Chapter 13

It was good to see Ian smiling and laughing with his friends. Jo imagined this was how he used to be before his injury. His teammates looked genuinely happy to see him. She hoped it would be the first of many trips out of the house for Ian. It was important for him to rejoin society; he still had a lot to offer. He just needed to be convinced of that. Hopefully, this was the first step.

The pub was full of holiday cheer. A silver garland framed the mirror behind the bar. Alternating red and green ornaments hung from it. A gold and red banner reading “Happy Christmas” was strung across the breast of the fireplace in the corner.

Ian’s friends were nice and funny. They recounted stories of their team’s adventures playing at home and abroad. More than once, Jo smiled at Ian. Every story told indicated that when there was trouble or mischief to be had, Ian had been the ringleader. Feeling as if she might be an interloper, Jo spotted another booth empty out and thought she might head over there and give Ian some privacy with his friends. With her hand on the back of his chair, she leaned in and whispered that she was going to go sit in the other booth.

Ian surprised her by reaching out and taking hold of her hand. “Why?” His hand engulfed her smaller one, and Johanna felt her breath hitch in her throat. Her lips parted slightly, and she became aware of the hair standing up on her arm. He held on to her hand for a second longer than was necessary. Her heart fluttered.

“I thought you might want to be alone with your friends,” she explained.

He gave a dismissive wave. “Not at all. Please, sit down, Johanna.”

At one point she made her way up to the bar to get another round, although she had now switched to Coke. As she did, the fella who’d approached her earlier sidled up to her.

“You’re back,” he said with a laugh. He was short and wiry with a mop of dark hair that hung in his eyes.

“I am,” she said and gave the bartender her order.

“I’m Chuck, by the way,” he said, extending his hand.

Jo shook it. “I’m Jo.”

“We don’t get too many Yanks around here. Are you visiting family?”

“I’m with my grandmother, she left Ireland many years ago,” Jo explained.

“Listen, can I take you out sometime?” he asked.

Jo’s mouth fell open; she hadn’t expected this. He seemed nice, but she wasn’t interested.

“It’s probably not a good idea,” she said.

“Just one night,” he said. “Dinner, drinks, dancing.”

The bartender set a tray of drinks down on the bar, and Jo paid him.

“I appreciate the offer, but I’ll have to refuse.” She picked up the tray and said, “Nice meeting you, Chuck.”

Never did she think she’d be asked out in Ireland. Even though she wasn’t interested in Chuck, it kind of put a spring in her step as she made her way back to the table.

At midnight when the pub closed, Johanna and Ian spilled out onto the pavement with the rest of the revelers. It had stopped raining, and they made their way toward home. Halfway there, Johanna realized she’d left the umbrella behind at the pub.

“Leave it, Johanna. There’s always an umbrella to be had in Ireland,” he said.

Ian talked nonstop on the way home. Johanna let him do the talking; she enjoyed seeing him so animated. She was relieved that grumpy wasn’t his permanent state.

“You’re quiet, everything all right?” he asked.

She grinned. “I didn’t think I’d be able to get a word in edgewise.” He laughed. She thought he should do that more often. Since she’d set foot in Ireland, she’d never seen him so relaxed.

“I saw that guy talking to you at the bar,” Ian said.

Oh. There was a lot hanging there in the air.

“His name was Chuck,” Jo said.

“He looked like he was chatting you up,” Ian said.

“Chatting me up?”

“Talking to you so he could ask you out.”

“He did ask me out, but I said no,” Jo explained.

“Why?” he asked.

“He wasn’t my type.”

“Interested in someone back in the States then?” he pressed.

Jo shrugged her shoulders. “No, but not because I’m not interested in meeting someone. It’s just that I haven’t met anyone I find interesting.” Uncomfortable with the topic, she asked, “What about you? Girlfriend in the shadows?”

“No, I had a girlfriend, but once my career was over, she ended it,” he said.

Jo cocked an eyebrow and regarded him for a moment. “Sounds like you dodged a bullet.”

“I suppose so.”

As his darkened house came into view, he said quietly, “I hate that house. It feels like a prison.”

