Page 90 of Beneath Pearly Irish Skies
When he arrived in the pottery room at the arts center, he was pleased to see Angie siting on a stool beside the loading shelves, keeping Megan company. She looked peaked from the morning sickness, God love her, especially against the deep hues of her burgundy jacket. He slid an arm around her and hugged her.
“You two seem to be managing all right.”
Megan looked over her shoulder, a glazed pot in hand, and smiled, although he could see the tension in the cut of her shoulders.
Angie uttered a little moan and dug a cracker out of her bag. “Do horses have morning sickness?”
“No,” Kade said, feeling terrible for the Yank. “I rather think the phrase ‘healthy as a horse’ referred to a pregnant mare.”
“I want to be a horse.” Angie crunched on her cracker. “Did you know I can’t get near any sheep now that I’m pregnant?”
“Of course. Cows too.”
Megan turned around, pot in hand. “Whyever not?”
“There’s something about an infection the animals might have—when they’re pregnant and birthing themselves.” Angie shivered. “Carrick is even having his mother wash his work clothes just to be safe.”
Though Kade knew of the precaution, he wanted to reassure Angie. “While the incidents are rare, it’s wise to be cautious.”
“I had no idea,” Megan said. “Should I tell Ollie not to play with the sheep?”
“Carrick already talked to him,” Angie said. “He’s getting all kinds of education at the farm. Megan, I hope you won’t mind that Carrick told him what the ram was up to with the ewes. Ollie was watching from the fence line. He kept it clinical.”
Kade bit his lip as Megan grimaced.
“Are you laughing at us city girls, Kade Donovan?” Megan asked.
“Never.” He went over and put an arm around her. “But you’re living around farms. Breeding is a way of life. It’s nature.”
“I have to say I was shocked the first—and second time—that I saw a cow’s penis,” Angie said, making Kade laugh. “It looks like a really long carrot.”
“Does it really?” Megan’s voice held a shocked note as he released her so she could resume her work.
“There’s even a Gaelic word for a man’s that implies it’s a carrot,” Kade said, watching as they both blinked at him. “Bliúcán.”
“Bliúcán.” Angie laughed as she gave a theatrical wince. “Tonight I’m going to tell Carrick that I want to see hisbliúcán.”
“I would pay good money to see his face, but I’ll bet he’ll show it to you all the same,” Kade said, winking at his future sister-in-law.
“You two are terrible.” Megan picked up another pot and set it carefully inside the kiln.
“But your shoulders aren’t inching up to your ears anymore, so I’d say this talk is helping.” He waggled his brows, feeling impish. “Want to learn other naughty Gaelic words?”
“I do!” Angie said, looking less peaked already.
Megan chuckled as she continued to load the kiln, and since Kade would do anything to make her laugh, he taught the two Yanks naughty words in Gaelic. He couldn’t wait to hear what Carrick had to say. His friend would laugh like crazy to hear what “St. Kade” had gotten up to.
He regaled the women with classical poetic phrases like “tá breac ar mo dhuán,” which meant “I’ve got a trout on my hook,” and “an seinnfeá port ar mo dhiúdalín,” which meant “will you play a tune on my flute?”
Seeing the two sisters laughing easily with each other warmed his heart. They’d had their struggles, but here they were laughing over naughty Gaelic phrases while Angie sat in support for her sister.
When he smelled oranges, he grinned. Sorcha, being a poet, had loved Gaelic. He wondered if she’d inspired some of the more colorful phrases he was sharing. They weren’t his usual, as Megan knew, but maybe he’d try using them more—if only because they made her laugh.
He was changing too, he realized. Like Megan, he’d lightened up some. It felt good.
Later that month, Kade had something else to be thankful for. Bets, Megan, and Angie arranged an American Thanksgiving celebration for the family. Liam basted the early turkey Donal had secured from a local farmer, wearing a girly apron that his older brother, Wyatt, had given him one Christmas as a joke. It surprised no one when Bets and Angie kept ruffling the pink lace, except Donal did it too.
Before the meal, Bets invited everyone to take a moment of silence to count their blessings, and this year, Kade’s cup was overflowing. He squeezed Megan’s hand under the table, already looking forward to their Thanksgiving next year. They’d be married by then, as they’d already agreed to have a small ceremony after Angie and Carrick since Megan’s parents would still be in town. She’d made the suggestion with a pinched face, so he’d asked if she’d prefer to wait—or elope.
