One Night Only by Catherine Walsh

6

The bright-eyed tour guide clasps her hands behind her back as she smiles at us. “Kilgorm Castle dates as far back as the fourteenth century,” she begins in her gentle lilt. “It was originally built by Lord Robert Fitzgerald to help fend off the native Irish from his land and housed many prominent Anglo-Irish families after him. Though it’s had multiple owners and seen its fair share of battles, the original structure remains, as stable as the day it was built.”

I stare up at the half-ruined castle before me and frown. It looks about as stable as I feel.

I am horrifically hungover. Queasy stomach, pounding head, kill-me-now hungover. My binge drinking last night coupled with the jet lag coupled with the fact I am not twenty-one anymore has left me in pieces.

Uneven, fragile pieces.

It’s not how I wanted to spend my first official day in Ireland.

But after Declan’s little exit speech last night, neither Annie nor Paul questioned my decision to move past the moment by grabbing two bottles of Pinot Grigio and escaping to my room.

And now I pay the price.

“What do you think?”

I wince as the words bounce around my skull and glance at the man beside me.

Connor.

My future husband.

In another life anyway.

In this one, he’s a little young for me, but he has an easy smile and eyes Claire would definitely describe as sparkling. He attached himself to my side as soon as we boarded the shuttle bus this morning but, in the state I’m in, it took all my effort not to puke all over him. I’m already dreading the journey back.

“It’s… strange,” I say as the guide leads us up the hill to the castle.

“Strange?”

I try to find the right words in my sluggish mind. “I’m used to things being three centuries old at most. Isn’t it weird to think about? All the people who were here before us?”

“I guess.”

I smile at his confusion. “You’re immune to it.”

“Hey, you want ancient, we’ve got Celtic tombs that are five thousand years old. This thing’s practically modern to us. Mind your step,” he adds holding my arm as he helps me over a hidden dip in the ground. His hand lingers a little longer than necessary and I glance back pointedly at Annie who’s struggling to hide her smile.

But even if my head is splitting in two under the morning sun, I find the castle fascinating. The stones so solid beneath our feet, smoothed down by generations of footsteps. The different-colored bricks hinting at new additions and repairs over the centuries, the moss and plants that have grown up around it but are unable to conquer the building itself. I listen enraptured along with the rest of the group as the guide details the families that lived here and the lives they led. Annie’s dad puts his selfie stick to good use while her mom, an ardent fan of any romance novel featuring a lord, a castle and a stormy night, presses the guide’s knowledge on the more salacious details of family history.

The only person who doesn’t seem to be enjoying herself is Mary. Though Declan’s mom gave me a cheerful hello when we boarded the bus this morning, she hasn’t said anything to me since and now lingers on the outskirt of the group, shooting me nervous glances every few minutes.

“She’s waiting for you to talk to her,” Annie whispers. “She feels bad.”

The more terrible part of me is glad she does. I want to cross my arms and pout like a child. Good. But I’m not a child. And it’s unfair of me. How was she supposed to know what was going to happen? What had already happened?

With a reluctant nod to Annie, I wait behind as the group climbs the stairs to the next floor. Mary waits too, pretending to be fascinated by a corner of the room.

Now what?

Hi again, Mrs. Murphy! Remember me? The woman who slept with your son?I struggle with where to start but before I can speak, she turns to me, miserable.

“I’m very sorry about last night.”

I falter at the sincerity in her tone. “There’s nothing to be sorry about.”

“There’s plenty apparently.” She sniffs. “My eldest had words with me.”

I wince at the thought of Paul talking to her about it. Even though I’m the one who asked him to. Last night feels like a very long time ago.

“I think I ruined your dinner.”

“No. It was…” I reach for a word to describe the most awkward hour of my life. “Interesting.”

She fidgets with a brooch on her jacket, still looking a little ashamed. “I thought if you two sat at that table you’d only want to talk to each other. Not that there’s anything wrong with Trevor,” she adds hastily. “It’s only that he can be very insistent when he gets talking about politics. And Eileen, she’s my second cousin on my father’s side, you wouldn’t find the likes of her on my mother’s side but that’s a whole different story. Now, she isn’t too fond of—”

“It was a clever plan,” I interrupt. “And I’m sure it would have worked if we didn’t already… know each other.”

“You’re not angry with me?”

“I was surprised. That’s all.”

She smiles, relieved. “Well, then,” she says. “I guess, that’s that.”

“It is,” I say firmly and she inclines her head, showing she understands. No more matchmaking.

“It’s probably for the best,” she adds as I follow her up the narrow stairwell. “Although if I may ask, did you and Declan not get on or…” Her voice drops to a whisper. “Was he not very good?”

I stumble on the step, almost falling flat on my face.

“In bed, I mean.”

“I understand,” I say hastily. I’m grateful she’s ahead of me and can’t see my blush. “I’m just… I’m not looking for a relationship right now.”

