Page 40 of The Widow's Irish Secret
‘To what?’ Tricia asked, still standing in the hall. She folded her arms and glared at him. ‘To send me a single message since you left? Well, don’t worry. I got your message loud and clear,’ she said, trying to keep her anger out of her voice. ‘I don’t know if I want to beat you over the head with that thing or hug you,’ she added in a jocular tone as the silence grew thicker.
Cillian looked shocked. ‘I’m sorry.’
Tricia immediately regretted snapping at him but her resentment had been building up since he hadn’t been in touch. ‘Okay,’ she mumbled, not knowing what else to say.
‘I should have texted you. Or called you,’ he continued. ‘I’m used to only thinking about myself, I guess.’ He held out his hands to her in a gesture which made her anger disappear. ‘I’m sorry for taking off like that and not getting in touch, I know it was wrong. Do you think you could find it in your heart to forgive me?’ He smiled ruefully. ‘Feel free to bash me over the head if that’s what you want to do.’
Tricia felt herself soften. It wasn’t all his fault. She hadn’t texted him either, she realised as the expression in his hazel eyes made her forget all the hurt. She stepped forward and placed her hands in his.
‘I forgive you,’ she mumbled. ‘This time.’ She lifted her face to his, but before anything could happen he pulled back, and she felt suddenly overwhelmed and a little awkward in her flimsy dressing gown. ‘I’ll just go and get dressed. Then we can put up that piece of wood over the fireplace. Can’t wait to see it up,’ she said in order to cool things down. ‘I’ll go and have a quick shower. Wait for me in the living room. I won’t be long.’
Without waiting for a reply, Tricia went into the bathroom and had a shower in the old bathtub, then ran into the bedroom and dressed in a pair of jeans and a red T-shirt. She brushed her hair in front of the little mirror over the antique chest of drawers Sylvia had had brought over from the manor.
The bedroom wasn’t quite finished and only had a bed and the chest of drawers on top of which Tricia had put a small lamp. Ted had rigged up a blind over the window, promising to put up a curtain rod later on. Still, even in this unfinished state, the room was fine to sleep in and she had fallen into bed every evening exhausted after all the work and slept all night until the dawn chorus woke her up. This morning, however, she had slept late and decided to drift into the day slowly.
But Cillian’s arrival had interrupted her plan of a lazy morning. Seeing him standing there outside the front door had shaken her and she tried to calm her racing heart and think about how to handle the situation. She was afraid to be pulled into something that could be so sweet and romantic with someone who was connected to Fred and those happy days long ago. They were comfortable with each other the way old friends were, sharing memories that nobody else knew about. But they had both lived a long time after that, with other people in other places. The quote ‘you can’t go home again’ kept playing in her mind as she got ready and she knew in her bones that it was true. She wasn’t the same person he had known all those years ago – and neither was he.We have to wipe the slate clean, shethought,and find out who we are now, in the present. The past is behind us and we can only be together if we look forward. I need to tell him everything.
With that thought firmly in her mind, Tricia went into the living room and found Cillian holding the piece of driftwood over the fireplace.
‘It’ll look great once it’s in place,’ he said. ‘But I have no idea how to fix it.’
‘Ted will know,’ Tricia said as she walked in and stood in the middle of the floor. ‘I’ll show it to him and he’ll have it up in no time. It is actually perfect and will look amazing. It has a flat surface on the top so I can put a few things on it. I’ll oil it with teak oil once it’s up.’
‘Good idea.’ Cillian put the piece of driftwood on the floor. ‘Who’s Ted?’
‘The builder who’s doing all the renovations,’ Tricia replied. ‘I told you about him.’
‘So you did,’ Cillian said.
‘Amazing guy,’ Tricia continued. ‘He’s been a true hero, doing everything in super-quick time. Also so nice and kind.’ She drew breath and laughed when she noticed Cillian’s worried expression. ‘He’s a good friend, but that’s all.’
‘I’m glad to hear that. The Mr Fixit kind of man is usually very attractive to women.’
‘I’m pretty good at fixing things myself,’ Tricia said, attempting to reassure him. ‘I’m not the helpless female who shouts for help you know.’ She gestured at the sofa. ‘But sit down. I’ll get you a coffee or whatever you’d like.’
‘That would be great. I didn’t have breakfast, so…’ He stopped and eyed Tricia’s abandoned breakfast on the coffee table. ‘Did I interrupt your Sunday morning feast?’
‘Yes, in a delightful way,’ Tricia said. ‘So… Coffee? Tea? Toast? I have no idea what you usually have for breakfast.’
‘Industrial strength coffee and toast with a slice of cheese and an apple,’ Cillian replied. ‘But whatever you have will be fine.’
‘I think I can manage all that.’ Tricia went to the kitchen and made coffee and toast with a thick slice of cheddar and an apple and then carried it all into the living room on a tray.
Cillian got up to take the tray, then they sat down on the sofa, Tricia sitting with her hands in her lap watching Cillian consume his breakfast. There were so many things she wanted to say to him, but she didn’t know where to start.
He swallowed the last bite of the slice of toast and looked at her. ‘What?’
‘Oh,’ she said, startled out of her thoughts. ‘I was just thinking…’
‘About what?’ he asked. ‘You look like you’re bursting with questions.’
‘I am,’ she confessed. She reached out and picked up her cinnamon bun. ‘About you, about the past.’
‘I have a feeling that the past is more like an obstacle than a help, to tell you the truth.’ He drew breath and looked at her, his eyes troubled. ‘That’s my feeling, anyway. How about you?’
‘I agree about that,’ Tricia replied after a moment’s silence. She wanted to tell him about the trouble she was in but something stopped her. Maybe he would judge her and think she was somehow guilty of what Sean’s nephew accused her of. She wondered fleetingly if he was trying to tell her that he didn’t want to know. The moment passed and the urge to reveal everything was suddenly gone. Maybe this wasn’t the moment in any case. Better to leave things alone for the moment and just enjoy the feeling of peace between them.
‘I can see that you have done a lot to this house since I was away,’ he said, looking around.
