Breakaway (40 page)

Finished, she went downstairs to the lobby and ordered a cab to take her to Heathrow.

“I never thought I’d be so happy to see your busted cabbage of a face, Rory Brady.”

Rory was relieved when he pressed Sandra’s doorbell and not only did she answer it right away, but she almost disconnected his arm pulling him inside, she was that glad to see him.

It didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure out Erin would go straight to San’s when she got back to Ballycraig. When he’d gotten up to the room and read her notes, he’d wasted no time. He threw his stuff in a bag and caught the next flight from Heathrow to Galway, glad that he’d left the Range Rover in the airport’s long term parking lot. He was having nonstop conversations with Erin in his head all the way back to Ballycraig. Explaining. And doing his fair share of wondering, too.

It was one of those boiling, end-of-summer days when the air was as stagnant as that of an old classroom. Unfortunately, the only relief in Sandra’s house was a small plastic fan on one of the end tables. Honestly, Rory didn’t know how she could stand living without air-conditioning.

“She just ran into town to pick up a few things for me at the shops,” San told him. “Here, let me get you a glass of water, then I’ll give you the quick low-down before she gets back.”

Rory nodded, picking up a copy of the newspaper to fan himself with. Something was different. Then he realized: the room was tidy as a pin. Maybe working and being free of that prick bag Larry had lifted San’s self-esteem.

“Here you go.” Sandra handed Rory a glass, pressing her own to her forehead. “This is murder. Any ideas I have ever had of going troppo for a holiday flew out of me head today, I can tell ya that much.”

“San, please.” Rory couldn’t hide his desperation.

“She showed up here at around ten this morning, gobsmacking me, as you might imagine. I thought: Jesus, this isn’t good. But she still had her ring on, so I figured it couldn’t be too bad.”

Rory gulped down some water. “Was she crying?”

“Nope. She looked more blank than anything. She came in and just plopped down on the couch and told me all about you goin’ to do the PR and that.”

Rory braced himself. “Well, why did she pull a runner? Does she think I was out whoring or something?”

“Feck off. She still trusts you. No, she started talking about seeing you in your true element and all this shite. How happy you were flittin’ about shaking hands and all that.”

“It’s part of my job!”

“I know, I know,” Sandra soothed. “Calm down.” She pressed the cold glass to her cheek. “She’s getting cold feet. For all her talk about a new life with you in New York, she’s scared to death about leaving home.”

Rory grimaced. “I thought that might be part of it.”

“You know Erin: sometimes her way of dealing is to just cocoon herself.” Sandra’s gaze shifted guiltily. “Look, I’m sorry about the trouble I caused between you two about you leaving the B and B so early that morning. I should’ve kept my piehole shut. But my first instinct was to protect her.”

“I appreciate the apology,” Rory murmured.

The front door opened. “San—”

Erin halted.

“Don’t give me that trapped look,” said Sandra, pulling no punches. “You knew he’d come after you. So don’t you dare turn tail, especially since you’re holding my bag of groceries.”

“Jesus, you could have let me at least put the groceries down before bludgeoning me,” said Erin. She handed the bag over to her friend, but it was Rory she was looking at. “I thought you had another day of PR activities,” she said coolly.

“I did. But I told Lou I couldn’t be there, because this is more important. Believe it or not, the fat bastard agreed. The way I see it, this is what’s going to happen: we’re going to fix this, then I’m going to pack and say my good-byes to everyone in town. Then I’m going to fly to New York, where you’re going to meet me in two weeks.”

Rory surprised himself, the authoritarian sound of his voice, the inflexibility of his words.

Erin looked taken aback. “You’re being a bit pushy, don’t you think?”

“That’s all I’ve got time for, Erin. Take it or leave it.”

“Not here.” She looked at Sandra apologetically. “Do you mind if we go?”

“Don’t be a daft cow. Get out of here.”

“Where do you want to go?” Erin asked Rory.

“Somewhere air-conditioned.”

“Only place I can think of is the B and B. Or the church.”

Rory looked skeptical. “The church is air-conditioned?”

“She’s not jokin’ you,” said Sandra. “The place is still packed, but the average age of the parishioners is sixty, and they’re startin’ to get a bit wobbly when it’s warm. The younger ones don’t even want to go in the summer, especially if their parents are taking a break from it. It’s Father Bill’s way of trying to hold on to what he’s got, I guess.”

Rory wasn’t pleased, but it didn’t seem they had much choice. “Saint Columba’s it is.”

“You could go to confession while you’re there, Rory,” Sandra said playfully. “Get rid of all those black marks on your soul.”

“We can’t have Father Bill having a stroke now, can we?” Rory replied. He turned to Erin. “Shall we?”

