Chapter 8

When the door closed behind Jo, Ian bent his head. Everything she’d said was right and true, and yet it seemed almost a Herculean effort to leave the house. He didn’t think he could do it.

He sat there in the darkened room for a while, thinking about the way his life used to be before the accident. Back then, he’d never been home. It was only a place to sleep and get changed. He’d been busy all day with either training, matches, or charity events. And then there was all the traveling. And the nights were spent going out. Or taking a pretty girl—someone like Jo—out and about. Jo was pretty, but he had to be honest with himself. Before, he probably wouldn’t have taken a girl like her out. He would have noticed her all right—how could you not with that beautiful red hair?—but he’d have gone for someone more glamorous. There was a bitter taste in his mouth as he realized how shallow he must have been.

When Nana found out later that he’d abandoned Jo, he’d never hear the end of it. He sighed, frustrated. She liked to draw or paint or something like that. There were old church ruins just outside of town, and tomorrow was supposed to be dry. He supposed he could do something like that, if only to keep his grandmother off his back.

He was alone. He had the whole day to get used to the idea of leaving his house tomorrow. Work himself up to it. Talk himself into it. It would just be a short trip. He could sit in the car while she wandered the ruins. It made no difference whether he sat in his car or in his house.

After a while, somewhat pleased with this plan, he got on his crutches and headed over to the front window, pulling open the drapes and letting the daylight in.

At some point later, he’d make his way down to his nana’s house and tell Jo the plan for the next day.

***

After Jo left Ian’s house, she headed toward the town center, thinking she could spend the day checking out the town and maybe stop to grab a bite to eat for lunch. Her plan was to look into tours. Surely there had to be a bus or train she could catch somewhere. Later tonight, she would have an honest talk with Bridie about how this scheme of hers just wasn’t going to work. She’d talk to her own grandmother privately if need be. There was no sense in beating a dead horse.

The town center was a series of two- and three-story terraced houses, some private homes and some converted to shops, boutiques, and restaurants or cafés. Christmas music played from speakers on the street corners, and all the shop windows were decorated with lights, garlands, ornaments, or a big wreath. Lights were strung from one side of the street to the other. An impressive Christmas tree stood in the town square next to the fountain, laden with lights. Jo made a note to stroll down after dark; she’d like to see it then. She walked the narrow footpath, careful not to jostle other pedestrians. Everyone was so friendly. People either nodded as they passed or made a comment about the weather—“It’s a nice, fresh day”—or simply said hello.

A small river circled the outside of the town center, and Jo managed to find stairs that led down toward it. A footpath ran parallel to the river, and Jo found a bench to sit on. On the other side of the river, up at the top of the riverbank, was the town’s church, a gray stone affair with a tall, narrow steeple. She decided she might want to try and sketch that. She usually favored drawing people as she loved the nuanced expressions, but she enjoyed sketching scenery and landscapes as well.

Once situated on the bench, she pulled out her sketch pad and pencil kit from her backpack and leaned back, crossing her legs. She found a blank page and went to work, her eyes darting back and forth between the church and its spire and the page before her. She was distracted at first by people walking by on the footpath, but it wasn’t long before she found her focus and got lost in her sketching. She didn’t become aware of the time again until it began to sprinkle. She looked up and saw that the sky had gone dark toward the east. Deciding it was best to move on, she packed up her things and closed her backpack. With her phone, she took a picture of the church, in case she didn’t make it back or if she found some down time at Bridie’s to work on it. As she exited the footpath onto the main thoroughfare her stomach growled, and she went in search of something to eat.

At the top of the town center, she spotted a sign for a café and headed toward it.

It was a small place with a smattering of tables and chairs. A counter with stools ran the length of the front window. Jo studied the menu for a moment before placing an order for a toasted sandwich, a piece of chocolate cake, and a large coffee. She settled in at the counter at the window to eat and people-watch, one of her favorite pastimes. She reflected on how odd it felt to be in another country at Christmastime and not working her retail job. It appeared it wasn’t going to work out as far as Ian was concerned, but that was all right; she was going to make the most of it. Displayed on the end of the counter were various travel brochures advertising area day trips. She selected a bunch and began to peruse them. It turned out she was interested in seeing a lot of different things. There was an art museum not far off, and that would be the first call she’d be making. Maybe she could make arrangements for tomorrow. A day trip to Dublin might also be in order. She could take the bus up and be back by nighttime. She was starting to get excited. Just because it hadn’t worked out with Ian didn’t mean she couldn’t still have a good time here in Ireland.

Feeling better, she finished her meal and headed back toward Bridie’s house. It was beginning to get dark, and she didn’t want to be walking around on her own. She didn’t want to get lost.

Bridie’s house was still dark by the time she landed. There were lights on at Ian’s house, but Jo wasn’t going there. Bridie had said they wouldn’t be back until eight or nine, but she had shown Jo where the spare key was kept. She retrieved it, unlocked the front door, and returned the key to its secret hiding place.

She turned on the light in the sitting room and made herself comfortable. The dog, Scruff, wandered out from the kitchen and wagged his tail when he spotted Jo. After several failed attempts to get up onto the sofa, Jo picked the dog up and placed him on the cushion next to her. The dog ran around in a circle three or four times before settling down and curling up on the cushion.

Jo pulled out her sketch pad; she wanted to put some finishing touches on her drawing from earlier. While she was digging through her backpack for her phone, she heard the front door open. Thinking it was Gram and Bridie, she jumped up off the sofa and headed out of the sitting room. But she pulled up short when she saw that it was Ian.

“Oh, it’s you,” she blurted.

“Sorry to disappoint you,” he said.

Jo realized it hadn’t sounded the way she meant it. “No, I meant I wasn’t expecting you.”

