The Summer Garden

Luke couldn’t deny the truth of that. “I’ll have to take the chance,” he said stubbornly, convinced that it was his only choice.

“That’s the second foolish thing I’ve heard from you today,” she chastised him.

Luke winced. “Moira’s not really the issue for now,” he protested, desperate to get off the uncomfortable topic and back on track. “It’s the pub. Do you approve?”

“A hundred percent,” she said at once. “Which is why you’ll take the money for it from me, rather than selling that land.”

Luke couldn’t have been more stunned if she’d offered to sprinkle him with Irish fairy dust. “Absolutely not,” he said at once. “I didn’t come to you for money.”

“I know you didn’t,” she soothed. “But hear me out. I’ve told none of the others this, but your grandfather left me in charge of trusts for all of you. The money’s been growing since each of you was born. Mick’s children had their own trusts set up by him, so they won’t receive these until I’m gone. Neither will Susie or Matthew. But I think you should have yours now. It’s not huge, mind you, but it should provide just the capital you need to get started.”

“Gram, no,” he protested again. “I won’t risk your money.”

“It’s not mine,” she corrected. “It’s yours. You’ll just be getting it while I’m still here to see you put it to good use. Use it well, and it will give me great joy.”

Luke didn’t know what to say. A part of him thought he should turn it down. Another part was relieved to have the financial issue settled in a way that would keep his father off his back about selling that land.

He studied Nell closely. “Are you sure?”

She smiled at his obvious concern. “Is this your dream?”

He nodded. “It is.”

“And you believe in it?”

“I really do.”

“Then we’ll go to see Lawrence Riley in the morning,” she told him without hesitation. “It should be easy enough to make the arrangements to transfer the money into your name.”

Luke lifted her out of her chair and spun her around, aware that she was like a feather in his arms.

“Stop that,” she said, laughing. “You’ll make me dizzy, and I’ve enough of that just standing up, thanks to this blood pressure medicine the doctor insists I take.”

Luke set her gently on her feet, then regarded her with concern. “Blood pressure medicine? Since when? I’ve never known you to take more than the occasional aspirin, Gram.”

“It’s nothing to worry about,” she insisted. “And you’re not to go blabbing to everyone, or our deal is off. Is that understood?”

Luke nodded reluctantly. “You’d tell me if it was anything serious, wouldn’t you?”

He held her gaze as he asked, and she looked him straight in the eye as she said, “Of course,” but Luke didn’t believe her. It was the first time he could ever recall that his grandmother had lied to him. It scared him to death.

It was her day off and Moira had taken a dust cloth, vacuum and pail of water from the kitchen and gone to work in her grandfather’s house in Dublin. Just that morning she’d turned over to Peter all the pictures she’d taken at the pub and was awaiting his word about whether they were good enough to be hung. In the meantime, she’d needed a distraction.

She’d already scrubbed the house from top to bottom. She was in the kitchen polishing the silver when her grandfather came home for dinner. He regarded her with curiosity.

“I thought you came to stay with me because you wanted to try life in Dublin on for size, not to be my housemaid,” Dillon O’Malley said to her.

“I was bored,” she retorted, not ready to admit she was a nervous wreck because of the photos she’d given to Peter. If she was a failure at that after getting her hopes up, she didn’t want anyone knowing about it. “Don’t make too big a deal of this. It’s not likely to happen again.”

Her grandfather, never one to get to the point too quickly when there was a roundabout way to get there, poured himself a glass of Irish whiskey, looked to her and asked, “Would you like one, too?”

“No, thank you,” she said, wrinkling her nose. “You can rot your insides, if you’ve a mind to, but I’ll take more care of mine.”

“I didn’t get to be this age by mistreating my insides,” Dillon retorted, amusement in his eyes. “Now, have a seat and let’s chat a bit.”

Normally, Moira would have taken the request as the perfect excuse to claim other plans and hightail it away, but tonight she had no desire to meet her friends for an evening of the same old conversation about the lousy men in their lives. The man in her life wasn’t lousy, for one thing, she thought, then sighed. If he was even in her life. She’d been a little muddy on that point since Luke had left.

So, at loose ends and restless, she sat as her grandfather had asked. He studied her with a knowing expression.

“This boredom you’re experiencing wouldn’t have anything to do with a young man who’s gone back to America now, would it?”

She regarded him with astonishment, startled that this man she barely knew could read her so easily when her own mum seemed completely oblivious to what was going on in her head.

“You think this is about Luke?” she asked.

He smiled. “Is there another young man who was taking up most of your time from the new year until just recently? I’m fairly certain I have him to thank for your moving to Dublin. Am I wrong?”

Moira sighed. “No. It’s Luke.” The pictures, for all her excitement about them, were secondary.

“You miss him,” her grandfather concluded. “I saw the way of things before he left. Did you speak of the future?”

She shook her head, oddly humiliated by the admission. “That makes me a total ninny, doesn’t it? I shouldn’t be pinning so much on a man who’s said nothing about tomorrow, much less the future.”

He laughed. “You’re hardly a ninny. Speaking about feelings, especially when a relationship is new and not fully tested, doesn’t come easily. For what it’s worth, I saw the same sparks in his eyes that I saw in yours.”

She wanted so desperately to believe him, but even she knew that sparks didn’t always lead to something more. From everything she’d heard, her mum had been totally gaga over her dad and vice versa, but their marriage had lasted only until her mum came home from the hospital with her, their third child, and apparently her dad’s breaking point. She’d seen him once or twice over the years, but there was no bond, just some shared DNA.

“Have you spoken to Luke since he left?” her grandfather asked.

“Just once. He called to let me know he’d arrived.”

Dillon frowned. “And nothing since?”

“Emails, of course, but it’s not the same as hearing his voice, if you know what I mean.”

“I do,” he admitted. “Nell’s been sending letters and postcards from Chesapeake Shores, but it’s an unsatisfying substitute. After a week or two of that, I started calling simply to hear the sound of her voice.”

Moira was surprised that he understood so well. “I imagine her letters are full of news about the family,” she suggested tentatively.

Her grandfather smiled. “She’s mentioned Luke a few times, if that’s what you’re asking. It seems he’s totally absorbed in this plan of his to open a pub.” He regarded her curiously. “You knew about that?”

“We talked about it. It’s the reason we traveled, so he could do some research.”

“Has he been keeping you up-to-date on his progress?”

“He mentions it but, to be honest, he doesn’t say much about anything. He sounds busy and distracted.” She regarded her grandfather worriedly. “Do you think I was nothing more than a passing fancy, then?” she asked, unable to keep a note of fear out of her voice. Normally, it would have taken torture for her to admit to even a hint of insecurity, but she sensed that her grandfather wouldn’t judge her. She could let down her guard with him in ways she never had with anyone else. “Will I just fade in his memory as time passes?”

Luke was the first man ever to fight through that wall she’d built around herself, the one meant to keep everyone out. He’d done it with patience, persistence and kindness, teasing her unmercifully until she’d no longer been able to maintain the angry, rebellious facade that she’d worn like a defensive cloak for most of her life. To find out it had all meant nothing would be heartbreaking.