11
“Liam!” Colm cries, grinning. “I thought you were spending the day at Grandma’s house.”
He nods. “I was, but she said you were coming home early.” He pauses, pulling a box from his backpack—from what I can tell,
a Lego set. “Look, Grammy got me the Millennium Falcon! Can we build it together?”
“Wow,” Colm says, ruffling his son’s hair. “Sure, big guy. Let’s do it.”
“Do you want to help, Lena?” Liam asks, smiling up at me.
“Sure,” I say, instantly smitten. My God, I’m a stepmom? Or a bonus mom? I don’t know how to define it, just that this beautiful green-eyed boy has wrapped his arms around my waist, and I already love him.
“I missed you guys,” he continues, unloading the contents of the box onto the kitchen table. “I mean, Grammy is fun, but she
doesn’t make pancakes like you do, Lena.”
Rosie’s pancakes. Of course, I make him Rosie’s pancakes —smothered in honey and with a dollop of whipped cream on top. I can almost taste them.
“I hope you were respectful, son,” Colm adds, fusing two Lego pieces together. “Said your please-and-thank-yous, did ya?”
Liam nods. “I even helped carry in the firewood.”
“Good boy.”
Two hours and three grilled cheese sandwiches later, the Millennium Falcon is complete. Liam skips off to his room to read a new comic book, and Colm and I head outside, where we sit in two chairs perched on the edge of a grassy bluff overlooking the sea. Seabirds fly in and out of crevices along the hillside, dropping clams against the rocks.
“It’s beautiful here,” I say, the words slipping out of my mouth without my permission as waves crash against the shore.
Colm grins, eyeing me curiously. “You sound as if you’re seeing it all for the first time.”
“Maybe I am,” I reply, looking back at the little cottage, with its weathered, whitewashed stone facade, cheery, bright red
door, and a little chimney poking out of the ailing shingled roof. It isn’t fancy—just a couple of bedrooms by the sea—but
somehow, it’s enough. “I loved what you said earlier,” I continue, “about staying here, taking over your mom’s pub. You’re
a good man, Colm.”
“Or a stupid one,” he says with a chuckle. “How am I ever going to buy you those red-bottom shoes?”
I shake my head. “Red-bottom shoes?”
“You know, the high heels with the red soles.”
“Wait, are you talking about Louboutins?” I laugh, shaking my head. “I can assure you, that’s the last thing I need.” I point
to the gravel path leading from the doorway. “Besides, one step out that front door, and they’d be ruined.”
“Yer right,” he says with a grin. “But I’d actually fancy seeing you in a pair of red-bottom shoes. If you want them, say
the word, and I’ll do whatever it takes. I’ll tap-dance on hot coals.”
I laugh again, pressing a finger to his lips, stunned by how easy, how natural it is to be with him. “No more talk of shiny
things—or dancing on hot coals, okay?”
Colm nods, his grin fading and his expression far-off. I can’t help but wonder if he’s regretting his decision, or if it’s... something else. We sit in silence for a beat, each of us carrying the weight of our thoughts. I feel the urge to tell him about mine, but when I open my mouth to speak, no words come out. While I’d shared my plight with Spencer yesterday, I’m too tired and too lost to find the words again. Besides, Colm is already carrying enough baggage; it doesn’t feel right to burden him with anything more. I smile to myself, remembering Spencer’s words. I’ll be Colm’s Competent Traveler, I decide.
“Mum’s birthday thing is tonight,” he says, eyeing his watch. “We should be at the pub by five. Lord knows she’ll have my
hide if we’re late. Katherine Dalton isn’t one to feck with.”
“No fecking,” I say, grinning. “Let’s get ready, shall we?”
“The way you smiled just now,” Colm says, taking my hand as we walk back to the house, “reminds me of Jenny.” He nods to himself.
“Liam’s mum would have loved you as much as he does.”
Jenny. Past tense. And just like that, the burden Colm is carrying becomes a little clearer.
It’s a ten-minute drive into town, along a winding road that’s as picturesque as it is nail-biting. At one point I feel as
if the car might topple off the side of a cliff. Fortunately, we stay the course, and when we arrive in Kinsale proper, I’m
immediately taken by the quaint storefronts that look as if they’ve been frozen in time. Molly’s Sweets, O’Reilly’s Hardware—a
walk through downtown feels like stepping into the pages of an old fairy tale.
“Damn,” Colm says, as we step out of the car with Liam, raindrops hitting our cheeks. He eyes his watch nervously. “We’re
five minutes late.” It’s clear that he knows better than to disappoint his mum.
