his mind full of speculation and questions that fed into more questions. Did Maggie feel more alone than she let on, or had she come to a place of acceptance and was truly happy to jet across the globe by herself? Did she ever think of having a family of her own? Kids? A house? Somewhere to hang her hat? Or was she planning on just traveling continuously for the rest of her life? Did she truly want to be a rootless nomad, or did she want more?
But who was he to say ‘more’? What was ‘more,’ really? Kids and a house weren’t the end game goals for some people. Some people truly hated to be tied down, as they saw it. Maybe Maggie was one of them. Maybe she wasn’t. He wanted to know.
His mind was consumed by her.
He couldn’t get the sight of that young, bright, loving couple out of his head.
He’d seen love like that. It had never belonged to him, of course. But it had happened to his brothers. Gavin and Aidan looked at their wives like that, and Toni and Maura gazed back at them with the same open, obvious affection. It had gotten under Colin’s skin like a pinprick at Gavin and Toni’s wedding. He’d been startled by it, the love he saw between them. It made him envious, deep down.
Then Aidan, the young charmer who’d dated half the women in Dublin, had been taken down by his love for Maura. Apparently he’d been secretly in love with her the whole time they’d been friends, and after a decade, it’d turned into the kind of deep, devotional bond that people wrote about in fairy tales.
Before that, Colin had suspected maybe love itself was a fairy tale. Or, after years of loneliness within his marriage, convinced himself of that. Then a one-two punch—first Gavin, then Aidan—had made him see love like that was real. It was the last straw for Colin. He couldn’t pretend anymore. Seething with resentment and aching with longing, he’d gotten utterly drunk at Aidan and Maura’s reception… and the next morning, approached Trish about divorcing. He didn’t know if he’d ever find the kind of love like his brothers had. He only knew he owed it, both to himself and to Trish, to be free to try.
Now he’d seen that in Maggie and Zack Spencer. And knowing how their story had ended made him ache for her… for them both, really. What a cruel, cruel thing for people who felt that way to be separated, and so damn young at that.
Colin grunted, flipped his pillow to the cool side, and rolled over again. Who was better off, Maggie or himself? Someone who’d known great love and lost it, or someone who’d never known it at all so hadn’t endured that devastating loss? And was the correct term better off, or worse off?
Colin wasn’t sure who had it worse. He’d never known true romantic love, destined by his actions and choices to go through the motions for years, feeling more empty and lonely with each passing year. She’d known a soul mate, a deeply passionate love, and lost it. No, actually, she hadn’t lost it—it’d been cruelly taken from her.
How did she cope with that? How had she healed?
He wanted to know because… he wanted to fully heal too. Maybe she had answers that had eluded him…
And why did he care? Why did he feel so much for someone he barely knew, when for so long he hadn’t felt much of anything? He didn’t want to look at that too closely. He just knew he couldn’t stop thinking of her. She fascinated him.
He wanted to hold her. And be held by her. Fantasies of them together, naked in bed at night, just holding each other close, filled his head. Hands smoothing over soft skin with soothing gentleness as they lay quietly, taking comfort in each other’s arms…
It was well past two a.m. by the time Colin’s whirring brain slowed enough to allow him to finally fall asleep.