Page 98 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
Angie cocked her ear. “Sounds like thunder.” Except Ireland didn’t really have thunder to accompany the rain. Plus, it wasn’t raining. Sunlight was streaming in the skylights.
“Oh, no, Bets!” Nicola said, running to the window. “I’d know that sound anywhere—”
“Sheep!” Bets cried out, running for the stairs. “My roses!”
Everyone followed her, racing toward the manor house. Angie heard the bleating and increased her pace. When they reached the edge of her rose garden, she stopped cold. There had to be a hundred sheep feasting away. And Megan was standing with a golf club lifted overhead, shouting at the herd of aggressive sheep tearing off Bets’ large flower heads!
“Help!” her sister cried as she poked a bleating ewe. “There’re too many of them.”
Angie did a double take and then raced after Bets to grab more clubs from the house. They each grabbed a few and thrust them at the other women as they ran back out.
“I’m calling Donal,” Brigid called, holding up her cell phone. “And Carrick. He can help.”
“They might be too late,” Bets shouted. “Come on, girls. After me. Push them back.”
Angie was more experienced with sheep this time, and she managed to frighten eight of them clear away. But the sheer number was intimidating, and while they battled the sheep and tried to push them back, the pull of the perfectly symmetrical dinner-plate roses was too strong for the other sheep to ignore. They ripped off Bets’ flower heads, chomping quickly before going for another. Angie fought the sheep alongside the other women, but the more roses the sheep ate, the more determined they seemed to have more.
When Donal and Carrick finally arrived on the tails of each other and jumped out of their vehicles to wrangle the sheep, Angie lowered her weapon and surveyed the damage.
Bets’ award-winning roses were gone.
Chapter Thirty-One
Earlier, in the art class, Bets had decided to hell with it. She’d give Donal a chance all the way, just like the girls had suggested. But her excitement had vanished.
He’d given her his word that his sheep wouldn’t touch her roses, and she’d believed him. While she knew it was unreasonable—sheep had minds of their own—she felt he’d betrayed her.
The somber look that man had given her as he left with his infernal bleating sheep wouldn’t sway her. Carrick didn’t help by saying, “I can’t imagine how Donal’s sheep got out like this. I went by his pasture on my way here, and his gate was flung wide open. Usually, he has it locked up tighter than a duck’s arse, especially after the last incident.”
She didn’t care that he was sorry. She was sick to her stomach, and she had the odd urge to cry. They were roses, sure. But they were her babies. She wouldn’t be entering the rose competition this year. Mary Kincaid would be giddy when she heard she’d have an easy pass to the large gold trophy. Mostly, though, she was struggling with the feeling that Donal had let her down. There would be no more romantic evenings or kisses in his greenhouse. Forget mad trips to Paris.
It was over before it had begun.
Liam showed up, and it only took a moment for him to see the way of it. “Oh, Mum,” he said, putting his arm around her. “I’m so sorry.”
Leaning in for a moment, she took his comfort and then stood as tall as she could for a petite woman and surveyed her friends. The rest of the Lucky Charms and her painting classmates were all huddled together, their faces gray. Did she look that bad? Probably worse. “I won’t say it doesn’t feel like a huge loss.”
Ollie ran over, a single Gemini rose in his small hand. The damn sheep must have torn it off and forgotten to eat it. “Maybe you can put this one in water and save it for the competition.”
His voice was eager, his gesture sweet, but with the fair two weeks away, it was a pipe dream. “Thanks, sweetheart. Your mom was quite the warrior today. Megan, I thank you.”
The dear girl rested on her golf club. “I didn’t know I had it in me. I only wish I could have stopped them.”
“How could you?” She ran a shaky hand through her short hair. “Listen, everyone, I feel like I should hand out chocolate chip cookies for a good effort, but I just can’t muster it right now. If you’ll excuse me…”
She headed inside to her room and was grateful no one followed. Her friends knew she liked her quiet time after a loss. From her window, she watched as Liam led the way to clean up the mess in the yard. She closed the curtains and lay down on her bed.
When she started to cry, her roses swam in her mind as much as Donal’s face.
The light changed in her room, touching the western wall. Liam knocked on the door and said he’d left a tray outside if she wanted to eat. She didn’t rise. Sometime later, another knock intruded on her quiet, and she pulled a pillow over her head. Had Angie decided to breach her sanctuary? Given the boldness her cousin had regained these past weeks, she was the most likely to try.
The creak of the old doorframe caught her attention, and she looked over to see Donal striding across her bedroom.
“Get out of here,” she said, sitting up. “I don’t want to see you.”
He set his weight. “I know what happened today was horrible, but I need to show you something. Come with me.Please.”
His deep-set green eyes entreated her. He was heartsick too—it was evident in his eyes—and in the thick of her grief she couldn’t take it. Her throat thickened, and she pressed her face into the pillow.
