“And you’ve coped all this time on your own?” Aisling said.
“Yup,” he nodded. “Just him and me. Any help we need, I pay for. I reckon it’s the best way. I owe nobody a thing.”
“What about your family?” she said. “Have you parents
, or brothers and sisters?”
“I’m the only one. My folks are in New York City. I have another place near them, and up until last year Thomas went to school there.”
“And now?”
“And now,” he said, turning back towards her, “Thomas
and me are here on our own. And that’s exactly how I like it.” He came back to the table now, looking a little more relaxed. He sat down in the chair, close by Aisling. “This place brought me peace and escape from the rat-race in New York. First I used it for weekends and holidays, and then eventually I moved out here full-time. I’ve found a good school for Thomas, and he’s real happy here.”
“What about you?”
He raised his eyebrows and smiled. “You mean am I happy? I don’t know. I don’t know if such a thing as happy exists. But, I’ve definitely settled for an easier, less stressful existence.” Then suddenly, he reached out and caught her hand. “If happy does exist . . . I’ve a feeling I might find it with someone like you.”
Aisling looked up at him, and their eyes held for a long time.
He lifted her hand and kissed her fingers. “I know it’s a ridiculously short time . . . but I feel something with you, that I’ve never felt with anyone else before. What do you say to that, Aisling Gayle?”
But Aisling Gayle said nothing. Instead, she threw her arms around him, and buried her face in his beard and neck, and held on tightly.
As they sat together, watching the sun come up over Lake Savannah, Jameson Carroll asked the question he had been dreading since he met her. “How long do we have, before you go back home?”
Aisling looked up at him. “I don’t want to think about it,” she said.
“How long?” he repeated, almost whispering.
“Nearly three more weeks,” she said.
“Do you think,” he said, “that three weeks is long enough?”
“Long enough for what?”
“To get to know each other real well . . . to see if this might develop. Long enough to see if we might even have some kind of a future together . . .”
There was a long, long pause. “Oh, Jameson,” she whispered, “I’m scared . . . I’m so, so scared. Scared of lots of things. Scared that this is just a holiday romance. And even more scared that when you get to know me properly, you’ll be disappointed.”
“Disappointed?” Amusement crept into his eyes. “In what way? What dark, forbidden secrets have you still to tell me?”
Aisling lowered her head. “You might find me more exciting if I had more secrets. The fact is I’m just dead ordinary . . . nothing like a model.” Her shoulders drooped now. “There’s nothing special about me, I’m just a plain, ordinary old-fashioned teacher from a plain ordinary town in Ireland. I’m not the kind of woman you’ve been used to.”
He gripped both her hands. “You’ve got me figured out all wrong . . . but go on, I want to hear everything that’s on your mind.”
“It’s not just about me,” she said, feeling really embarrassed at what she felt compelled to say next. “I’m not used to all this luxury.” Her arm swept around the huge kitchen. “All these lovely things . . . and all the money it takes to buy them. My life is so much more simple. There’s nothing big and exciting about my life . . . or about me.” Her voice wavered a little. “With me, what you see in front of you now – is all there is.”
“Oh, Aisling, Aisling,” he pulled her closer, “you do not know what a rare thing you are. You are a breath of fresh air in my life.” And then he kissed her again – her hair, her eyes, her lips – longer and harder than ever before.
His tongue explored her mouth, his hands moved over her shoulders and down her back. And then gently . . . very gently, she felt them brush against her breasts.
A feeling of both shock and pleasure shot through her. Automatically, she moved her body against his, feeling his strength and warmth engulfing her. At the same time feeling the newness of him and yet – that familiarity again. A feeling of knowing the very essence of him. As though they had known each other a long time ago.
“Oh, Aisling,” he breathed into her hair and neck, “I want you so, so much – I want to be with you all the time. To lie beside you, to talk to you, to touch you . . . and I really, really want to make love to you.” His sensitive, artistic fingers moved up to trace her face. Every part of it. Her forehead, her closed eyelids, her nose, her cheeks and then her mouth. “I want to do all those things . . . while you are here beside me. I don’t want to regret it long after you’ve left me and gone far away back to Ireland.”
