Chapter 18

After the donkey sanctuary and a brief visit to another castle ruin in Liscarroll, they got back in the car and headed further south through County Cork toward the fishing village of Kinsale. They spent the rest of the day there, exploring the seaside town.

They stopped at Charles Fort, a star-shaped fortress located on the Atlantic, which had been completed in the seventeenth century and had been most recently occupied during the War of Independence. Jo walked the grounds of the vast ruins. Ian remained perched on a low stone bridge, his crutches beside him. He was happy to wait while she investigated the site.

They headed back to the town center where they picked up coffee and sandwich wraps and sat outside on a bench enjoying the weak but warm sunshine.

Jo had been holding off on bringing out her sketchbook but in the colorful town of Kinsale, she couldn’t resist. Ian was happy to sit and watch her sketch away. It sure beat sitting in his house staring at the television all day.

As she set up her kit, she pulled out a wooden box and showed him. “I bought these colored pencils a while ago but have been waiting to use them.”

“Why wait?” he asked.

Jo shrugged and smiled. “I don’t know. I was saving them for something special.” Her gaze bounced around the colorful scenery ahead of her.

They were on a narrow street in the town center of Kinsale. The terraced shops and businesses had been painted in bright colors of purple, orange, pink, blue, and lime green.

“The colors really liven up the place, even in December,” Jo observed.

“They do,” Ian agreed. Like herself, he thought. It could be the bleakest, darkest day of the year and somehow, he felt she’d brighten up any space she was in. It was just her nature. It wasn’t that she was gregarious, but she was kind and genuine and that counted for something to him.

Jo had her head bent over her sketch pad, drawing in clean strokes. She bit her lip as she studied the object of her sketch and then with a furrowed brow, returned her attention to her pad.

Fascinated, Ian watched her work and marveled at the end result she created on the page.

“You make it look so easy, Johanna,” he remarked.

She lifted her head and smiled at him. “It is, really.”

“No, it isn’t,” he countered with a laugh. “I can assure you, if I attempted to sketch the exact same thing, it would look nothing like that.” He pointed to her sketch pad.

Jo laughed. “It was probably the same for you and rugby. I bet people thought the same thing when they watched you play: he makes it look so easy.”

“Maybe,” he said.

Ian sipped his coffee and looked away. He was pleased to realize he didn’t feel angry or bitter when she mentioned his former career. It was like a thought drifting by in a boat. Was this healing? he wondered.

Jo had returned her attention to her work, and Ian was more than happy to sit there, sipping coffee and watching her draw.

Ian couldn’t remember the last time he’d enjoyed himself so much with a girl.

***

When they pulled up in front of his house it was dark. It had been a wonderful day, Ian thought.

As they walked up the footpath, Jo said, “Thanks, Ian, I really had a great time today.”

“Me too,” he said. “It was good to get out of the house.”

Jo stopped outside of Bridie’s.

Ian looked over to his own home and asked, “Did you want to come in for a while?”

Jo sighed. “I would love to, but I should see my Gram. She’s going to think I’ve run away or something.”

Ian understood. After a brief pause, he said, “Do you have plans for the rest of the week?”

Jo said, “Not really. Loose plans.”

“Maybe we could drive over to Kerry or Limerick or even Galway. It’s a bit of a hike, but—”

Jo cut him off. “I’d love that.”

Ian smiled.

Jo went to the door and waved and smiled at him before disappearing inside.

Oh, Johanna.