*   *   *

Erin hadn’t been inside Saint Columba’s in quite a while. The old pews were nicked but still shone, thanks to the cleaning woman, Mrs. Kendall, who buffed them with lemon cream and beeswax every Monday. The tile floor was spotless, too. Looking down at it reminded Erin of the brisk
click, click, click
of the women’s heels every Sunday. Colored light streamed through the stained glass windows, while up front, rows of red votive candles flickered beneath a statue of the Virgin Mary. Above the draped altar hung a crucifix. Erin always avoided looking at it; the gruesome, twisted body of the man nailed to it always upset her.

They chose the pew closest to the back doors in case they needed to make a hasty escape from Father Bill. The man yammered so much he could make a dead man rise up just to tell him to button it.

“I’m sorry about the PR situation,” Rory began. “It was the exception, not the rule. It won’t be like that all the time.”

Erin folded her hands in her lap, embarrassed. “I know. I just sort of short-circuited. I watched you at the party and saw how much you enjoyed all the mingling and hobnobbing, and I thought, ‘He’s in his element.’ You didn’t even seem to mind being pulled away for conversations all that much. Lou said you were a natural.”

“Yeah, I’m sure he thinks it’s the stereotypical Irish-gift-of-the-gab thing.” He touched her cheek. “Don’t you think I’d rather have been with you?”

“I don’t know,” Erin despaired. “I really don’t. I was at the party and all I could think was, ‘I don’t belong.’”

“As I said, that party was an exception. However, you had better get used to parties like that if you’re serious about the art world.” Erin was mildly taken aback, which
amused Rory. “What did you think, you’d hide in the basement of a museum archiving things? You’ll have to be out there, at gallery openings and new exhibits and all that. Did you never think of that?”

“Of course I did,” Erin lied, somewhat irritated.

“You can’t just run away because something frightens you.”

“Are you calling me immature?”

“You are when it comes to this.”

“I just felt trapped, Rory.” Her throat felt tight. “All of a sudden, it seemed to be happening so fast. I know I’ve always wanted to leave Ballycraig, but that was overwhelming.”

Rory looked crestfallen. “You didn’t enjoy sightseeing or the art tours?”

Erin grabbed his hand. “No, no, I loved all that,” she assured him fervently. “Like I just said, I was overwhelmed.” Rory started stroking her hair tenderly. “The past few days are the only time I’ve ever been out of Ireland. You know that. And so—”

“Joining me in London was both good and bad,” he finished for her, pulling her close.

“Yeah. I’ve been slinging around this bravado, and now that everything I’ve ever wanted is all coming together, I realize how sheltered I really am, and you know what? I’m scared witless.” Her lower lip began trembling. “I’m the same wimp I always was.”

“That’s not true.”

“Yes, it is.” They held each other close for a long time. Erin heard the church doors open behind them and stiffened. But it was just Teague’s mother, come to light a votive candle and say a few prayers. If she noticed her and Rory, she gave no sign.

Rory kissed her hand. “Here’s what I think we should do. I’m going back to New York. You stay here until you’ve got your mind all sorted. I don’t care if it takes you more than the next two weeks. Take a month. Take a year. You come to me when you’re ready. I’ll still be there waiting.
I’ll always be there waiting for you. There’s no way I can be happy if you’re not happy, too. I mean that.”

“Rory—”

“I mean it.” His hands were on her shoulders, eyes searching hers. “This time it’s about you, Erin.”

Erin began to cry. “I love you so, Rory Brady. You know that?”

“I do.” He gazed around the church. “You know what I’m going to do right now? I’m going to light one of those votive candles and say a prayer for us.”

Erin’s jaw dropped. “I don’t know if you can do that.”

“Why not? I was baptized here and I’m getting married here as well. I’ve a right to light one candle.”

Erin nodded. “All right.”

Her eyes tracked him to the front of the church. She pictured the two of them standing there with radiant looks on their faces, while the pews behind were overflowing with relatives and villagers looking on as she and Rory exchanged wedding vows. The image filled her with a sense of joy and happiness she could barely put words to. She’d waited a long time for this.

“Yo, Bono: I’m really getting tired of looking at your ugly mopey face.”

Rory gave Eric Mitchell the finger as they pushed tables together in the back of the Wild Hart. He’d never fully enjoyed hanging out there because it was run by Erin’s uncle Charlie and aunt Kathleen. Erin’s aunt was a pro at getting off a good crack or two underneath her breath. It was a marvel she and Bettina weren’t related.

Now that he and Erin had reunited, this branch of the O’Briens were okay with him, albeit warily. They had all spent the past two weeks keeping an extra eye on him, all except Quinn, who told Rory he believed people’s relationships were their own business.