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What did Jack call Google last night? The fountain of all knowledge or something equally hyperbolic. I better dip into that fountain and beef up my background on the people I’m about to spend a serious chunk of time with, starting with Deidre LaRochelle.
I shake my head. “Oh, gosh no. I didn’t mean to insult you. I’m sorry if it came off that way.”
She lays her hands on my shoulders in a very motherly way. I can’t wait until I tell my mom that I’m hanging with Deidre LaRochelle. She may need to be resuscitated. I’ll have to get Deidre to autograph one of the books on my desk for Mom. A wave of protectiveness for Jack’s gift washes over me. I’ll buy Mom a new copy for Deidre to sign.
Deidre leans in so her face is inches from mine. “My characters are my family. I need you to know that before you dig in and start chopping up any more of my story.”
Doolin moves in behind Deidre and gently guides her back so she molds into the chair. “Okay, now.” He pats her shoulders. “We’re all here because we love your people.”
Deidre tilts her head to him with an adoring look.
I bite back a squeak of surprise. They’re into each other. The crusty Irish teacher and the flamboyant American storyteller.Perfect.
“Don’t look like you’ve swallowed a live goldfish,” says Deidre. Doolin is my darling.” She runs a hand down his arm and grasps his hand. “He’s helping me buy an Irish castle.”
Doolin frowns. “Find a castle. I’ll be doing none of the buying.”
Deidre laughs, then refocuses on me. She pulls a strand of my hair to catch the light. “You’ve got the loveliest strawberry blond locks.” She taps a finger on the table. “I toyed with giving Nieve’s hair this color, but her name means “bright and radiant”. She has to glow with light that allows Donal Cam to find her across tide and time. That translates to silver blond.”
“Niamh, a queen of Tir na nÓg, will shine eternal,” says Doolin, pronouncing Nieve’s name in Irish instead of the anglicized version.
Deidre reminds me so much of my mother a pang of homesickness hits. I’ll call Mom tonight. If I get up the nerve, I might even tell her about Jack.Not yet. She’ll scold me over repeating the situation I just got free of. I don’t need confirmation getting tangled with Jack is not a Mensa move.
Doolin walks over to the electronic white board and picks up one of the pens. “I’m gonna start with basic syntax and then we’ll get into script specifics.” He points the pen at me and then Deidre. “I’m warning the both of you not to write any Irish into a script until you pass it by me first.”
Deidre bows. “Yes, oh keeper of language fading into the mists.”
“It’s not fading anywhere on my watch.”
During the lesson, my mind wanders. I wonder if Deidre came on to Doolin first or vice versa. Is he Deidre’s love story? I’ll get her onto a golf course with the pretense of giving her lessons so she can hit the links with Doolin. That’ll give me ample time to milk her for their history. Nothing beats eighteen holes of golf to really get to know someone.
Jack and I only played a few holes together. That was all it took for me to get his measure. Gracious, driven, generous. Whatever he saw in me led to that first kiss in the pub. Creating a divide between us feels wrong. I’m afraid that friendship won’t be enough to satisfy either of us. The alternative, a secret forbidden relationship, is a road I know all too well. I can’t do it again. I just can’t.
As another hour ticks by, I begin to get nervous about tonight. At the range, I’ll have to create a moment to have theif you were someone else this might be possiblediscussion with Jack. How will I look into those eyes of his and wish he were someone else when it’s the last thing in the world I want?
Doolin’ s gruff voice bursts the bubble of my reverie. “This is the point where you repeat what I’m saying instead of staring out into the hallway.” I shift my focus back to Doolin as he repeats the phrase for me. “Uisce na beatha. Water of life.”
“Uisce na beatha.” Hey, after a couple of hours at this, my Irish accent ain’t half bad.
Doolin nods to me and then wiggles his fingers at Deidre to take her turn.
There’s a twinkle in her eye as she leans on one elbow and says, “Whiskey.”
Doolin makes a dismissive sound and plunks the electronic pen back on its tray. “We’ll call it for today.” He bows. “Well done, ladies.”
The sound of clapping fills the doorway. “Maith. Maith,” says Jack. “Good.” He’s dressed in jeans and a stylish gray-green jacket from the Lawson Graham Irish Country Lad collection. When worlds collide.
“Yeah, very good,” says Doolin. “Gillian here catches on fast.” He cocks his head to one side. “Are you sure there’s no Irish in your blood?”
“Not a drop,” I say, collecting my notes from the table.
Jack beams at me. He rips off a string of Irish. I have no idea what he just said. Out of the corner of my eye, I catch Deidre looking from Jack to me. What did he say?
“Wouldn’t the two of you have an adorable crop of ginger babies,” says Deidre.
Doolin frowns at her.
My insides churn like crazy, but I decide to play it flippant. “Oh,” I say, laying my hands over my heart. “Did Jack just propose to me in Irish?” Jack’s face pinks up. I notice the stubble outlining his jaw is the color of my hair, which must have prompted Deidre’s ginger baby comment.
