anyway?
Still befuddled by her train of thought, she didn’t notice
Laura scooting off the bed until her sister was standing beside her.
“I should gather up Patsy and go,” she said. “It’s nearly time
to feed Fiona, and Ronan’s probably starving, as well.”
Pleased at the idea of having some time to herself, Georgia
lovingly nudged her sister to the door. “Go home. Feed the baby. Kiss your
husband. I’ve got a lot to do around here before I leave for my trip next week.
Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to nag me before I leave. And then I’ll
be back before you even miss me.”
“Okay.” Laura gave her a one-armed hug and kissed her cheek.
“Be careful. And for heaven’s sake, take a picture of Misty’s wedding gown.
That’s bound to be entertaining.”
Laughing, Georgia vowed, “I will.”
“And about Sean—”
“You said you were backing off.”
“Right.” Laura snapped her mouth shut firmly, took a breath and
said, “Okay, then. Enjoy your new house and the supper Patsy left for you. Then
have a great trip with your pretend fiancé and hurry home.”
When her sister had gone down the stairs and she and Patsy had
both shouted a goodbye, Georgia dropped onto the edge of her bed, relishing the
sudden silence.
Home, she thought with a sigh. This cottage, in Dunley,
Ireland, was now home.
It felt good.
* * *
She took a long bath, savored a glass of wine in the
stillness, then dressed in what she thought of as her Ireland winter wear—jeans,
sneakers and a shirt with one of her thick, cable-knit sweaters, this one a dark
red, over it—and went downstairs.
Restless, she wandered through her new home, passing through
the kitchen to break off a piece of the fresh bread Patsy had left for her.
Walking back to the small living room, she paused in the center and did a slow
turn.
There were still changes to be made, of course. She wouldn’t
bring all of her things from America, but the few items she loved would fit in
here and make it all seem more hers somehow. Though
already she felt more at home here than she ever had in the plush condo in
Huntington Beach.
The fire in the hearth glowed with banked heat, its red embers
shining into the room. Outside her windows, the world was dark as it could be
only in the country. The streetlights of the village were a faint smudge in the
blackness.
Georgia turned on the television. Then, the instant the sound
erupted, turned it off again. She hugged herself and wished for company. Not the
tinny, artificially cheerful voice of some unknown news anchor.
“Maybe I should get a dog,” she mused aloud, listening to the
sound of her own voice whisper into the stillness around her. She smiled at the
thought of a clumsy puppy running through the cottage, and she promised herself
that when she left America to come home to Dunley for good, she would find a
puppy. She missed Beast. And Deidre. And the sound of Ronan’s and Laura’s
voices. And the baby’s cries. And Patsy’s quiet singing when she was working in
the kitchen.
She wanted another heartbeat in the house.
Georgia frowned as she realized the hard truth. What she wanted
was Sean.
She could call him, of course, and actually started for her
phone before stopping again. Not a good idea to turn to him when she was lonely.
He wouldn’t always be there, right? Better she stand on her own, right from the
beginning.
Plus, if she was making Dunley her home now, then she might as
well get used to going about the village on her own. With that thought in mind,
she snagged her jacket off the coat tree by the door and headed for the
Pennywhistle.
It was a short walk from her door to the main street of the
village, and from there only a bit more to the pub, but she fought for every
step. The wind roared along the narrow track, pushing at Georgia and the few
other hardy souls wandering the sidewalks with icy hands, as if trying to steer
them all back to their homes.
Finally, though, she
Still befuddled by her train of thought, she didn’t notice
Laura scooting off the bed until her sister was standing beside her.
“I should gather up Patsy and go,” she said. “It’s nearly time
to feed Fiona, and Ronan’s probably starving, as well.”
Pleased at the idea of having some time to herself, Georgia
lovingly nudged her sister to the door. “Go home. Feed the baby. Kiss your
husband. I’ve got a lot to do around here before I leave for my trip next week.
Don’t worry, you’ll have plenty of time to nag me before I leave. And then I’ll
be back before you even miss me.”
“Okay.” Laura gave her a one-armed hug and kissed her cheek.
“Be careful. And for heaven’s sake, take a picture of Misty’s wedding gown.
That’s bound to be entertaining.”
Laughing, Georgia vowed, “I will.”
“And about Sean—”
“You said you were backing off.”
“Right.” Laura snapped her mouth shut firmly, took a breath and
said, “Okay, then. Enjoy your new house and the supper Patsy left for you. Then
have a great trip with your pretend fiancé and hurry home.”
When her sister had gone down the stairs and she and Patsy had
both shouted a goodbye, Georgia dropped onto the edge of her bed, relishing the
sudden silence.
Home, she thought with a sigh. This cottage, in Dunley,
Ireland, was now home.
It felt good.
* * *
She took a long bath, savored a glass of wine in the
stillness, then dressed in what she thought of as her Ireland winter wear—jeans,
sneakers and a shirt with one of her thick, cable-knit sweaters, this one a dark
red, over it—and went downstairs.
Restless, she wandered through her new home, passing through
the kitchen to break off a piece of the fresh bread Patsy had left for her.
Walking back to the small living room, she paused in the center and did a slow
turn.
There were still changes to be made, of course. She wouldn’t
bring all of her things from America, but the few items she loved would fit in
here and make it all seem more hers somehow. Though
already she felt more at home here than she ever had in the plush condo in
Huntington Beach.
The fire in the hearth glowed with banked heat, its red embers
shining into the room. Outside her windows, the world was dark as it could be
only in the country. The streetlights of the village were a faint smudge in the
blackness.
Georgia turned on the television. Then, the instant the sound
erupted, turned it off again. She hugged herself and wished for company. Not the
tinny, artificially cheerful voice of some unknown news anchor.
“Maybe I should get a dog,” she mused aloud, listening to the
sound of her own voice whisper into the stillness around her. She smiled at the
thought of a clumsy puppy running through the cottage, and she promised herself
that when she left America to come home to Dunley for good, she would find a
puppy. She missed Beast. And Deidre. And the sound of Ronan’s and Laura’s
voices. And the baby’s cries. And Patsy’s quiet singing when she was working in
the kitchen.
She wanted another heartbeat in the house.
Georgia frowned as she realized the hard truth. What she wanted
was Sean.
She could call him, of course, and actually started for her
phone before stopping again. Not a good idea to turn to him when she was lonely.
He wouldn’t always be there, right? Better she stand on her own, right from the
beginning.
Plus, if she was making Dunley her home now, then she might as
well get used to going about the village on her own. With that thought in mind,
she snagged her jacket off the coat tree by the door and headed for the
Pennywhistle.
It was a short walk from her door to the main street of the
village, and from there only a bit more to the pub, but she fought for every
step. The wind roared along the narrow track, pushing at Georgia and the few
other hardy souls wandering the sidewalks with icy hands, as if trying to steer
them all back to their homes.
Finally, though, she
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