Dalton’s Pub is on the next corner—the letters stenciled in gold against black paint. I can already tell I’m going to like
this place, with its shutter-flanked windows on the lower level and two ample dormers nestled against the roof. As we approach,
music wafts through the air—violin, but not the classical variety, the type that makes you want to tap your feet.
“Grammy!” Liam exclaims, darting through the doorway toward a woman with silver hair swept into a bun, her arms extended out. Her smile is warm, but her eyes? Fierce. I now understand Colm’s anxiety.
“Finally! My favorite son has arrived!” she says, kissing Colm’s cheek, then frowning. “You weren’t thinkin’ of standing me
up on my birthday, were ya?”
Colm shakes his head, obviously terrified. “No, Mum, sorry—just running a little late, that’s all.”
“Well, glad you finally made it,” she says, hands firmly planted on her hips, as Liam runs across the room to the other children.
“A woman doesn’t turn sixty-five every day! Come, now, let’s get you two a proper round.”
At the bar, Colm orders us each a pint. As we clink glasses, Bitsy walks through the door with a tall man—Colm’s brother,
Declan, obviously. He’s handsome just like Colm, though he has their mother’s intense eyes—and maybe her temper? In any case,
as far as he and Bitsy are concerned, last night’s squabble seems long forgotten. They’re all smiles as they greet family
and friends.
“Bits!” Colm says, barreling her over with a hug. “I see you’re still hanging around with this dope. Yer a saint for loving
him the way you do. He doesn’t deserve ya.”
Declan smirks. “Nice to see you, too, big brother.”
Colm takes a sip, laughing good-naturedly. “Just slagging, Dec.”
“Look,” their mother cries when she sees Declan. “It’s my favorite son!”
Colm gives his brother a firm elbow to the rib cage. “She just said that about me.”
“Liar,” Declan replies. “I’m her favorite—everyone knows that.”
Colm folds his arms across his chest, but Katherine will have none of it. She takes both her sons by the arm, leading them
across the room. They both tower over her petite frame, but it’s obvious who’s boss, and she looks to be barely five-foot-two.
“Feeling better?” I ask Bitsy as she squeezes into the barstool beside mine.
She shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. Dec and I patched things up... I mean, for the most part.”
We watch as our partners throw back their heads, laughing with exaggerated hand gestures as Katherine begins to dance.
“Lene,” Bitsy begins again, eyeing the revelry. “Do ya ever wonder if this family is, well... a bit much?”
“I’ll admit, I’ve never seen a grandma kick up her legs, cancan-style,” I say, laughing. “But it is her birthday.”
Bitsy rolls her eyes playfully. “One day these Daltons could be the death of me.”
I smile. “Or maybe the best thing that ever happened to you?”
“Cheers to optimism,” Bitsy says, clinking her glass against mine.
“Need anything?” Colm whispers in my ear, his breath sending goose bumps down my neck.
I shake my head, smiling.
“Okay, then, I should probably get up there and make a toast for Mum.”
“Yeah, ya better,” Bitsy says in agreement, “if you don’t want her comin’ for ya later.”
When the musicians finish their song, Colm kisses my cheek, then makes his way to the little stage ahead, where he taps a
fork against his glass, waving for the crowd’s attention. “Hello, everyone,” he says, taking the mic. “Welcome to our beloved
mum’s birthday celebration.” He clears his throat. “Given that I’m her eldest and favorite son, I thought I’d say a few words tonight.” He pauses, grinning at Declan. “People speak of the luck of the Irish, but it hasn’t always been rainbows and shamrocks for me. I’ve gone through some tough times, and in the darkest moments, I’ll admit, I’ve wondered if I’m bleedin’ cursed. It’s only when I pan back and look at the big picture that I see how truly lucky I am, and it all begins with Mum. In fact, I’m the luckiest bastard of them all, because I was blessed with the best mother on the Emerald Isle. Just don’t sneeze at her dinner table, or bother her chickens, or side with Mrs. Higgins about the Scrabble contest of 1974. Mum won—enough said.” The room erupts in laughter. “And I won, getting to be her son.” There’s more cheering and applause, but Colm isn’t finished. “If you’ll allow me a few moments more, I have two announcements to make—both of which I think Mum will enjoy. The first? I turned down a job offer in London to stay here, in Kinsale, and take over this beautiful old fecking pub.” Katherine clutches her chest tearfully. The chorus of gasps and cheers is almost melodic. “It’s about time Mum retired that apron, got off her feet, and maybe found herself a boyfriend.”