“Ah.” She sounds glum. “Focusing on your career.”

“It’s not that, I—”

“Ladies?” The guide appears halfway down with a matronly look on her face. “Let’s all keep together if we can. The steps are very steep.”

“Coming, coming,” Mary says and thankfully seems to forget our conversation as we reach the next floor. There’s more sunlight here and I soon see why as half the wall is missing, the stones crumbling into nothing. The rest of the group is standing precariously close to the edge, taking pictures. I ignore them, sticking to the stairs, and try to catch Annie’s eye, but it’s Connor who’s waiting for me.

He smiles as soon as I appear and breaks away from the group.

“Beautiful, isn’t it?” he says, gesturing to the view as the rest of the party shuffles into the next room. He doesn’t seem to notice the sheer drop to the bottom. I get a funny feeling in the back of my knees as he leans over the edge.

“Come see.”

I stay where I am. “I’m not great with heights.”

“It’s not too high.”

“High enough for me.”

He laughs. “I’m pretty sure they have taller buildings than this in New York.”

“They do. With concrete walls and finished ceilings and glass windows several inches thick.”

Connor seems disappointed, no doubt imagining us side by side, gazing out over the vista, but I turn to join the rest of the group, sticking firmly to the walls until we’re back on terra firma. Never have I been more grateful for mud. But that feeling vanishes as soon as I take one look at the bus and know I’m a doomed woman.

“I think I’m going to walk back,” I announce as the others start to board. “I need the air.”

“It’s too far,” Annie protests.

“It’s forty minutes.”

“Then I’ll go with you.”

I shake my head. “You’ll be late for the hairdresser.”

“Then maybe Connor—”

“No,” I say firmly. “I’m a big girl and it’s one long road. It’s not like I’m going to get lost.”

She still looks unsure, so I draw her to the side, away from the others.

“Annie,” I say under my breath. “I am jet-lagged and so hungover I could cry. It’s a miracle I’ve lasted this long and if I put one foot on that bus, I guarantee I will spew all over your future mother-in-law.”

“You’re so dramatic.”

“You want a bet?”

She sighs. “Okay. But don’t take too long. Paul says it’s going to rain later.”

“I can handle a bit of rain.”

“I just hope Connor’s not too disappointed.”

She dodges my attempted shoulder whack and hurries over to join the others.

The bus beeps at me as it drives past and I wave, relieved as it hits a particularly vicious pot hole. I wouldn’t have lasted five seconds.

Walking will help. Or at least that’s what I tell myself as I follow the downhill slope back to the village. I stick to the side for the few cars that do pass but otherwise meet no one on the way back.

I don’t notice the change in the weather until it’s too late.

After about twenty minutes the blue sky above me is half hidden by an encroaching dark-gray cloud that stretches menacingly toward the hotel. I watch it warily as I reach the outskirts of the village. The scattered drops begin at the first church and turn steady by the second. I quicken my steps as I pass the pub. It can’t be more than ten minutes to the hotel and if I can make it to the gate, then—

I shriek as the downpour begins, hailstones pummeling from the sky, and I break into a run, heading for the nearest building. I barely notice the large poster of Annie and Paul in the window as I barrel through the door.

Once inside, I catch my breath, shaking the hail from my hair as I gaze around the store.

It’s the kind of place that should have shut years ago. The kind of place where you’re glad it didn’t. Shelves full of everything from canned goods to beachballs cram what little space there is on either side of the main aisle. At the back of the store is a tall wooden counter with a cash register that looks like it’s been there since the sixties.

A bell had rung when I entered and a moment later an elderly man shuffles out of the back room, folding a newspaper.

“Raining, is it?” he asks by way of greeting.

“Yep.”

“American?”

I nod and then, because it feels like I should, add, “Sorry.”

He laughs and gestures me farther inside.

“I’m going to drip all over your floor,” I say apologetically.

“That’s alright. You’re here for the wedding?”

“I’m the maid of honor.”

“You’re Sarah,” he says, pointing a finger at me.

I smile in surprise. “I am.”

“Mick Delaney,” he says. “You’re very welcome to Kilgorm.”

“Thank you. Is it okay to wait for the rain to stop? I promise to buy something.”

“Take your time,” he says. “I’ve got some magazines over there if you like. Women like magazines.”

“We do,” I say. “Thanks again.”

“I’ll be right back here.” He motions with his newspaper toward the other room. Through the door, I spy a low chair next to a radio. “Call if you need me.”

I flinch as another flurry of hailstones beats down on the window. I’m already looking forward to a nice long soak in my bedroom bathtub. But now I’m safe from the elements, I’m almost cozy. Faint radio voices sound from the next room and the store smells comfortingly of wood tinged with tobacco. I squeeze my way over to the left-hand wall, where racks of tabloids, National Geographics and two-year-old fashion titles greet me. I pick one up at random but am too fascinated by the treasure trove around me to read it.

