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Authors: Sally Clements
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Despite
her charitable words, anger flared.
No man
deserved to get away so lightly with hurting a woman. Especially not a woman
with an open and giving heart like Annie.
He started up
the engine. Annie should be angry, not forgiving. He hadn’t forgiven Sharon for
her betrayal. He’d given Sharon a key to his apartment, never dreaming she’d
bring a man there. The day Jack walked into his bedroom and found her writhing
on top of a naked stranger had been the day trust died. He’d instantly ordered
her out, coldly unmoved by her crying and pleading for another chance. When
she’d gone he’d stripped the sheets from the bed and thrown them away, and had
replaced the bed the next day. He’d learned his lesson five years ago.
Annie wasn’t
anything like Sharon. She bore no resemblance to the blonde army either. She
was like a locked box he didn’t have a key to. Her willingness to forgive was
perplexing. He didn’t even try to understand. Women were a different species,
and whatever he said at this point was bound to be wrong. He pulled out onto
the road again, swerving to avoid wheel-breaking potholes. Maybe if he’d grown
up differently, with a caring adult to talk to he’d be better at comforting,
but he hadn’t. Silence stretched between them, like a rubber band forced to the
breaking point. With relief, he pulled up outside the house.
Maeve was
waiting for them in the kitchen, arms akimbo on rounded hips. “Ah. Here you are
Venus Anne Devine. Have you anything to tell me?” Her eagle-eyed glance flicked
from Annie to Jack questioningly. God. Talk about out of the frying pan into
the fire.
“Venus Anne?”
he murmured.
“Venus Anne,”
she confirmed, through pinched lips.
“What would I
have to tell you, Mum?”
“Well, to
start with, you could tell me when you and Jack became an item. The phone’s
rung off the hook all afternoon.”
“Who phoned?”
Annie asked wearily.
A headache
started to thud in his temples. Annie was right. Kissing someone in the pub was
obviously a huge deal in this close-knit community.
“Who hasn’t?”
The ringing of the phone diverted Maeve’s attention for a moment. “You. Don’t
move!” Maeve pinned Jack and Annie with a glare and answered it. “Hi,
Miley…Yes. They’re here now. Oh,” her eyebrows shot scalpward. “In the car?
Right. Well they seem to have sorted out any car trouble they were having…Sure
they’re here now.”
Maeve hung up.
“That was Miley. He saw you a couple of minutes ago.”
The red car
that sped past while they were kissing. Thank God Jack hadn’t gone with his
body’s urgings and slipped his hand under her tee-shirt to stroke her breast.
Or skimmed the smooth legs that invited his attentions. They’d probably have
the fire engine here to meet them if that was the case. Maybe even the gardai
to take him away for lewd behavior.
Annie stood silent
beside him. She was probably wondering what to tell her mother. They couldn’t
really claim it was a sham. Not after Miley’s phone call. The situation was
beyond ridiculous. She was a grown woman, not a naughty teenager. Jack reached
over and squeezed her hand gently. He would handle it.
“I couldn’t
wait to kiss her until we got here.” He moved closer. “We wanted to tell you
together.” A tentative smile teased the corners of her mouth, and the worry
faded from her eyes.
“Annie and I
have decided to go on a couple of dates, starting tonight.” He smiled back. She
wasn’t in this, at least, on her own.
Her mother’s
mouth opened then closed. Her words remaining blissfully unspoken.
****
As Annie
reported on the day’s matchmaking, Jack climbed the stairs to the bedroom and
powered up his computer. The email was waiting in his in-box: a small
collection of words, so ordinary and inconsequential, but monumental
nonetheless . Mrs Mary Byrne, Ivy Nursing Home, 4 King Street, Greystones .
Nothing more, nothing less. The private eye he’d hired before leaving
her charitable words, anger flared.
No man
deserved to get away so lightly with hurting a woman. Especially not a woman
with an open and giving heart like Annie.
He started up
the engine. Annie should be angry, not forgiving. He hadn’t forgiven Sharon for
her betrayal. He’d given Sharon a key to his apartment, never dreaming she’d
bring a man there. The day Jack walked into his bedroom and found her writhing
on top of a naked stranger had been the day trust died. He’d instantly ordered
her out, coldly unmoved by her crying and pleading for another chance. When
she’d gone he’d stripped the sheets from the bed and thrown them away, and had
replaced the bed the next day. He’d learned his lesson five years ago.
Annie wasn’t
anything like Sharon. She bore no resemblance to the blonde army either. She
was like a locked box he didn’t have a key to. Her willingness to forgive was
perplexing. He didn’t even try to understand. Women were a different species,
and whatever he said at this point was bound to be wrong. He pulled out onto
the road again, swerving to avoid wheel-breaking potholes. Maybe if he’d grown
up differently, with a caring adult to talk to he’d be better at comforting,
but he hadn’t. Silence stretched between them, like a rubber band forced to the
breaking point. With relief, he pulled up outside the house.
Maeve was
waiting for them in the kitchen, arms akimbo on rounded hips. “Ah. Here you are
Venus Anne Devine. Have you anything to tell me?” Her eagle-eyed glance flicked
from Annie to Jack questioningly. God. Talk about out of the frying pan into
the fire.
“Venus Anne?”
he murmured.
“Venus Anne,”
she confirmed, through pinched lips.
“What would I
have to tell you, Mum?”
“Well, to
start with, you could tell me when you and Jack became an item. The phone’s
rung off the hook all afternoon.”
“Who phoned?”
Annie asked wearily.
A headache
started to thud in his temples. Annie was right. Kissing someone in the pub was
obviously a huge deal in this close-knit community.
“Who hasn’t?”
The ringing of the phone diverted Maeve’s attention for a moment. “You. Don’t
move!” Maeve pinned Jack and Annie with a glare and answered it. “Hi,
Miley…Yes. They’re here now. Oh,” her eyebrows shot scalpward. “In the car?
Right. Well they seem to have sorted out any car trouble they were having…Sure
they’re here now.”
Maeve hung up.
“That was Miley. He saw you a couple of minutes ago.”
The red car
that sped past while they were kissing. Thank God Jack hadn’t gone with his
body’s urgings and slipped his hand under her tee-shirt to stroke her breast.
Or skimmed the smooth legs that invited his attentions. They’d probably have
the fire engine here to meet them if that was the case. Maybe even the gardai
to take him away for lewd behavior.
Annie stood silent
beside him. She was probably wondering what to tell her mother. They couldn’t
really claim it was a sham. Not after Miley’s phone call. The situation was
beyond ridiculous. She was a grown woman, not a naughty teenager. Jack reached
over and squeezed her hand gently. He would handle it.
“I couldn’t
wait to kiss her until we got here.” He moved closer. “We wanted to tell you
together.” A tentative smile teased the corners of her mouth, and the worry
faded from her eyes.
“Annie and I
have decided to go on a couple of dates, starting tonight.” He smiled back. She
wasn’t in this, at least, on her own.
Her mother’s
mouth opened then closed. Her words remaining blissfully unspoken.
****
As Annie
reported on the day’s matchmaking, Jack climbed the stairs to the bedroom and
powered up his computer. The email was waiting in his in-box: a small
collection of words, so ordinary and inconsequential, but monumental
nonetheless . Mrs Mary Byrne, Ivy Nursing Home, 4 King Street, Greystones .
Nothing more, nothing less. The private eye he’d hired before leaving
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