Page 8 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
“Ollie, you’re not fine, and neither am I. We’re grieving.”
“My dad died too,” Liam said, leaning down and tipping the little boy’s chin up. “I still miss him. Maybe I can help you find a way to smile again. Like my mom helped me.”
“We helped each other,” Betsy said, hugging him with one arm. “Megan, I know everyone has their way of dealing with a loss, but we’re here for you.”
“But living on my own? It’s too much. Angie—”
“Okay, you can stay with me,” Angie said, rubbing her arm. “Let’s not freak out. Maybe in a while—”
“I don’t want to think about that,” Megan said, her voice rising.
Betsy noted how Angie’s earlier brightness had diminished, and she felt a wave of sympathy for both women. “Plenty of time for that.”
“Time is your friend, Megan,” Liam said. “Heck, I’m still figuring out what I want to do when I grow up. Philosophy, quantum physics, and self-help books and podcasts are my obsession. Considering my mom still hasn’t figured that out for herself, I’ve decided I’m good.”
She socked him, and he pulled her against him, making her feel as petite as her five foot three inches. “Can I help being a late bloomer? Besides, you’re pretty handy to have around. Liam thinks he needs to rush around the estate to justify living here expense-free at twenty-five.”
Liam turned to her and raised one of his sandy blond brows, looking like his father. Shifting his gaze back to their cousins, he said, “I love this time with Mum. Right now, I do odd jobs to save money, and then I travel to experience more of life. It’s a blast. Sometimes Mum even comes along. She met me in Morocco on my last adventure trekking through the Sahara.”
“As did your older brothers, who also have the travel bug,” she added, smiling as she thought of Rhys and Wyatt.
“I remember the pictures,” Angie said, doing her part to change the subject. “They were incredible. How are Rhys and Wyatt, by the way?”
“Still figuring their lives out too,” Liam said with a laugh. “Wyatt likes to work at hotels with vineyards, and Rhys likes to make the wine.”
“They’re doing fine,” Bets said, nudging him for good measure. “They’re in South Africa right now.”
“Personally, I’m not convinced anyone has it all the way figured out when it comes to life,” Angie said, sending Liam a smile.
“No, just when you think you do, something happens to wreck it.” Megan rubbed her nose. “Forgive me. I’m not jumping for joy these days. Ollie isn’t either, are you, sweetheart?”
Then again, Megan had never done much of that either. She’d always struggled with the long separations from Tyson, or so she’d told her mother, who’d in turn told Bets. That wasn’t much of a shock, all told. Betsy could never have married a soldier for that very reason.
“Maybe getting into a little trouble will improve your spirits and help you heal.”
She kissed her son’s cheek loudly to cover up the awkward moment. “Liam’s middle name is trouble, courtesy of his mother.”
Angie gave her a pained look. “Yes, I seem to remember hearing about a certain someone dancing on a bar regularly…”
Ollie’s eyes widened, and Megan’s mouth flattened. Angie would think it was good fun, of course, but that was the kind of fun she used to like to get into, according to Patty. Of course, their mother liked a good laugh, too, and Betsy had seen plenty of pictures of her cousin’s antics back in the day when she was a young nurse in the veterans hospital, engaging in wheelchair races with the other medical personnel on break.
Megan was a different sort. Cousin Patty worried for her, as mothers did, and thought she and Angie had babied her too much to soften Dan’s harder edges. Megan had always been a sensitive child, and she’d tried to please Dan and get his approval by being like her father wanted. Conservative. Her one rebellion, if it could be called that, was pursuing art, and even her pottery had been conservative, although lovely.
But that hadn’t lasted long after she got married, and Bets was wondering if Megan might find strength and comfort from returning to her art. Although Patty hadn’t disagreed with her suggestion, she’d mentioned that Megan had turned down Angie’s offers to teach at the now defunct art league. Still, Bets would ask if the moment arose.
“When you work as a bartender,” she said, “sometimes you have to shake things up. Those were the days!”
“As soon as you’re feeling up to it,” Liam said, “I’ll take you around.” He tilted his head, studying Angie and Megan. “Do you like pubs?”
Megan only shook her head.
“It’s been a while since I’ve been in one,” Angie said, “but I’m game. I’m here to shake things up too.”
Bets laughed when Angie did a little shimmy. “I’m here to help as much as Liam on that score. I still manage to get into a little trouble myself.”
“She’s infamous in the village,” Liam whispered playfully.
“I’ve been the eccentric Yank since I arrived some thirty years ago married and pregnant with Wyatt,” she corrected.
