Page 85 of Shadow Spell

“Ah, Ma.”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry. I haven’t made the tea. I feel at sea, Meara. I’ve lived in Cong and hereabouts all my life. And now...”

“It’s not far. You’ll not be far.” Sitting, Meara took her hands. “Not even a full hour away.”

Colleen looked up, tearfully. “But I won’t see you or Donal as I do.”

“It’s just a visit, Ma.”

“I may never come back here. It’s what you’re all thinking for me.”

With little choice, Meara shouldered the guilt. “It’s what we’re all thinking you’ll want once you’re there a little while. If you stay in Galway with Maureen and Sean and the kids, we’ll visit. Of course we will. And if you’re not happy there, you’ll come back here. Haven’t I said I’ll see the cottage is right here for you?”

“I hate this place. I hate everything about this place.”

Stunned, Meara opened her mouth, then shut it again without an idea what to say.

“No, no, that’s not right, that’s not true.” Rocking herself, Colleen pressed her hands to her face. “I love the gardens. I do. I love seeing them, front and back, and working in them. And I’m grateful for the cottage, for it’s a sweet little place.”

Taking a tissue from her pocket, Colleen dabbed away the tears. “I’m grateful to Finbar Burke for renting it to me for far less than a fair price—and to you for paying it. And to Donal for staying with me so long. To all of you for seeing someone rang me every day to see how I was doing. For taking me on little holidays. I know you’ve all conspired so I’ll move off to Galway with Maureen for my own good. I’m not altogether stupid.”

“You’re not stupid at all.”

“I’m fifty-five years old, and I can’t roast a joint of lamb.”

Because that brought on another spate of weeping, Meara tried another tact. “It’s true enough you’re a bloody terrible cook. When I’d come home from school and smell your pot roast cooking, I’d ask God what I’d done to deserve such punishment.”

Colleen goggled for a long minute, tears shimmering on her cheeks. Then she laughed. The sound was a bit wild, but it was a laugh all the same.

“My mother’s worse.”

“Is that even possible?”

“Why do you think your grandda hired a cook? We’d have starved to death. And bless her, Maureen’s not much better.”

“That’s why they invented take-away.” Hoping to stem more weeping, Meara rose to put the kettle on. “I never knew you hated living here.”

“I don’t. That was wrong and ungrateful. I’ve a roof over my head, and a garden I’m proud of. I’ve good neighbors, and you and Donal close. I’ve hated it’s all I have—another’s property my daughter pays to keep around me.”

“It’s not all you have.” How blind had she been, Meara wondered, not to see how it would score her mother’s pride to live in a rental her child paid for?

“It’s only a place, Ma. Just a place. You have your children, your grandchildren, who love you enough to conspire for your happiness. You have yourself, a terrible cook, but a brilliant gardener. You’ll be a boon to those grandchildren.”

“Will I?”

“Oh, you will. You’ll be patient with them, and sincerely interested in their doings and their thoughts. It’s different with a parent, isn’t it? They have to consider constantly whether to say yes or no, now or later. They have to discipline and enforce as well as love and tend. You’ll only have to love, and they’ll soak all that up like sponges.”

“I do miss having them closer, having the time to spoil them.”

“So here’s your chance.”

“What if Maureen objects to the spoiling?”

“Then I’m off to Galway to kick her arse.”

Colleen smiled again as Meara made the tea. “You’ve always been my warrior. So fierce and brave. I’m hoping I’ll have grandchildren from you to spoil one day.”

“Ah well.”

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