Chapter 29
Fiona
Blackburn Farms– Present Day
I blink out of the spiral of memories I’d fallen into as I told Sylvie all about my love story.
I had almost forgotten the tragedy woven into the layers—losing Rory, my legacy—because my life has been so wonderfully blessed over the decades since I came to Kentucky to be with Tommy.
My thumb rubs over the silver Celtic knot ring that I still wear on my left ring finger, although Tommy indeed bought me a large diamond to go with it and added more diamonds to turn it into a uniquely beautiful piece of jewelry.
Sylvie sits nestled between Tommy and me on the well-loved couch, her head resting on my shoulder.
She’s quiet, deep in thought, I suppose.
I crane my neck to look down at her, studying her profile, her brows knitted in concentration, her lips pressed into a thoughtful line.
This granddaughter of mine, this beautiful, curious girl, just traveled through time with me, reliving the story of how Tommy and I came to be.
I’ve never told it in such detail before.
Never allowed myself to remember so vividly.
Sylvie lets out a long breath and finally looks up, her expression filled with something between wonder and disbelief.
“I still can’t believe all of that happened just so you two could be together,” she murmurs, shaking her head.
“I mean… you had to go through so much .”
Tommy chuckles, the deep sound of it reverberating through the room as he stretches his legs out in front of him.
His arm rests along the back of the couch, fingers idly toying with a loose curl of my hair.
“Your grandmother didn’t make it easy on me,” he teases, his voice warm, filled with that familiar affection that still makes my heart skip after all these years.
I turn my head to glare at him, though my amusement betrays me.
“Oh, please ,” I scoff.
“I was the one getting thrown out of my house and bartered off like cattle. Ye just had to pine after me in a big fancy manor.”
Sylvie leans forward and flips to the next page in the album on my lap, her fingers brushing over our wedding photo.
It was taken just outside the small chapel where Tommy and I got married with both his parents in attendance.
The years have faded the image, but the emotion captured in that portrait of young love is as vibrant as ever.
Me in my simple ivory dress, my hair pinned back with tiny pearls.
Tommy, standing tall and proud, his sharp suit made somewhat casual by his well-worn boots.
Sylvie’s lips twitch as she notices his footwear.
“You wore boots to your wedding?”
Tommy smirks, unfazed by her teasing.
“What did you expect? When I met your grandmother, I was covered in dirt from head to toe. Would’ve been dishonest to pretend I was anything else.”
Sylvie laughs, shaking her head before sobering slightly, her expression turning more serious.
She hesitates, then glances up at me.
“Did you ever go back?”
The question hits like a stone thrown into still water, rippling through me in waves I hadn’t expected.
I exhale slowly, staring down at the photograph, my fingers tracing the edges as if the answer might be hidden there.
“No, love,” I say finally.
“Not to Glenhaven. But I’ve gone back to Ireland many times because it’s in my blood.”
Sylvie’s brows furrow, hesitation creeping into her voice.
“Never to your home?”
I shake my head.
“As part of the deal I made with my father, he insisted that I never step foot on Glenhaven again. He didn’t want me returning, stirring things up, reminding him of the choice I made. I was so desperate to be free, to be with Tommy, that I agreed.”
Sylvie’s lips part slightly, her shock evident.
“But… you never even visited ?”
“No,” I admit, noting that I feel no regret but some sadness still lingers.
“Not once.”
She looks troubled by the thought, her fingers gripping the edge of the album.
“So… what happened to it? Who owns it now?”
I glance at Tommy, who drops his hand to my shoulder for a reassuring squeeze.
As always, his touch grounds me.
I turn back to our granddaughter, brushing a hand down her arm as if to soften the truth.
“When my father died a few years ago, Glenhaven passed to Paddy.”
Sylvie scrunches her nose.
“But now that your father is gone, you can go back to visit, right?”
An empty smile tugs at the corner of my lips.
“Paddy wouldn’t welcome me back.”
“Why not?” Sylvie exclaims, sitting up straight.
“Well,” I drawl, trying how to gentle the truth of my complicated family.
“Let’s just say that he was heavily influenced by my father. He turned out just like him and ended up hating me for abandoning Glenhaven.”
