Barry put his hands on her shoulders. “I know these are your favorites.” His voice was husky. “I had the flowers and the shamrocks flown in from Ireland so you’d feel at home. I’m glad you like them.” He sounded almost shy. His fingers moved to her neck, and he rubbed his thumb along her collarbone.
She closed her eyes and felt like purring. “That’s nice.” Tipping her head, she brushed her lips across the back of his hand. “Thank you, Barry.” Attraction to her new husband flared in a way she hadn’t experienced before. She raised heavy lids and stared into his face.
She could see in his eyes the desire to kiss her, and it brought her to her senses. It was too soon to feel this way, with Liam just gone. “I’m tired and I’m sure you are too.”
He stilled, then stepped away. “I’ll leave you to unpack. I’ll be just across the hall in my room.”
Relief drained the tension from her shoulders. She hadn’t been quite sure what would happen once the wedding vows were taken. Barry loved her, and she knew it. At least he was giving her time to get over Liam and learn to love again.
If it was even possible.
Seven
Jesse’s mother touched his arm. “The detective will be here soon. Maybe you should take a pill.”
“I don’t want a pill!” His mom winced, and he quickly added, “Sorry,” to apologize for his sharp tone. He rubbed his head as he stood staring out the window, and the pain began to ease. A van drew to the curb outside. “I think he’s here.”
It wasn’t a man who stepped from the van, but three women. He recognized them as members of Ceol. The beautiful black woman was Ciara. She sang alto. The pink-haired one, Ena, played the pennywhistle and the guitar. Fiona, the blonde, sang lead now that Alanna was recovering from throat surgery. How was Alanna doing now? She was married as of eleven this morning.
Her marriage was something he’d done his best not to think about. It was his fault she’d lost Liam. But he couldn’t ignore the gnawing jealousy in his gut at the thought of her with another man. He felt as though she belonged to him, even though he had no conscious memory of them ever dating.
He met the band members at the door. “Hi.” Opening the door wide, he stepped aside so they could step in.
Ciara’s white teeth flashed in a smile. Her high heels clicked on the tile floor as she stepped inside. “It’s good you’re looking, Jesse.” Her dark eyes assessed his face. “The scars are healing.”
He touched his chin where the most prominent scar lingered. “I’m hoping this was the last surgery.”
“Your voice doesn’t sound quite so gruff either,” Fiona said. “Your vocal cords must be healing too.”
“So the doctors say. Come on in and sit down. I’m sick of my own company.” He led them into the living room.
His mother came through the doorway from the living room with a pot of tea and cups. “Just in time to join us,” she said, smiling.
“We can’t stay long,” Ciara said, always the spokesperson. But she still moved to the sofa and sank onto the overstuffed cushion. The others imitated her action. She tossed her black cornrows behind her shoulders and laced her fingers together over one kneecap. “We need your help.”
“Oh my dear, Jesse is in no shape to help anyone,” his mother said. “He’s still recovering.”
Jesse straightened. When was the last time he’d done anything other than wander the house aimlessly and lie on the sofa? It was driving him crazy, and the thought of escaping this place held appeal. “What do you need?”
Her lips lifted in a coaxing smile. “We need a percussionist. I heard you play the last time we were here. You’re good, very good, especially on the bodhran. Our tour is coming up, and we haven’t been able to find a new drummer.”
“I’m a novice,” he said. “I’m not sure I can keep up with what you need.”
“It’s desperate, we are. Say you’ll at least practice with us in the morning? For Liam’s sake?”
He needed a purpose. Maybe this was it. “I’m not nearly as good as Liam, and what about Alanna? I doubt she wants me around.”
“Alanna will do what’s best for the band.”
The thought of seeing her again was a major enticement. “I’ll give it a shot if you’re sure.”
“Son, you’d better ask the doctor first,” his mother said.
He set his jaw at her protest. “I think it’s for me to decide,” he said. “I’ve got to find something to occupy my time.”