This confession startled her, and she sensed a curtain of doom begin to descend. “Well, we’ll have to do something about that.” She nodded to herself as if this was the answer.

“Before the accident, I was never at home. Always on the go.”

Johanna stopped. “Why should it be any different now, just because of a change in your circumstances?”

Ian stopped, shrugged, and stood there, looking back at his house. A slight mist fell around them as they stood there on the pavement.

“Ian?”

“I don’t want to go out in public and have people staring at me, muttering, ‘Oh, the poor creatur.’”

“Poor creatur?” she repeated. It had sounded like he’d said ‘crater.’

“Yeah, ‘poor creatur’ is an Irish expression for someone you pity or have sympathy for,” he explained, leaning on his crutches.

“But that didn’t happen tonight. I saw people who were genuinely happy to see you. Besides, it’s none of your business what other people think or say about you.”

“What?” he asked, his black mood returning. “What is that? Your thought for the day?”

“Talk about the Dark Knight,” she muttered sarcastically.

“Did you just call me the Dark Knight?” he asked.

Not knowing how he’d respond, she tilted her head and said, “Yes, I did.”

“The Dark Knight as in Batman?” he asked.

“Yes.”

He chuckled, which surprised her. They moved onto the footpath in front of Bridie’s house. The Christmas lights that lined the gutter were still twinkling. The exterior light next to the front door cast a golden glow.

“So, you think I should still do what I can?” he asked.

“Yes, I do, and why don’t we do these things while I’m here? You’d have some company,” she said.

“And you don’t mind driving?”

“Once I get used to it, I won’t.”

“What about tomorrow?” he asked.

Jo shook her head. “We’re going to Gram’s homeplace tomorrow. But I’m free the following day.”

“Good, because first we’ll continue with the driving lessons. Maybe go somewhere.”

“That sounds like a good idea,” Jo said, hoping he wouldn’t change his mind.

He took a step closer and lowered his voice. “So, Johanna Mueller thinks I shouldn’t let this injury interfere with my life. That I should just get on with it.”

“Yes.”

In the pale light, Ian’s eyes sparkled, and one corner of his mouth lifted in a grin.

“So, we’ll go see the country then?” When she nodded, he added with a lifted eyebrow, “There’s no boyfriend back home that’s going to come gunning for me?”

Jo laughed. “No.”

His eyes locked with hers. “Right then.” He leaned into her and seemed to be considering something. Jo’s lips parted slightly in anticipation. If he was going to kiss her, she was all for it. But he took a step back and gave her a small smile.

“Go on inside now before you catch a chill,” he said.

Jo unlocked the front door, aware that Ian’s eyes were on her. Without a word, he nodded toward her and turned away and headed up the footpath toward his home. Jo closed the door softly behind her, wishing he had kissed her goodnight.

***

In the morning, Jo went off with Gram and Bridie to visit Gram’s homeplace. Bridie had prepared a big Irish fry-up for breakfast and afterward, Jo and Gram insisted on doing the washup.

Gram’s homeplace was twenty minutes away. Jo climbed into the back seat of Bridie’s car and fought the urge to doze off. She’d barely slept at all the previous night, her mind entrenched in a constant replay of the pleasant evening she’d spent with Ian. She was pretty sure he’d been about to kiss her at the end of the night. But then just as suddenly, he’d changed his mind.

Gram could not hide her excitement at visiting her childhood home. Jo had seen pictures of it over the years, but nothing would beat seeing it in person. As Gram and Bridie chatted and laughed nonstop in the front seat, Jo leaned against the window in the back and revisited every interaction with Ian many times.

The sun shone. Despite it being December, the grass looked green, and big, white, fluffy clouds dotted the bright blue sky. Jo watched the scenery whizz by the window, never tiring of the endless pastures of cows.

The plan was to visit the homeplace and then to visit Bridie’s brother, Tom, on the neighboring farm, where Bridie had grown up. He and his wife, Nora, had invited the three of them for luncheon.

As they pulled up to the farm, Gram went quiet. Bridie parked along the edge of the grass, and the three of them exited the car.

