Chapter 42
Jack’s boots whispered against the path as he stepped out of the shadows and into the walled space. The air felt different somehow – intimate and enclosed, yet vast with possibility.
Overhead, stars emerged in the deepening blue of evening, each pinprick of light sharp and clear in the autumn air. The copper lamps scattered throughout created islands of warmth against the gathering chill, their glow catching on the dew-dampened rose petals and turning them to jewels.
Molly hadn’t noticed him yet, her gaze fixed somewhere beyond the garden walls, and he took the moment to simply watch her – the woman he’d misjudged so completely, the woman who had somehow become essential to him in ways he was only beginning to understand.
When Jack had appeared through the archway, Brid moved to lead Patrick inside with a knowing glance that confirmed to Jack that she’d orchestrated the moment perfectly.
‘I’ll keep him warm with a wee drop of whiskey,’ she’d murmured, patting Jack’s arm as she guided Patrick through the hotel door.
His great-uncle paused, studying Jack’s face with eyes that saw too much. ‘She’s something special, our Molly,’ he said softly, gripping his shoulder with surprising strength before allowing Brid to usher him inside.
Our Molly. The simple phrase carried weight that settled into Jack’s chest like stone – faintly connecting them all through ties of blood and history he still couldn’t quite comprehend.
Jack moved then, and something in his step alerted Molly to his presence. She turned, her face registering surprise that quickly shifted to wariness. The expression struck him like a physical blow, a reminder of how thoroughly he’d destroyed her trust with his accusations that morning.
‘Jack,’ she said, her voice carefully neutral despite the emotion that flickered in her eyes. ‘Didn’t expect to see you here.’
‘I came to find Patrick,’ he mumbled, moving closer but stopping with enough distance between them that she wouldn’t feel crowded. ‘Brid said he needed a lift home.’
‘He’s just gone inside.’ Molly gestured toward the hotel.
The silence between them stretched, laden with unspoken words.
He took a deep breath, letting the garden’s scents fill his lungs – roses and damp earth, the faint sweetness of lavender from the border plants. Somewhere a night bird called, its voice carrying over the stone walls, a single perfect note that hung in the air between them.
‘I heard everything,’ he said finally, his voice low and steady despite the hammering of his heart against his ribs. ‘About your grandmother. About Patrick. About why you really came to Golden Valley.’
Her eyes narrowed. ‘You were eavesdropping?’
‘Not intentionally.’ He held her gaze, refusing to look away despite the shame that heated his neck. ‘I came through the side entrance to collect Patrick and … overheard your conversation.’
Her shoulders stiffened, arms crossing protectively over her chest. ‘So now you know.’
‘Now I know,’ he agreed quietly, taking another step closer. The copper lamp nearest them caught the gold flecks in her eyes, turning them luminous in the soft light. ‘And I need to apologize, Molly. I’ve been wrong about everything since the day you arrived.’
‘You don’t have to—’
‘I do.’ He interrupted gently but firmly. ‘I accused you of the worst possible motives at every turn. Refused to listen this morning when you tried to explain.’ His voice roughened with emotion. ‘You were carrying out a promise to your grandmother, and I treated you like a corporate spy.’
The wariness in her expression began to soften, something cautious but hopeful taking its place. ‘You couldn’t have known.’
‘I could have trusted you,’ he countered.
‘Could have given you the benefit of doubt instead of assuming the worst.’ His hands unclenched at his sides, a conscious effort to release the tension that had gripped him since he’d arrived.
‘I’ve spent so long defending Goldenridge against outside interests that I stopped seeing people clearly.
Started categorizing everyone as either threat or ally, with nothing in between. ’
Molly’s arms slowly uncrossed, her posture relaxing slightly. ‘It’s understandable. Your livelihood is at stake.’
‘That’s no excuse for how I treated you.’ Jack moved closer still, close enough now that he could detect the subtle scent of her perfume beneath the garden’s heavier fragrances. ‘Especially when the truth is, I’ve been falling for you since that first morning in the rain.’
Her breath caught audibly, eyes widening at his confession.
‘Even when I was being my most stubborn, most suspicious self,’ he continued, the words coming easier now that he’d begun, ‘something about you kept breaking through. The way you looked at the orchard – really looked at it, seeing what makes it special. The questions you asked that went beyond the surface. How you cared about the old ways, the traditions.’
‘I did care,’ she said softly. ‘I do.’
‘I know that now.’ Jack’s voice dropped lower, meant only for her despite there being no one else in the garden. ‘I’ve seen the video, Molly.’
‘You’ve – what?’ Confusion flickered across her face.
