Chapter 1

“Hi, Gram,” Jo Mueller called out, bringing in two bags of groceries and setting them down on the kitchen table. Sounds from the television drifted in from the living room as she unloaded everything, put the food away, folded the canvas bags, and tucked them into the broom closet. She filled the kettle and set it on the stove.

She walked through the dining room to the front parlor. Gram was in her recliner, feet up, a crocheted blanket on her lap, her white hair forming a halo around her head. Her cat, Percy, sat on one of the arms of her chair, and she absently petted him, her eyes glued to the television.

Gram was watching The Quiet Man. Again. She and Jo knew all the lines. The movie held a special place in Gram’s heart, having been a favorite of hers even before she emigrated from Ireland to America at age eighteen. Gram had said that it reminded her of village life and growing up in rural Ireland.

“Hi, Gram, it’s me,” Jo said quietly, not wanting to startle her.

Gram broke into a smile. Her blue eyes twinkled. “Hello, Jo. Are you coming from work?” When Jo nodded, she asked, “How was your day?”

Jo shrugged. “Oh, you know, the usual.” Jo worked retail, at a clothing store in the shopping mall. The job itself wasn’t bad, but her manager was a piece of work. There was no pleasing her.

Her grandmother narrowed her eyes. “Is that boss of yours giving you grief?”

Jo didn’t want to worry her, so she kept it vague. “Same thing, just a different day.”

“You should quit that job. They don’t value you there, Jo. Don’t ever stay in a place where you’re not appreciated.”

That wasn’t an option. Not when her roommate had moved out six months earlier, leaving Jo responsible for all the bills.

When Jo didn’t respond, Gram said, “You can certainly find another job in the mall, especially with Christmas coming up. You’ve got experience.”

That was true. She’d been working at the mall since high school. But the idea of starting a whole new job search was too much to think about after a long day at work.

“How about a sandwich?” Jo asked.

“If there’s salami there, that’ll be fine. If not, then whatever you’re having.”

Jo nodded and headed back to the kitchen. She prepared two salami sandwiches, one for her grandmother and one for herself. They both enjoyed them the same way: with butter on the bread and some mustard. She opened a package of eclairs and put one on a small dessert plate, knowing Gram always liked a sweet with her meal. Once the kettle boiled, she made the tea, and after carrying everything in, she sat down on the sofa across from her grandmother.

“What’s new with you, Jo?” her grandmother said, lifting half of her sandwich off the plate.

Jo shrugged. “Nothing, really.” If her life got any less exciting, it’d probably kill her. It seemed all she did was work, even more so lately since one of the girls had broken her wrist and was out on disability. Jo welcomed the extra hours, though, as they meant a bigger paycheck at the end of the week.

“How’s the sketching going?” Gram asked.

“Let me show you,” Jo said, perking up. Anything to do with her art interested her. She pulled her sketch pad out of her bag and flipped the pages until she reached her latest piece, a portrait of one of the retirees who came into the food court every day and sat on a bench near the water fountain. She handed it to her grandmother.

Gram studied it. “You’ve got a lot done since you last showed me.”

Jo nodded.

“This is brilliant, Jo. I love the detail of his face and hands. And the way you sketched his shoulders conveys his weariness,” Gram said, handing the sketch pad back to her. “Art is your calling. You should go to college for that.”

Jo put the pad back in her bag. Most of her friends had already graduated from college a couple of years before. But college wasn’t on her horizon. She couldn’t add any extra expenses right now. Maybe someday.

“Are you dating anyone?”

Jo laughed. Gram always asked this question. “Nope. Jimmy, the security guard at the mall, is still bugging me to go out with him. He thinks we’d make a great couple.”

Her grandmother rolled her eyes. “Jimmy shouldn’t think so much, he might get hurt,” she said, shaking her head. She’d met him once when Jo had taken her Christmas shopping the previous year. Gram hadn’t been impressed. “I’m not quite sold on Jimmy,” she’d said at the time.

Jimmy wasn’t so bad. He was always stopping into the store where Jo worked to “chat her up,” as Gram would say. It could be awkward sometimes, especially when Jo’s boss was always lurking, ready to pounce and tell her what she was doing wrong.

“Do you like him?” Gram asked, chewing thoughtfully.

“I like him as a friend.”

Gram nodded. “Ah, he’s been relegated to the friend zone. I’m not surprised. I can’t see there being a lot of passion with Jimmy.”