I’m rummaging through a crate of secondhand board games when the door opens again, the bell tinkling merrily despite the apocalypse outside.

I can’t see the newcomer from where I am, but I do hear Mick lumber back out as the door rattles shut.

“Well, if it isn’t the prodigal son.”

“You still alive then?”

I freeze at the voice. Declan.

“They won’t let me go,” Mick says. “Fit as a fiddle apparently, despite my best efforts.”

Declan laughs as he heads toward the counter. I still can’t see him, but from the sound of his footsteps I mirror his movements, walking backward to put as much space between us as possible. I haven’t exactly figured out how I’m going to handle this little situation. We’re going to have to talk again eventually but not when my clothes are so wet I’m leaving a puddle beneath me.

“Do you have any painkillers?” Declan asks. “The serious kind?”

“Of course not,” Mick says. “I’m not a pharmacist. But if I did, they’d be over to the left and I’d give you the choice of the strong ones or the very strong ones.”

“Better make it very strong.”

“Late one last night, was it?”

He mutters something I can’t make out and Mick laughs.

“Anything to wash it down with?” Declan asks in normal tones.

“There’s something luminous by the magazines.”

I look in horror at the ice cooler beside me and scurry as quietly as I can to the other aisle as Declan’s footsteps sound across the floorboards.

Finally, I catch a glimpse of him through the space in the shelves. Or part of him anyway. He stands with his back to me, examining Mick’s refrigerator. His curls are almost black from the rain, plastered to his head. The back of his neck peeks out over his raincoat.

I have the strangest urge to touch it.

It’s probably for the best.

Mary’s words at the castle come back to me and I frown, wishing I had asked her what she meant.

Declan grabs a bright blue bottle from the fridge and flicks the door closed. “You got your suit ready?” He calls to Mick. “Got the mothballs out?”

“Enough of that,” Mick chides as we move again. Declan to the counter. Me to the door.

“I don’t want to look too handsome, mind you,” Mick continues. “Wouldn’t want to take away from the groom.”

“Of course not.”

I wait just out of view, eyeing the way out like I’m Indiana Jones.

“I’ll have you know, I had many women chasing after me back in the day,” Mick says over the ding of the cash register. “Why your own grandmother—”

Declan cuts him off with a groan and I step into the main aisle, my fingers brushing the worn brass doorknob as Mick’s voice calls from the other end of the store.

“It’s still raining, my dear.”

Great.

I close my eyes, count to five and mouth every curse word I know before turning around.

They’re both staring at me, Mick with a kindly expression like I’ve lost my mind and Declan… Declan like he’s just seen a ghost.

“And you’ll need to pay for that,” Mick adds.

I glance at the forgotten magazine in my hand.

“Right,” I say. “Sorry.”

I smile my brightest smile and walk briskly up the aisle, my sneakers squeaking with each step.

Declan regards me silently before popping two white tablets into his mouth. I can only imagine how I must look. Probably as bedraggled as I feel.

“Have you met Declan yet, Sarah?” Mick asks when neither of us acknowledges the other. “Paul’s younger brother.”

“We’ve met,” I say, pleased at how normal I sound. I reach the counter and have no choice but to stand beside him. No choice because Declan doesn’t move. He doesn’t give me so much as an inch of breathing space even though he’s already paid and has no reason to remain—and why won’t he leave.

“Just the magazine, is it?”

“Yes,” I mumble, laying it on the counter. Declan shifts beside me and I risk a glance at him to find him staring at the cover. I follow his gaze to issue twelve of The Modern Irish Tractor.

Mick at least makes no comment.

“That’ll be two fifty.”

The money is slippery in my hands, gold and silver coins I can no longer make sense of. I hold out my palm numbly and Mick peers into it, taking what’s needed. Even though only a few seconds have passed, the whole transaction seems to take an exceptionally long time. All I can smell is the sickly-sweet scent of Declan’s sports drink.

I should make small talk. I should make small talk and he should make small talk and we should act like adults. If not for us, then for Annie and Paul. But I can’t seem to force any words out. I don’t know why he’s acting so cold. Like I’m the one who did something wrong. I stiffen at the thought, annoyed. He’s the one who left me to clean up his mess last night.

Mick dings open the register.

This time when I glance at Declan, I find him watching me.

I snap my eyes back to Mick and grab my new issue of Tractor.

“Nice to meet you,” I say as I spin on my heel. “See you at the wedding.”

“Mind the—”

Declan’s hand shoots out as I slip on the wet floor, grabbing my upper arm with a firm grip as he hauls me upright. Before I can shake him off, he lets go of me and takes another swig of his drink.

“I’ll get some towels,” Mick sighs as I walk more carefully toward the exit.

I step outside and immediately cringe from the roar of the rain overhead. But knowing if I stay, I’ll only make more of an idiot of myself, I let the door swing shut behind me.

The magazine is good for something at least. I hold it above my head, walking as quickly as I can before breaking into a run all the way back to the hotel.