Page 108 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
If Megan and Ollie were scared, how must he have reacted?
Megan cast a look at Bets, and her cousin said, “He’s very upset. No surprise. Jamie and some of the boys are sitting with him in the waiting area. Brigid and I thought it might be better if he didn’t see you in here while you were unconscious. He…has bad memories of this place.”
Her body seemed heavy suddenly, and she lay back. “His wife died here, didn’t she?”
“Yes,” Bets said, worrying her lip. “Angie, I know you’re hurting, but you might send him home. He didn’t want to leave you. In fact, he told me to tell him the moment you woke up. I should…”
Angie didn’t have the energy to wave her to the door. Bets tried to smile, patted her good hand, and then rushed out.
“Why were you dancing on the bar?” Megan asked, her brow crinkling. “If you’d only listened to me, this never would have happened.”
She made herself sit up, gritting her teeth at the pain. “Megan, this was an accident. It really sucks, and I’m probably going to bitch about not painting and teaching for a while, but I would dance on that bar again.”
“Angie!”
“I wanted to do it.” She squinted at her sister. “I’m not worried about what other people might think. Besides, it made me happy. I sold all my paintings today. Do you have any idea what that felt like? After all this time?”
Megan remained silent.
“Iwantedto celebrate. I wished you’d come with us to celebrate.”
“But—”
“The Lucky Charms inviting me up there wasn’t something I was going to miss a second time.”
She thought about Carrick and how she’d looked forward to being alone with him to toast his big day. That all seemed ruined now.
The door opened, and Carrick entered. His body was bowed as if he were battling a strong wind to cross his pasture. She made herself look into his eyes, knowing they would tell her all the answers.
The bright, loving light and ultramarine color was gone. They were Payne’s grey again and desolate. Even if he hadn’t stayed beside the door and not crossed to her, she would have known the truth.
She’d lost him.
Chapter Thirty-Five
He didn’t have the strength.
As he gazed at Angie lying in the hospital bed, he had to admit that to himself. Every muscle in his body had tensed up when he’d gotten into the car with Jamie and the McGrath twins and rode to the hospital, the same one where his wife had died. Memories of traveling that road to see Sorcha, only to learn she was dead, wouldn’t leave him.
The smell of death had assaulted him when he’d arrived, and he’d rushed to the bathroom to vomit again. This time he’d stared into the mirror at his sweating face before washing his mouth out with water and splashing his face. He’d locked his body up tight and headed out to the waiting area, eyes staring straight ahead, trying to banish all noise and thought. He’d gone numb, but the smell couldn’t be ignored.
Death saturated his senses.
He prayed it wouldn’t take Angie.
His friends tried to tell him she would be all right, but he’d seen the blood and her unresponsiveness. Her brain could be bleeding, the doctors unable to stop it. He couldn’t stop the thoughts of her dying, of him standing with roses beside her graveside, the freshly tunneled dirt an abomination to life.
“It looks worse than it is,” his beloved Yank said, her face nearly as white as his sheep. “That’s what happens when I wear heels and drink too much champagne. Easily solved. I won’t do that again.”
“I’ll leave you two,” her sister muttered and edged around him to exit through the door.
“Carrick, I can’t imagine what you must be feeling.”
He stared at her beloved face, recoiling at seeing the shaved area on the right side of her head where she’d been stitched. “Don’t worry about me,” he murmured. “You focus on healing yourself.”
Get out of here, Yank.
“I will,” she said, making a brave showing at a smile. “As for you, I think you should go home with your friends. Toast your victory and mine. Carrick, you had such a great day! I don’t want this to spoil it.”
