Page 68 of Heart Strings
“She means, ‘How is Cielo,’ ” Fionn informs me as he comes into the living room holding a carton of milk. How he can chug dairy straight after a football match while he’s still in his sweaty GAA gear is beyond me.
“I do mean, ‘How is Cielo,’ ” Mam agrees without lookingup from her needles. “And stop drinking from the carton, you heathen.”
“So?” Fionn prompts. As if he’s gonna get any salacious details about this weekend. I only kiss and tell in the form of lyrics.
“Oh, you know. Handfasting. Disco. Whisky. All the classic wedding activities. Food was class.”
Something in my glib tone makes Mam look up from her needles. “Fionn, you’re rank. Put that milk away and hose yourself off.”
The look on his face tells me he’ll badger me about this again later, when Mam’s not making a—is that a baby sweater?—and saunters off to the bathroom.
“What happened?” Mam asks, point-blank.
“I realized I need to move back to Galway.”
Needles still in hand, she hops off the couch and bolts toward me. “Watch it with those yokes. You’ll put my eye out.” I laugh as she engulfs me with a hug. The more I think about it, the more excitement begins to infuse my soul.
“This has been a long time coming. Let me have my moment. Your da will be so happy.”
The thought of brightening his day with the news makes me smile wider. “Cielo and I got to talking, and she wants me here.”
“How lovely to have you two back together!”
The proverbial record scratches at that. What exactly had we decided by the end of it? Lo had said she wanted me here, but we didn’t talk further about me relocating full-time or the implication of officially dating again.
“We’re as good as back together,” I say, my stomach pinching at the memory of Lo pulling me into a hug instead of kissing me. I understand she was emotional after the fight with her da,but it would’ve been nice if Lo had been confident enough to kiss me in front of her mother.
“I’ll never understand you young people, but I’m happy if you are. I’d love to have Lo over for supper soon.”
I take a seat on the couch next to her. “I am. Mam, I feel like things might be finally falling into place. I thought London was where I needed to be, and it’s great, but these last few weeks have made me realize that it’s not where Iwantto be.”
The pressure of a second album still weighs heavily on me. My contract comes with legal consequences and a steep financial penalty if I fail to deliver something the label deems marketable by the end of October. I can’t simply shop around for a new deal when there’s a twelve-month non-compete clause and they own the master recordings of every song I’ve released.
Things are looking up, though, between the festival and the rekindling of romance between me and Lo. Lyrics and melodies have been scrolling through my mind all weekend. Her company alone gets my creativity buzzing, and that’s what I need going into Harvest in the Park: inspired new material. With any luck, these songs will help me win back my artistic freedom.
“Well, your da and sister will be happy to hear when they get home from shopping.”
Fionn stands in the hallway, wet hair dripping on to the carpet with a towel slung around his waist. “Hear what? What did I miss?”
“Your brother says he wants to move back here.”
Fionn is nothing if not his mother’s son. With a shout, he lunges for me with his arms outstretched. And the towel drops.
Chapter 26
Lo
I never thoughtI’d say this but thank god for Aunt Sharon. I’m convinced it was her influence that kept my mom from hounding me over my attitude on Sunday. Sharon probably just wanted to spend some time with her sister abroad while avoiding my “low vibrational frequencies” and pitch-black aura, but I’ll take it. In all their busyness experiencing the quaint sights of Galway, my mom apparently forgot about my last doctor’s visit.
Last night, I dropped them off at the airport in Shannon and breathed a sigh of relief. The longer they were here, the more I’d feared being found out. The receptionist from the cancer center had even called to discuss my lab work while I was showing them around Shop Street, but I’d sent it to voicemail. I already know how to interpret the results, even if I’m far from being able to make a conclusive self-diagnosis. A biopsy is needed for any solid answer, and I’m just not ready to learn for sure that the cancer is back.
If Lark’s conflict-avoidance makes her an ostrich with her head in the sand, I’m usually a rhinoceros charging straight atanything that makes me uncomfortable. But for the first time, I’m not sure I feel strong enough to face the challenge. Denial isn’t the wisest way to handle potential cancer—believe me, I know this.
Somehow, the annual visits always felt like a formality. I never expected them to turn up anything concerning. A little more time is all I need to get my bearings.
Aidan encouraged me to spend time with my mom before she left town, visiting his own family and working on a “top-secret” cache of new songs with the help of Saoirse and Fionn. According to him, Ruth has asked what I’ve wanted for supper every one of the four nights since the wedding and will continue to do so until I grace his family’s new home with a visit.
Lark’s been updating me from her sun-drenched Barcelona honeymoon, including photos of paella, colorful street art, and Callum’s tour of old-world cemeteries full of hauntingly beautiful statues.
