Carla Neggers (3 page)

Julianne beamed her a smile. “Thanks, Granny. You’re a love.”

“Ireland’s the best place to heal a broken heart.”

Franny Maroney had never stepped foot in her ancestral homeland, either, but Julianne appreciated the sentiment. Everyone in Rock Point knew she had a broken heart, because that’s what Andy Donovan was. A heartbreaker.

She carried her tote bag and suitcase—no wheels—outside and down the front walk to the street. Her brother would be here any minute. Ryan was thirty, the same age as Andy, four years older than she was, and tight with all the Donovans. More proof she’d been dumb to get involved with one of them.

But it wasn’t Ryan’s black truck that pulled in next to her. It was Andy’s rust-colored truck. He had the passenger window rolled down and patted the seat next to him. “Hop in, Jules. I’m driving you to the airport. Ryan can’t make it and I volunteered.”

It was a conspiracy. No doubt in Julianne’s mind, but she had no choice—which Andy would know. She needed to leave now in order to get to Logan Airport the requested three hours ahead of her flight’s departure time. She was following all the rules and guidelines. She’d provided the requested preflight boarding information, checked in online at the appropriate time and printed out her boarding pass. She had any liquids she wanted on board with her in a clear plastic bag. She’d read about what exercises to do on the plane and would fill her empty water bottle after she cleared security. Andy wouldn’t have bothered with any of it. He’d have said, “Use common sense,” and shown up at the airport in the nick of time.

Julianne shoved her suitcase behind the passenger seat and climbed in next to him. She wanted to think it was his rules-breaking nature that had nearly gotten him killed a few weeks ago, but it really wasn’t. He’d been blindsided, attacked by thugs. She’d found him unconscious, drowning in the harbor. As mad as she’d been at him, she’d done all she could to save him. She couldn’t let him just
die.

The thugs had been related to one of Colin’s FBI cases.

Obviously he didn’t just work at a desk at FBI headquarters in Washington, as he’d tried to get everyone in Rock Point to believe.

Emma had been involved in the case, too.

Complicated, those two.

“All set?” Andy asked.

Julianne nodded. “Yes. Thanks.”

He had on a thick deep red flannel shirt over jeans. No coat, despite the November cold. She’d debated and debated until finally deciding to wear a long, shawl-like sweater that would keep her warm enough on the way to the airport and once in Ireland but wouldn’t be too bulky and awkward on the plane. She’d packed layers in her suitcase to accommodate whatever conditions she was likely to encounter once she arrived in Declan’s Cross.

She adjusted her sweater. She still had her hair in a ponytail. Back when he’d noticed such things, Andy had told her he’d liked her hair that way. She put that thought right out of her mind and gave him a calm, neutral smile. As if he were a cabdriver. “Did you get out to check your traps this morning?”

“Nope. Not back on the water yet after my mishap. Couple more days.”

His “mishap.” Only a Donovan would regard attempted murder as a mishap. Julianne angled him a look. “You’re following doctor’s orders, aren’t you?”

“More or less.”

“What’s the ‘less’?”

He grinned over at her. “Beer.”

She didn’t know if he was kidding. “If you’re not back on the water yet, is it too much for you to drive me to the airport?”

“Driving to Boston is different from hauling lobster traps, and I wouldn’t be doing it if it was too much.”

Julianne looked out her window without responding. They hadn’t parted as friends when they’d broken up over Columbus Day weekend. She hadn’t, anyway. She’d parted angry, hurt, wanting to smother him in his sleep. No high road for her. As much as anything, it was his obliviousness to her feelings that had gotten to her. He’d been so matter-of-fact in dumping her.
“Hey, Jules, we’ve had a good run, but you need to focus on your thesis and finish up your degree. I’m just distracting you.”

He didn’t get it that she’d actually fallen in love with him, never mind that she’d told him so. Another dumb move on her part.

When he’d been attacked by those thugs, she’d wondered if on some level she’d helped make it happen. If all that negative energy she’d lasered at him in her mind had put him in the wrong place at the wrong time.