“A tour schedule is grueling,” Ena said. “Maybe your mum is right about checking.”
“It’s the inactivity that’s bugging me,” he said. “I want to try.” He’d been practicing since he was well enough to pick up a drum, and his teacher said he’d never seen a faster learner. He felt more together when he played the bodhran, too, more himself. It might be good for him to be around Liam’s friends.
His mother pressed her lips together but said nothing more.
“Shall we pick you up in the morning and drive out to see Alanna?” Ciara asked. “We’ll be having Liam’s drums loaded in the van.”
He nodded. “About nine?”
Ciara smiled and went toward the door with the other two women trailing her. “See you then!”
The triumph in her voice made him smile. She might not be so happy after she listened to him practice with them. He waved as they got in the van and drove off, but his elation didn’t last long when a police car turned the corner and stopped in front of the house.
“Here we go again,” he muttered.
His mother twisted her hands together. “Why can’t they let you be, Jesse?”
“They’re just doing their job.” He stepped out onto the stoop to meet Detective Adams, who scampered up the drive with a toothpick in his mouth. The man’s small stature and sharp features reminded him of a rat.
Jesse nodded at him. “Detective Adams. What’s this all about?” He wasn’t sure he wanted to know.
Adams took the toothpick from his mouth. “Got any of your memory back yet?”
“No.”
“Talked to the court-appointed psychologist you saw the other day. He thinks you’re starting to recall things.”
Nothing that matters. Just stuff like the smell of an Irish bog and the green of an Irish summer. It was worrisome but nothing he could explain, especially not to this detective with the cynical eyes. “I don’t remember what happened.”
“Don’t or can’t? How about just before you met Liam Connolly that night?” He leaned closer, and his minty breath washed over Jesse. “Like the fact you’d been talking about suicide.”
His pulse skipped in his chest, and he tugged at his shirt collar. “Who told you that?” Had he been depressed? No one had mentioned it to him.
“Sometimes people in distress think death is the only way out. And they take out a loved one with them. Everything I’ve heard says you and Liam were as close as brothers.” He jabbed a finger in Jesse’s chest. “I think you planned for both of you to die that night, but you couldn’t quite bring yourself to put the bomb under your seat. So you put it under his.”
Don’t show any agitation. “I wouldn’t have done anything to hurt Liam.”
Adams looked smug. “I thought you didn’t remember anything.”
“I-I don’t. But I wouldn’t do something like that.” Lame, very lame. He had no idea what he wouldn’t or wouldn’t do, but the thought he might be that kind of man scared him.
“There’s more to this than meets the eye, and I’m going to find out what it is.” He tossed his toothpick to the ground, then turned on his heel and walked back to his car.
Jesse’s knees threatened to give out as he went back to the house. His thoughts rambled through all the detective had said. Just last night on the news there had been a report of a man who shot his wife and kids, then himself. He’d wondered what drove a man to carry out such a heinous act. Surely if he’d tried to do something that horrific, he wouldn’t have had such a strong react
ion against the idea of it.
His mother was waiting by the door. “What did he say?” She followed him into the living room when he didn’t answer. “If he’s harassing you, I’m calling our attorney.”
“Mom, was I depressed before the explosion? Did I talk about suicide?”
She pressed her lips together. “The doctor said you were going to be fine, just fine. Don’t try to force the memories to come.”
“Did I seem unstable?” he asked, knowing he was going to have to pin her down somehow.
“You were just going through a bad spell. You’d lost your job. What man wouldn’t be upset after a false accusation?”
This was the first he’d heard of it. “What false accusation?”
She waved her hand in a dismissive gesture. “That secretary. She accused you of sexual harassment.”
“And my boss believed her?”
She shrugged. “She’s his sister. Women have always pursued you, Jesse. It’s not your fault. I’ve seen it play out before. When you didn’t show the interest she wanted, she set her mind on revenge.” She touched his arm. “You were getting on top of things and had two job interviews lined up. Things were looking up for you.”
