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He touched her energy by laying his hand over hers. “I’ll keep sending up prayers on your behalf. I don’t purport to understand the powers that govern you, but I do know the love you have brought on this plane…and the love with which you did it. Not every wife, even from the grave, would wish to help her husband find another soulmate to spend his life with. That makes you special. I hope they know that.”
She had to work hard to smile. “When you love someone, you wish them happiness in life—and part of that happiness is a good partner to share it with. I’m grateful they gave me the chance. For all of you.”
He could feel their light growing, and he let it wash away his remaining fears about the future. “I wish you could give Taylor a message for me, but I understand that you cannot. Thank you for coming to visit me. But if you do have another chance, go and see my soulmate and tell her I miss her and love her and can’t wait to see her beautiful face in the morning and as I close my eyes to sleep.”
Sorcha’s face brightened. “Love does change us, and when we allow more in, it can change everything around us. Bring more love in, dear Liam, while the rest of us do the same on your behalf. I hope that when we next meet, you are in the sunshine.”
He enfolded her in love, making her smile widely. “And I hope you will find joy and peace in whatever is next for you.”
She made a comical face, one he recognized from their old days in the pub before her passing. “Yes, you and Taylor are the end of my matchmaking contract. It’s been a grand time. All of it. I don’t have any regrets. If for some reason I can’t return, you’ll tell everyone how much I love them, won’t you?”
A wave of sadness crashed over him. This was like losing her again somehow, the grief sharp and powerful and unexpected. He breathed through it as they gazed at each other with tears. “I’ll tell them.”
“Thank you,” she said in a rare, quiet tone.
An old Irish blessing for the dead came to mind and he laid his hand in the air over hers as he said it:May God level the road for your soul.
She let out a gusty laugh. “What a perfect send-off. As any Irishman knows, a level road is the rarest of the rare with all our hills and potholes around.Dia duit, Liam.”
He held her gaze. “Dia duit,Sorcha.”
She vanished in a brilliant flash of light. The scent of oranges lingered.
He began to meditate again, wondering if he’d seen her for the last time.
CHAPTERTWENTY-FIVE
Timing and precision were everything when it came to trespassing.
No one knew that better than Veritas—and today Taylor was sharing its artform with the people of Caisleán.
She’d posted to her millions of fans in an ongoing three-day cycle about their participation in today’s campaign, something the media had picked up as if it were the hottest binge-worthy series on Netflix. The real Veritas was staging a social protest for the release of theun-Veritas? Brilliant, the major newspapers and news programs proclaimed.
No one knew how many people would show up around the world, but artists and other community actors were organizing protests in dozens of cities with T-shirts made from her special design for the event.
God, it had all made her rather proud. She’d taken this job at the arts center to do meaningful work, and while this was nothing like she’d expected, it damn well fit the bill.
As she surveyed the hundreds of people who’d shown up at the arts center for the protest, Carrick and Kade hoisted Eoghan up on their massive shoulders with a megaphone. “What a lovely day we have for our protest,” he began, grinning from ear to ear. “Thank you for coming. One of our own, Liam O’Hanlon, is being held unjustly on the trumped-up charge that he is the real Veritas. Which, of course, he is not. We are here to proclaimweare the real Veritas. Each and every one of us.”
He glanced over at Taylor before signaling to the Veritas mural on the wall of the arts center.
“Take a good look at why we’re here, and who and what we’re fighting for.”
“He’s in his element as a community organizer,” Ghislaine murmured beside her. “The photos of that little old man on the shoulders of the men in this community,Liam’s friends—a brilliant idea, by the way—are going to bring tears to people’s eyes. Taylor, I have to say. I’ve worked with a lot of publicists in my time, but this campaign might be one of the best I’ve ever come across. You’re going to rock the media director job once we get past all thismerde.”
She nodded and caught Bets’ smile as the woman turned to look at her. Liam’s mom had cried in her arms after she’d outlined the plan to her and the rest of their core circle. Then she’d framed Taylor’s face with her hands and told her Liam was the luckiest man in the world to have her, after which Linc had given her a crushing hug, lifting her off her feet.
Such affection, especially where her professional career was involved, was so new, but that moment had reached the inner fortress of her heart. This job couldn’t be strictly professional. These people were Liam’s family, and that made them hers as well. She needed to adjust and trust them—like she had the Merriams—so she’d opened the door more than a crack. She couldn’t wait to tell Liam when he was released.
When, not if.
“Now, we have a few more items to cover,” Eoghan continued on his megaphone. “First, there are T-shirts we’d like you to wear. The design made by the real Veritas. On the front they say,I am Veritas.On the back,Free Liam O’Hanlon.Now for item number two.”
He paused and pointed toward the road. The buses Linc had rented were arriving just on time.
“We Irish have subterfuge in our veins, so we played a little trick. We’re taking this protest to Watertown—to right outside Malcolm Coveney’s office—although our behavior will be strictly within the bounds of legality. We’re going to stand in his parking lot at the marina and make our voices heard. If you’re with the press, be sure to follow us. If you’re nervous about coming, we’ll see you at the Brazen Donkey after. All right, let’s head out and free our friend, Liam O’Hanlon.”
The volunteers in charge of handing out the T-shirts in front of the buses took their places as everyone queued up. Taylor and Ghislaine took photos to capture the scene. Later, they would release a short documentary on recent events, narrated by one of the arts center’s newest board members, a popular Irish actor.
