20. Olivia
OLIVIA
“Istill can’t believe you asked Declan to come here,” Molly said, shaking her head over a pint of Heineken. “Way to poke the dragon.”
She, Oisin, and I were clumped near a hedge in the O’Rourke mansion’s famous garden—famous, that is, to fans of The Deer and the Warrior.
Unlike Declan’s wild, overgrown garden, this place was manicured to within an inch of its life.
Hedges were orderly, trees were tidy, and flowers were organized by color.
The only thing unruly was the bonfire, which various village men were busy coaxing higher and higher. The fire was blasting so much heat, I worried it would melt the ice in my drink.
“It wasn’t that big a deal,” I protested, mostly because I didn’t want it to be a big deal. I knew I should have stayed calm and talked it out with him. But as soon as he’d tried to forbid me from going, I’d seen red.
Oisin cleared his throat. “The thing is, Mark O’Rourke is kind of the worst. Everyone knows it, but if you stay in Ballybeith, you have to pretend he isn’t, because sooner or later you’ll need something from him.
A house to rent, a loan, a job. The only person who always fought back was Mr. Byrne.
” He sipped his beer. “And when he died, Declan took up where his dad left off.”
“So…it’s not just Declan being upset about his dad’s accident?” God knew that was a big enough reason for Declan to be upset.
“The accident is likely most of it. But it’s also about Mark O’Rourke being a proper bastard.”
“If he’s so bad, why do you come to his party?” I asked, feeling a little indignant.
“Because it’s good craic,” Molly said. “And it’s not really Mark’s party. It’s ours.” She said the last part with quiet pride, nodding to all the people around us.
People were laughing, telling stories, and eating and drinking.
Two young women stood farther away from the noise, rocking their sleeping babies as they chatted.
The musicians returned from their break—a fiddle player, a flautist, an accordion player, and a man with a flat hand drum.
They settled back into their seats and started playing.
Once the music started, people stomped their feet and sang along.
An older woman stood up and start stomping and shuffling her feet with rapid fire movements I couldn’t quite follow.
It was like I’d said to Declan—like Molly had said just now. Mark O’Rourke might have been hosting the party, but it didn’t belong to him. It belonged to all of Ballybeith.
Still, I was beginning to understand why Declan had lashed out so viciously and the line I was asking him to cross.
I spotted Declan’s friend Thomas across the fire and waved. He was with his wife, Bridget, who I’d met when she’d stopped by to pick up her daughter after Catie’s playdate.
Thomas waved back enthusiastically and led Bridget around the fire toward us. “Olivia! I didn’t realize you were coming.”
“Molly invited me,” I said.
“Cheers to that,” he said, and we all clinked glasses.
“Want to hear something funny?” Molly asked. “Olivia asked Declan to come.”
Thomas sprayed a mouthful of beer directly into Oisin’s face.
“You what?” Thomas said. The way he worded it, it was like I’d asked Declan to sell his companies and torch all of his money.
Bridget handed Oisin a paper napkin.
“I didn’t know,” I said, beginning to feel worried. I thought this thing between me and Declan was just a normal fight. But what if my coming here had broken his trust in some fundamental way that was never going to heal?
The conversation moved on, thankfully. Then the musicians shifted into a catchy song everyone but I knew, and the couples abandoned me to dance around the bonfire.
I wrapped my arms around myself. Without my friends to distract me, I noticed the evening air had turned chilly. As I watched all the couples dance in the golden, flickering light of the bonfire, I felt a wistful ache. I wanted someone to dance with. I wanted to belong.
You have someone to dance with, I reminded myself. You just stormed off to the one place he can’t follow you.
This was ridiculous, I realized. Yes, the festival was fun. Yes, I’d wanted to come. But I wanted to spend the rest of my night with Declan more.
Hopefully, I hadn’t ruined things too badly between us.
I caught Molly’s attention and signaled that I was heading out, then started weaving my way toward the garden’s exit.
I set my empty glass on a table, then bumped into a man, who automatically reached out to steady me. It took a moment for me to recognize Seamus O’Rourke.
“Olivia!” he said cheerfully. “You came! Fantastic!” The drink in his hand had turned his cheeks pink and his natural charm into outright exuberance.
I smiled and tried to step around him.
He didn’t get the cue. “Is Catie with you?” he asked, looking around hopefully.
“No,” I said.
“Ah. Because of Declan,” he said, sounding a bit disappointed. Then he perked up. “Do you know if Sinead’s coming back to visit this summer?”