Maybe he had been the sort of man to do these things. Maybe he had harassed this woman, even planted that bomb under Liam’s seat. “What was the woman’s name?”
Her nostrils flared. “Rena Mae Anderson.” She spat the words like they had a bad taste.
He was going to have to go see this woman, find out the truth. “How well did I know Liam and Alanna?”
She sighed. “Why are you going over all this, Jesse?”
“I have to know.”
She sat on the sofa and drew her legs up under her. “You went to college with Liam in Ireland. The two of you roomed together for four years. He was your best friend, and even after college, you talked to him at least once a week.”
So he had been to Ireland. The memories he had of seeing the sea were real. “What about Alanna?”
Her nostrils flared. “You met her first and dated a few weeks before she threw you over and took up with Liam. You saw Liam maybe twice a year, but she usually wasn’t along.”
Then why did he feel this connection to her? Why was her name the first one on his lips in his initial coherent moment after the explosion? “I think I should see Dr. Phillips.”
“I’m sure he’d be glad to see you. He’s called several times.”
The psychiatrist’s messages were the only reason Jesse knew the name. “You have his number?”
She nodded. “By the phone in the kitchen.”
He went into the kitchen, found the number, and called the doctor’s office. There’d been a cancellation that afternoon, so he took it. Two hours later, he was in Dr. Phillips’s office sitting in a chair by a window that looked out on the Atlantic.
“I need you to tell me what my mental state was like before my injury.”
Dr. Phillips was in his sixties, and his expression of easy competence probably calmed his patients most of the time. His light brown eyes under sandy hair were shrewd as he looked Jesse over carefully. “Why?”
“Do you think I could have tried to kill myself? Put that bomb under my own car?”
The doctor pursed his lips. “We’d talked about doing a voluntary commitment the week before the bomb incident. Your depression was profound, and I feared you might try to harm yourself.”
Jesse slumped back in his chair. “And my best friend?”
“That question’s more difficult to answer.”
“So I really am going crazy,” he muttered.
Eight
The croak of bullfrogs from the swamp made the hair on the back of Alanna’s neck rise. The noise made her think of alligators and snakes, reptiles she knew inhabited the murky waters as well. She sat cross-legged on the bed with both windows open to the cooling night air. Though it was hard to call that moisture-laden breeze a cooling one.
Barry hadn’t appeared since he left her two hours ago. She tried to sleep, but the strange sounds in and around the house kept her eyes from drifting shut. A loud roar from outside sent her bolting from the bed. Running to the window, she stared into the dark yard. The moon glimmered on the water, but she didn’t see whatever had made that horrifying sound.
Reaching for her cell phone, she dialed Ciara’s number. Her friend answered almost immediately. Hearing Ciara’s voice calmed Alanna’s nervousness. “How are you, it’s me?”
“What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, not really. I miss my mates.”
Ciara’s voice softened. “We miss you too. How’s the new studio look?”
“It’s not done yet.”
“What? He said it was going to be ready for us to come next week.”
“A problem with the work crew. Now it will be a couple of weeks, so he says. But I’ll come to the city, and we’ll figure out where to practice,” she added before Ciara could explode into new objections.
“Barry did this on purpose,” Ciara said. “The eejit swooped in and took you over.”
“Ciara, stop. He’s done everything possible for us. The concerts he’s arranged for us this summer are deadly.”
“At the sacrifice of your voice!”
“I don’t miss it,” Alanna lied. If she told Ciara how she really felt about the loss of her singing voice, the argument would be full on. She rubbed her forehead. It wasn’t Barry’s fault, but her own. “You’re determined to dislike him, aren’t you, Ciara? What’s he ever done to you but try to help us? I know you’re jealous, but be giving me a little more credit than that. I’ll never walk away from any of you. Just knock off, okay?”
