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“That’s less than six months. I don’t know how quickly things get done here.”
“Well, we can see how it goes and reevaluate later if needed. In the meantime, it doesn’t hurt to have a goal in mind. So, is that a yes?”
”I love it,” she said.
“So, I’ll call the agent and make the arrangements?”
“Yeah, call him.” It was time the old place had a second act–and possibly one for herself.
“You already have a menu in mind, don’t you?
“Of course.”
“You know what Uncle Henry will say, right?”
In unison, they mimicked their uncle: “You’d better serve proper chips!” Then they burst into laughter.
It would be good to be with family again. And Keefe was right—she needed a fresh start. Though, could you really call moving back to the place where she’d spent every summer of her childhood until twenty, a fresh start? A place filled with more memories and ghosts than a haunted house? Maybe the best way forward was through. Like Aunt Nan always said: When you walk through hell, stand up straight and walk like you own the place. Sophie had done just that. And somehow, it had led her right back here—home, where she belonged.
As they stepped outside into the drizzling rain to leave, Sophie reflected. “I always loved our summers here. I looked forward to it all year.” She unlocked the driver’s side car door then got inside while Keefe locked the front door of the pub then joined her inside the car.
He buckled his seatbelt and sighed. “Yeah, the day we boarded the plane. That was the best. We were coming home.”
Sure, they had never actually lived here, but it had always felt more like home here than it had back in Massachusetts. Sure, they lived in a picturesque suburban town that was pretty as a postcard with its neatly kept gingerbread houses and cutesy store fronts with colorful flowers spilling out from every window box and flower pot, but here… here one could actually hear the breath of the wind. Feel the magic in the air, and see a dramatic countryside like nowhere else.
As Sophie drove to their aunt’s house where they were currently living, Keefe gazed out the window at the land they both loved, thinking how their love for Ireland had never dimmed. Take today, for instance—most people wouldn’t see the charm in a gray, rainy afternoon, especially when they had to wait a full six minutes for a handful of sheep to shimmy their way across the road to another pasture.
Back in Massachusetts, people would be annoyed by such a holdup. They were important people with important places to be and couldn’t be delayed—unless, of course, it was a text or a phone call. They were more than happy to complicate their lives with that sort of distraction.
Keefe smirked as the last two fluffy sheep, marked with a bright pink stripe, leaped over the ditch with surprising grace. He had his doubts about the last one, but somehow, it made it.
Funny how some things never changed. The land, the sheep, the rain—it was all the same as it had been when they were kids. Yet, time had moved on, and so had they. Or at least, they were supposed to. People were supposed to grow out of childhood loves, weren’t they? There were many ghosts here, for sure.
“Soph, do you think love has a shelf life?”
Sophie considered her brother’s question, knowing that being back home was bound to stir up memories. As she made a left turn, she did what any local would—lifting a single finger off the wheel in a casual wave to the driver at the stop sign. She didn’t give a full-handed wave, though. That would be downright presumptuous.
Recognizing a fellow local, the driver gave her the finger back—so to speak.
“I do.”
“Really?”
After a colossally failed marriage, you bet really. “I didn’t before, but I do now.” Even as she said it, she, too, was admiring the familiar landscape. To her immediate left, a great mountain rose to the sky, its base so close she could almost reach from her car window and touch it. To her right, a small lake stretched out at its feet, as if offering itself to the mountains’ majestic beauty. Where else in the world would she see such a place? A place she had loved for as long as she could remember.
So, perhaps maybe not.
Sophie continued driving down the narrow road and “waved” to the driver who pulled to the side, giving her the right of way.
Keefe saw an opportunity to bring up something—or someone—he’d been meaning to mention. “So, have you seen Liam?” he asked casually.
“No.”
“Talked to him?”
“No. Why do you ask?”
“No reason. Only we saw him at the pub the night of Simon’s bachelor party. I thought he would call you.”
