O'Reilly's Bride

‘They’re very brave.’

Sean shrugged. ‘It’s what they do. I guess they don’t see it as anything but doing another day’s work.’

A burly man in a bright yellow waterproof coat smiled up at them as they walked to the end of the jetty.

‘You must be the TV people.’

Sean grinned and reached a large hand out to shake the other man’s. ‘Yep, that’s us. You must be Mike.’ ‘Mike McCabe. This here’s The Sally at the end.’

‘I’m Sean O’Reilly, this is Maggie Sullivan.’ Sean’s eyes drifted to Maggie’s pale face, surprised when she didn’t greet Mike with her trademark hundred-watt smile. ‘She’s normally brighter than this.’

Maggie glanced at him and then recovered, smiling as she shook Mike’s hand. ‘Hi, Mike.’

Mike’s ruddy face went even ruddier as she smiled at him. ‘Nice to meet you, Miss Sullivan. We see you on the box all the time.’

Maggie’s smile faded as he released her hand and turned towards the brightly coloured trawler. The scent of fish hit her nostrils, not exactly helping her churning stomach. ‘So this is your boat, then, Mike.’

‘Aye.’ He beamed with pride as he jumped down onto the deck and held out his hand to help her aboard. ‘This is The Sally. My dad’s boat and mine now. It’ll be my boys’ one day if the quotas don’t kill us first.’

She gave herself a minute to accustom herself to the movement of the deck beneath her feet. Then the boat rocked as Sean landed beside her with a huge thud of equally huge feet on wood. He glanced at her, his hand cupping her elbow. ‘You OK?’

‘Oh, I’m great.’ She moved into the centre of the boat as the engines started and Mike’s crew cast off from the jetty. ‘Let’s just get this done.’

They went out a lot further than she’d thought they would. And if it had been a tad windy by the water’s edge, in the shelter of the harbour, out in the main channel was to her the equivalent of a hurricane.

They started the interview once The Sally had thrown out her nets and Sean had got plenty of footage of the crew at work. Maggie managed to get through it. Just. But by the end she had to run to the railing to throw up.

Sean appeared by her side with a bottle of water and rubbed her back. ‘You should have said you weren’t feeling well.’

She turned from the railing and glanced at him from the corner of her eye. ‘I’m not sick.’

‘No, course not; you were just considerately feeding the starving fish of the world your breakfast.’ He grinned.

A similar grin appeared at the lip of the water bottle. ‘You’re a funny guy. But I’m not sick, really.’

‘I see.’ He leaned back against the railing and folded his arms across his chest, his dark hair catching in the wind. ‘Well, since you’ve never mentioned having a problem with boats, then that leaves only one option.’

‘Oh, really?’ She quirked an eyebrow at him. ‘Well, since you’re so all damned knowing and seeing, what, pray tell, would that be?’

His eyes sparkled at her as she continued to smile. This was more like normality for them. This easy banter and comfortable proximity. This was the kind of thing he missed.

With a deep breath he winked at her. ‘Since I’m the only guy you’ve slept with these last few months, you must be pregnant. Guess we’ll just have to go get married.’

Maggie’s smile disappeared, her breath caught in her lungs and her heart twisted agonisingly in her chest. Already emotional about her complete panic being on a boat, miles from shore, she found it too much of an effort to hold back the shimmer that appeared in her eyes. She swiftly turned her face from his.

But he’d seen it. ‘Hey.’ He leapt away from the railing, his arm encircling her shoulders. ‘What’s up?’

Her eyes glancing out at the choppy waves, she shook her head. ‘I’m fine. It’s just this boat.’

‘You sure?’ His voice was soft, persuasive. ‘You can tell me, you know.’

She nodded and gripped the railing again. ‘I just really hate boats, that’s all.’ She glanced at him through watery eyes. ‘I can’t swim.’

‘You can’t swim?’

‘No.’ She smiled. ‘Colin pushed me off a boat when I was six and I almost drowned. I’m scared rigid of the water.’

His eyes widened at the new information. ‘You should have said.’ He hauled her into his arms and tucked her head beneath his chin. ‘We could have shot this on the dock.’

‘Not unless it was boat-shaped, we couldn’t.’ She sniffed against his broad chest, forcing herself to open up about one thing when she couldn’t about another. ‘Joe wanted it done on a boat. And you know I always get the story I’m sent to get.’

‘Even when you don’t want to get it, huh?’

She risked lifting her head to look up at him. ‘Because that’s what people like you and me do.’

Something crossed his eyes, then he lifted a hand to tuck her head back into place. ‘Sometimes it’s just not a big enough deal to cause yourself pain over.’

‘And sometimes you just have to get on with it so that it’s more real for other people.’

It was ridiculous to mentally compare what they were doing now to what Sean had done for years. But sometimes, when things were difficult for her, Maggie would find herself thinking of what he might have seen and it made her braver, out of a sense of shame if nothing else. How could she be such a chicken about a simple thing like a boat when he’d risked his life dozens of times?

Sean still hadn’t really talked much about his years working in battle zones. Travelling from one hell to another. Every time they got close to broaching the subject he would get that look in his eyes, would shut the world out while he remembered. It was that vulnerability that drew her to him time after time. She would feel a tug from her heart, demanding that she offer him comfort of some kind. It pulled her closer to him as their friendship grew, it held her to him. That very vulnerability becoming her vulnerability. What little he talked about only drew her further in.