The Summer Garden. Sherryl Woods
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“I am a bit tired,” she admitted with obvious reluctance. “All the excitement has taken more of a toll than I realized. Maybe we should call it an early night, so we’ll be fresh for all the things I want to do with you tomorrow.” She smiled at him. “There are so many places I want to take you, Dillon, so much I want to share with you. A month will never be long enough.”
Now it was his turn to worry. She’d never expressed any interest in being the first to bed over the holidays in Dublin. She’d had more energy than some of the women half her age.
He tucked a finger under her chin and studied her intently. “What’s going on, Nell?”
“Just too much excitement,” she insisted, her expression stubbornly defiant. “I’ll be fit as a fiddle in the morning. I can’t wait to show you the town.”
He had no choice but to take her at her word, but he didn’t like what he was seeing or hearing. It wasn’t his usual nature to ask questions behind her back, but if he didn’t find that this had passed with a good night’s rest, he’d speak to Mick. He had no intention of losing Nell after having just gotten her back into his life.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful,” Moira said, gazing at the moon rising over the Chesapeake Bay.
“Neither have I,” Luke said, though his gaze was on her, not the water.
She smiled at him. “There’s that pretty way with words again.”
“Come over here and sit with me,” he encouraged. “Everyone’s gone inside now. We’re out here on our own. I just want to hold you.”
Moira hesitated, but the temptation was too much to resist. And why should she? Wasn’t this what she’d come for, to discover if being with Luke was the same now as it had been a few months ago?
She crossed the few steps to his chair, then settled in his lap, her head resting on his shoulder. She sighed softly at how right it felt to be there. Even here, in a new land, it felt like coming home.
“You smell lovely,” she commented, drawing a chuckle.
“Then it’s a good thing I took the time to shower before coming over here tonight,” he said. “After a long day at work, especially covered with paint as I was a few hours ago, you might not have felt the same way.”
“Tell me about the progress on the pub,” she said eagerly. “Will I be able to see it tomorrow?”
“You’ll be almost the first I’ve let through the doors,” he admitted. “I’ve been keeping most of the family at bay. I want them to see it first when I hold the grand opening. Matthew, my father and my uncle have seen it, of course, since they’re doing the work, but no one else has stepped inside.”
“Would you rather I stayed away, too?”
His silence sent a strange chill through her. Finally, he said, “No.”
“There wasn’t much sincerity behind that,” she said accusingly. “If you don’t want me there, just say so.”
“Don’t go getting prickly on me now,” Luke chided. “I was just debating the value of having your opinion now versus seeing the look on your face when it’s all completed.”
She relaxed then. “And the verdict, then?”
“I want you to see it now. You more than anyone deserve to get an early glimpse. You were there while I was working it all out in my head. You know the effect I was hoping to achieve. You may be able to spot whether I’ve gone off course.”
“And you’d want me to tell you that?” she asked.
He gave her a wry look. “Could I keep you from it? One of the many traits I love about you is your commitment to saying what’s on your mind and never holding back.”
“I may not have much practice, but I could be sensitive and subtle if I put my mind to it,” she offered.
“Absolutely not. I don’t want censored remarks. I want the truth.”
She heard the faint hint of vulnerability in his voice and knew she’d find the right words. She had to. She touched his cheek. “It’s going to be wonderful, Luke. I know it is. Have you found music for the opening?”
“I have a stack of demo CDs in my office and no time to listen to them. I have to do that soon, or I’ll be doing Irish karaoke on opening night.”
“I could give a listen, if you like, and recommend a few. Then you could make the final choice from those.”
“That would be a godsend,” he told her.
“It would make me feel a part of it,” she said.
They sat there in companionable silence for a while as the moon turned the bay to silver.
“Tell me about you,” Luke said eventually. “You mentioned taking photographs that Peter framed and hung on the walls at McDonough’s. How did that come about?”
Moira sat up straighter in his lap and filled him in. “Never in a million years did I expect such a reaction when he glimpsed the picture I’d taken of you. I thought he was just being kind, but people have been asking about me, wondering if I’d be available to shoot photos of their weddings or of their babies. Can you imagine?” she asked, unable to keep the excitement from her voice. “I have actual jobs lined up for my return. Isn’t that incredible? In fact, I did a photo shoot of a baby before leaving, and the mum and dad were absolutely gaga over the photos, or so they said. They ordered a lot, so it must have been true.”
Luke seemed to go very still as she talked. Though he said all the right words, he didn’t seem to share her excitement. She frowned.
“I thought you’d be happier,” she admitted. “I’ve finally found my niche, just as you have.”
“But it means you’ll be going back to Dublin,” he said, sounding vaguely disgruntled by that.
“It’s where I live,” she said. “I’ll be going back. Did you think I came all this way intending to take up residency? I would never be so presumptuous, Luke. This is a surprise visit—nothing more.”
“Of course it is,” he said. “And it’s a wonderful surprise. Don’t mind me. I don’t know why I reacted like that.”
Ironically, Moira thought she knew. And for the first time since Luke had set eyes on her earlier in the evening, she felt a real glimmer of hope that this visit and what it might suggest about their future mattered to him as much as it did to her.
Though it had been well after midnight when Luke had finally managed to tear himself away from Moira after the party, he was back by seven in the morning to share breakfast with her. But when he arrived at the cottage, it was only his grandmother he found awake and stirring. She was making oatmeal and checking on the cranberry-orange scones she had in the oven. He leaned down to kiss her cheek.
“Shouldn’t you be sleeping in this morning?” he asked, studying her worriedly for signs of exhaustion.
“Have you ever known me to sleep past six?” she asked.
He looked around and listened for any hint that others were out of bed. There was nothing. “I thought Dillon and Moira would be up by now with the time difference and all.”
“Oh, believe me, they were up before dawn. I found a pot of tea brewed when I got up and a note that said they’d gone for a walk on the beach.”
“Then they’re not here?” he asked, not even trying to hide his disappointment.
She smiled at his reaction. “Not to worry. They’ll be back any minute,” she assured him. “Or you could go out to meet them.”
“No, I’ll wait here and help you get breakfast on the table.” He went to work setting