It wasn’t healthy, that kind of thinking. It wasn’t a sin, though, was it? She hadn’t told Father Bracken because she knew, deep down, that she hadn’t wanted Andy hurt. Not really.

No. She really
had
wanted him hurt. Or thought she had.

“What’s on your mind, Jules?”

“My trip. I’m excited.” It wasn’t an outright lie since for most of the past few days, since she’d first considered an early trip to Ireland, it was all she’d thought about. “Do you want to go to Ireland someday?”

“I guess. I don’t know. Maybe I could pick up an Irish accent. That could be good. You should hear my mother go on about Finian’s Irish accent.”

“Granny, too. She loves it. You call Father Bracken by his first name? I can’t. It feels... I don’t know. Too familiar.”

“I’m not that much of a churchgoer. Mostly he and I just have the occasional shot of whiskey together.”

“But if something happened to you, you’d want—” Julianne gulped in a breath at what she’d been about to say. “Never mind.”

Andy cast her an amused look. “I’d want him to bury me, you mean?”

“Visit you in the hospital is what I was thinking.”

His grin broadened. “No, it wasn’t. Finian did visit me when I was recuperating.”

“Right. Of course.”

She remembered the terror she’d felt when she’d spotted Andy unconscious in the water. She’d jumped off the dock, tried to save him as his brothers had come running in response to her screams for help. They’d leaped into the water and dragged him out to safety.

Suddenly she was desperate to change the subject. “Aer Lingus is in Terminal E.”

“You’ll be in Ireland two weeks?”

“That’s right.”

“Renting a car?”

She shook her head.

He eased his truck into the right lane, traffic picking up as they got closer to the city. “Driving on the left makes you nervous?”

It did, but she wasn’t admitting as much to him, in part because it wasn’t the main reason she wasn’t renting a car. “Renting a car is expensive, and I won’t need one.”

“Is someone picking you up at the airport, or are you taking a bus or something?”

“Lindsey Hargreaves is meeting me at the airport.”

“She’s American, right? Not Irish?”

Julianne nodded. “That’s right.”

“Another marine biologist?”

“She’s a diver and a marine science enthusiast. She loves whales and dolphins.”

He shrugged. “Everyone loves whales and dolphins.” He held up a hand. “Don’t get mad, Jules. I’m not making fun of you.”

As a biologist, she specialized in marine mammal research. Andy wasn’t a student. He could be defensive, or maybe she just thought he could be defensive—it didn’t matter anymore, did it? She sighed, kept her tone neutral as she said, “That’s good.”

He drove with one hand on the wheel, as confident in Boston traffic as he was in his boat on the Atlantic. “How do you know this Lindsey woman is for real?”

Julianne felt herself bristle. “What do you mean, ‘for real’? I met her. I drove her around the area when she was up here for the day. We’ve stayed in touch by email since then.”

“I mean do we know she is who she says she is?”

“What, you think I should have taken fingerprints off her water glass and had one of your law enforcement brothers run them?”

He frowned at her. “Why are you so defensive?”

“Why are you grilling me? Am I not allowed to make new friends?”

“I’m not grilling you, and you can have all the friends you want. I’m just making conversation.”

“You’re grilling me, Andy,” she said, waving a hand. “Never mind. I’m not letting you get to me. I appreciate the ride to the airport.

“You can afford to go to Ireland now and again in January?”

“I guess I can since that’s what I’m doing,” she said, struggling now not to pop off at him. Half the problem was being so close to him again, next to him in his truck. She hadn’t touched him since she’d helped save his damn life in late October. Before that...

She sighed again. Best not to think about their hot, mad weeks together.

She could see the muscles in his hand tighten as he gripped the wheel. “Don’t you think it’s weird that Emma and Colin happen to be away, in Ireland, and then this Lindsey woman shows up in Rock Point, saying a friend told her about Fin Bracken?”

“You think Lindsey invited me to Declan’s Cross because of Emma and Colin? That makes no sense, Andy. They’re not marine scientists. You’ve been around your law enforcement father and brothers too much. That’s just so paranoid.”

