Decision made, he tossed the bedsheets aside, slipped a t-shirt on with his plaid pajama bottoms, and stealthily pulled his door open. The bedrooms were all on the second floor or what the Irish considered, the first floor, as apparently, the first level was the ground floor. Stepping into the hall and about to pull his door shut behind him, he heard a delicate cough at his back.
To say he almost felt his heart burst was no exaggeration. He literally almost died. Whipping around, he saw Bébhinn Byrne stepping out of her door. Her head was covered in some sort of... wrapper, and she was wearing a quilted robe cinched about her waist, covering her from chin to toes.
Bran was unable to move. He stared at her while she stared back at him.
“Oh, you couldn’t sleep either?” Moving toward the stairs, she gestured for him to follow. “Let’s not wake Raven, the poor girl. I was going to make some hot tea. I’ll make some for us both.”
Please, God and all his angels, let her not have been waiting to hear him trying to sneak into her granddaughter’s room. Helpless to do anything but follow in her wake, he wound up sitting at the kitchen table while she put water in the kettle. Studying the tabletop, anything but eye contact, thank you very much, Bran ran his fingers across the worn wood. Smooth with age and the scars that came from its family.
Bébhinn noticed his interest and told him the table had been her husband’s mother’s. “Over the years, I tried to imagine a more modern setup, padded chairs, and whatnot— and then I pictured my Sean, sitting right where you are now, and our son Daniel, banging his silver baby spoon along its surface, smiling and laughing at the racket he was making.
“As my two greatest loves are gone from this world now, I don’t reckon I’ll ever part with the damn thing.” Shrugging, she admitted, “As one ages, Bran, one becomes more attached to things that others may deem bin-worthy.”
“I don’t think loving this old table is any different than my dad framing the painted noodle necklaces my brother and I made him for Christmas years ago— that still hang on his office wall. If looking at something or touching something triggers happy memories, why not hang on to them? It’s your history.This table still takes care of your needs and will continue to do the same in the future. I imagine your granddaughters have sat here many times and that their children will one day bang their own toddler spoons against its weathered finish. This table should be cherished.” Damn, when Bran saw Raven’s Nan swipe at a tear as she turned back toward the whistling kettle, he felt his own eyes burn.
Bébhinn didn’t speak further as she prepared their tea until she sat with him at the table. “I know you love each other, Bran. That isn’t in question.” Bran nodded his head in assent. “And, well, I wish there was a male left alive that could speak for Raven, but alas, wishes can be fickle. And so...” She raised her hands up in a helpless gesture.
Bran let her gather her thoughts. She felt she needed to speak to him about his and Raven’s relationship. He could not fault her for that.
“As the Irish are fond of saying, ‘You’ll never plough a field by turning it over in your mind,’ so I’ll get to the point so we can both get to bed. The love is there, yes. I only want to ensure the commitment is as strong.”
Cupping his hands around the delicate, floral-patterned teacup, he sat straight before answering, knowing this was important to her. “I love Raven. I didn’t even know what loving someone besides my father and brother felt like. She is everything I never dreamed of because I didn’t know to dream that big. I’m not sure exactly when or how I’m going to do it, but I’d like your permission to ask Raven to be my wife.”
Bébhinn was mopping up tears with her special embroidered napkins before he was finished. He hoped they were happy tears.
“Oh, you sweet boy. Of course. Of course, you have my blessing. And I would tell you, that if my Sean and Daniel were still here, they would extend to you a hearty blessing as well.”
She stood and walked over. Bran quickly stood as well. She gave him a brief hug, looking up, she placed her palm on his cheek. “Oh, boy... you have this old woman’s blessing tenfold.”
“You’ll never regret it.”
“Enough of the heavy stuff. Pour a wee bit of your whiskey in our cups, and let’s off to bed.”
Bran smiled and grabbed the Teeling from dinner. Pouring a hearty amount in each cup, he recorked the bottle.
“May I assume you’ll manage to stay in your room the rest of the evening?”
“Yes. No problem.” Clearing his throat in embarrassment, he followed the Byrne matriarch back up the stairs.
Before shutting her bedroom door, she quietly asked, “You’ll bring her back to me when your work is complete?”
“A very easy promise to keep, and I’ll do one better. I’ll bring all three of your granddaughters.”
17
Saying goodbye to Nan was sad but not as difficult as it usually was. The older woman had gotten up before dawn to bake some muffins for the road— Bran had two before they got in the car.
When her grandma hugged her tight a final time, she whispered in Raven’s ear. “I’m so proud of you. Bran is everything I would dream for you.”
Letting her go, she wished them safe travels and made Bran promise to let her know that Raven was home safely.
Buckling up, Raven grinned over at Bran. “Apparently, I now need someone to ensure I get home safe.”
“Your grandma is old school, babe. I’m sure she realized years ago how capable you are of holding the fort, so to speak, but if there happens to be a big, strong man nearby, willing to take care of her little, tiny, baby girl... well, let him shoulder the responsibility.”
“I foresee you and Nan ganging up on me in the future.”
“You’ll at least see reason about me tucking you into bed?”
