Saint and Scholar (18 page)

“Carla, why didn’t you at least let me meet this guy before you did this?”

She held the phone a few inches from her ear to spare her drum. “Because who I travel with isn’t any of your damned business, Ashley.”

“But you’re not just
traveling
with him, little girl! Sharon says he’s your boyfriend? And he’s, like, old?”

“He’s about to turn thirty-two. So, I guess that makes you old, too, huh?”

“You know what I mean. You need a guy closer to your age.”

Concentrating very hard on its roundness, she held a button on Grant’s jacket and counted backward from five in her head. “Are you saying I’m immature?”

“No, no, no. You’re as mature as anyone, I guess. What I’m saying is you’re just not street-smart like Sharon. You tend to let guys use you up.”

“Let me make my own mistakes.”

“Are you saying this Grant guy is a mistake?”

“No, I’m saying back
off
.”

In the background, Sharon begged for the phone.

“Come on, Carla. Dad made me and Tony promise we’d always look after you, and that’s what I’m doing.”

She scoffed. “
Daddy
did, huh? Don’t bring Daddy into this. Me being here really has nothing to do with Grant. I came because I wanted to learn about our roots–you know, the ones we weren’t exposed to as kids? Daddy didn’t have a chance to make the trip, so here I am. I’m filling out the family tree he never had the opportunity to finish.”

“Damn it.” Ashley sighed and his tone lost some of its cragginess. “I would have gone with you. I’m sure Tony would have, too. You should have said something, kid, and we would have worked it out. I don’t like it when you go off doing stuff alone, just like I didn’t like you taking that year off from school. I didn’t know what was going on until I went back to school that fall and you didn’t. I asked Mom and she told me to mind my business. She said you’d be fine. I shouldn’t have believed her.”

“I
am
fine.”

“Bullshit.”

“Whatever.”

“Hey, why don’t you let me fly over there? I’ve got a bit of time off finally, now that my residency is through. I mean, unless you want to do it by yourself. I guess…I won’t be offended if you do.”

She stood there leaning against the golf course fence feeling so overwhelmed. She actually didn’t know what she wanted. On one hand, the trip had been about discovering roots and they were Ashley’s as much as they were hers. On the other hand, there was Grant to contend with. She didn’t like the idea of having two alphaesque males with tempers bubbling under the surface within a fifty-foot radius of each other. More importantly, one might not like the other and she’d be forced to either choose sides or be at the fulcrum of the animosity forevermore. It was a hard decision to make, but her gut said she needed to extinguish one fire before stoking another.

“When can you be here?”

“Thursday,” Ashley said firmly. “I’ll fly into Dublin and rent a car. Just let me know where to meet you. Call you on this number?”

“Yes. It’s Grant’s phone.”

“I’m coming, too!” Sharon shouted in the background before Ashley could disconnect.

Chapter 12

Grant was sitting with his father in an uneasy quiet on the garden bench when Carla returned about an hour after tea.

“I’m sorry I took so long,” she said. She wore a small smile, but her eyeliner and mascara were smudged onto her cheeks and her eyes red. Blessedly, Dad said nothing, but scooted closer to the armrest on his side and patted the seat in the middle between him and Grant.

“Everything back at home okay?” Grant put an arm around her shoulders and studied her downcast expression carefully. If his father hadn’t figured out they were a couple before, he should have known then. Dad kept his mouth shut and pretended to be interested in the activity in a nearby birdhouse.

She nodded and met Grant’s gaze. She spoke very slowly with peculiar emphasis on her words. “My brother and Sharon are flying into Dublin on
Thursday
.”

“Thursday.”

“Yes.”

“Okay.” Less than two uninterrupted days and she’d be pulled away. It wasn’t enough time. Already she was balking at his forwardness and he hadn’t even set the table yet, really. Oh well. All or nothing. He leaned forward to see his father past her. “Dad, I gotta go. I’ll be back in a few days. You promise to have my room cleaned out before I get back? Remember, it’s just temporary. The university is helping me find permanent housing.”

Allen waved a hand at him dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. I’ll even wash your bedding.”

“Don’t trouble yourself.”

“Listen, before you go…” Dad got her attention by giving her arm a little pat. “Grant said you do police sketches. Can you draw other people, too? Not just criminals?”

She laughed and her face brightened. Grant was happy to see it, even if it had been because of something his father had done. “I suppose so. I have a
few
gigs actually, so I’m not as out of practice as you might think.”

“Well, can you come finish your tea and do a sketch for
me
? I’d appreciate it more than you’ll ever know. I just…I guess I want to see if I can still describe what she looked like. I worry I’ll forget.”

She squeezed his hand and offered a smile that looked damned close to a grimace. He knew it–she was going to
cry
. She just had to be one of those women who cried when
other
people were sad. What a range of emotions she hid beneath that quiet facade! A distraction seemed like a good idea. Grant pulled her up by the hand and said with as much cheer as he could muster, “I think that would be fun to watch. And I could get another cup of tea before we go. I’m feeling a bit peaked.”

About an hour later, he and Carla buckled themselves into the rental car yet again. Dad stood in the doorway, clutching his newest art possession to his chest and waving them on. “It was kind of you to do that for him,” Grant said.

