Page 17 of An Irish Hope

“None of us do,” Rory said, patting his arm.

“That’s right,” Aisling piped up from the backseat. “We’ve known Fiona all our lives, and we still can’t figure her out.”

They arrived and saw Mam and Aunty Aine and a few of the others who had attended the wedding.

The first few minutes before the service began was spent sharing some of what happened. Some, not all, of course. In the course of that, she happened to notice a few visitors sitting in the back row. Her heart thudded. He was here?

“Who are you looking at?” Aine asked.

“Oh, nobody.” She took her seat, and soon fell into the comforting routine of the service. Sometimes she might not feel like she was a very good Christian, but Reverend McGuigan seemed to understand people’s imperfections, his messages full of encouragement, rather than condemnation. Which made it a shame that Fiona wasn’t here to hear that.

They worshipped, and prayed, and read, and listened, and her heart was moved towards God. She closed her eyes. God, who loved her. God, who was here. God, who held her in the palm of His hands.

The service concluded with a blessing, and they were released. She followed her family members from the pew, itchy to see if Andy was still here. But by the time she got out he was gone. She frowned. Where was he?

“Why are you looking upset?” Aunty Aine asked.

She faked a yawn. “I’m not. It was a late night last night.”

“I still don’t understand why you wanted to go out,” Mam said.

“We were in a celebratory mood.” Speaking of… She glanced around. There was Declan. “Excuse me for a minute.”

“Don’t forget, we’re having brunch at the Bridge Café,” Mam called.

She nodded, and tried to get Rory’s attention, but she was busy talking with some of the elderly ladies. Never mind. Perhaps this was a way to find out if Declan knew why Fiona had been upset last night.

“Declan?” she called, hurrying behind him. “You’ve got some questions to answer.”

His feet paused. “Ah, and good morning to you too, Ash.”

“Oh. Yes. Good morning. So, anyway, last night. What happened with you and Fiona?”

His lips pressed together, his eyes shadowing. “She said nothing?”

“She was upset, but refused to talk about it.”

He glanced at his scuffed boots.

“So?”

“So what?” He peered up at her.

“Look, she’s my sister, and despite the fact she’s hard work sometimes, I still love her. So if someone has made her upset I want to know why.”

He shrugged, his genial gaze hard for once. “That’s her business.”

“But—”

“Look, I appreciate the fact you care, but it’s her story to tell, and she’ll do so when she’s ready. Not before. Okay?”

“No, it’s not okay.”

“Well, too bad. It’s the way it is.” He turned and started walking away.

“Has she gone back to Dublin?” she called.

He pivoted. “She’s left?”