Jo stood next to her grandmother on the side of the rural country road. The ruins of her grandmother’s childhood home stood before them. It was a traditional Irish farmhouse with a door and three windows at the front and three windows on the back wall. There were no windows on the gable ends of the home. The walls were a faded apricot, covered in moss and lichen. The front door had once been painted brown, but it was now chipped and peeling. The roof had caved in a long time ago, but two chimney breasts still stood.

Jo helped her grandmother traverse the overgrown grass until they were standing in front of the house.

“Oh, it’s such a pity, the state of it,” Gram wailed.

Jo reached out and squeezed her hand.

“I wish we could have kept it.” Gram’s eyes filled with tears.

“There’s houses like this all over the country,” Bridie said behind them.

“Which room was yours, Gram?” Jo asked.

“This one right here.” Gram pointed to the window on the far right, near the gable end of the cottage.

Jo stepped forward and peered inside the window. The small room held a fireplace and a brass bedframe, and a wooden wardrobe stood in the corner. Gram stepped up next to Jo and peeked inside.

“You had a fireplace in your room?” Jo asked, incredulous.

“Yes, all the rooms had fireplaces. Back in those days, there was no such thing as central heating.”

“And the toilet was on the outside of the house,” Bridie said behind them.

“Oh my goodness, that’s my bed. Why didn’t they take the furniture out of the house? It would still have been usable,” Gram lamented. “What a waste.”

Jo didn’t have an answer for her. She stepped away and landed at the middle window.

“What room was this?”

“That’s the sitting room, where my mother did her entertaining.” Gram stood alongside Jo, and they peered in the window. The panes were long gone, and Jo could see debris scattered across the floor. There was a framed picture of Jesus and the Blessed Mother, the glass broken and the picture yellowed and warped. Wallpaper hung off in strips, and the fireplace had garbage in it. It was sad that her grandmother had to see her childhood home in this condition.

They went on to the next window, which looked into what used to be the kitchen. This room housed a large hearth and a small wooden table that had once been painted a pale blue but was now blackened and chipped due to its age and exposure to inclement weather.

“Why don’t I get a picture of the two of you in front of the house?” Bridie asked.

“That’s a great idea,” Jo said, pulling her phone out of her pocket. She set up the camera and handed it to Bridie, showing her what button to press. She took her place next to Gram and put her arm around her shoulder. Gram was quiet, and Jo was sure she was overcome with emotion; she knew she would be if it had been her.

After Bridie took a few snaps, Gram went back to looking at her old home. “If these walls could talk, boy, the stories they would tell.”

Jo smiled, picturing the generations coming and going through all the seasons here in the family home. She was grateful she’d gotten the chance to see it. Her gaze landed on the gently rolling hills and pastures of green and gold behind the house.

“I don’t see how people could leave Ireland,” Jo observed. “The scenery is so beautiful.”

“You can’t eat the scenery,” Bridie quipped behind her.

As Gram looked around, took it all in, and reflected, Jo pulled her sketch pad out of her bag. She leaned against Bridie’s car, set her pencils out on the hood, and began sketching.

“I’m ready,” Gram announced after a half hour. “I’d like to go to the cemetery next, to visit the graves of my parents and brother.”

Jo had drawn a rough sketch. Quickly, she took photos of the place at many different angles so she could finish the sketch later.

“Jo, do you need more time?” Gram asked.

“Nope.”

The church and its accompanying graveyard were a three-minute drive from the old homeplace. Jo climbed out of the back seat and took in the sights of the graveyard. In the middle of the cemetery stood the ruins of a long-abandoned church, two walls and a roof missing. The remaining walls had been reclaimed by the grass and ivy. The newer church next to the cemetery was a small gray stone building with an asphalt drive lined with towering oaks, their limbs now bare. It had a desolate feeling.

They stopped at the graves of Gram’s family members, and then they made the rounds through the cemetery, including a stop at the grave of Bridie’s parents.

“A cuppa would be just grand right about now,” Bridie said as they walked out of the graveyard. She looped her arm through Gram’s. “Let’s see what Nora has for us.”