Aisling eased herself out of his embrace, and moved back to look at him. “I want to do all those things, too,” she said, her eyes brimming with tears, “but I’m so frightened . . .” A large, heavy tear dropped. “I’m afraid of breaking my marriage vows . . . of my parents finding out . . . and everything I’ve been brought up to believe is wrong in the Catholic Church. But . . .” she paused, gulping back more tears, “right now, I want to be with you more than anything else.”
Jameson took a deep breath. “Don’t worry about a thing,” he told her in a quiet voice, drawing her into his arms again. “Look, it’s five-thirty in the morning – we’ve had a long day. We’ll talk some more later.”
“I don’t think I’ll be able to sleep . . . I’m wide awake,” she whispered.
He gave a slow, lazy kind of smile. “Me too . . . but it’ll all keep.” He stood up now, and reached out a hand. “C’mon, young lady – time to go back before the others are up and moving across at Harpers’.”
“They won’t be up for hours yet,” Aisling protested.
“I’m actually being selfish,” he confessed. “If your folks don’t notice what’s happening here, then they won’t complain. But,” he said, kissing the tip of her nose, “if they discover that you’ve been missing from the house, there could be more fireworks than we saw last night!”
Aisling held her hands up in defeat. “OK, OK – I’ve got the message, Mr Carroll. I’m going.” Then, an impish smile spread on her face. “I know you older folk need your sleep.”
Jameson raised his eyebrows. “Hell . . . does it bother you? I never really thought of the age difference.”
“Not a bit,” she said laughing. “If you want to get out your wheelchair, I’ll push you round the lake.”
Hushing their laughter as they left the house for fear of waking Thomas, they walked hand in hand along the lakeside path until they reached the entrance to Jean’s garden.
“I wish I had brought my camera,” Aisling said, as they stood at the edge of the water. “I don’t think I’ve ever really seen a dawn break before.” She kicked at a little stone. “Living with Oliver . . . I never took the time to notice things like this.”
“I never took the time myself,” Jameson said, squeezing
her hand. “Not until I came out here at the beginning, when I couldn’t sleep and I took the time to watch what was happening around me.” He drew her towards him. “From now on, I’m not going to miss any of the beauty around me . . . I’m determined not to take my eyes off you.”
Aisling blushed and laughed. “I’m beginning to worry about your eyesight, Mr Carroll. I don’t know whether it’s a sign of lack of sleep . . . or maybe it’s another sign of getting older?”
“Neither,” he said in a whisper. “It’s quite simply the truth.” Then, he bent his head and placed his lips hard on hers, and they clung together as the new day dawned.
Chapter 20
There was not a sound as Aisling tiptoed through the house, then made her way upstairs carrying her sandals. She quickly undressed and washed, then slid between the cool sheets. Then, she folded her arms behind her head, closed her eyes – and replayed every single moment of the time she had spent with Jameson Carroll.
From the dance at the wedding, to their first kiss when they were sitting on the garden bench. Then, she went over the hours they had spent in his beautiful white house tonight – as though she were sitting watching it on a film. She reached out for the spare pillow and hugged it tightly to herself, until her mind eventually relaxed, and sleep finally came.
Several hours later, a panicky Jean awoke to discover that the cemetery guide was due to arrive within the next half an hour. She ran downstairs and her first task was to light the gas on the cooker and put the kettle on, knowing that Maggie couldn’t function without her morning cup of tea. Then, she ran back upstairs to waken everyone else, vaguely wondering why on earth they had agreed to go on this outing the morning after the wedding. Especially after such a late night, and maybe one too many drinks.
“What d’you think, Declan?” Maggie asked, as she paced up and down the kitchen floor. Waiting for people to arrive always made her anxious, and she felt doubly so having got the vague feeling that Declan and the others were only going on this tour to humour her.
“What do I think about what?” Declan said patiently.
“Should we waken Aisling? I’m bothered that she might think we’re leaving her on her own too much. And what about Mass? She has no transport to get to Mass if we go without her.”
