Page 46 of Accidental Irish Daddy

Her footfalls sound further and further away as she goes without another word and that’s fine by me. No matter how much this hurts…no matter how much I want to go after her and take it all back.

I just need to find my peace again.

Maybe if I get Ma’s room in order, it’ll all be right again.

14

Aisling

“Come on,” I tell Bridget when I get back to the bedroom. I rush to the closet for my suitcase. “We’ve got to pack our things.”

Bridget, who has just changed out of her funeral clothes and is now sitting on the bed with one of her favorite books in hand, looks up at me, her eyes wide with fear. “Why? What’s wrong, Aisling? Are we in trouble?”

I look at her, terrified, and I remember what brought us here in the first place. I stop, setting the suitcase on the floor and sitting on the bed.

“Nobody’s in trouble,” I say to her. “But we do have to go. My job here is over and that means we have to leave.”

She blinks, processing what I’ve said.

“But Mr. Duncan likes you. Do we really have to go?”

My heart sinks at her words. It would be very nice if that were true. I know it’s not, though. I’m so sorry that Bridget got it in her mind that he likes me at all.

“Yes. I’m sorry, but it’s the terms of our agreement, that’s all. Nothing more than that.”

She slumps, but she closes her book and slides off the bed. “Okay,” she says sadly.

We start packing our things. I’m doing my best not to cry or get choked up in front of her.

I don’t know what I was expecting when I went in there to talk to him about staying. Did I really think that he would just invite me to stay with him forever? How naïve can I be?

We get our suitcases together and out the door we go. With every step, I get angrier.

If he doesn’t want me here, then I don’t have to stay. In fact, to hell with him and his false generosity. I don’t need him. I don’t need anybody. I did just fine taking care of Bridget on my own and I’ll be just fine without Mr. Grant Duncan and his billions.

I open the front door and nearly run into Martha, who’s standing there in dirty jeans, her white hair up in a messy bun. She’s holding a basket with little more than a dozen flowers in it. She jerks with surprise, but at once smiles pleasantly at us. “Oh, Aisling, hello!”

“Hello, Martha,” I say. “He’s upstairs in his mother’s room. Excuse me.”

I pull Bridget along and the two of us walk past her and out the door. “Where are you two off too?”

“Our job here is done,” I tell her. “So, Mr. Duncan asked that we leave.”

I turn back around and start down the stairs, eager to get away before I start feeling the hurt swirling around in my chest.

“Wait a second,” Martha calls as she follows us down the stairs. “You’re not leaving for good, are you?”

“Looks that way.” I keep walking to my car. She follows.

“Hold on one second,” she says, walking in front of us and blocking the path to my car. “Now, I was under the impression that the condition for your residence here was because you had nowhere to go. Has that changed?”

I can feel myself starting to fall apart. A damn sob is squatting low in my chest like a toad. If I say another word I might start crying. I try to swallow, and my eyes start to burn. I look away from Martha, but there’s no hiding it at this point.

“Oh, my,” she mutters sadly. “Listen, love, why don’t you and Bridget come over to my house for a bit and we can talk this out.”

“There’s nothing to talk about,” I say, my voice cracking. “He doesn’t want me…” And there it is. The sob leaps out of me, and the tears come. Martha pulls me into a hug.

“There, there, dear,” she coos. “Come now. Get yourself together, love.”

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