Chapter 14

It was pouring rain in the morning, and the sky was the color of charcoal. Ian rolled over and pulled the blanket over his head. He’d promised Jo that they would go out for a driving lesson and maybe go somewhere. What had made him do that? His booze-fueled good mood at the end of the night in the pub, that’s what. In the harsh light of day, he no longer felt the good humor that had intoxicated him two nights ago. With Jo and the two grans gone all day the day before, he had done nothing but think about Jo.

He’d almost kissed her. Almost. It had seemed, in the moment, like the most natural thing to do. The thought had been impulsive. And these days, he couldn’t afford that. But that didn’t mean he didn’t wonder what her lips would feel like. What she would taste like.

He folded his hands behind his head and stared at the ceiling, sighing. He knew the pattern of the ceiling by heart. From the small water stain in the corner to the hairline crack that ran the width of it. Staring at it had allowed him to do a lot of thinking.

That night in the pub, he’d felt something he hadn’t felt in a long time: normal. He’d been just a guy out with a girl and his mates. You couldn’t get any more normal than that. But surely, that had been nothing but a blip.

He heard a knock at his front door, and he groaned. If anything, Jo was persistent. He had promised her that they’d do something. Best to see it through. And as much as he hated to admit it, he was looking forward to seeing her. He sat up and grabbed his crutches.

By the time he reached the door, there was a second knock.

Jo stood on his doorstep, wearing a brown suede jacket over a navy turtleneck and a pair of jeans.

“Ian, good morning!”

“Come on in, Johanna,” Ian said, holding the door open for her.

There was some hesitation on Jo’s part as she looked him over. “Did you not want to go driving this morning?”

Ian rubbed the back of his head. “I’m running late, that’s all. Can you give me ten minutes?”

“Sure, take your time,” she said.

“Fix yourself a cup of tea if you want,” he said over his shoulder.

“No thank you, I drank enough tea at your grandmother’s house this morning. I could float a cruise liner.”

Ian chuckled. Maybe Nana was right about this being a good thing for him. He decided he liked company. Her company.

It took him less than ten minutes to wash his face, brush his teeth, and get dressed. He found Jo parked on the sofa.

“Your grandmother said we’re to be back by two. She’s making a roasted chicken,” Jo informed him.

“Two and not one?”

Jo shook her head. “No, she and Gram had a long day yesterday and they were late getting up.”

“All right.” Ian nodded. “Let’s go.”

“Did you want to eat breakfast or something?” she asked.

What he wanted was not to hold her up. He should have been ready when she’d arrived. He really needed to start pulling himself together.

***

Once they were situated in the car, Jo paused for a moment and reacquainted herself with the setup.

“All right, remember what I told you? About the clutch? First, second, third gear, and so on and so forth?” he asked.

“Which gears are so on and so forth?” she asked with a straight face.

Despite himself, Ian laughed. “All right, Johanna, let’s go.”

Jo started the car and attempted to put it in first, but her timing was off, resulting in her grinding the gears.

Ian winced. “You’re not going to start grinding gears now, are you?”

After a few rough starts, she managed to get the car out of first and into second. Ian directed her to drive away from the town, toward the country. Once she was in fourth gear, the ride was smooth. It was just getting going that she seemed to have trouble with. But that would come. Hopefully, sooner rather than later. He didn’t know how much more his car could take.

As she drove, she leaned forward in the seat with her hands, white-knuckled, gripping the steering wheel.

“How does your family celebrate Christmas in America?” he asked.

Jo looked quickly over at him. “Ian, I can’t talk right now, I’m trying to concentrate on my driving.” She returned her attention to the road.

Ian bit his lip to suppress a grin.

After a half an hour, Ian glanced at his watch and decided they had time for a quick detour.

He looked over at Jo, an idea forming in his head, thinking she might be a good sport.

“Johanna, do you mind if we stop and see a relative of mine?”

Some unnamed emotion played across her face. Yeah, this is going to be fun, Ian thought.

“A relative?” she repeated, her brow furrowing. She didn’t take her eyes off the road.

Ian nodded. “He’s a far-out relation. A distant cousin. I always stop by whenever I’m in this area.”

Jo bit her lip. “He won’t mind us dropping in without calling first?” Her expression was skeptical.

“Nah, he doesn’t have a phone.”

Her eyes widened. “He doesn’t have a phone? In this day and age?” she asked, incredulous.

Ian shook his head. “There are still a few old-timers in the country who live in houses with no electricity or running water.”

“Wow. So, he’s an old-timer?” Jo asked.

“Kind of,” Ian said, staring out the window.

“Should we stop and pick something up? Maybe a cake or something?” Jo rambled more to herself than to him. “I’d hate to drop in unannounced and empty-handed.” She thought for a moment and said, “What about flowers or a poinsettia? I mean, it is Christmastime.”

Ian smiled. “A poinsettia would be lovely. He’d really appreciate that.”

He pointed to a gas station up ahead. “Pull into that petrol station there. They’ve got a shop as well. We’ll be able to get a poinsettia there.”

“Okay.”

She pulled in and may have skipped a few gears getting back to first. Once the car was parked, he reminded her to put on the emergency brake.

“Huh, I never think about that.”

“It will come with time,” he reassured her. He leaned over toward her so he could pull his wallet out of his back pocket. She smelled nice and he tried not to groan. He took a twenty euro note out of his leather wallet and handed it to her. “Here, get whatever you want.”

Jo shook her head. “I got this.”

