Chapter 35
thirty-five
BéBHINN
Dad,
Catch up news first. I finished another year at uni. Only one more left. Grades are excellent, btw. I’ve gotten a few small interior jobs that Mom and the aunts have thrown me. They approved of my work.
Bran and Patrick put on a brave face, but I wonder if they will ever stop missing you. If Mom and I are anything to compare to, they won’t.
I imagine it’s a matter of endurance. Learning to live with part of yourself missing. I’m glad they have Raven and River and the boys.
Proper warning. I’m giving Mom a year, maybe two, to begin to consider dating. I know you probably just cracked the glass of whiskey you’re holding at the thought, but she has so much love to give.
You know she is a woman who loves someone with everything she is. There is someone out there who deserves to have that love directed their way—even if it is only half as much as she gave you.
Daniel and Jonathan are shitheads. Okay, not always, and I love them.
Daniel is following in your entrepreneurial footsteps, and Jonathan is close behind as he graduated this year.
I’m sure you don’t need me to tell you everything, you are surely watching your grandchildren.
Their taste in women is still questionable.
Mags is still diligently working on her embroidery masterpiece, which she believes the Queen will “swoon over.” For all her mouthy ways, she is an exceptional talent.
Her sister, Mirren, is visiting soon and has promised to root out the security cameras that Gray and Blair’s dads have hidden around our house.
I know you know where they are. Send me a dream or something. There is no line those Scottish bastards won’t cross to keep an eye out on us. What am I saying? I’m sure you approve of their methods. Don’t deny it. (I’m rolling my eyes.)
Let me see. What else is happening around here?
Blair has an incredible opportunity for an internship in Wales, which you know she’ll get.
She is that smart and doubly passionate about botany.
The nature conservation would be lucky to get her.
Oh, and she went out on a date last weekend—like the first one EVER and didn’t give me or the girls an ounce of detail!
Gray and I will graduate next year. We still plan on working closely together (and I’m sure any businesses she opens and I decorate will have Blair’s plants and Mags’ embroidery tucked in some odd corner of them all).
Gray works more for O’Connor Hospitality than I do for Triskelion. My hobby is hiking. Her hobby is checking real estate adverts. She’s obsessed.
Speaking of passions, I’m hoping to get Mom some gorgeous hand-painted wallpaper for one of the rooms in your flat. She’s already redecorated a couple of rooms. I’m so proud of her.
If I were being strictly honest, I think the changes help her, but I also believe that nothing will make that flat any less “Hugh and Rowan’s.”
Okay. You’re caught up on family and friends. Now it’s my turn.
I’m in need of advice and…forgiveness…maybe?
So, listen—Dagr Griffiths—you’ll remember him. Hike. Cave. White hair. Remember? The hiker who didn’t forget his sat phone.
Well, we’ve become friends. Good friends, actually.
He came to Dublin a few weeks ago to have a drink. With me (in case you missed the obvious).
I’m afraid I have a bit of a crush on him that I’m not sure he reciprocates, but I hope he does.
He’s older than me, and before you jump on your high horse, nothing like you and Mom. I’m afraid of how the boys will react. I wish you were here to talk them down, but if you were here, you’d probably be leading the charge, soooo.
I know all his bests and worsts. Favorites and hates. Foods, movies, and books. His favorite color is white. I said, “How boring,” he said, “A wash with bleach makes it good as new.”
See??? Funny and practical.
Anyway. Oh Lord, why is this so hard to write? Damnit! Anyway, Dagr invited me to a charity gala. It’s in London. I don’t know if it’s as friends or an actual date.
I want it to be a date.
I haven’t told the family that he and I are still talking. We talk every day.
Mags, Gray, and Blair think I should lie about why I’m going to London, but you know I don’t like to lie.
I’m not sleeping, I’m so conflicted. I toss and turn and stare at the ceiling. Don’t mistake my guilty conscience for a change of heart. I am going.
It’s just… God, Dad, I want your approval so bad my stomach aches with it. It isn’t fair that I met a man that I see a future with.
And. You. Aren’t. Fucking. Here.
I have the perfect dress, and I think he might kiss me, and all I can think of is that you’ll never know Dagr.
You’ll never grill him over drinks or threaten to ruin his career, or…
or tell him he better not hurt me. That he better love me above all others, and I know that’s ludicrous when we are ONLY friends.
But I think it. I want it.
I want you to still be here.
B
O’Faolain Building
4th Floor
Dublin Departure for London Day
Bébhinn was SWEATING. Buckets. She needed to grab a taxi in the next hour to make it to the private airport if she didn’t want to be late for the flight Dagr had set up.
She’d just finished sending a message to The Ramblers, only remembering minutes ago that she’d never sent one to let them know she wouldn’t be going on the hiking trip that weekend.
She cringed at the bad manners. In her defense, the London trip had taken over most of her thinking power.
She wasn’t worried about canceling, even late, because the group had decided to make it into a family affair. Those who had spouses or children could bring them along. The hiking spot was only a three-hour drive from Dublin.
She’d been looking forward to cooking hot dogs and marshmallows over a fire with the kids, but not enough to say no to London.