“Gram!”

“Passion is an important part of a relationship,” Gram said knowingly.

“He’s a good guy,” Jo countered.

“I don’t doubt that. But is he good enough for you?”

Jo answered tentatively, as if stepping out on ice and wondering if it would support her weight or crack beneath her, causing her to fall in. “He’s nice . . .”

Gram shook her head. “That settles it. He’s not for you.”

Jo burst out laughing, and her grandmother regarded her with a thoughtful expression. “Jo, you are such a lovely girl with so much to offer to the right person.”

“You’re my grandmother, you’re supposed to say that!”

Gram waved her off. “Anyway, when I rang you this morning, I told you I wanted to talk to you about something,” she said. “And what I want to talk to you about is Ireland.”

“All right,” Jo said. She loved hearing her grandmother’s stories about growing up in Ireland. How she had to milk the cows by hand before she headed off to school. And how the house didn’t have electricity until 1948, and a bathroom wasn’t installed inside until 1955, the year Gram left for New York. Or how Gram’s father always drank his tea from a saucer and not a cup.

“I haven’t been back in twenty years, and I’d like to go one more time before I die,” Gram announced.

“Oh,” Jo said, not expecting this at all. She didn’t want to think about Gram dying. Jo couldn’t imagine life without her.

“I’d like to go for a month, and I’d like to go in December.”

“This December?” Jo asked. “As in, the December that’s less than two months away?”

“Yes, it would have to be. I’m eighty-four years old. What if I’m gone by next year?” Gram asked seriously.

“Don’t say that,” Jo said, her stomach clenching.

Jo worried about her grandmother traveling over to Ireland. It wasn’t just around the corner; it was a long flight, and a month was a long time to be away from home.

“Who will you go with?” Jo asked, thinking Aunt Marie would be the perfect travel companion.

“Why you, of course!” Gram laughed.

“Me? Why me?” Jo asked, unable to hide her surprise.

“Why not you? I’d love to show you where I grew up,” Gram said. “Besides, we’ve always talked about going together.”

They’d been talking about it since Jo was eleven, and she’d like to go. She’d like to do a lot of things: go to college, find the love of her life, develop her art. But it all felt like it was some far-off, nebulous dream, when the reality was that bills needed to be paid, and she needed to work her crappy job to pay them.

“I’d love to see Ireland, but two things come to mind,” Jo said, squirming in her seat. “First, I couldn’t afford a trip like that. And second, I can’t take a month off from the store. Especially at Christmas.”

Gram scoffed. “This is my treat. I’ll pay for it. And as for your job, are you curing cancer over there?”

Jo shook her head. “Well, no, of course not, but—”

“Your boss doesn’t deserve you. It would serve her right. Let her scramble around during the holiday season trying to find someone to replace you.”

Jo grimaced. “I couldn’t let you pay for my share.”

“Oh yes you could. I can’t take it with me. And when I die, the little bit I have will go to your dad and Marie. You’re to get all my jewelry, of course, it’s in my will, but let me do this for you now,” Gram said. “Besides, we wouldn’t have to pay for accommodation. Hasn’t Bridie always said that I could stay with her any time?” Bridie Twomey had been Gram’s neighbor and best friend growing up.

“But at Christmas?” Jo said. Gram’s plan was like a boat with so many holes in the hull that it was rapidly sinking to the bottom of the ocean floor.

“I’d like to see my homeplace one more time,” Gram said wistfully. “At my age, anything can happen, and I don’t know if I’ll be able enough for it next year.”

“Gram, it’s lack of income coming in for the month that prevents me from jumping up and down with joy at the prospect,” Jo confessed.

“Let me pray to St. Anthony and in the meantime, I’ll ring Bridie and see if she’s up for some houseguests.”

***

Jo didn’t put too much faith in her grandmother’s dream to go to Ireland at Christmas. There were so many reasons it couldn’t work out, even beyond the not-working part. She could certainly understand her grandmother’s desire to go back. She’d always spoken of it with a faraway look in her eyes.

When Jo arrived at her parents’ house for dinner a week later, her father, Bill, greeted her at the door.

Jo unraveled her scarf and brushed off a few snowflakes. It wasn’t unusual to see light snow in New York in early November, but they wouldn’t see any real accumulation for a few weeks—hopefully, in time for a white Christmas.