Katherine shakes her head, blushing, but it’s obvious she’s pleased—and deeply touched.
“And while Mum becomes a lady of leisure, I’ll be tending to this little hole-in-the-wall that so many of you have loved for
generations.” Colm steps away from the microphone for a moment, searching the crowd for my face until his eyes meet mine.
“But I can’t do that without a partner by my side—the ying to my yang, my heart’s true home.” He swallows hard. “Lena, will
you please humor me and join me onstage?”
I smile nervously. “Me? Right now?”
Colm nods. “Please?”
“Go on, girl,” Bitsy whispers to me, grinning.
“Okay,” I mutter, winding through the crowd to the stage.
“Lena, when we met on that train in Europe thirteen years ago, I felt a spark that was undeniable.” He pauses, turning to
the crowd. “Unfortunately, she lost my number.”
There’s more laughter in the room—and a sprinkling of heckling.
“But then, eight years later, Lena sent me a Facebook message. Besides the birth of my son, that was the best day of my life, because... we found each other again.” He gestures to Declan, who taps Liam on the shoulder. Wide-eyed and smiling, he runs up to the stage, where he stands beside Colm. Both drop down on one knee, and the display of love sends a wave of emotion through the room. Katherine blots her eyes with a handkerchief; Bitsy sobs at the bar, happy tears streaming down her face.
Colm pulls a little box from his coat pocket, and hands it to Liam.
“Lena,” he begins, clearing his throat. “We have two questions for you.” He pauses, looking up at his dad.
“Lena,” Colm begins. “I would be the luckiest man alive if you would be my wife.”
Liam nods, then turns to me. “And I would be the luckiest boy alive if you would be my mum.”
The two exchange glances, before turning back to me with expectant faces.
“Lena, will you marry me?” Colm continues.
“Lena, will you be my mum?” Liam adds.
I place a hand on each of their shoulders, overcome with emotion as the tears spill from my eyes, rushing down my cheeks like
a river in search of the sea. Never in my life have I seen a more beautiful and heartfelt outpouring of love, and I feel it—I
feel it deeply. I also can’t help but love them back.
“Yes,” I say as Colm slips a gold ring on my finger. Studded with tiny diamonds, with three small emeralds at the center,
it’s modest, but perfect.
The band starts again with an uptempo jig that brings everyone to their feet. Colm lifts Liam over his shoulders, steadying
him with one arm and wrapping the other around me.
“Fair play,” Bitsy says, clinking her glass against mine and giving Declan a swift elbow to the gut. “You got the better brother.”
“Welcome to the family, dear,” Katherine adds with a wide smile. “You got yerself a grand lad.”
I smile, my eyes meeting Colm’s—a grand lad indeed.
The party continues into the evening, but by eleven Liam is dozing, his head on his grandmother’s shoulder, and Colm and I decide to head home. Given the amount of whiskey consumption, we flag down a cab on the street outside. Colm lifts a very sleepy Liam into the car, where he rests his head on my lap.
On the drive home, we hold hands, both in a quiet, happy daze. I want to bottle this feeling before it passes, and I’m acutely
aware that it will—soon.
What will become of them—of this—when I close my eyes tonight? Will we find each other again? Could we ever re-create what
we have right now? Where love once bloomed, it can bloom again, I tell myself. But will he feel the same? Will I? Could anything
ever be this perfect? I’m not sure.
Colm pays the driver and carries Liam inside, gently tucking him into bed in the little room beside ours. “Poor guy,” he says,
yawning. “Big night for him.” He squeezes my hand, yawning. “We’ve been practicing for weeks. You made him so happy. You made
us both so happy.”
“Daddy? Lena?” Liam says, stirring. I planned to call Rosie, but I pause, kneeling to untie his shoes instead.
I smile at Colm. “Why don’t you go lie down? I’ll tuck him in tonight.”
“You sure?” he asks, yawning again.
“Sure,” I say, blinking back fresh tears as I remove Liam’s shoes, smoothing his hair as he nestles his head against the pillow.
“Sing me a song?” he asks as I pull the blanket snug.
“Sure, honey.” I pause, thinking of the lullaby my mom used to sing to me. It’s been ages since I thought of it, and yet it’s
still imprinted on my memory; so is her voice, which I hear right now.
“Hush-a-bye, don’t you cry, go to sleep my little baby,” I begin. “When you wake, you shall have... all the pretty little
horses.”