“Look, Maggie,” Declan said in a distinctly fed-up tone, for he had been having this conversation all through their hurried breakfast. “You can’t expect a young girl like her to be enamoured of the same things as us. As Jean says, by the time she gets up she’ll be just as happy swimming and sunbathing.”
“And what about Mass?” Maggie demanded.
“What about it?” Declan countered. “Weren’t we all there yesterday for the wedding? Surely, for once, that’ll hold us for the week?”
“Well,” Maggie said briskly, turning to rinse her cup under the tap, “it might hold you, Declan Kearney, but I fully intend to find a church somewhere this holy day when we’re out. I’ve never missed a Sunday Mass unless I’d just given birth or wasn’t fit to get out of the bed. And just because we’re in America, I’m not going to start now!”
“Fine, fine,” Declan said in a defeated tone, “we’ll find a church when we’re out, but leave Aisling in bed for now.”
“Don’t be worrying about Aisling,” Jean said, coming i
nto the kitchen. She’d already been through the conversatio
n twice with her sister, and was tiptoeing around her sensitivities regarding the church. “If Aisling wants to go anywhere, there are plenty of people who will take her. Michael and Ali have offered to take her out.”
Maggie’s mouth tightened. “Oh, she won’t want to be bothering them – they’ll probably have their own plans.” And
Mass,
Maggie thought, most certainly won’t be high up on their list of priorities.
“Thomas’s father said if we need any drivers he’d be happy to help out,” Jean said now. “If you like, you could leave a note for Aisling with his phone number, and say that he’ll drive her anywhere she would like to go.”
“Oh, isn’t it good of the poor man!” Maggie said, her face crumpling in something between gratitude and sympathy. “He’s probably glad to have someone like Aisling who can chat to the young lad, and give him a bit of a break. I suppose it’s with her being a teacher, and used to all kinds of children.” She turned to her husband. “She’s the very same with a young spastic lad that comes into the shop. She just treats them the very same as if they were normal. Isn’t that that right, Declan?”
“It is indeed,” Declan confirmed dutifully.
Maggie shook her head, smiling. “She’s all heart, our Aisling. There’s times I think she needs to harden herself up a bit.”
Bruce caught Jean’s eye and shrugged, unable to make head or tail of what Maggie was going on about.
Then, the crunching of gravel alerted everyone to the arrival of their tour guide and the companions he had mustered up for the trip. There was a quick rush around, a grabbing of cameras and handbags, and cardigans in case it got cold, and then they all started to move out of the house, Maggie more relaxed now she had left a note to let Aisling know about the offer of lifts should she be up in time for Holy Mass.
* * *
When Aisling woke around midday, there wasn’t a sound in the house apart from the wooden ceiling fan whirring downstairs. She lay for a few seconds, working out where she was, and what time of the day it might be. Then, her mind was flooded with the scenes from the previous night. Pictures of herself dancing with Jameson Carroll, talking to him, and then lying in his arms in the house across the lake. Again, she found herself leaning across the bed to hug the spare pillow tightly to her.
She pulled on her dressing-gown and padded barefoot downstairs to see if there was anyone around. Her mother’s note was on the kitchen table, and Aisling smiled as she read it. She went to the fridge and poured herself a glass of orange juice, wondering what Jameson was doing. Whether he was still sleeping or up and about.
Then, unable to face breakfast, she showered and shampooed her hair. Later, wrapped in a dressing-gown and her wet hair in a towel, she went outside to check the temperature on the gauge on the garage wall. Just as it had for the previous week, the figures showed signs of another hot day.
Aisling stood for a while, looking at the summery dresses hanging in the wardrobe, and then decided upon a deep blue sleeveless dress scattered with brilliant red poppies. It had a cross-over neckline, and a full skirt with two casual pockets in the front. It was a favourite outfit she had bought last year, and worn only a couple of times due to the wet Irish summers. She was surprised how well it looked on her now that she had a bit of a tan, from the days spent down at the lake.