I shrugged noncommittally, fairly sure Sinead wouldn’t want me spreading her business around. “Do you know Sinead well?” I asked.
He looked away. “I used to,” he said quietly. He smiled ruefully. “Ran into her, the last time she was in town. She said…well.” He laughed wryly. “Some women have a way of making you rethink your life choices, don’t they?”
“Sure,” I said, not quite following.
“Oh!” Seamus said, spotting a woman about twenty feet away who looked vaguely like him. “Excuse me. I need to go talk to my sister. She lives in London these days to avoid our dad, so I hardly ever get to see her.” He squeezed my shoulder affectionately and rejoined the stream of the crowd.
I watched Seamus greet his sister with a massive hug, lifting her off the ground. I smiled. I knew Declan had his problems with Seamus—well, specifically with Seamus’s dad, but it seemed to have soured him on the whole family—but a man who loved his family that much couldn’t be all bad.
I was about to resume my path to the garden exit when I heard a gasp, and then murmurs. Everyone was craning their necks and standing on their toes to see something.
“What is it?” I asked the old woman next to me.
“A damn miracle,” she said, eyes wide as she looked into the distance. “It’s James and Marie’s boy.”
No, I thought, it can’t be.
But it was.
The man in question stepped into view, and my heart just shimmered. It was Declan, tall, proud, and handsome as ever. His dark hair and blue eyes made him look especially striking, like a fairy king invading the human court.
When his eyes locked on mine, I felt more than seen. I felt claimed.
People parted for Declan as he strode to me.
“Declan, I…what are you doing here?” Then a moment of fear stole through me. He wouldn’t have come here without a good reason. “Is Catie all right?”
“She’s fine. She’s with my mum.” He came to a halt in front of me. For a moment, I thought he would reach for me, but he stopped at the last second and put his hands in his pockets instead. He looked over his shoulder to see everyone staring at him. Hastily, they looked away.
He rolled his eyes and turned back to me. “Look, I don’t particularly want to be here. But you said it would make you happy. So…”
My heart was beating too fast, my body understanding things my mind wasn’t ready to.
I wet my lips. “I…I don’t think I realized the extent of what I was asking for, Declan. I’m sorry. When I asked you to come, I really just wanted to spend time with you.”
He smiled, a certain light in his eyes that was just for me. “That’s convenient. Because I want to spend time with you.”
“Oh.” I was blushing. I couldn’t quite believe he was here. The proudest man I knew was temporarily laying down that pride to show up for me. Even though we’d fought. Even though he didn’t agree with me.
No one had ever done that for me before.
He glanced around. “Weren’t you supposed to be here with Molly?”
“She’s dancing,” I said. “So is Thomas.”
He held out his hand. “Shall we join them?”
“Oh, I don’t…some of these people really know what they’re doing.”
He laughed. “I won’t make you step dance, if that’s what you’re afraid of. Come on, a ghrá. Dance with me.”
I slipped my hand into Declan’s and let him pull me toward the bonfire.
As we approached, the musicians finished their frenzied reel and slipped into something slower and softer.
A middle-aged woman with a wineglass in her hand sat down next to the musicians and started singing something sad and lilting in Gaelic.
Declan pulled me into his arms. I looped my hands behind his neck, and we swayed together in the flickering firelight.
“What’s this song about?” I asked. “It sounds so sad.”
“It’s an old trad tune about Fionn and Sadhbh. They sing it every year.”
I leaned against him, liking the possessive, protective feel of his hands on my waist. “It sounds so much sadder than the movie feels.”
“Most of the song is about the end of the tale,” Declan explained. “The part where the dark wizard shows up when Fionn is away at war. He turns Sadhbh back into a deer, and Fionn never sees her again, no matter how hard he searches.”
“That was my least favorite part of the movie,” I said. “She finally found a home, and then it was ripped away from her.”
“It’s not all bad,” Declan said, smiling down at me. “He finds a fawn in the woods and recognizes it as their child. And when the child comes home, the spell is broken again, and they live happily together.”
“But what about Sadhbh?” I pointed out. “We don’t even find out what happens to her. We just know she loses her home, and her man, and finally her child.”
“Shhh, love.” Declan cupped my cheek. “It’s just a story.”
I didn’t realize I was upset until I felt his calming touch against my skin.
I closed my eyes briefly. “I know. I’m being silly. I just wish she had a happier ending.”