Page 66 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
She reached across the table and took his hand. He didn’t fight her, and her chest tightened with emotion. “I’m so sorry, Carrick. A million people can tell you the accident wasn’t your fault, but they can’t know how you feel inside.”
His brows shot to his hairline. “You aren’t going to try and tell me not to feel guilty and that I need to move on?”
“You already know all that up here.” She tapped the side of her head with her pointer finger. “You need to feel it in your heart. I mean, I teach and practice art therapy—or did. I encourage people to draw and paint their feelings. Myself included. Sometimes it isn’t pretty. Sometimes our hurts don’t make sense, and we might as well draw maze after maze to show how lost we are. I’ve been there, so I get it. I’ve blamed myself and others for where I am and what’s become of my life. Hell, I’m still avoiding Megan to protect myself and this newfound creativity. Carrick, I’m the last person to tell you what to do.”
He squeezed her hand. “You have no idea how glad I am to hear you say all that. A maze is exactly what it feels like sometimes. Angie, you keep on doing what you’re doing. You’re painting again, and from where I’m sitting, you’ve found a chainsaw and carved through the hedgerows and briars in your own maze. If you need any more help, you tell me. I have a right fine chainsaw in my own shed out back.”
She swallowed the thickness in her throat. “I can borrow one from Liam if you need the same sort of help. Carrick, let’s just both try being happy. We all deserve to be, but it’s so hard to find it and keep it.”
He sat forward, his mouth twisting. “Do you really believe that? That you and I can be happy?”
Lifting her shoulder, she said, “I’m happy when I get into the groove while I’m painting. When I finish a piece that makes my heart soar in my chest. When I hear Ollie giggle with your sheep or with Winston. When something clicks for one of my students, or a client has a breakthrough in their art therapy.”
She paused as another image rose in her mind. Maybe it was pushing things to say it, but they’d always been blunt with each other. Why stop now?
“I’m happy when I see you crossing the fields coming to see me and chat in the morning.”I was happy when you opened the door tonight.
He made a soft sound she couldn’t decipher. “If the weather is good tomorrow, and you’re out, I will find you in the morning before the sheep shearing starts. Because, Angie, I may be a little rusty on the feeling, but I’m happy when I see you too.”
God, why were tears filling her eyes all of a sudden? “Good. How long will it take to shear all your sheep?”
“Three or four days usually. My shearer can shear about a hundred and fifty a day without keeling over dead. It’s hard work, the shearing.”
“We can talk about a time after you’ve finished the shearing. I’ll show you the paintings I have so far.”
His mouth lifted, a rare and gentle smile all for her. “I’ll be there. Why don’t you come by and see the other house sometime?”
She blinked back the emotion in her eyes. Spending this much time with him wouldn’t help her stay away, but it felt so good to share with him. To make plans. “I’d like that.”
He lifted her hand and opened it, studying it while he traced the lines. The caress was like delicious warm rain when the sun was shining.
“You know, you do have beautiful hands.”
In that moment, she believed it. “I should probably get back. Megan and I might be avoiding each other, but she still keeps tabs on my comings and goings. She’s a worrier, especially after losing Tyson, and she might call Liam if—”
“Be bad to have him searching the countryside for you,” he finished, giving her hand one last caress before releasing it. “I can drive you back.”
“It’s not that far, and I’m trying to get back in shape.” She patted her hips. “It will be good for me.”
“You look fine to me,” he said, and the way his heated gaze traveled over her surely confirmed it. “Better than fine, in fact.”
Not responding seemed the wiser approach, so she walked to her bike and lifted the kickstand, rolling it to the front yard. He followed behind her, and it was hard not to feel his eyes on her. She was breathless when she faced him on the sidewalk.
“Wait just a moment,” he said, holding up a hand and then running off.
What was he doing? Should she get on her bike? She tapped her foot, trying to act like there wasn’t a rope strangling her chest. She needed to leave. The thought of kissing him was growing in her mind.
Only a kiss…
Surely that wouldn’t mess with her painting mojo.
He appeared, carrying a beautiful white rose he must have plucked from the backyard. “Since you liked it, you should take one home with you. Put it in a vase.”
“Thank you,” she choked out. “It’s beautiful.” Would he have given her a daisy if they’d been growing in his front yard? Roses had a very particular meaning in the States, but they grew everywhere in Ireland. Maybe he was only being friendly.
Still, she looked into his eyes for the answer she sought. The gray in them was completely gone, replaced by rich ultramarine blue dotted with gold.
They were the eyes of a lover.
