“Ha,” Eamonn said, touching the clock on the mantel with one finger. “No. This is the same, though—Kathleen must’ve let them have it.”
The clock was small, set in a curved piece of wood that hugged the top of the mantel. If Eamonn hadn’t mentioned it, I would’ve thought it was part of the fireplace itself. Maybe that was why it had ended up staying for all those years. Even without having a watch or a phone, I knew it couldn’t be displaying the right time—it said it was four forty-five, when it should be closer to nine or ten in the morning. Eamonn must’ve also noticed it, because he gently tilted the clock forward, fiddling with something on the back.
Finally he replaced it to its original position, which was clear from the outline of dust around it. The house was very neat, with everything seeming to be in its place, but there was something just a bit shabby about it, from the dust to the way parts of the curtains let in more light than others because they’d gotten faded from where the sun hit them.
“There was a picture of Jesus,” Eamonn said, pointing up at the wall, “that hung right there. It was too small to fill the space and always a little crooked, and way above eye level because I think Mam stood on a chair to put it up. Once Niall and I were wrestling so hard we banged into the wall and knocked our lord and savior right off of it, and you’ve never heard a woman scream like that. She said it was a miracle nota bit of the glass broke, or there’d have been a place in hell for us.”
He must’ve seen my eyebrows go up, because he gave me a cute, cheeky roll of his eyes. “Hell was always taking reservations in this house,” he said. “But she never meant it. We’d be laughing two minutes later.”
We turned down a small hallway with four narrow wooden doors, all ajar. Eamonn pointed at each one in turn.
“My mam’s room, the bathroom, the girls’ room, and the boys’ room. Kathleen was beside herself when the twins were born and she heard they’d be put in with them, she was already fifteen years old. Niall said he didn’t know what she was making a fuss about, it wasn’t like we couldn’t all hear the babies carrying on through the whole house.”
It wasn’t a very big house. It seemed like this was all of it—the entryway, the living room, the kitchen, and then this hallway with the four doors off it. I poked my head in the bathroom, the walls and floor all done in the same square, yellowed tile. It looked clean and perfectly nice, but only surprised me because of Frances’ specific note about having redecorated the bathroom. My first thought was that all the fixtures still seemed a little dated, not like they’d been replaced in the last few years. Then I looked up at the walls.
“Oh wow,” I said.
Eamonn leaned in behind me to peek, crowding me a bit until I could feel his body heat against my back.
“Jaysus,” he said, giving a low, impressed whistle. “That’s a lot of Garth Brooks.”
The walls were covered in photographs of the singer,memorabilia, a framed ticket stub. It was quite a comprehensive collection—I even saw a Chris Gaines album cover.
“I take it none ofthisis original?” I asked.
“There was never this much personality in here, I’ll tell ya that much. And it was one bathroom between the lot of us, so.”
“With that sink?” I asked in disbelief, gesturing toward the pedestal sink that I’d almost hit as I opened the door. Now there was a single, cheery Christmas-themed soap dispenser on one corner, like they’d put it out as part of their holiday decoration and then had decided to just go with it. But I could only imagine with six children—with foursisters—what this bathroom might’ve looked like.
“It was a circus,” he said. “Every day. Lots of yelling and pounding on the door.”
“I can’t believe how much I took it for granted that I had my own bathroom,” I said. “I mean, technically it was the guest bathroom, but we never had people over, so it was basically mine.”
When Eamonn laughed, I could feel his breath against my ear. “See,that’swhat I mean by composure,” he said. “You never had to threaten to break a door down to take a shower and it shows.”
I had the wildest idea that Eamonn would kiss my neck, he was standing so close. But he moved away, and I felt ridiculous for even thinking it. He stood back, gesturing me through the door to the bedroom he said used to be his and Niall’s.
It appeared to be being used as an office-slash-storage-space now, with a desk on one wall with an ancient-looking desktop computer on top of it and a few bins stacked up in onecorner. There was a radiator under the window and a single glass dome lamp hung from the ceiling.
“That’s original, though,” I said, pointing up at it.
“Oh, absolutely.” He still hadn’t come all the way into the room, was instead hanging out in the doorway. He gestured toward the far corner of the ceiling, away from the window. “There was a water stain over here that they must’ve painted over. Niall wanted the top bunk until he saw he was right under the stained spot, and then he made me take it because he said he wasn’t about to live his life in the rain.”
“Top bunk,” I said. “That must’ve made it interesting when you were older and had girls over.”
“Believe it or not,” he said, “you’re the first girl I’ve ever had in here.”
I shot him a disbelieving look, and he gave me a wicked smile. “I knew all the spots around town,” he said. “But yeah, technically. You’re the only one.”
I’d crossed over to peek out the window, which had a view of the expansive backyard and an old shed with various tools and equipment stacked near it. When I glanced back over at Eamonn, he was watching me, still leaning in the doorway, his arms braced against either side of the doorframe. God, he had nice arms.
I could walk over there, put my hands against his chest, lean up to kiss him. He’d make that sound in the back of his throat, put his hands in my hair. There’d be something to it, kissing in full daylight, the sun streaming in through the window, in his childhood bedroom where he’d never brought a girl before.
But then we heard our host’s voice from the kitchen. “Come on now,” Frances called. “While the tea is hot.”
“Well,” Eamonn said, giving me a look from the doorway. I almost felt like he knew exactly what I’d been thinking. “That’s us.”
Frances insisted we both sit at the table, clearing away her puzzle book and some other items to give us more room. “So, what do you think?”
