Before heading to his room to write to River, he and Nan shared a whiskey before the fire.
“Nan, can I ask you something? You don’t have to answer.”
“Of course, Pat.” Sipping her Jameson, Nan waited while he got his thoughts in order.
“How is River?” He quickly added, “If it’s against the rules to talk to me about her, I’ll understand.”
Nan stared at the fire’s flames for a few minutes before answering. Taking a sip of her whiskey, she admitted, “She’s afraid for her family because of that Delton man,” Nan grimaced, shaking her head in disbelief. “She works all day, seven days a week, which I am very upset about. She is beside herself excited about becoming an aunt. Raven is restless. River thinks she’ll go early. She tried to tattle on Rowan. She wanted me to ask her sister about the man she was secretly in love with. I refused. I know better. She asks about you every time we speak.”
Patrick set his glass of whiskey down with a shaky hand. Christ. She asked after him. Was that good? Bad? Patrick pinched the bridge of his nose, willing his eyes not to leak. There were moments when he thought to himself,you’ve got this, Pat, and then moments like this. Damn.
“Patrick,” Nan gently patted his hand. “She still loves you. I don’t know if she’ll take you back, though.”
Patrick breathed through the strong emotion. He was finally able to say, “If she loves me even a tenth of how much I love her, I have hope.”
“Hope is good.” Nan twisted her glass of whiskey round and round on the side table. Lost in thought.
“Is something on your mind, Nan?”
Her startled look was proof enough that something was weighing heavily on her shoulders beside him and River.
Tapping the rim of her glass with a blunt fingernail, she obviously debated telling Patrick anything. “If I asked you not to tell the girls what I’m about to tell you, would you promise not to?”
Patrick thought about her request. Recent events with Delton made him cautious about keeping secrets. “I would keep whatever you tell me in confidence if your news had nothing to do with your health or safety.”
Nan sighed, “Okay then. Okay.” She took another sip of whiskey. Twirled her glass several more times and fidgeted with the collar of her robe before she spoke again. “Mr. Dunn, Devlen that is, he... he asked me to marry him, and I said yes,” she finished her confession in a rush. Then, promptly burst into tears.
Oh no, Pat thought. Now what? Oh, shit. He needed to channel his dad and Gran’s comforting skills. Covering her small hand in his much larger one, he asked, “Nan, isn’t this good news? Happy news?” He grabbed the tissue box, plucking several out and handing them to her.
“I’m being ridiculous, Pat. I know I’m being ridiculous,” she sniffled. “I’m worried about what the girls will think. I’m worried about leaving the house I raised my son in and then his daughters. I’m worried about what my Sean would think if he knew I... that I fell in love with another man.”
Patrick tried to comfort Nan. A pat here, a there there... there. She was beside herself. Why did she have to open up tohim, of all people? Then he realized what a dick he sounded like. Fine. She told him, which meant she trusted him, which meant he was going to help.
“Bébhinn Byrne! That’s enough. Pull yourself together.” That got her attention. “Okay, first, and most importantly, did Sean love you?”
She was so shocked at his question that she answered immediately. “Of course, he fecking loved me! Desperately! As I loved him.” At least her crying had stopped.
“And do you think he’s in heaven, thanking the Lord every day that you’re lonely?”
She puffed up then. “Now listen here, young man, I will not have you speaking ill of my Sean.”
“You didn’t answer the question.”
“Of course, he wouldn’t want me lonely, you little shite. What exactly is your point?” She huffed.
“You just made it, Nan. Sean, the man you loved all those years and who loved you the same, would probably rather die all over again than see his precious Bébhinn unhappy for even a moment. Is that true or not?”
She deflated with that. “It’s true. Oh. God, it’s true enough.” Dabbing again at her eyes, she admitted, “I am happy, Patrick, don’t mistake me. I love my home, and my granddaughters are everything to me.”
“But you’d like something or someone that’s only yours?”
“Yes. Exactly. Someone I can fuss over and someone who wants to fuss over me.”
“So then, let’s put your other worries to rest. And you should be ashamed, honestly, for even thinking it. You know very well that the girls will be beside themselves with joy. Don’t you tell me for one damn second that they won’t be.”
“Patrick O’Faolain, you will watch your language, but fine, I’ll give you that. The girls are nothing but love.”
“I believe your final worry is this house.” At her nod, he continued. “What do you think of me buying the house and putting it in your granddaughters’ names?”
