She held it out to him, hoping he’d forgive her for taking it from the pub. “It’s a photo of my mother,” Nan replied, holding it out to him. “I found it at the pub. I didn’t mean to take it, but I wanted to look at it more closely.”
“I’m sure it won’t be missed,” he said. “Those photos were in the pub when my folks bought it, so I can’t tell you much about them.” He stared at it. “Which one is she?”
“The one in the middle with the red hair,” she said. “At least I think that’s her.”
“Pretty,” he commented. He handed it back to Nan. “It’s easy to see where you got your fine looks.”
Nan frowned. “I don’t think I look like her at all. I think I resemble my dad. He had dark hair when he was young.”
They drove on, Nan staring at the photo and ignoring the landscape. All of the people in the photo had known her mother. And some of those people might have lived in Ballykirk. She flipped the photo over, hoping there might be an inscription on the back identifying the subjects, but it was blank.
If any of the people were from the village, someone would have to recognize them. And that might lead her to another person who might have known her mother. Nan ran her fingers over the photo. They all looked so young and happy. Her mother’s smile was so bright, her face alive with happiness.
As they continued their drive, Nan thought about her reasons for coming to Ireland. Was she chasing a ghost? The last two years of Laura Galvin’s life were spent in and out of hospitals and before that, Nan had only scant recollections of the lively and laughing woman.
All she knew was that there was an empty spot inside of her, as if part of her identity was missing. She wasn’t sure who to be or how to be. And when it came to love, she had nothing but romantic movies and books to guide her.
How many times had she wondered about love, about all the things that a mother told her daughter on the subject? No one had ever explained how it was supposed to feel. She’d never really seen it at home. Of all the questions she’d dreamed about asking her mother, that had been the most important. How would she know when she met the right man? How would it feel?
“Here we are,” Riley said. He turned onto the edge of the road. “We’ll have to walk a bit, but it will be worth it.”
Nan looked out the window, surprised by the change in the landscape and the weather. The powerful rugged beauty of the land took her breath away and she stared at the unearthly sight, made even more strange by the wispy fog that hung over it all. Everywhere she looked was a picture waiting to be snapped, a perfect postcard image of a countryside so stunning it made her heartache.
Nan tucked the photo back into her pocket as she jumped out of the truck. From where she stood, she could look out at the valley below and the winding road that cut through it. Behind her, the mountains rose higher, huge craggy slabs of stone jutting into the gloomy sky.
“If we hike up a ways, there’s a better view,” Riley said. He took her hand and laced his fingers through hers. A flood of warmth rushed through her at his touch. Yesterday, she’d been all alone in the world. And today, she had this man who wanted to spend time with her, a man who enjoyed kissing and touching her. A man who wanted to spend the night in her bed.
Nan leaned into his body and smiled. As she came around the truck, she noticed two sheep observing them from across the road. They jumped off the small ledge they were standing on and headed toward her.
A tiny scream slipped from her throat and she held tight to Riley’s arm as they nudged her, sticking their noses beneath her jacket.
“Get off, you tossers!” he said, pushing the sheep aside. “The tourists feed them and now they stand around waiting for something tastier than turf.”
Nan laughed as one of the sheep butted her in the backside. She ran up the road and the determined sheep trotted after her. “I love Ireland,” she called to Riley, throwing her arms out to the sky.
THEY HIKED UP to the top of the pass, stopping at the solitary house on the road, now turned into a shop that sold souvenirs and ice cream. Riley bought a cone and they shared it as they continued on up to the grotto.
The four white statues depicting Mary at the cross were set into the mountainside, a stark contrast to the gray surrounding them. Though he wasn’t a particularly religious man, after a lifetime spent in a land filled with Catholic monuments, he’d come to appreciate how much a part of him it all was.
“Are you Catholic?” he asked.
She shook her head. “My mother was before she was married. My mother’s parents were. But I was baptized Episcopalian.”
Slowly, he was learning things about her, tiny facts that really didn’t change his feelings for her, but completed the picture. “We have a thing for the Virgin Mary here in Ireland.”
“It’s beautiful,” she said.
They continued on up the pass, to its highest point. Though he drove through the pass almost weekly, he’d never stopped to really look at it through a stranger’s eyes. “They named this spot one of the top ten most romantic places in Ireland,” he said.
“Is that why you brought me here?” Nan asked.
“I’d forgotten about it until now,” he said. “When we read the news article at the pub we were all laughing. How could they have called this pile of rocks romantic? But I see it now. I guess it all has to do with the person you’re with.”
When they got to the top of the rise, they stood alone at the overlook. “We’ve one foot in County Cork and one foot in County Kerry,” he said. Riley pointed toward the view. “There is the River Kenmare and Glenmore Lake. And just through those mountains, you can see Bantry Bay, not far from Ballykirk.”
“It is romantic,” she said, wrapping her arms around his waist. “But it would be more romantic if you kissed me.”
“Are you giving me orders now, woman?” he teased. “I can’t just be kissing you whenever the mood strikes.”
“Well, you don’t have to do anything. I’ll do all the work.”
“Make it good,” Riley warned. He closed his eyes and puckered his mouth. Nan started laughing and he looked at her, glad to see that he could tease her out of a quiet mood.
“Stop,” she said, grabbing his chin. “Make your mouth go the right way.”
“Like this?” He pulled another face and she patted his lips with her fingers. “How about this?”
“No. Just make your mouth soft. Now, part your lips just a little bit.” She smiled. “There. That’s better.”
“Are you ready now? Or maybe you’d like me to stand on my head?”
“I’m ready.” As she moved closer, they both kept their eyes open and at the last moment, a fit of giggles overtook her. “This is not going to work. I can’t kiss you if you’re acting silly.”
He softly touched his lips to hers. “Yes, you can. You can’t resist me.”
“I do like you,” Nan said. “You’re a very likeable guy.”
“A sound bloke,” he said.
“A straight-up dude,” she said, putting on a slacker voice.
He smoothed his hand through her hair. “So we’re all right? You seemed…preoccupied earlier in the car.”
“I was. But it wasn’t about you.”
“You were thinking about your ma.” He gave her a fierce hug. “Don’t be sad about that. You’ll find her here. At least what she left behind. You have the letters and now the photo. Who knows what other clues we’ll find?”
She pulled the photo from her pocket. “Do you recognize anyone in the picture?”
“How would I-” He examined the photo more intently. “It was taken in front of the pub, I can tell you that. See there? That’s what the shutters used to look like before my da made new ones.” His brow furrowed. “I don’t know. No one looks even vaguely familiar. But this was taken when? When I was a year old? My da might know. Or Jimmy McPhee, his old partner. He still lives in Ballykirk. He owned the pub when this photo was taken, before my da came in as a partner. He’s about eighty now, but his mind is still sharp.”
“Would you ask him?”
“We’ll both go,” he said. “We can stop by on our way back to the cottage.”
“I’m almost afraid to know for sure,” Nan said. “If he tells me that red-haired woman is Molly Malone from Dublin, I’ll probably start crying and I’ll make a fool out of myself.”