While it was true they had spent less time together in the month leading up the wedding than when she was married to Liam, it was only because Barry’s position demanded she attend a lot of dinners and events with him. “He likes you, all of you. He’s told me many times how lucky I am to have friends like the three of you. And he’s even building that studio for us to practice in. What more can he do to prove himself to you?”
Ciara sighed. “I’m feeling like he wants to separate us from you.”
“If that were true, he wouldn’t be inviting you out here to the studio, now would he? Or inviting you all out to stay at the summerhouse when it’s fixed up.”
There was a long pause before Ciara answered. “I don’t like all the changes. And everything has changed since Liam died.”
“Believe me, it’s something I’m aware of every day,” Alanna said softly.
“I need you to be telling me this one thing,” Ciara said. “Can you learn to love him?”
Alanna thought of Barry’s kind blue eyes. “I don’t know. But Barry makes me feel safe and protected. He’s giving up his freedom to help protect the baby from Thomas. That’s enough for now.”
“There is that,” Ciara said. “I’m worried about you. That’s all. You know the bloke loves you.”
Alanna hadn’t wanted to face what her heart knew, but she couldn’t evade Ciara’s bald statement. “I know. And he knows I still love Liam.”
“He’s hopeful you’ll forget him.”
Alanna couldn’t bring herself to answer. The pain of Liam’s loss was still too raw to imagine loving anyone else.
Ciara cleared her throat. “What about practice? I have a percussionist for you to hear.”
“Oh? When can I meet him?”
“Can you come to town tomorrow to practice? See what you think of him?”
“Barry said we’d work it out, but right now I’m not sure how to get there.”
“We’ll come there then. We can practice on the garden, if nowhere else.”
“Righto. See you then. Cheers.” Alanna clicked off her cell phone.
She had to get out of this room. Exploring her new home might get her mind off of the discomfort she felt. Slipping a silky robe over her nightgown, she opened the door and stepped into the hall in her bare feet. A faint glow from a
nightlight by the baseboard guided her. She found the hall switch and flipped it on.
Blinking at the brightness, she glanced at Barry’s door and found it still closed. Good. He probably slept. He’d looked tired, and she’d been little help in planning the wedding in a strange country. He’d arranged the catering and all the details. Let him sleep. She didn’t need a keeper.
The hall formed a T. Too many doorways to count left her dizzy. She wasn’t sure whether to go downstairs now or explore her surroundings up here. She turned right from her doorway and walked past a myriad of rooms. The only stairway this direction led to the next floor up. She retraced her steps to her room.
Warm milk might help her sleep. The dank scent of mold made her sneeze. She stepped into the brighter glow of the bulb overhead. The main staircase lay in front of her. The light illuminated the first few steps, then faded into the dark first floor.
Descending the inky steps was like walking into a black hole. She should have searched for a switch to illuminate the steps. Clinging to the banister, she reached the bottom without mishap. Groping for a light switch, she touched something sticky. A spider web? A trickle of legs ran up her arm, and she snatched her hand away.
Barely suppressing a shriek, she shook the spider, or whatever it was, from her skin. Still shuddering, she found the switch and flooded the room with light. A black spider raced away on the floor by her feet. It had been on her. She rubbed the goose bumps on her arms.
Something clanked in the next room over. “Barry?” Maybe he was up after all. She followed the noise. Pushing open the door, she found herself in the kitchen. A light shone brightly. “Barry?” She stepped deeper into the room.
The cabinets were a dark wood. The finish was cracked and old. A stained white sink held sudsy water and pots. Was Barry doing dishes? She couldn’t quite see her new husband washing up. She found a plastic cup in an upper cupboard.
A door opened, and a young man stepped into the room. At the sight of his broad shoulders and orange-dyed mohawk hairstyle, Alanna shrieked and dropped her cup. Backing away with her hands in front of her, she screamed Barry’s name again, then whirled to flee from the intruder.