‘The online video. With Hearthland’s song. My phone hasn’t stopped buzzing all evening.’
Understanding dawned in her expression. ‘Oh, I – I wasn’t sure whether you would.’
‘It’s … beautiful,’ he said simply. ‘What you captured about the orchard, about Golden Valley … it’s everything I’ve never been able to put into words. You cut straight to the heart of it all.’
A flush of pleasure colored her cheeks. ‘I just shared what I saw.’
‘That’s just it,’ he said, taking the final step that brought them face to face, close enough that he could see the subtle constellation of freckles across her nose. ‘You saw what matters. You get me, Molly Harris, in ways no one else ever has. But now, by God, I need to get you too.’
Jack reached for her, one hand gently cradling her cheek while the other found the small of her back. Her skin was cool beneath his palm, but her eyes held a warmth that drew him in, permission and invitation clear in their depths.
The first touch of his lips against hers was tentative, a question rather than a declaration. Molly’s hands came up to rest against his chest, neither pushing away nor pulling closer, simply anchoring herself as they navigated this new territory together.
Then her mouth softened beneath his, answering his unspoken question with absolute certainty.
What began as careful exploration quickly deepened, mutual restraint giving way to something far more urgent.
Her hands slid upward, fingers threading through his hair as she pulled him closer.
Jack’s arm tightened around her waist, erasing the remaining space between them until he could feel the rapid beating of her heart against his own.
She tasted of apples and cinnamon, of afternoon tea and something uniquely herself.
The air around them seemed to crackle with energy as their kiss continued, neither wanting to be the first to pull away.
When they finally parted, both were breathing unevenly, their foreheads resting together as they steadied themselves.
‘I’ve wanted to do that since … forever,’ Jack admitted, his voice rough with emotion.
Molly laughed softly, the sound warming him more effectively than any lantern. ‘That makes two of us.’
He brushed a strand of hair from her face, still amazed that she was here in his arms, that they’d somehow found their way to this moment despite all the misunderstandings. Then he pressed a gentle kiss to her forehead.
The buzz of a phone interrupted the moment, vibrating insistently from Molly’s pocket. She made a small sound of frustration that drew a laugh from Jack.
‘You should probably get it,’ he said, though he made no move to release her.
With obvious reluctance, Molly extracted her phone, glancing at the screen. ‘It’s … my grandfather in Brooklyn,’ she said, panic and uncertainty coloring her voice. She accepted the call, keeping one arm loosely around Jack’s waist. ‘Pop? Is everything OK?’
He could hear the tinny voice on the other end, words indistinct but the tone unmistakably determined.
‘What?’ Molly’s eyes widened. ‘Where are you?’ A pause, then, ‘JFK? As in the airport?’ Jack raised an eyebrow, watching as disbelief transformed her expression. Her voice rose slightly. ‘Here, to Ireland? Now?’
Another pause as the voice on the other end continued speaking, gruffer now.
‘Pop, you didn’t have to—’ Molly stopped mid-sentence, apparently interrupted.
Her free hand found Jack’s, fingers interlacing as if seeking an anchor in the face of whatever was happening.
‘Yes, I get it. Of course.’ She glanced up at Jack as she listened a moment longer, her expression softening.
‘I know, Pop. She would have. I guess I’ll see you tomorrow, then.
Text me your flight details, OK?’ A final pause. ‘Love you too. Safe travels.’
Molly ended the call and looked up at Jack, something between amusement and astonishment in her eyes.
‘He’s getting on a plane here, landing in the morning.
Says he’s coming to – and I quote – “get the job done once and for all”.
’ She shook her head slightly, wonder replacing the initial shock.
‘He’s never even left America before. Hates flying.
But he says some things are worth facing your fears for. ’
Jack’s arms tightened around her. ‘I like him already.’
Her expression grew thoughtful. ‘He and Patrick – do you think they’ll …?’
‘Come to blows?’ Jack chuckled. ‘Two strong-willed fellas in love with the same woman, meeting for the first time? It’ll certainly be interesting, anyway.
’ He tucked a loose strand of hair behind Molly’s ear, his touch lingering against her cheek.
‘But since they both adored your grandmother, I’m sure they’ll find common ground. ’
Molly leaned into his touch, her eyes closing briefly.
The garden settled around the two of them, night sounds creating a gentle backdrop to their quiet conversation.
Tomorrow would bring its own challenges – the meeting of two grandfathers, the final fulfillment of Molly’s quest.
But tonight, in this walled garden with its copper lamps and climbing roses, Jack held the future in his arms and found it far brighter than he’d ever dared to dream.