“Hi, Dad,” Jo said as she hung her coat in the hall closet. She pulled off her hat and put it on the closet shelf. Her hair felt matted to her head, and her cheeks were flushed red with cold. She pulled a tissue from her pocket and wiped her nose.

“What’s this I hear your grandmother wants to go to Ireland for Christmas?” Her father asked, his hands on his hips.

“Oh yeah, she mentioned that to me when I was over there last week,” Jo said, passing her father and heading to the kitchen for a cup of tea. She rubbed her hands together and blew on them.

Upon entering the kitchen, she found her mother, Barbara, at the stove, stirring a pot. Jo leaned over and peered in. “Chili? It’s perfect for this weather. How are you, Mom?”

“I’m fine, but your father is stressed out about your grandmother.”

Jo shrugged, pulling a spoon out of the drawer. She took a spoonful of chili from the pot and blew on it a couple of times before putting it in her mouth. “Ow, ow, that’s hot.”

Getting back to her mother’s statement, Jo said, “Gram must be feeling homesick. She’s stuck in the house too much. I’ll take her to the movies and lunch over the weekend.”

Her father stood in the doorway. “She’s already called Bridie. According to my mother, Bridie is only too delighted to have you both stay.”

“Oh jeez, I told Gram I couldn’t go,” Jo explained.

“Your grandmother is home right now, packing her bags,” her father said, his face reddening.

Jo bit her lip. Dad had been trying to get Gram to move in with them for the past three years. He worried about his mother endlessly.

Jo started setting the table. The tea could wait until after dinner. A bowl of hot chili was just the thing. As her father rambled on in the background about his mother’s travel plans, her mother doled out chili and said nothing. Jo set out a loaf of crusty bread and the butter dish, then rummaged through a drawer for a bread knife.

Barbara finished garnishing each bowl of chili with a dollop of sour cream and some shredded cheddar and carried the bowls to the table. She nodded to Jo, indicating she should sit. Bill pulled out his chair, scraping it across the linoleum, and sat down.

“When will Marc be home for Christmas?” Jo asked. Her brother was in Philadelphia, in his first year of residency. He was older than Jo by two years and although they were as opposite as day was from night, they got along well. Always had. He was ambitious and a go-getter and had known he wanted to be a doctor since he was fifteen. Jo, on the other hand, feared she’d be sponging meals off her parents for the rest of her life.

“He’ll be home by the twentieth,” her mother answered.

“I guess I’ll have to be the bad guy and go over there tomorrow and tell my mother she can’t go on this trip,” Bill said.

Barbara sighed, and both Jo and her father looked over to her.

“You think I’m wrong?” Bill asked, raising his voice.

“I understand your concerns,” Barbara started. Jo shoveled chili into her mouth without taking her eyes off her parents. “But I think you should let your mother go.” She picked up the plate of bread and handed it to her husband. “Bread?”

This is a surprise, thought Jo.

Bill stared at his wife with his mouth hanging open as if she’d just revealed the most incredible thing about herself. “How about the fact that my mother is eighty-four years old and hasn’t been to Ireland in over two decades? Not to mention it’s a six-hour trip by plane,” he countered.

“Your mother has always wanted to go to Ireland one last time. And because she is over eighty, now is the time.”

“You know,” Jo interjected, “according to the last census, nine-point seven percent of Americans identify themselves as Irish. That’s more than double the entire population of Ireland, which is just under five million.”

Her parents glanced at her and then back at each other.

“That’s brilliant, Barbara, just let my mother swan off across the Atlantic Ocean by herself,” Bill said, waving his hand in the air, his face getting redder.

Barbara scowled. “Of course not. Don’t be ridiculous. Your mother is perfectly capable of visiting Bridie by herself, but obviously she would need someone with her for the flight over and back. Jo can go. It would be perfect for both of them.”

Jo’s spoon stopped midair. Why did her mother think her accompanying her grandmother would be perfect for her? What was she talking about?

“Um, I don’t think I can get the time off work,” Jo said.

“Of course you can,” her mother said.

“It’s not just that,” Jo persisted, noticing her father was quiet, trying to process all of this. “I really couldn’t afford to take all that time off.” As it was, she usually took the pay owed to her for personal time and worked during her vacations.

“We’ll figure something out,” her mother said.

“Well, Barbara, it sounds like you’ve got it all worked out,” Bill said.

Barbara smiled sweetly. “I have, actually.”

Jo wondered if her mother realized how she struggled financially. She must be drinking from the same water source as her grandmother.