Rowan (The Irish Wolves Book 3)

Chapter 6

“Oh, Rowan!” Matilda gasped, hands going to her chest as she took in the hours and hours of painstaking progress Rowan had achieved on the armoire memory cabinet. Hugh had shipped the cabinet here after River had found it in Scotland, sitting in a talented woodworker’s shop. It was a sumptuous American black oak, but the real jewel of the piece was the tree of life carved in the doors.

Rowan had been living in Matilda’s hotel suite—penthouse or luxury apartment was a better description—for a little over three weeks, working on her design job for a boutique during the day and this cabinet in the evenings. When Rowan had reached out to Tilly, as the older woman preferred to be called, and asked if she might consider letting Rowan stay at her place until she and Diana returned, Tilly had been thrilled.

When Rowan had asked that she keep the small detail of Rowan living there from her son, she’d gone silent, hesitating. Matilda had to be curious why Rowan would ask for the favor, but she was circumspect enough not to ask. “Of course, dear. I’ll let Tina, my assistant, know to expect you and have a key made.”

And that was that. Rowan had been here almost a month and enjoyed every moment of working on this cabinet. Tina had given her enough photographs and boxes and folders of memorabilia treasures to fill four armoires. It took her seven days to sort the trove into what would eventually make up the individual ‘rooms’ inside the cabinet. Vignettes that explored a small part of O’Faolain history through arts and crafts—high-end arts and crafts.

Rowan grinned up at Matilda from her kneeling position in front of the cabinet. “I should be done in no time, but still, I’m stoked with the progress.” Tilly had only gotten back to Oklahoma the night before, and she couldn’t wait to see her reaction.

Matilda looked stunned, her eyes taking on a sheen as she tried to take in all the family bits at once. Standing, Rowan said, “Here, Tilly, let me take you through the rooms that are done, and I can also describe my ideas for the remaining space.”

At Matilda’s nod, Rowan started at the top. “Jo found a lovely shop in Dublin that sold a lot of antique textiles, painted silk wallpaper, and things like that. Before I left the city, I visited the shop and found this lovely French toile and striped silk paper. I can tell you,” Rowan laughed, “it felt like sacrilege to cut that fabric into tiny bits, but once I saw how perfect it was as a backdrop, I got over it.”

“Stunning. Absolutely stunning, sweetheart. You must take Diana and me to the shop the next time we visit. Perhaps in October when River and Patrick have their baby.”

“Oh, I will. I didn’t know Diana would be coming for the birth. That’s awfully nice.” Diana Gaines was Matilda’s oldest best friend, exorbitantly wealthy, sharp, witty, and a fire-breathing dragon. Rowan and her sisters adored Diana now, but it took a moment to get used to her prickly nature. Her acerbic wit was entertaining, like watching a practiced thespian on her personal stage. It was also amusing that Bran, Patrick, and Hugh shuddered in terror at the mere mention of her name.

“Of course, she will. She didn’t make it to see Daniel because she had managed to get a small cold right before we were to fly out and she didn’t want to chance being around a newborn or the family. Diana’s poor secretary, who accompanied us while we traveled, looked as though she’d been through the wringer when I got back from Dublin. Diana was upset about not being there and made sure everyone was miserable right along with her.” Matilda chuckled at the memory.

“She loves the boys, and Hugh as well. She just doesn’t show it very well.” Matilda shrugged. “Enough of that woman. We decided to take a two-month break from one another. We were both getting on each other’s nerves by the end of our trip. However, fifteen minutes ago, Diana’s secretary emailed me dinner reservations at the Country Club. Her brother and his son will be in town,” Matilda sighed.

“So, two months meant two days?” She only smiled and shrugged at Rowan’s question.

“Tina accepted the invitation. I had her add a plus one for you, and Tina is picking up several dresses for you to choose from. Diana will expect us all to dressed to the nines.” Rowan didn’t bother to decline. The O’Faolain matriarch could be just as stubborn as her son.

“Okay, give me the rest of the tour,” Matilda gestured toward the armoire.

Rowan took her time explaining the piece. Why she’d chosen one item over another. Why she’d picked specific color themes. Matilda laughed when she spied the hand-drawn cards from her grandsons, oohed, and aahed over Hugh”s handmade shell necklace when he was only five. He’d collected the shells himself during a family vacation in Greece.

“What are these spaces going to be?”

Matilda was referring to the paper placeholders that Rowan had tacked around the open spaces between the shelves and cubbies. Rowan felt her cheeks pinken. Damn her Irish complexion. She’d taken a chance on her skill as an artist. She was second-guessing that choice hardcore now.

“Well, some of the pictures I wanted to use didn’t have duplicates. Not that I’ve found, anyway. And, well…dang, you might not want to use what I’ve done, which,” Rowan threw her hands up, waving them to and fro, “is completely fine. You will not hurt my feelings, Tilly, I swear.”

