Mulligan Stew (11 page)

Mum and Maggie exchanged worried glances and Riley shook his head. The lad shouldn't even have known what the word suicide meant.

"He didn't?" Maggie asked, turning to Bridget.

"Lord, no." Bridget dried her eyes and sniffled. "Ned Lynn, one of Grandpa's oldest friends, had a penchant for corn liquor. In fact," she looked around the table and lowered her voice, "he even had his own still in the woods out behind his house."

"Corn liquor?" Maggie asked, looking at Riley. "Is that like whiskey?"

Riley lifted a shoulder and rolled his eyes. He glanced at Mum, who listened with rapt attention.
Amazing.
The Fiona Mulligan he'd known and adored all his life was listening to a tale of illegal liquor and guns.

"What happened?" Mum urged, leaning toward Bridget.

"They drank too much while they were out coon-hunting." Bridget sighed dramatically. "Poor Grandpa fell and his gun went off."

"Shot him in the head," Jacob added, still eating.

Riley narrowed his eyes. "Is this what they call breakfast conversation back in Tennessee?"

"Oh... I'm sorry." Bridget looked around the table, her face flushed and her eyes wide. "I wasn't thinking."

Maggie cleared her throat and said, "Don't worry about it, Bridget."

"And isn't it so very Irish of her to speak of family, even after they're gone?" Mum asked.

Riley recognized the warning in Mum's voice. He was expected to grant their "guest" dispensation for ill manners, and—apparently—insanity.

Bridget's expression grew solemn. "Jacob was just a baby then. I wish he'd been able to know his great-grandpa."

"We had Granny." Jacob seemed completely unconcerned about the topic of discussion and spooned another glob of jam onto yet another biscuit. "She was cool. Nobody could out-cuss my great-granny."

Mum gasped, her eyes widening even more. Riley knew from the movement of her lips that she was praying. Her well-worn rosary beads would be in her apron pocket, as always.

Maybe now they would all see Bridget for the conniving
cailleach
she really was. With a smug feeling, he took a sip of tea, watching the stunned expression on Maggie's face as Mum crossed herself.

Mum sighed and reached over to pat Jacob's hand. "There, now, Jacob," she said, "he doesn't do it often, but just wait until your Uncle Riley staggers back from Gilhooley's some Saturday night singin' one of his bawdy songs."

Riley choked on his tea as his sister—the traitor—burst into laughter. He made the mistake of looking across the table at Bridget, whose eyes twinkled mischievously. Knowingly.

She'd manipulated things in her favor again. Just when she should have fallen from grace with his mum and sister, she'd pulled forth another victory. She was a sly one.

Her green eyes darkened to a smoky shade as he continued to stare. Pity she was beautiful. It made her all the more powerful.

He looked around the table. Jaysus, and she could cook, too. His gaze settled on her again, noticing the pink flush that had crept into her cheeks, setting her eyes ablaze.

The woman was dangerous.
Cailleach
.

Chapter 5

Bridget noticed the longing in her son's eyes as Riley excused himself and returned to his chores. Her heart broke right there in Fiona Mulligan's kitchen. Fresh air and physical activity were just what a growing boy needed.

And an uncle to help make up for the daddy he'd lost?

The ache in her heart was almost more than she could bear. Riley's treatment of her hurt enough, but his rejection of his own nephew awakened every protective maternal instinct Bridget possessed. How dare he deny his own flesh and blood his rightful place in the family?

How dare he break a little boy's heart...?

"Maggie is goin' into Ballybronagh to buy some cherries for this misery of mine," Fiona said on a sigh.

Bridget blinked, forcing her attention away from the infuriating Riley and back to her mother-in-law. "I remember how much that nasty old gout pained Grandpa, but the cherries should help." She glanced over at Maggie, who had refused Bridget's offer of assistance with the dishes. "He ate a few cherries or drank cherry juice every day, once he learned they really made a difference."

"And did they keep the gout from comin' back?" Fiona's eyes widened with blatant hope.

Bridget lifted a shoulder. "He believed they did, and I reckon he didn't seem as bothered with the gout the last few years of his life."

Fiona nodded. "Then I'll believe it, too, if it will keep this misery from comin' back."

Maggie dried her hands, then stood behind her momma and rubbed the older woman's shoulders. "There's a bit of sun comin' in the front window, Mum," she said. "Would you like to catch it?"

"Aye, that I would." Fiona lowered her swollen foot to the floor, wincing as she pushed to her feet. "And won't I be finishin' all the mendin' in me basket by the time this toe stops painin' me?"

Maggie laughed and shook her head. "You know Riley will keep your mending basket full."

Fiona paused and glanced down at Jacob. "And what about you, lad?"

"What?" Jacob looked up at his new granny, finally distracted from pining after his uncle.

"Will you be keepin'
Mamó
's mendin' basket full, too?"

Jacob grinned, though he still seemed distracted. "Momma says I wear out socks faster than anybody."

"You sure do." Bridget ruffled her son's hair, determined to find a way to keep him busy. "Do you think your Aunt Maggie will mind if we tag along to town?"

"And wasn't I counting on just that?" Maggie said, smiling. She helped her momma into the front room and placed some pillows under the older woman's ailing foot.

Bridget and Jacob helped situate Fiona's mending close enough that she wouldn't have to move from her chair for a good long while. They refilled her tea cup as well.

"There," Bridget said. "If you're anything like Grandpa, that toe will start behaving itself again in a couple of days."