He felt a surge of frustration. There wasn’t a lot he could do with a pretty girl. He couldn’t take her out dancing or hold her hand as they walked along the footpath. He couldn’t drive her wherever she wanted to go. But he could pay for things. That much he could do. That much he wanted to do.

He shoved the bill toward her. “Please, Johanna.”

Sensing his annoyance, she took the note and said quietly, “Okay.”

She jumped out of the car and walked toward the entrance of the petrol station. He liked how she had a little bounce to her step, but her head was down. He sighed. Why did he have to let his bad humor ruin everything? Here she was, driving him all around when she could have hopped on a tour bus and seen Ireland herself. He steeled himself to be nicer and to not be offended by everything she suggested.

Ten minutes later, Jo came bouncing out of the shop with a poinsettia in one hand and a distinctive rectangular red cookie tin labeled Jacob’s Afternoon Tea. Ian smiled to himself. The girl had spirit, he had to give her that.

She was talking before she opened the door, and her voice filled the car like bubbles being blown from a wand.

“I saw these and I just couldn’t resist,” she said, showing him the tin. “There were all these cute boxes and tins of cookies! Really, I had a hard time choosing.” She reached around to the back seat and laid the tin and the poinsettia on the floor.

“You chose well, these are my favorite,” Ian said. “They only come out at Christmas.”

“That makes sense,” she agreed, buckling her seat belt. “Christmas is a time to make cookies.”

“We don’t really make biscuits here for Christmas,” Ian said. “It’s all about mince pies, Christmas cakes, and puddings.”

“I’ve had the mince pies. They’re delicious,” she said.

Ian laughed. “They are.”

“Anyway, I thought when we visit your cousin, we could have a cup of tea and a ‘biscuit,’ as you call it,” she said.

Ian suppressed a grin. “That’s thoughtful of you, Johanna.”

She started the car and with a shrieking noise from the grinding gears, they were off.

“Where are we going?” she asked.

“Wexford town. He’s right in the town center.”

Jo made a moue of distaste. “I have to drive through a town center?”

“No worries, you’ll be grand.”

Ian gave her directions to Wexford town. He could hardly wait, wanting to see how this all played out.

When they arrived in the town center, Ian instructed, “There’s a parking spot there, right in front of the bookie’s, next to that barber shop. My relative is just around the corner.”

“Are you sure this is a good idea?” Jo asked as she pulled in to the spot and parked.

Ian nodded. “Oh sure. I always stop whenever I’m in Wexford town, you know, to pay my respects.”

That seemed to appease Jo and they got out of the car.

“It’ll be a flying visit,” Ian said.

Jo frowned. “Wouldn’t that be kind of rude, to not sit down and chat?”

Ian tilted his head. “He’s not much for the chat. Let’s go, you’ll see for yourself.”

Ian removed his crutches from the back seat as Jo retrieved the poinsettia and the tin of cookies.

They walked toward the end of the street.

“This is a nice little town,” Jo said, looking around.

At the corner, next to a bike shop painted in bright blue, Ian paused. Jo stopped talking and followed his line of sight.

Ian had come to rest at a statue depicting an athlete in motion, gripping a hurley—Nicky Rackard, who’d played for Wexford in the 1940s and ’50s and was considered by some to be one of Ireland’s greatest hurlers of all time.

Ian watched the expression on Jo’s face transform from unreadable to confused and smiled to himself.

Jo stood beside him, staring at the statue. A frown etched her forehead. “What’s this?”

“Johanna, I’d like you to meet Nicky Rackard, a relative of mine,” Ian said.

Jo blinked, and her gaze bounced from the statue back to Ian and then came to rest on the statue again. Then she burst out laughing. Ian grinned. He knew she’d be a good sport about it.

A grin spread across her face. “A relative, huh?”

Ian nodded. “His grandmother and Nana’s grandmother were like third or fourth cousins. Far out, of course.”

“Of course,” she said with a smile.

She laughed again, and Ian couldn’t help but join in. You could say a lot of things about Johanna. But one thing you couldn’t say was that she lacked a sense of humor.

Once she recovered, she put the poinsettia in front of the statue on top of the concrete block. The vibrant red stood in contrast to the dark statue.

“Merry Christmas, Nicky,” she said.

She removed the plastic seal from the package of Afternoon Tea, pulled off the lid, and held out the tin to Ian. He chose a chocolate-covered digestive. Jo picked a red-foiled biscuit before replacing the lid and placing the tin on the ground.

She unwrapped her cookie and took a bite of it, staring at the statue. There was nothing about her that was unappealing, Ian thought to himself. The bright eyes, the reddish hair, the clear complexion. He liked spending time with her. It made him forget his troubles.

Jo turned back to Ian, held up her biscuit, and asked, “Now aren’t you glad we didn’t come empty-handed?”

***

They arrived back at the house with only minutes to spare. As soon as they walked through Nana’s front door, they were greeted with the smell of roast chicken. Ian’s stomach growled in response. Roasted chicken was one of his favorite meals, especially when Nana cooked it.

From the kitchen came giggling.

Jo laughed. “Oh, those two, that’s all they do is laugh at everything.”

“Nana likes the craic,” Ian said. He knew for a fact that his grandmother had been so looking forward to Mary’s visit, it was all she had talked about.

The two of them went through to the kitchen and as soon as they entered, their grandmothers burst out laughing.

With a grin, Ian shook his head. “I don’t know about these two. I think they’ve been nipping at the sherry.”

Jo nodded, laughing. “We should breathalyze them before they make the gravy.”

“Lumpy gravy wouldn’t do,” he said. He and Jo looked at each other, and their eyes locked. There was merriment in Jo’s expression. Ian couldn’t help but smile.