“No worries. Look, I was wondering if you were up to going to see some ruins or something tomorrow?” he asked. He leaned on both crutches.

“Did you want to sit down?” she asked.

He shook his head. “No, I’m not staying. I just came down here to see if you wanted to do some sightseeing tomorrow. Bring your sketchbook or something.”

Jo wondered if he’d change his mind by the morning and bail on her.

“Look, I promise I won’t cancel on you,” he said.

“All right.”

“You’ll have to drive though,” he said, turning around, his hand on the door.

“What time?”

***

Ian made sure he was ready by the time Jo showed up the following morning. He opened the front door before she had a chance to knock. He did not miss the look of surprise on her face. He was surprised himself.

“Good morning, Johanna, I’m all set,” he said. He handed her the car keys.

She looked nice: She had a winter coat on over jeans, and she wore a pair of short-heeled boots. Her auburn curls escaped from a knitted hat with a pom-pom on top, just reaching her shoulders.

Ian locked the house behind him and as they headed down the footpath to his car, parked in the street, he said to her, “All right, any conditions?”

She frowned. “Conditions? What do you mean?”

“Like you don’t want to be outside because it’s too damp, or you don’t want to drive too far.”

“Oh, that.” She appeared thoughtful for a moment. “The only condition I would have is that we have to stop somewhere to eat. Because if I get hangry it won’t be a pleasant experience for either one of us.”

“Okay, so you need to be fed and watered regularly.”

“Please.”

At the curb, they both went for the right-side door of Ian’s car.

“What are you doing?” Ian asked. “You’re driving.”

Jo looked at him and then looked at the car. It took a moment, but she finally said, “Nothing. Never mind.”

She headed to the other side, and Ian couldn’t help but wonder about her driving ability.

When she slid into the driver’s seat, she familiarized herself with the interior. Her gaze landed on the stick shift between the two seats, and she frowned.

“What’s wrong?” Ian asked.

“Is that a stick shift?”

“It is.”

“I don’t know how to drive a manual. I only know how to drive an automatic.”

And with that, Ian burst out laughing.

***

Once he pulled himself together, Ian realized that an opportunity had just landed in his lap. If Jo couldn’t drive a manual, there’d be no way for him to show her around Ireland. He was off the hook. From here on out, they could go their separate ways.

“Well, that’s that,” Ian said, triumphant over this unexpected bonus. He opened the door and made to get out. His mood had improved tenfold.

He’d just stepped his good foot out onto the street when Jo said from the driver’s seat behind him, “Why can’t you teach me to drive a stick shift?”

Ian closed his eyes and sighed. She would ask that. First, they expected him to be a tour guide. Now she wanted him to be a driving instructor. What was tomorrow? Teach her how to play rugby? It was going to be never ending.

Jo hadn’t budged from the driver’s seat. Don’t turn around, don’t look at her. Don’t do it! But what did he do? He turned around to be met with a smiling Jo, who raised an eyebrow at him. He chided himself for being so weak that he’d do whatever a pretty girl asked him to do.

“I’m a quick learner,” she added with a grin. He wondered if there was a boyfriend back home; there must be. Where had that thought come from?

He held firm. “Sorry, I’m not a driving instructor.”

He hoisted himself out of the car onto the street and limped around to the back seat to grab his crutches, ignoring Jo. She could sit in the car for the rest of the day, but he wasn’t going to cave. Teaching her how to drive wasn’t part of the agreement.

When he reached his front door, he realized Jo was following him. With his back to her, he rolled his eyes. She was turning into a barnacle.

“Look, Ian, I don’t mean to be a pain in the neck,” she started.

Before he could respond, someone shouted out, “Ian!”

When Ian saw who it was, he sighed. Frank, the physical therapist. The one he’d been purposefully avoiding.

“Hey, Ian, what’s the craic?” he asked.

“Nothing,” Ian replied, fumbling to get his key in the door. He was anxious to get away from both Frank and Johanna.

“I thought so,” Frank said grimly. “I’ve been texting and leaving messages, but you haven’t returned my calls.”

Ian shrugged. By not averting his gaze from Frank, he felt as if he was challenging him. He was also aware of Jo, standing there, observing the interaction.

“Anyway, you probably want to get started on your rehab so you can get your ankle back in top shape,” Frank said.

“Will it get me back onto the field?” Ian asked.

Jo’s eyes went as big as saucers. But Ian didn’t care. He wasn’t the nice police. And if she didn’t like it, she could leave. But she remained rooted to the spot. The good humor he’d just found himself in quickly evaporated.

“It’s a start to rebuilding your life,” Frank said.

“What life?” Ian asked. Hadn’t Johanna said the same thing to him the previous night? Everyone seemed to be singing from the same hymn sheet.

“You’ll be able to carve out a new life,” Frank pointed out.

“I had a life,” Ian spat. “I want that life back. I don’t want a new one! I want to have the life I had!”

“Okay,” Frank said.

“Okay, what? You’ll get me my old life back?” Ian said. “If I go through all this physical therapy, will I be able to go back and play for my team? That was my life. Rugby was my life. The Irish Rovers were my life. It was my career. That’s all gone now. All gone in the past. My life is over!”

Ian glanced over at Jo, whose eyes were still wide with something akin to shock registering on her face. His anger now propelling him forward, he turned on her. “And I don’t want your company. You’re only here because of pity.”

She didn’t move. He squeezed his eyes shut. When he opened them, Jo and Frank were staring at him. Neither appeared uncomfortable at his outburst. How much did you have to do to insult people?

Maybe they wouldn’t leave, but he could. He fumbled his key in the lock and finally managed to get the door open. He stepped inside. Before he closed the door he said, “No need for either one of you to stay. I’m fine by myself.”