“What in the world, Rowan? Everything you’ve done is so exceptional, so thoughtful and one of a kind. How can you think I wouldn’t like it?”

Perfect. Rowan managed to drum up extra anxiety by drawing more attention to her project. Taking a deep breath, she started walking to the guest room where she’d been sleeping. “Okay. I’ve been working on some pieces. One of them is done. I did it while I was still in Dublin with this project in mind.” The other two are almost done. They just need extra time to dry. I did them in oil, and it takes a while.”

Rowan flipped the light on, illuminating the bedroom and the three pictures on stands that stood near the floor-to-ceiling windows. Rowan stopped speaking as Matilda walked to the first picture. Rowan painted one of Jonathan and Matilda’s wedding photos. The album held the normal, traditional wedding pictures, but the photographer had taken a few candid photos of the newlyweds. One in particular had caught Rowan’s eye.

Jonathan and Matilda looked like they’d just walked onto the dancefloor. No one was near them. They weren’t dancing, only staring into each other’s eyes. As though they couldn’t believe they actually belonged to one another. Jon was holding one of his wife’s tiny hands to his chest. He was looking at her in awe. Matilda cupped her husband’s jaw, her thumb laid across his lips. It was intimate. Private.

“If I were to name the picture, I would call it Forever,” Rowan spoke quietly, the older woman still studying the painting.

Matilda swayed. Rowan wrapped her arm around her waist, gently backing the older woman until her legs met with the bed. She sat without being asked. Never taking her eyes from the painting.

Rowan hesitated before sitting next to Matilda on the bed. No one spoke. The only movement were the tears tracking down Tilly’s cheeks.

Rowan understood loss. Sometimes a person needed silence when it hit. Sometimes, like now, they might need to know they weren’t alone.

Rowan wasn’t sure how much time passed before Matilda took a shuddering breath. She still looked at the painting, but her body had straightened. She had come back to herself. “It’s hard to be the one still alive.” She looked at Rowan, who was still sitting beside her. “I imagine you and your sisters know something about that.”

“Yes.” An understanding of each other’s loss passed between them. “Would you rather have kept this picture private, Tilly? I can choose another for the installation.”

“Absolutely not! I never want to forget what kind of love Jon and I shared. I want my son, my grandchildren, and my great-grandchildren to see what love looks like. Bran and Patrick have certainly found it with Raven and River.”

Before Matilda could query Rowan if she’d found anyone special, Rowen hopped up and said, “Let me show you the other two. Though if they affect you as strongly as the first, we’re going to need whiskey first,” she teased, making Matilda smile.

“You can show me and then you and I are ordering room service and working on getting three sheets to the wind. How’s that sound?”

“Like my best night ever. We should invite Jo. She leaves for Tokyo day after next and then Switzerland.”

“I would love to see Josephine. Let’s invite her over. Your Nan’s been hounding me to get information on Honey Bunny. This will kill two birds, so to speak.”

Poor Jo, Rowan thought, smiling. She led Matilda to the second painting. It was a small five-by-seven landscape of Matilda walking across a shallow rock bed stream. She was holding hands with two precious towheaded boys who were smiling up at their grandmother.

“Rowan, damn it! I’m not one to curse, but you are making me an emotional wreck,” Matilda complained as she dabbed her eyes with a tissue Rowan handed her. “That was the year I decided to be an adventurer,” she laughed, remembering. “I told Jon and Hugh that I was taking the boys camping, and they weren’t coming with us. We went Devil’s Den State Park in Arkansas. It was so beautiful. We went in the fall, and I remember the boys and I were in awe at the changing leaves.”

“Do not tell me you slept in a tent. I won’t believe you.”

Matilda rolled her eyes, making Rowan giggle. “I did buy a tent and probably two thousand dollars’ worth of stuff that I didn’t even know how to use. The boys were beside themselves with excitement. They’d camped with Hugh before, so they knew more than me. Bran helped me unzip the tent, and when I saw the twelve pages of instructions, I promptly called the park ranger station. I asked the kind woman who answered if there were any furnished cabins.

“They only had the biggest one left. It slept eight, had beds, linens, heat and air, and a full kitchen. I booked it immediately, packed up the tent and all the other bags of crap, and found our cabin. It felt as luxurious as a five-star hotel after the near miss with the tent. The boys and I proceeded to have the best weekend of our lives. I swore them to secrecy, of course. Jon and Hugh were forced to be impressed with my outdoor skills, and to this day, as far as I know, they never told on me.

“In my defense, I did start a fire and cook over it. I burnt everything, but my sweet grandsons never complained. Probably because I gave them each their own bag of marshmallows.”

