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“Good. I’d feel better about it.”
He pulled her into a kiss, then surprised her by running his hands over her to warm and dry her.
“No need to be wet,” he said, and walked away.
He had his moments, Breen thought as she crossed the road. If you paid attention, he had his moments.
She walked into Ireland and sunshine, and though the scent wasn’t manure, it definitely said spring. Even in the few days that had passed, she could see its progress. Leaf buds had grown fat, and some began their unfurling.
She thought of her seedlings, of the plans for a small patch for vegetables between her cottage and where Marco and Brian planned their own.
Still wet from the rain, Bollocks splashed into the stream and out again, then with a glance toward her, shot out of the woods.
His happy barks got their answer with Seamus’s cheerful greeting.
“There’s that good dog. Look here and know this spot’s not for you to run through and dig.”
She came out of the woods, and to her surprise, saw Seamus, his cap cocked on his head, gloved hands on his hips, standing at the edge of a small plowed patch.
The rich brown made a tidy square just in front of a hedgerow of fuchsia that separated the wide lawn from the field beyond.
As she hurried across to join him and Bollocks, she caught the sharp scent of manure.
Spring.
“Oh, Seamus, I didn’t expect you to do all this!”
He turned to her, all merry blue eyes. “You wouldn’t deny me my pleasures, would you then? Such a fine time I’ve had here while my cottage is filled with bakers.”
He gave her a pat on the shoulder. “See here now. We’ve had some talks in the last days, Marco, Brian, and myself, and thought wouldn’t it be a pretty thing to cut through the hedgerow right over there and make a kind of gateway, an arbor, open to their cottage and yours. With the hedgerow giving privacy to all. They’ll have a fine view of the bay and the hills, and with the bit of a garden you wanted justhere for sharing the work and the bounty. They gave me leave, hoping it would be a happy surprise for you.”
“It is. It’s perfect. It’s exactly where I thought it should be. We’ve never grown vegetables, Marco or me.”
“You’ll have your tomatoes and peppers as you said. And we can put in some potatoes, some cabbage, some beans for snapping, and carrots as well. On the small scale, I’m thinking.”
“You’ll show me. You’ll teach me.”
“I will, and glad to. But you know more than you think. It’s in you already. Come, we’ll have a look at your seedlings. They’ve done well, and it’s time to harden them off. We’re done with frosts.” He glanced at the sky as he spoke. “You can trust me on that.”
“I do.”
He showed her the line of boxes full of dirt and young plants he set by the cottage.
“They’ll have the shelter and the warmth of the cottage as they grow used to the air and settle. When they’re ready, you’ll pot them up or plant them as you please.”
She spent a delightful time talking gardening and plants while Bollocks splashed in the bay.
“You’ve done so much for me, and now I’m going to ask you for one more thing.”
“Ask away.”
She dug in her bag and took out the wings she’d carefully wrapped.
“Ah, don’t I remember those! How you used to race around, flapping them.”
“I remember, too, and how much they meant to me. I’d like to frame them, hang them in the cottage. Such a good memory.”
“Ah, that’s a grand thing, grand memories. A shadow box is what you’re wanting here, so they’re open and show well, not just flat in a frame.”