"Ah, I am lookin' forward to that." Fiona smiled and gave her grandson a squeeze that made him giggle and blush.

Bridget's heart swelled with love for her son and for the woman who'd brought them into her home and welcomed them into her family. "Thank you," she whispered.

Fiona looked up at her with a gentle smile and blue eyes filled with love and acceptance. Despite the blunder Bridget had made at breakfast telling the story of Grandpa's demise, Fiona still wanted them here. She had to ensure that didn't change, for Jacob's sake.

Relieved, Bridget placed a kiss on the woman's cheek, then led her son back through the kitchen with Maggie. "Are my jeans all right?" she asked.

Maggie glanced down at her own jeans, holding her hands out to her sides in a questioning gesture. Laughing, Bridget nodded in understanding, though she wished hers didn't have a patch on one knee, and that they didn't droop from her hips. Shopping at rummage sales and thrift stores didn't provide much of a selection. She was lucky to have clothes at all, the way things had been these last few years.

But that was past. She drew a deep breath and squeezed Jacob's hand. "Will we need jackets?" she asked, as unfamiliar with Irish weather as she was with Irish people. All she knew was that it rained a lot, which, of course, accounted for the beautiful green she'd noticed yesterday.

"Oh, just a jumper will do," Maggie said, grabbing herself one from a peg near the back door. "'Tis a bright day."

"Jumper?" Bridget looked at Jacob, who appeared just as confused as she. "A little girl's dress?"

Maggie laughed. "Sorry. A jumper is a sweater."

"Oh." Bridget left Jacob with his aunt and rushed up to their attic room, pausing at the window to gaze out at the fluffy clouds sailing across the blue sky. She could see the ocean now, glistening in the sunlight just beyond—

Her breath caught at the sight of
Caisleán Dubh's
majestic tower. Amazingly, it still looked dark and foreboding even in full daylight. Yesterday, she'd thought her reaction to the castle was mere surprise at its size. After all, she'd never seen a castle before, though she had seen Graceland and thought it every bit as grand. Until now.

Today, the sight of the castle chilled her. A shiver chased itself through her and she forced herself to look away, tugging her cardigan over her shoulders. She grabbed Jacob's "Elvis" sweatshirt and hurried back down the stairs, determined not to think about that ugly old castle.

But it wasn't ugly. Not really. In fact, it was breathtakingly beautiful, though in a mysterious way. She wondered if the stone had always been dark, or if age and weather had changed it. "Listen to yourself think, silly," she said, smiling. At least Jacob had come by his curiosity about the castle honestly.

The back door stood ajar and she heard Maggie and Jacob talking outside. Bridget stepped onto the porch and pulled the door shut behind her. She didn't want her mother-in-law to catch a chill if the wind picked up while they were gone.

"Here you go." She tossed the sweatshirt to Jacob, who pulled it on over his head, his face popping out through the hood like a turtle's. He grinned at her, displaying the gap where he'd lost a tooth last week. "You're growing up too doggone fast."

"Mum says the Blessed Virgin probably said the same thing about her Son." Maggie took one of Jacob's hands while Bridget took the other. "I'll graduate this year, but Mum claims it was only yesterday I was still in nappies."

"Nappies?" Jacob echoed.

"Diapers." Maggie grinned at her nephew. "Are you ready to escort two ladies to market, sir?"

Jacob giggled and the sound crawled into a special cranny of Bridget's soul—one reserved just for her little boy. She gave his hand a squeeze and they followed Maggie's lead toward the narrow lane that led to the main road.

She didn't even pause as they passed the car, still parked where Riley had left it yesterday. "The village is close then?" Bridget asked. She didn't mind the walk, but she was curious.

"Aye, on the far side of
Caisleán Dubh
."

Bridget froze mid-step and Jacob tugged on her hand, then stopped to stare at her. "What's wrong, Momma?" He stepped closer, his large green eyes filled with concern.

"Nothing," she said, forcing a smile. She struggled for a deep breath then looked at Maggie, who had also paused to stare at Bridget. "We'll be walking right by the castle, then?" She had to... prepare herself.

If only she knew why.

"Aye," Maggie said, taking a step toward Bridget. "The road curves 'round the spit of land where the castle sits, then back inland a bit to the village."

Bridget very slowly released the breath she'd been holding. "Okay," she said. "Let's go."

"
Caisleán Dubh
has a strange effect on some." Maggie's brow creased. "I try to ignore it mostly."

Bridget had to laugh at that. "It's kind of big to ignore."

Jacob laughed, too, then they all continued down the lane. Bridget's heart thudded louder and her breath grew shallower as the road curved toward the castle. The closer they came, the larger it loomed. Some of the boulders along its foundation were even larger than the red sports car Mr. Larabee had given Mrs. Larabee on her last birthday.

Maggie paused near the castle and Jacob tilted his head back and said, "Cool."

His aunt laughed. "'Tis huge. I always wondered why they needed such a high tower."

"To keep watch," Bridget said without thinking. Realizing what she'd said, she blinked and added, "I reckon."

Maggie gave her a questioning look, then nodded, her expression solemn now. "And isn't that just what Riley's always said, too?"

For some reason, knowing Riley had the same thought she had about
Caisleán Dubh
made a lump form in Bridget's throat. Shaking her head at her own foolishness, she couldn't prevent the surge of relief that swelled within her as Maggie started toward town again.

"Does our castle have a story?" Jacob asked as they walked away from the structure.

"It isn't
our
castle, Jacob," Bridget corrected in a gentle tone.