Now here she was, reading messages from the group as they came through in one hand and struggling with her luggage in the other. She should have been feeling exhilaration at embarking on what might be the start of…something as she was walking through the door of her mother’s flat, and yet…
Lying, it turned out, was for the birds. She could misdirect her brothers, but her mother? No.
Her mom was in the kitchen feeding her sourdough starter. She and her sisters all kept the starter in their refrigerators. Her dad and brothers loved it. Her mom rarely ate the stuff, but Bébhinn guessed old habits died hard—like spouses.
“Hey, Mom,” she called out as she let herself in.
“Sweetheart! I didn’t know you were coming by. I was just thinking about you. I have a new client I’d like to bring you in on as a full partner. Mrs. Dennys wants a complete upper story redesign, and it includes a child’s playroom, which I know you love to design.”
Bébhinn couldn’t help but clap her hands in glee. “I can’t wait! The colors, the story, the books, toys, and board games—consider me hired.”
Her mom grinned at her enthusiasm before saying, “I have lunch plans with Saoirse Kennedy, but I would gladly cancel if you wanted to grab a bite together. River’s favorite potter has a new toad and frog design that I’ve been dying to see.”
“I can’t actually, but please don’t go without me. That design sounds perfect for your new clients.” Bébhinn winced when she saw her mother’s smile fall.
“I came here to talk to you about something. Important,” she added. Her mom’s attention was immediately focused.
“I’ll wait for you for the potters. What is it? I’ve felt like you’ve been distant lately. I’m embarrassed to admit that I worried you were outgrowing your old mother.”
Her mom tried to use a teasing tone, but there weren’t enough months since her father’s passing for too much levity.
“I’ll never outgrow needing my mom. Don’t even speak it.”
She smiled at the reassurance, wiping her floury hands on a kitchen towel and walking around the counter to join Bébhinn at the bar. “What is it?”
“I’m going to ask you for something I’ve never asked for before.”
With only a slight flair of her eyes, Rowan O’Faolain said, “Ask. Anything.”
“I need you not to tell anyone what I’m about to tell you. Even your sisters.”
Her mom’s eyes widened further at that, but she nodded affirmation. “Unless it’s to do with your safety, I promise to keep this conversation to myself.”
No going back now. “I’m flying to London in an hour to meet Dagr Griffiths. He’s taking me to a charity gala to raise money for nature reserves across Europe. I’m staying with him tonight and coming home tomorrow.” Her mom resembled a deer in headlights, so she quickly added, “We are only friends.”
Two long, long minutes later. “Friends?”
“Definitely.”
“Definitely?” Her mom sounded suspicious. With reason.
“Fine,” she sighed, knowing she wasn’t walking away without giving her mom more. “We are just friends. Good friends, actually. We’ve talked every day since Wales.
“I swear, there isn’t a whole lot we don’t know about each other. We encourage each other every morning and discuss how our days have gone each night. He’s become the best part of my day.”
“I remember what that is like. It makes you feel invincible.” Her mom smiled softly, surely thinking about her husband.
“Gray, Mags, and Blair are my best friends, but I swear, he’s become one too. The whole truth is that I want more, but I don’t know if he does,” she rushed the last, relieved to tell her mom about Dagr.
“He’s never…umm, given you a reason to believe he might want more?”
Bébhinn felt her cheeks warm before admitting, “He flew to Dublin a few weeks ago just to take me out for a drink before going on to Wales.”
“That seems like a pretty big gesture for casual friends. Nothing was said or…done to make you think he might think of you as more than a buddy?”
Bébhinn had thought a lot about that evening. Every touch or brush of his fingers. At the pub, his hand had touched her back and his leg had casually touched the side of hers. “A few very minor things. Nothing extraordinary but not nothing.”
“I appreciate his caution. Patrick mentioned that he is older than you. Bran looked up some of his background when you guys were hiking.”
“He is. Older, that is.” Don’t start stuttering around the facts now, Bébhinn, she chided herself.
“Yes, we’ve just confirmed as much,” her mom chuckled. “By how much?”
“Eighteen years.” Bébhinn closed her eyes and swallowed hard. She trusted her mother, but she was laying a lot on her.
When she remained silent, Bébhinn added, “Less than you and Dad.” Her mom blinked several times, but thankfully didn’t tear up over the mention of her husband. And because she was feeling extreme stress at the moment, Bébhinn included, “I wrote to Dad about Dagr in my journal.”
“Oh. Oh, well. Oh.” It took a moment, but a grin broke across her mother’s face. “I bet Hugh had a few thoughts.”
They both hugged and laughed, each hearing his voice in their heads. He was saying different things to each of them, of course, but every comment would have been opinionated as hell.
They dried their eyes and stood together for a while, thinking about what they’d lost but what they still had to live.
“I’ll keep your news, Bébhinn, if only because I know your father would bellow the house down, and it amuses me to remember some of our bigger rows. I won’t tell my sisters, though I’ll probably almost break at the seams from the secret.
“I’ll keep your heart to myself but only if you promise to tell me when there is new news.”
“I promise. I’ve wanted to tell you for weeks, if only to get your advice.” They embraced and sniffled tears during which she promised to call her mother upon landing, in the evening, in the morning, and before takeoff the following day.
“I love you, Mom.”
“You’re my heart, Bébhinn.”