Page 19 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

As he made his way into Caisleán and shopped for Sophie’s list, he gathered together other ideas and questions about the children’s program.

When he pulled into the driveway of his house, Greta waved to him from the front window in a long-sleeved red top lined with yellow flowers over navy corduroy pants. In her other hand, she was holding up January, the sheep, a sight that touched his soul. Sophie opened the front door as he exited the car and popped the boot for her groceries. He tried not to stare, but saints preserve him, she looked beautiful in a light green sweater and jeans that fit her long, slender legs.

“Morning,” he called out as he walked toward her with the bag. “Hope you two settled in all right.”

“Good morning. We did great, although the wind gave a howl last night that woke me out of a dead sleep.”

“Mama said she couldn’t believe I slept through it,” Greta said, joining her mother at the front door. “I think January helped me. Good morning, Mr. Fitzgerald. The weather is crazy. Mama had to get out my warm clothes.”

“Mine too, although more of them are coming with our shipment, thank God,” Sophie said, pointing to her sweater. “What happened to summer?”

He laughed as he stopped in front of them. “That’s Ireland for you. Although I hear from the Yanks that the light here makes the weather mostly worth it.”

“Yeah, I watched the sun rise this morning,” Sophie said, her eyes on him, “and I swear it changed at least four times in a way that made me want to draw.”

“It was like diamonds covered the trees after it rained a little.” Greta peeked into the bag he was carrying. “Oh, good, you brought some milk. I’m thirsty.”

Sophie waved him in. “Come inside, Jamie. To your house.” She cleared her throat. “That is, if you have the time.”

He nodded. “It’s my last free weekend. Once school starts on Monday, I’ll be grading papers on Saturday mornings.”

“I can’t wait for school to start,” Greta told him, running ahead as he and Sophie trailed behind her on the way to the kitchen. “Can I see Lucky soon, do you think? Ollie said to pop by, but we should probably check with his mom.”

“We’ll see Lucky soon enough,” Sophie said as Jamie put the grocery bag on the counter, and she peered inside. “You bought me bacon?”

“The best in Ireland, if you ask me. We call it rashers here.”

She beamed. “Oh, you’re a sweetheart. How did you know I loved it?”

“Me too!” Greta called.

Sorcha had whispered it to him as he’d passed the meat aisle. Thank God she hadn’t appeared out of the blue. He would have jumped and gone green. The people shopping around him would have thought their local teacher was going mad and needed to be institutionalized. “Only a feeling. I also bought you honey for your tea. Same reason.” Although this time he hadn’t heard a whisper as he’d wandered down that aisle.

“You’re two for two.” Sophie’s hand was suddenly covering his, her bright green eyes spellbinding. “I’m not sure anyone has ever guessed my likes like that.”

He understood. There was something special about someone knowing you—your likes, your dislikes, what made you tick. He supposed that was what soulmates did. “Seems a new day has dawned.”

“Yes, it does, doesn’t it?” Her voice was soft, barely audible. “Greta, shall we ask Mr. Fitzgerald to stay for breakfast?”

“That’s a great idea. January would like it too. You can sit by us.”

The little girl hopped onto one of his kitchen chairs and put her elbows on the table after depositing January in another open chair. Suddenly the scene struck him—the little girl humming under her breath as she smiled at him, Sophie putting away the groceries.

This could be the rest of his life…

He was getting ahead of himself again. As he pulled a chair out, his phone vibrated. “Excuse me a moment,” he said, grabbing it out of his pocket. “I only keep it on if Carrick needs me with the sheep.” He picked up his brother’s call. “You have some escapees this morning?”

“Yes, a couple found their way out through the south fence. Also, Linc called the board meeting for nine. Can you come by and help before we head to the arts center?”

“I’m on my way.” He clicked off, disappointed. “We need to catch some sheep before the board meeting. I’m sorry, but I’ll have to take a rain check on breakfast.”

“That’s too bad, but understandable,” Sophie said, setting the carton of eggs down slowly on the kitchen counter. “We’re still on for tonight?”

He thought of all the ways he wished he could answer.I’m counting the hours. I can’t wait to be with you. Alone. Hear the sound of your voice. Watch you as you tell me about the things that matter to you. See you smile at me for no reason at all.“Of course.”

“Mr. Fitzgerald,” Greta said, hopping down and snagging January. “How do you catch a sheep?”

He couldn’t help chuckling as they walked him to the door. “You run a lot and hope you can circle them or direct them where you want them to go. It’s not very fun, that I can tell you.”

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