“Not a big deal. If such a small thing can make someone feel better, I’m happy to do it. When I went through therapy after Daddy died, one of the things I learned about myself was if I was really feeling down, I could make myself a little more cheerful if I tried to cheer someone
else
up.”

“You know, that’s what we were arguing about before you made your call.”

She raised a brow. “The
drawing
? You didn’t want him to ask me to draw your mom?”

“No. I think that was actually good for him. What I’m more annoyed at is he’s not doing anything to pick up the pieces. You did therapy so you found some coping mechanisms. With Dad, it’s been nearly fifteen years since my mom died and he’s still carrying on as if she’s going to come back any day now and need her stuff. Her dresses are still hanging in the closet just the way she left him. Her hairbrush is exactly how she left it on the dresser. I doubt he’ll ever get married again.”

She turned in her seat to face him. “Does that
bother
you? I think my mother is posturing to remarry any day now and I hate the idea. I know it’s not fair of me to wish loneliness on her, but I can’t help the way I feel.”

He turned his head slightly to catch sight of her in his periphery. From what he could tell, she believed people only got one good chance at love. He happened to agree.

“No, I’m not bothered by his choice. I’m actually thrilled he loved my mom so much he can’t get over her. They were in love from the time they were children, so I’m not surprised he doesn’t know what to do with himself. I just think he needs to find a healthier outlet for his obsession. He’ll be much happier in a clean house with my mom’s things folded up neatly into chests and stored in the attic. He’s just making himself miserable, as if he’s punishing himself for not being the one to die first.”

She nodded and looked out her window at the passing scenery.

“So, we’ll head up to Cavan and spend the night there, yeah? There’s a church I’ve arranged for us to visit in the morning that has some records we can pore over.”

“Fine.”

She fell asleep in the car before he could even find a parking space at the restaurant he’d had in mind. The travel exhaustion had finally caught up to her. He smiled and shook his head at the sight of the sleeping beauty and just backed out and headed down the road to the inn he’d reserved rooms at. He hated to wake her, but when she didn’t respond to the sound of his car door slamming or of her own being opened, he reached across her and unbuckled her seatbelt. He stared at her for a moment as he thought and stroked her cheek with his thumb. Her eyelids fluttered open and she bolted upright as if she’d forgotten where she was.

“Dinner?” she asked, patting around with her hands, likely in search of her purse.

“No.” He held out his arm and let her use it for balance as she exited the vehicle. “I went ahead brought you to the inn so you can get some sleep. After that heavy lunch and tea, you’ll probably be okay until morning.”

She rubbed her eyes and rolled her head around on her neck with a sigh. “I’m genetically encoded to argue with you, but too tired to fight over food right now. I like the idea of a big breakfast.” She accepted the arm he offered and climbed out. “You must be pretty tired yourself, working on three hours of sleep.”

“Yes, well, I’ve built up quite a sleep deficit the past week, actually.” He lifted the trunk lid and pulled out their smaller bags. “I’ll catch up sooner or later.”
Later
, he thought. He wanted to spend every minute he could with her so that even if she left, she’d want to return for good. She needed to see he was good for her, and that he had a plan for their happiness, but he needed time to prove it.

He carried her bag to her room, where she sat on the edge of her bed and watched in silence as he checked the quality of the locks on her door and windows.

“Do you need anything?” he asked while she heeled off her flats.

She pulled her legs up beneath her and crossed her arms over her chest. “Grant?”

“Hmm?”

“You said you’re not especially conservative.”

He blew out a breath and hoped they weren’t creeping into a conversation about politics. She didn’t really want to go
there
. He leaned against the wall between the bedside and bathroom. “I’m not, on most things.” He forced a smile. What was she getting at?

She leaned back, propped up by her arms, and cocked her head to the side. Her hair had come loose sometime since arriving in the room and it fell over the shoulders of his jacket onto the quilt top like some ochre waterfall. He liked her in his clothes, though he’d liked her even more in none at all.

“Why do you keep booking us into separate rooms? Was that your plan for the entire trip?”

His mouth fell open, but he quickly sprang it back closed before.

“Is it that you’re religious?” she prodded. “You’re Catholic, right?”

“Not exactly.”

“What does ‘not exactly’ mean?”

He pulled his bottom lip between his teeth while he thought. “I suppose my general framework–how I treat others and my belief in a greater power–is derived from Catholicism. However, the Catholic church doesn’t seem to evolve quite as fast as its adherents, so many of my views don’t jive with the Good Book.”

“Your religion sounds a lot like mine,” she said still looking at him with that same accusatory expression. She sat upright to unbutton the jacket and shrug out of it. If she felt anything like him, she had to be burning up.

“Maybe…” He allowed his voice to trail off, as the sight of her fingers flitting at her throat to loosen the top buttons of her blouse were quite a distraction. “We can sit down sometime and pick it all apart and see where exactly we meet up.”

“I suppose that’s important if we’re really going to have a
go
at this,” she said, tossing his own words back at him. “Don’t want any surprises, right?”

He narrowed his eyes. “What do you mean ‘really going to’? We
are
, aren’t we?”

She allowed her blouse to fall down her arms and pushed it off the bed onto the floor. Up top, all that remained was the inadequate camisole he’d been cursing all day, and hair frothing around her heart-shaped face. “You’re not going to soil my virtue any more than it already has been if you share my bed.”

He just stared at her and those brazen nipples, unsure of what to do.