“He was a piss-poor brother,” Tommy mutters, and I can’t argue with that.
I let out a slow breath, my chest tightening.
“I really wish I could say he was different from my father, but in the end, he followed in his footsteps. He never forgave me for leaving, for defying our family. His resentment hardened over time, and he doesn’t speak to me.”
Sylvie shakes her head, clearly upset by the thought.
“That’s not fair.”
“No, love, it’s not. But it is what it is. And I don’t have any regrets.”
She’s quiet for a long moment.
“And your sister, Siobhan?”
A pang of old, familiar sorrow clenches in my chest, because while it hurts to have lost Paddy, losing Siobhan was an altogether different matter.
“We weren’t allowed to have contact after I left, but she called me on her eighteenth birthday.”
Sylvie’s eyes brighten.
“And she was finally free once she became an adult, right?”
“Aye, but Siobhan opted to stay on the farm.” My voice drops slightly.
“And she married Brian.”
Sylvie’s mouth falls open.
“ Brian ?”
The shock in her tone is reminiscent of exactly how I felt when Siobhan told me the news.
Except I couldn’t be angry with her.
She apparently had fallen in love with Brian and was happy with the arrangement.
“Yes, Brian Kavanagh. Her marriage merged the Kavanagh and Conlan farms into one. Glenhaven is stronger than ever because of it.”
Sylvie lets out a soft sound of disbelief.
“But… you two don’t talk?”
“Not much,” I admit, the weight of it pressing against my heart.
“We tried for a while, but it was difficult. She built her life there, and I built mine here. Her loyalties belonged to Glenhaven, to her husband, and in time, the distance grew wider.” I give a small shrug, though the pain of it still lingers.
“Now, we exchange the occasional email or a Christmas card, but that’s about it.”
Sylvie is clearly upset, tears glistening.
“That’s really sad.”
I force a smile.
“It is. But life took us in different directions and the life I received in exchange for what I left behind was precious beyond all imagining.”
Even losing my beloved Wade is a pain I accept as part of the bargain I struck to break free of my legacy at Glenhaven.
Sylvie sniffs softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
“Maybe you could still reconcile.”
I consider the idea.
“Maybe,” I murmur.
“There’s always hope for that. Just like I had always held out hope that yer papi and I would be reunited. And look how that turned out.”
For a while, the only sound in the room is the ticking of the grandfather clock in the corner.
Sylvie stares down at the album, her fingers idly tracing the photograph of me and Tommy on our wedding day.
“Is this what you were looking at earlier? Before you told me all of this?”
I nodded.
“Yes, love.”
She hesitated.
“Because of Uncle Wade?”
A sharp pang of grief flickers through me, but it’s softer now.
More of an ache than a wound.
Tommy’s hand goes to the back of my neck, warm and secure.
That steady presence that was always there to remind me of all I still had.
My eyes meet his across Sylvie’s bent head and we exchange a smile.
“I suppose I just needed to take a trip down memory lane.” I exhale, letting my shoulders relax.
“And, strange as it sounds… I think it helped.”
Tommy squeezes my neck, his voice full of warmth.
“Then I’d say that calls for a celebration.”
Sylvie perks up.
“Oh? What kind?”
Tommy grins.
“Ice cream, of course.”
Sylvie closes the photo album and hops up from the couch.
“I knew you were going to say that.”
Tommy winks at me, then rises to take Sylvie’s hand.
“A man has his priorities.”
He turns, offers me his other hand and I let him pull me up.
His mouth is there to meet mine in a soft kiss and I feel something shift inside me.
Not grief.
Not loss.
Just peace.
We have suffered.
We have lost.
But we’ve built something too.
Something strong.
Something that, despite distance and time, has endured.
I stare at the man who once crossed an ocean for me, who still loved me with the same fierceness he did all those years ago, and I know I can be nothing but grateful for every minute of my life since we met.
“Come on, you two. I want chocolate.”
Tommy chuckles, slipping his arm around my waist.
“Chocolate it is, then.”
And as we step out into the warm evening air, I know with absolute certainty…
I wouldn’t change a single thing.
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