Page 59 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

Her daughter skipped into her room moments later and played with the end of her scarf. “You look pretty, Mama. Did Sandrine tell you? Eoghan is going to make me a full Irish breakfast tomorrow. He said it’s going to stuff me to the gills like on a prize trout. Isn’t that funny?”

“So long as you don’t turn into a trout.” She made a fish face, sending her daughter into giggles. “I like my Greta exactly as she is. You have fun tonight, okay?”

“Eoghan said we’re going to stay up late and sing Irish songs.” She was already swaying from the music in her mind, Sophie knew, a habit she’d inherited from Franz.

“You’ll have to sing them to me tomorrow. Now, come give me a kiss.”

Her daughter leaned over sweetly. “You won’t be scared to be here alone, will you? I’m going to leave January with you just in case.”

Her heart melted with love. “That’s a sweet offer, but you take January. What happens if she wakes up missing you tonight?”

“Okay, I’ll bring her. Bye, Mama.”

She hugged her tightly. “Bye, baby.”

Eoghan called out a goodbye and then the cottage went silent. She rose and walked into the parlor to wait for Jamie. Picking up her phone, she noted a few texts. She opened the one from Taylor first.

Someone sent me the article in that Irish newspaper!You got hosed. Pornographic, my eye! Journalists like that make me so sick I’m considering a new story on artistic censorship. Care to be interviewed?

She typed an emphaticYES, and then opened the next text from her mother.

A friend sent me the article from that horrible Irish newspaper. I would have thought you would have sent it to me. I hope you don’t take any of it to heart, but knowing you, I’m sure you will. I’m not ashamed of my work, and neither should you be. My friends are outraged! Your ‘pornographic’ goddess is brilliant, and if they can’t see that, then you know what they can do…

This kind of support was unheard of. She could all but hear her mother swearing in French as she wrote it. She read it again, feeling the warmth of the sentiments, as the crunch of tires sounded in the driveway.

Rising, she crossed to the window to make sure it was Jamie. He emerged from the car, his mop of brown curls wild from the wind. As he strode to the house, she rushed over to meet him at the door. He stepped inside quickly and closed it to keep the heat inside.

“There’s no rain, but it’s cold enough to freeze your very bones,” he said, kissing her cheek. “I have the firewood, but I fear our plans might be better for another night.”

She linked her arms around his neck. “Sandrine and Eoghan are our guardian angels of sorts. They’ve taken Greta to stay with them tonight.”

His eyes widened, then seemed to light from within. “Angels for sure they are.” He dropped a kiss on her mouth.

“So how about this?” She caressed the freshly shaved line of his jaw, savoring the scent of his forestry aftershave. “Since I’ve been thinking about it all day, let’s still go and have a fire on the beach after dinner and hear the roar of the sea. Then come back here and make love.”

He cradled her hips between his strong hands. “I like the way you’re thinking.”

After they left the quiet restaurant he’d chosen, they drove to the private cove they’d walked before.

The sea was churning, white with froth, the waves crashing against the rocks. The air was alive with wind and sea spray, making her laugh as their boots sunk into the sand. Bird footprints were visible moments before the tide erased them. She hugged her arms around her as Jamie worked quickly to arrange stones in a circle and light the wood.

“I wasn’t sure if you could get the fire to start in this weather,” she said, grabbing the plaid wool blanket he’d brought along.

“You have to be a bit more canny, is all.” He fanned the flames with a newspaper before tossing it into the fire.

She watched the pages crinkle and burn. “I hope that was the national newspaper that hosed me.”

“And the local paper as well,” he said with a wink. “I thought your artistic soul would appreciate the significance. I also brought the letter from the censorship board seeing as how I have an electronic copy.”

She applauded as he extracted it from his pocket and tossed it into the flames.

“When I got to my studio this morning, I made a glass sculpture of a flame to clear my head.” She watched the fire burn, imagining it was burning away the hate and the filth. “But we’re not talking about that, are we? How are you tonight, Mr. Fitzgerald?”

“As fine as an Irish summer day.” He dropped down next to her and wrapped the other side of the blanket around himself, enclosing them in its warmth. “And how are you,mo chroí?”

God, she loved it when he called her that. “I’ve been up and down all day, but being here with you… Jamie, I’m starting to feel calm and happy again. Like everything is far away.”

“That’s grand then.” He tugged the bag he’d brought through the sand until it was in front of them. “I brought some hot wine. My mother makes it for Christmas. I figured it might work for tonight.”

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