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Chapter 2
Mary Catherine giggledwhen I tried to fit my six-foot-three frame in the bed in our cozy bed-and-breakfast.
She said, “You look like a cartoon giraffe who goes to the veterinarian and can’t fit on the table.”
“I know this is supposed to be an ‘authentic inn,’ but this is ridiculous. Ireland is not a land of short people. How is it that they have a bed only big enough for a Hobbit?”
Mary Catherine slid into the bed next to me. Suddenly the length of the bed no longer mattered. And I was glad for the narrow width. I liked Mary Catherine right next to me.
We gazed out the handblown glass window into the starry night over Dublin. Mary Catherine’s fingers played with my hair as I gently made circles with my finger along her neck and shoulders. I could listen to her gentle laugh for days.
Suddenly it turned into a wild night. Not exactly what I’d expected but just as much fun.
We lay together in bed, both of us panting from the exertion. My head was still swimming, trying to process everything we’d just done, even wondering if we had broken anything. I halfway anticipated a noise complaint. If this were a drug, I could understand becoming an addict.
Mary Catherine laughed and said, “God, I’ve never seen you like that before.”
“How often are we away from our lives like this, where we can just let go?”
“Michael Bennett, you always amaze me. Just when I think I’ve seen every side of you, you surprise me. Making love like that was very non-American.”
“What’s that mean?”
She snuggled up close and wrapped her arm across my chest. “I just like comparing the American ideas of romance with the European ways. But make no mistake, there was no precedent for what we did tonight.”
“What’s the difference between us?” I was truly interested. Like many American men, I felt a little insecure when compared to the romantic reputations of the French or Italians.
“Europeans are attentive and experienced. Americans are enthusiastic and fun. What we did tonight was just plain wild.”
“I know. I think I strained my back.”
After she finished laughing, Mary Catherine said, “A woman has different moods. It’s good that Europeans and Americans look at romance differently.” After a little pause, she added, “It doesn’t matter. I still only love you.”
“Wait. What does that mean?” I tried not to shout it in surprise.
She kissed me on the forehead and chuckled. This was one of the most interesting and funny women I’d ever met.
I felt something vibrate. Before I could even ask Mary Catherine what it was, she said, “Someone called you. Your phone is on vibrate.”
I leaned over and kissed her on the cheek. “Beautiful and smart. You’re the total package.” Another playful shove from her almost knocked me off the tiny bed. I reached over to the night table and picked up my cell phone.
Mary Catherine said, “Is it one of the kids or your grandfather?”
“No. It looks like Emily Parker tried to call a few different times.”
Mary Catherine said, “You can call her back. I don’t mind.”
I may have been married only nine days, but I knew better than to fall into a trap like that. Besides, it had to be related to a case. I was on vacation. I turned to Mary Catherine and said, “I’ll give her a call tomorrow from the airport.”
I turned back to look at my beautiful bride. Her hair looked like she’d just ridden on a motorcycle without a helmet. Blond strands darted in every direction. It was a good look.
She lazily stretched in the bed, then turned to me and said, “Have you ever thought about having more babies?”
I let out a laugh. “Of course. Who ever heard of stopping at just ten kids?”
It turned out Mary Catherine’s sleepy look was a deception. The night turned wild once again.
