I shrugged out of his jacket and handed it to him, and he used the inside edge of one of the sleeves to start rubbing at the nozzle to clean it. I didn’t know if he’d meant me towearhis sweater, or just hold it, but I was cold and it was tempting, so in the end I pulled it on over my head. It was still warm from his body and smelled like him—like the inside of his car, like his throat when I’d had my face pressed up against it, with a sharp tang of pine underneath, like maybe that was the scent of his soap. When I reached up to free my hair from under thecollar of the sweater, I saw that he’d stopped rubbing at the nozzle to watch me.
Everyone was looking at me, actually, like they were waiting for my review of the sweater. Frances was beaming like she’d just watched Eamonn get down on one knee and propose. “It’s very cozy,” I said.
A small, secret smile pinched at the corner of Eamonn’s mouth, and then he blew off the nozzle in his hand. “This should do it,” he said. “See how much better it looks?”
Michael nodded and made all the affirmative noises about how hedidsee, but something told me they were going to be right back in this position next winter. Hopefully if they were, at least they’d know what the problem might be.
Eamonn finished putting everything back where it belonged, ending with screwing the panel covering the unit into place, and then he shut the back door to the house. “All right,” he said. “Fire her up.”
Michael disappeared inside the house, and we all watched the boiler with bated breath, waiting to see if it would switch on properly. The suspense was palpable until Eamonn muttered, “Christ, it’s like watching Rovers with a penalty kick,” which got Frances to laugh so heartily we were still laughing when the boiler did click on, and then we all started to cheer. Frances gave Eamonn a hug, and then me a hug, and then hugged her husband when he came back into the room.
Maybe we got caught up in the moment, all that hugging, but suddenly Eamonn’s arms were around my waist and his hands were on the small of my back, underneath the sweater. “I like cozy on you,” he said into my ear, pressing a kiss there,and then he was gone. I never really had the opportunity to hug him back, my arms hanging uselessly at my sides.
After the Great Boiler Miracle, the Leahys were insistent that we stay for a full Irish breakfast, and unlike with the tea, this time when Eamonn capitulated I could tell he really meant it. It seemed important to the Leahys that they repay Eamonn’s kindness with food, and he ate two plates of eggs and beans and bread while I tried a few nibbles of everything. It was only when I realized he wasn’t touching any of the meat that something occurred to me.
“Are you vegetarian?” I asked.
If I sounded shocked, it wasn’t because I’d never met a vegetarian before, and more because I was surprised I hadn’t noticed that fact about him until now. There’d been that burger at dinner, but I supposed it could’ve been a veggie burger and I’d just assumed.
He nodded, still chewing. Once he’d swallowed, he said, as if his only explanation, “Bridget the cow.”
“Ah.” That did make sense. Even from the short time I’d known him, Eamonn seemed to love animals.
We pulled the two dining room chairs out into the living room so that there would be enough space for everyone to sit, and the conversation got lively, with Eamonn telling a few more stories of growing up in the house and the Leahys sharing various gossip about neighbors and people they mutually knew. Eamonn glanced at me a few times, tried to open up the conversation to include me more in it, but I shook my head and smiled. I liked watching him as he listened, intent, and I liked watching him even more as he talked, his face lit up.
By the time we were leaving, it was already well into the afternoon, and Eamonn seemed to think of one last thing as he rummaged through his toolbox. “The clock on the mantel,” he said. “I might have the right kind of batteries for it, if not in here then in the car…”
Frances picked up the clock, holding it out to me. “Take it,” she said. “It was your family’s, you should have it.”
“I’m pretty sure my mother ordered it from a catalog,” Eamonn said. “It’s not an heirloom.”
But I remembered his expression when he’d been trying to wind it back up in the first place, and so I gave Frances a smile as I accepted the gift from her. “Thank you,” I said.
“Of course,” she said, pulling me in to kiss my cheek. “Consider it an early wedding present.”
I was still blushing when Eamonn leaned over to kiss her cheek the way she’d done to mine. “Thank you, Mrs. Leahy. For your hospitality and for…taking care of the place, I suppose. It holds a lot of happy memories. Some sad ones, too.”
She laid her hand over her heart, then her other hand on top of that one as though she were comforting her own self. “Your mother, god rest her soul,” she said. “She’d be proud of you, she really would. Such a handsome, kind lad, with his own lovely lady.”
Eamonn laughed, but I could tell there was something a little ragged about it. “She’s lovely,” he said. “You have that part right. But we really should be getting on the road so we can get back before dark.”
They stood at the end of the road to wave us off, and I didn’t know why I felt actually emotional at the prospect ofleaving these two people we’d only just met, but I did. Those few hours in their house had felt so secure and comforting and warm—once the heating had been fixed.
Maybe Eamonn felt the same way, because we’d been on the road for a few minutes before he cleared his throat and spoke. “Nice people,” he said.
“The best,” I said.
There were so many things I wanted to ask him. If any of that had been true, about him coming back to the bus stop for me. If when he’d said he wouldn’t be able to so much as look at the Statue of Liberty with his record, he’d known that for sure, that there was no way of him coming to America even for a visit. If his body was still humming from earlier this morning, if he could still feel every place where we’d touched the way I could. Where he was taking us now, if we were going home.
But instead I just stared out the window at the passing scenery, and wondered when I’d started to think of his place ashome, when it was somewhere I’d never even been.
Twenty-Eight
The sky was gray andovercast when we pulled into a parking lot with a bunch of other cars, and I knew we weren’t at Eamonn’s shop even though we’d been driving long enough that I assumed we must be close. I gave him a quizzical look as he unbuckled his seat belt.
“Two days on an island and you haven’t even seen the sea,” he said. “I thought we’d stop for a bit. Sound okay?”
We got out to walk along the promenade, waiting for a break in the wall where we could enter the beach. I could tell Eamonn had something in particular on his mind, so I wasn’t surprised when he finally asked me a question.
