Sherryl Woods - The Summer Garden

To his relief—yet in a way his regret—his mother didn’t laugh off his concerns. “That doesn’t sound like Nell,” she conceded. “You’re right about that. When we got back from Ireland, all she could talk about was the next trip over there.”

“Will you speak to her? Maybe she’ll open up to you.”

“Nell’s not going to open up to anyone unless she wants them to know what’s going on. It’s not her way. I will keep closer tabs on her and, if I sense that it’s necessary, I’ll get your father, Mick and Thomas to look into it.”

“Do you really want to get them all worked up, especially Mick? You know how he is. He’ll haul her off to Johns Hopkins to be checked out whether she wants to go or not.”

His mother laughed. “He would, wouldn’t he? Well, let’s hope it doesn’t come to that. She has a lot going on right now. I’m sure she’s overly tired with all this planning for Dillon’s visit. I’ll go by this afternoon and offer to help.” When Luke started to protest, she held up a hand. “I know she won’t let me near her kitchen, but she might let me dust and vacuum for her.”

Luke nodded. “I should have thought of that. The kitchen could use a good scrubbing, too. I offered to do it before I left this morning, but she told me she had her own ways of doing things.”

“She didn’t get to this age by not being independent and stubborn, like the rest of the O’Briens,” Jo said.

“Ain’t that the truth,” Luke responded.

She squeezed his hand. “It’s a good trait some of the time. Thanks for telling me about this. It’s good she has you around so much right now. I know she’s enjoying these lessons. Last Sunday at Mick’s, your progress—or lack thereof—was all she could talk about while we were in the kitchen cleaning up.”

Luke rolled his eyes. “Today might have tested her limits,” he said, explaining about the mess he’d made of two batches of scones. “If she offers you one, I’d advise against taking it unless it comes with an affidavit that it’s one she baked.”

Jo laughed. “Trust me, if yours were that awful, they’re in the trash by now or she’s fed them to the birds.”

“Poor robins,” Luke said with a shake of his head.

“You’ll get the knack of it. I believe in you. So does Nell. I can hardly wait to see how the pub is coming along.”

“Stop by anytime,” he said, though he’d been discouraging visitors. He wanted the family to be wowed by the finished product.

“I’ll wait,” she said. “I know you want to knock all our socks off on opening night. Have you set the date?”

“Tentatively,” he confessed. “I’d like to open before Dillon goes home again. He made a lot of introductions for me in Ireland. I’d like him to see how much they helped.”

“Oh, he’ll love that,” she said, then gave him a sly look. “Shouldn’t you be inviting Moira over for the grand opening as well? She played a role in this, too, didn’t she?”

The thought had occurred to Luke more than once, but he’d vetoed it. As much as he’d like to have Moira here to share the big opening, a part of him was afraid she might make too much of the invitation. He didn’t want to send any more mixed signals than he already had.

No, when he invited Moira to come to Chesapeake Shores, it would be because he was ready for more than a date to a party, albeit the most important party of his life.

4

“Chesapeake Shores is a long way to go chasing after a man,” Kiera said when she learned of Moira’s trip. “You’ll only be disappointed.”

Moira regarded her mother with annoyance. “Thank you for the support. Are you sure it’s not that you’re jealous that Grandfather is taking me and not you?”

She saw that she’d hit the mark by the tightening of her mother’s lips. Surprisingly, Moira felt bad about it, which proved just how much her attitude toward her mum had changed now that she’d finally put some distance between them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you of such a thing.”

Kiera sighed. “It’s never wrong to speak the truth,” she said, sounding weary. “I suppose I am a wee bit jealous that you have this chance and I don’t.” She held Moira’s gaze. “But my concern for you is genuine. I don’t want you to go over there with high expectations about what will happen when you and Luke are reunited. Men like Luke move on at a whim.”

“The way Dad did?” Moira said, understanding with unexpected clarity exactly where the concern came from—her mother’s own experience.

“Yes, as your father did,” Kiera said, her usual bitterness giving way to what almost sounded like sorrow.

Moira hesitated then asked the question she’d never dared to utter before. “Was it me? Was I too much for him?”

Kiera looked startled. “Is that what you think?” she asked in dismay. “That your father left because of you?”

“It’s what I’ve always believed,” Moira admitted. The timing of his departure could hardly allow for any other conclusion.

“Oh, my darling girl, it had nothing to do with you,” Kiera said at once. “It was all of it—the pressure of me wanting more and more for our children, a job he hated, needing to come home at night rather than spending his time and money in a pub. He wasn’t meant to be a family man. He liked things easy. In truth, the only surprise wasn’t that he left, but that it took him so long.”

Moira felt an odd sense of relief at that, but then thought about what her mum had actually revealed. She couldn’t help wondering if the same mind-set applied to Luke. It was hardly the first time such a thought had crossed her mind.

“Does Luke remind you of Dad?” she asked. “Is that really why you’re so worried about my going over there?”

To her dismay, her mother nodded. “I see some similarities, yes. And hearing that’s he’s opening a pub?” She shook her head. “It brings back too many memories of the pull such places had for your father.”

“Was Dad a drinker, then?” Moira asked.

Her mother nodded. “He had a problem. I didn’t see it when we met, because all our friends liked to have a pint or two and enjoy the music on a Friday or Saturday night. It was only later, after we were married, that he spent more and more time with his mates and came home reeling. I can’t tell you how often we argued about it. Ask your brothers. They’re old enough to remember some of it, I’m sure, though we’ve never spoken of it.”

“And isn’t that our way?” Moira said with a touch of bitterness. “To never speak of the things that matter? How many years did it take before you even acknowledged we had grandparents living in Dublin? It was only when your mother became ill and Grandfather came looking for you that we discovered we had family.”

Kiera sighed heavily. “You’re right again,” she conceded. “I’m sorry.”

Moira found herself apologizing as well. “But Luke’s not like Dad in that way—a drinker, I mean,” she said earnestly. “I know he’s not. In all that time we spent together and in so many different pubs, he rarely had anything to drink. He was totally focused on his research. It wasn’t about the drinking, not at all.”

“He wouldn’t be the first man to open a pub so he’d have a ready excuse for being around alcohol,” Kiera said.

Though Moira understood that it was Kiera’s own experiences that had shaped her opinion, Moira still found it worrisome. She believed her defense of Luke and seized on Peter McDonough to prove it. “I’ve never seen Peter lift even a pint of ale during the course of an evening,” she said. “How long has he owned that pub? Twenty years? Even longer?”

“Peter’s a paragon, he is,” Kiera said wryly. “Your grandfather has told me that often enough.”