My voice falters as I continue, memories rushing back like a burst dam. Her voice. The sweet smell of her perfume. She sang “All the Pretty Little Horses” to me every night, just like her mother did. Mom wasn’t perfect—far from it. I watched her fall into the arms of one man after the next, hoping that one of them would stick around, make everything okay. I wish she would have known that she didn’t need a man for that. She was enough. And so am I—with or without a fiancé.
I sigh, singing another few verses, until Liam opens his eyes once more. “Is it okay if I call you ‘Mum’ now?”
I bite the edge of my lip, fighting back tears. “Oh, sweetie, I’d love that.”
Liam smiles, satisfied, and rolls over to his side, drifting off to sleep in mere seconds.
I kiss the edge of his forehead, breathing in the scent of his hair—shampoo and pine trees. It’s true, I may never be a mother—at
least, not a biological one—but if I were, I think I’d be a damn good one. Liam showed me that.
It’s nearly midnight, and I don’t want to go, but time is ticking. I think of Rosie again, and my heart contracts at the thought
of yesterday. I need to hear her voice, to make sure she’s actually okay.
I reach for Colm’s phone on the kitchen counter—Lord knows where mine is—and dial her number.
“Lena?” she says with a yawn.
Tears sting my eyes as I clutch the phone. She’s alive, thank God. “Sorry,” I begin. “I have no idea what time it is there,
but I just miss you so much and I wanted to call. I hope I’m not waking you up.”
“Only from my nap,” she replies. “It’s three forty-five in the afternoon.”
“I’m sorry,” I say. “But I have some news that might cheer you up.”
“Do tell.”
“Colm proposed tonight—with Liam.” I pause, assuming that she’s up to speed on my life—this version of it, anyway.
“I know, dear.”
“You do? How?”
“Because he called me last week asking my permission for your hand.”
“He did?” My heart bursts at the thought of this adorably old-fashioned, yet decidedly modern gesture. I don’t have a father or a mother, so Colm asked my aunt.
“Yes, and he was very sweet.”
“So, you... approve?”
“Only you can approve, honey. And it sounds like you do?”
“I said yes.”
“And you’re happy?”
“I am, but...”
“No buts.”
I sink into the living room sofa. “It just all happened so fast.”
“Fast? You’ve been with him for four years, and in Ireland for nearly half as long.”
“Right.”
“Trust your heart, love,” she says.
“I think I did tonight.”
“Good, then. I shall celebrate. My doctor told me to lay off the pinot grigio, but what the hell. My girl just got engaged.
And, wait! I just became a grandmother!”
“You did,” I say, laughing. “And I can’t wait for you to meet Liam. He’s an angel.”
“Come home soon,” she says, her voice cracking on the last word. “I miss you so.”
“I promise,” I say, blowing Rosie an air kiss.
We don’t say goodbye . We never do. The word used to frighten me as a child, because when I said it to my mom, it came with underpinnings of fear.
I never knew when she’d come home, and deep down I worried that one of our goodbyes might be forever. After she died, Rosie
and I put the word into retirement.
I set Colm’s phone on the coffee table, then walk to the bedroom, where I strip off my clothes, letting them fall into a heap
on the floor. I crawl into bed beside him, pressing my body against the warmth of his back. “Hi,” I whisper, my hand traveling
down his arm, to his hand, where our fingers meet.
“Hi,” he whispers back, turning to kiss me. “Did you have fun tonight?”
“The most fun,” I say, nestling my head against his bare chest. “Liam’s asleep—absolutely conked. I just called Rosie. She
was over the moon about our news.” I tell him how much it meant to me that he called her before proposing, and that we should
book a trip to Seattle soon. When he doesn’t respond, I look at his peaceful face. His eyes are closed, and with a sigh, I
quietly watch the rise and fall of his chest.
Is this it ? Is Colm the man I’ve always been meant for? My handsome Irishman with a heart as big as Kinsale? And if so, how am I supposed
to wake up tomorrow somewhere new, with someone else? I dread the thought of it, but most of all, I dread this goodbye. As
much as I want to go home, I don’t want to leave this . I shift, nestling into the pillow. For the first time in all these days, I feel the urge to fight sleep, to stay awake through
the night—anything for a little more time. My weary eyelids feel as if they’re strapped with bricks, but I will them to stay
open just a few more minutes. I don’t have any idea what’s happening to me or where I’ll be in the morning, but I do know
one thing, and it fills me with an unexpected sense of comfort: today, I felt love— real love .