The little Fiat headed down a steep hill, then up a rise. Nan glanced out the window, then sucked in a sharp breath. “Oh, my God.” She looked over at Riley. “It’s stunning.”
He nodded. “I thought it would be good tonight. There were just enough clouds on the horizon to make it grand.” He pulled the car off the edge of the road. “Let’s go get a better look.”
They followed a footpath to the top of the rise. Below them, the Atlantic crashed against the rugged shore and far out on the horizon, the setting sun had lit the sky ablaze with brilliant pinks and oranges. Soft streaks of color shot into the deep blue sky, nearly touching the first stars that twinkled above them.
“It’s not often like this,” he said. “But when it is, it’s always spectacular.”
Nan wrapped her arms around his waist and hugged him. Furrowing his hand through her hair, he kissed the top of her head. She felt so incredibly alive standing here with him, all of her senses overwhelmed by him. She was still Nan Galvin, but a better version of herself, a woman comfortable with pleasure. Was this what her mother had experienced?
“What’s the name of this place?” she asked.
“Cod’s Head,” he said. “That’s Ballydonegan Bay. And out there is Dursey Island.” He pointed straight out to sea, to a spot near the sun. “And over there is America. Where you came from.”
Home seemed so far away; not just geographically, but emotionally, Nan thought to herself. Since her father had died, she’d felt so alone in her quiet, empty house. Maybe it wasn’t a surprise that Ireland felt comfortable. It was part of her DNA and half of her family history.
“I need to do something while I’m here,” Nan said. “And I may need some help.”
“Name it,” he said.
“Not too long ago, after my father died, I was going through some things in the attic. I found a box of my mother’s things and inside, there was a packet of letters from Ireland. For years, from the time she left Ireland until she died, she carried on a correspondence with someone named Carey.”
“Is that his Christian name?”
Nan blinked, surprised by his question. “Then it would be a man? I thought maybe Carey was a woman?”
“Could be either,” Riley said.
“She must have talked about me in the letters because this Carey always thanked her for the news. And my mother sent pictures, too. That’s why I thought she was a woman. Maybe a good friend she met on her trip? She could even be a distant relative. But she lives in Ballykirk, or at least she did twenty-seven years ago.” Nan looked up at Riley. “I want to find her. I want to know what my mother was like when she was my age.”
“Is that important?”
“There are so many conversations that we never had a chance to have,” Nan said. “And I know so little about her. My father didn’t like to talk about her, so I didn’t bring the subject up. And her parents died when I was a teenager and I never really had the courage to ask them before that. I don’t know why, but I have to know everything I can. And after reading the letters, Ireland was the best place to start.”
“Do you have an old address?”
“There was only just the name of the town. I assumed that the town was small and the postmaster probably knew everyone.”
“Tomorrow, after breakfast, we’ll go ask at the post. That’s a fine place to start.”
“You don’t think it’s impossible, then?”
“Ireland is different from the States,” Riley said. “People usually stay closer to home.”
“I have ten days to find her,” Nan said. And ten days to find herself. Who would she be when she got on the plane to go home? And how would her life change after that? A tiny sliver of fear shot through her, but she brushed it aside.
Adventure sometimes came with risks, but for the first time in her life, she wanted to take those risks.
AFTER WATCHING the sunset, they’d taken a long drive along the coast of the Kenmare, then drove along the river valley to Glengarriff, where they stopped for dinner. For Riley, it had been the perfect first date, full of conversation and laughter.
He hadn’t wanted it to end but he knew as soon as he took her home it would probably be over. He wasn’t sure she’d ask him to stay. They barely knew each other. And though she enjoyed kissing him and touching him, that might be where it all stopped. In an attempt to prolong the night, he decided to take her back to the Hound.
The pub was busy for a Monday night. The boys from the local rugby team had decided to stop by for a pint after their match and had brought their opponents with them. A couple of the lads had invited Nan to play darts with them and she’d happily agreed.
Riley watched her from across the pub, ready to rescue her if any of the boys got bold with her. She seemed to be having fun, but every now and then she’d glance his way and smile, as if they shared a secret.
“She’s a pretty young thing,” Danny said, leaning over the bar. “Where’d you find her?”
“She’s staying in the cottage,” he said.
“I thought you said some old lady had let the place.”
“I was wrong.”
“Well, now, there’s a lucky mistake. Just watch yourself, boyo. It’s wouldn’t do to fall in love with her. Americans always go home.”
“I know,” Riley said, nodding. He took a long sip of his ale then noticed the group around the dartboards getting a bit rowdier than before. “I think it’s time to take her home. Before they all start drooling on her.”
As he wove his way through the patrons, Riley couldn’t help but wonder just what he was doing. Danny was right. Nan would be leaving in ten days. Falling in love with her would be an exercise in futility. But holding back his affections wouldn’t be right, either. He wanted to surrender to this crazy infatuation and see where it led. And if it led to sadness in the end, then he could handle it.
When Riley reached the group, he slipped his arm around Nan’s shoulder and whispered in her ear. “Come on. Let’s get out of here.”
“Up the yard, Quinn!” the boys shouted. “We’re in the middle of a tournament here. You can’t steal our star player away now.”
“Get back, you shower of savages,” Riley teased, pushing them aside. “She’s had enough of you warped eedjits.”
“Not without a fight, we won’t,” Donal Duffy said, stepping forward and raising his fists.
“I’m not going to fight you,” Riley said. He turned to see a fearful expression on Nan’s face. “He’s just joking.”
Donal puffed out his chest. “No fists. We’ll sing her a song and you sing her a song. She chooses the winner. And if she chooses us, she stays until the end of our little tournament.”
The rest of the boys got behind the scheme, lining themselves up and clearing their throats. “You really think you can beat me?” Riley said.
“The way I hear it, you’re not all that good,” Donal said.
“All right. You’re asking for a pint of humiliation, Donal Duffy. But I accept your challenge.”
Donal stood in front of his mates and began the verse of “Wild Rover,” a well-known pub song. As soon as he sang the first note, Riley knew he had him beat. What woman wanted to hear a drinking song?
“‘I’ve been a wild rover for many the year,’” Donal sang in a decent baritone voice, “‘and I spent all me money on whiskey and beer, and now I’m returning with gold in great store, and I never will play the wild rover no more.’”
The team joined him in the chorus, belting out the words with drunken glee, stomping to accent some of the words. “‘And it’s no, nay, never! No, nay, never, no more, will I play the wild rover. No, nay, never, no more!’”
The song went on for three more verses before it ended in a raucous finish that included a bit of dancing and some out-of-tune harmonies. When it was over, Nan clapped along with the crowd and congratulated the singers on a job well done. Then she leaned close to Riley and whispered in his ear. “Please tell me you have something better. I’m tired and I want to go home.”
“All right,” Riley said, holding out his hands to quiet the crowd. “This is an old song but one that’s perfect for the moment.”
“Oh, Jaysus, please tell me he’s not going to sing ‘I Love You, I Do,’” Donal muttered.
Riley smiled smugly. Everyone in Cork knew Riley had written the pop hit, a silly little ballad that had paid a tidy