Rowan was laughing so hard by the time Matilda finished recounting her adventure she was wheezing. The thought of the well-to-do Mrs. O’Faolain in flannel, hiking and starting fires was a visual she would never forget.

“I can’t believe you chose to paint this picture out of all the ones in those boxes. Rowan,” Matilda started, shaking her head, “you have made me remember two of the best moments of my life.”

“I’m beyond thrilled. I was nervous. I’m a novice artist at best, but your photos are a true inspiration. There weren’t copies so I didn’t want to use the originals, and I thought oil paintings would give an old-world whimsy to your memory closet. Now that I have most of your pictures sorted, Tina plans on putting the rest in chronological order in photo albums.”

“A novice? Rowan, surely you jest. You are a true talent. As fine an artist as any painter with works hanging in museums. You and your sisters have proven that you’re all talented designers, but darling girl, you are an artist. A painter. Your focus should be,” Matilda waved her hand at the stands holding the paintings, “this.”

Rowan blushed at the praise. She was thrilled that Matilda liked what she’d done so far. That was enough recognition for her. “Okay, one more,” Rowan announced while handing another tissue over. She walked to the last easel and turned the stand around. It was a teenage, beardless Hugh, grinning and shaking hands with his father.

Jonathan looked so much like Hugh did now, minus the beard, that Rowan’s heart had squeezed with emotion. There was a new silver Porsche in the background. The back of the picture was inscribed, Hugh’s 16th Birthday.

Rowan swallowed. She missed her family. Her sisters. Bran and Patrick. Hugh.

Matilda studied the painting for several minutes. “I was so mad at Jon that day.”

Oh shit, Rowan cringed. “Oh, geez, really.”

“Buying my baby boy a sports car that I knew very well he would drive too fast in. I was furious but then, Hugh shook his dad’s hand with that big grin, and Jon grinned back. Those two always melted my heart, and damn if I could stay mad at that husband of mine for longer than an hour,” Matilda huffed, clearly still amazed at her husband’s charm.

“I was relieved when Jon took hold of the back of Hugh’s neck like he was a pup and growled into his ear that if he broke one single law in that car, one speed limit, the consequences would be severe. Whether Hugh listened is anyone’s guess. I would say no, but he was never in an accident or arrested, so...”

“Then, do I have your approval to use these in the cabinet?”

“Of course. You captured all of our expressions even better than the original pictures. You do realize that if I were to show anyone your paintings, you would be booked out for years.” Matilda took Rowan’s hands into hers, “please tell me that you’ll consider pursuing your art.”

Rowan wouldn’t promise anything. She was, however, very pleased that her work had touched another person as it had her. “I’ll think about it.”

“Hmm,” was her only response. “Tell me, how are you coping without seeing your sisters and nephew?”

Rowan was thankful for the change in subject. “I’m desperate for nephew snuggles. Desperate,” Rowan whined. “Auntie Row facetimes him every night, so he doesn’t forget me, but it isn’t the same. I miss my sisters too,” she admitted.

“Why don’t you fly home for a week? Surely, your job here won’t go up in flames if you take a week off.”

One month hadn’t dimmed her thoughts of Hugh. In fact, her nighttime dreams were almost constantly X-rated if Hugh joined them. Going home and seeing him so soon again would be torture. She had to get over wanting him. It was unhealthy and it was causing issues in the family.

Her sisters told Raven two weeks ago that Hugh was practically unbearable. He thought he was hiding his feelings. They said it was painful to watch. He was too stubborn to ask after Rowan’s absence, and so he didn’t even know she was gone. He probably still thought she was avoiding him.

God, she missed that stubborn asshole.

To answer Matilda’s question, Rowan reminded her that she was way ahead of schedule. The boutique was shaping up fast. “So far, this job has been a breeze, and my client is hands-on. It’s kind of a dream job. I get to choose what I like and see my vision metamorphosize from the ground up. Plus, I missed Oklahoma, as crazy as that sounds. It’s July, so that’s like saying I missed high heat, humidity, and bugs,” Rowan laughed, shrugging her shoulders.

“I never asked what you did to celebrate the Fourth of July. Diana and I were still in France, so not a holiday there.”

“Oh, I had a great night. I went to Jo’s. Her family had a big cookout and set up lawn chairs for the neighborhood’s fireworks display. I sent pictures and videos to Raven and River. They were so jealous.”

“I imagine they were. I know you girls were raised here and Ireland, but the United States has some pretty great holidays—and we know how to celebrate them.”

“Food!” Rowan grinned.

“Which reminds me, find out what Jo wants to eat, and Tina will order everything. We can celebrate your masterpiece,” Matilda said, smiling softly at Rowan.

“Sounds amazing. I’ll text Jo while I pour us a drink. We need whiskey after our tear fest.”

“I like that plan, and while we wait for Jo, you can tell me why you’re avoiding my son.”