“Just be careful,” he said.

“Thank you for your concern, but I’ll be fine.”

“That’s you, isn’t it, Jules? Self-sufficient to a fault.”

She didn’t answer and stared out her window as they entered the tunnel that would take them to Logan Airport. She couldn’t remember which one it was. It was Callahan going one way and Sumner the other way, and there was the Ted Williams tunnel, too. She couldn’t keep them straight, but she’d never been big on Boston. Give her a stretch of rocky Maine coast any day.

She noticed a sign for the airport and pointed. “Right lane.”

“Got it. Thanks.”

She heard the irritation in Andy’s voice, as if he’d been chewing on what bugged him about her. “Just trying to help,” she said, unclenching her teeth.

He downshifted. “I know.”

“You were annoyed—”

“No, I wasn’t. Quit trying to read into things. When I’m annoyed, I’ll say so.”

“Like now?”

“Not annoyed, Jules.”

He didn’t sound that annoyed, she realized. More resigned than anything. Fatalistic. As if he knew he couldn’t say anything right and should give up trying. But what difference did it make whether he was resigned, frustrated or just plain irritated with her? In another few minutes, they’d be going their separate ways. She’d be dragging Granny’s purple suitcase to the Aer Lingus counter and on to Ireland. He’d be turning around and driving back to Rock Point.

He pulled in front of the terminal. Julianne pushed open her door, jumped out and reached in back for her bag. “Thanks for the ride. I hope you get back to work full-time without a hitch.”

“Appreciate that. Have a good trip. Call me if you need anything.”

“Right. I will. Thanks again.”

She shut the door and carried her suitcase and tote bag into the airport, past travelers with sleek wheeled black bags. She really did need her own suitcase. Granny said she liked the idea of her suitcase going to Ireland even if she couldn’t.

As far as Julianne knew, Andy hadn’t taken up with another woman since their falling out. That was a long time for him. But, clearly, he was back on his feet after the attack on him. He had to be restless.

She felt herself tense. There was no question in her mind that Andy would have another woman on his arm before she was back in Rock Point in two weeks.

She saw the emerald-green of the Aer Lingus sign and forced a smile.

Never mind two weeks. She wouldn’t be surprised if he had another woman before she landed in Shannon, Ireland.

* * *

Julianne figured she slept all of seven minutes on the plane, not because it was a bad flight or she was afraid of flying or nervous about Ireland, but because she was so excited. She refused to think about Andy—at least she more or less refused—and focused on the thrill of her first transatlantic flight.

She loved the green of Ireland, even in November, as the big plane landed in Shannon. She’d already changed her watch to Irish time, five hours ahead of Boston. Mentally, she told herself it was 6:00 a.m. and not 1:00 a.m.

Getting through customs was a breeze. She picked up her suitcase at baggage claim and carried it out to the main lobby, where Lindsey had indicated she’d be waiting.

No Lindsey.

Julianne checked the ladies’ room, the coffee shop and the books-and-sundries shop, but didn’t find her new friend. Shannon Airport wasn’t Logan. There weren’t many places Lindsey could be.

Maybe she couldn’t find a parking space or was running late.

Her tote bag hoisted on one shoulder and her suitcase on the other, Julianne went through the sliding glass doors, welcoming the rush of the chilly early Irish morning. She set her suitcase on the sidewalk, plopped her tote bag on top of it and stretched her arms up over her head, her muscles stiff after six hours on a plane. She wasn’t hungry, but she wanted coffee, badly.

The airport parking lot didn’t look crowded. Lindsey couldn’t have had trouble finding a parking space. Other travelers left the terminal, passing Julianne as they headed for the car rental lot or were picked up by family and friends. Airport workers went about their business.

Julianne dug out her phone. No new emails, texts or voice mails from Lindsey. What if Lindsey had gotten mixed up and was meeting her at the Dublin airport?

“What to do, what to do,” Julianne muttered, then decided to send a short text message.

After a few minutes without a response, she dialed Lindsey’s number and got her voice mail but disconnected without leaving a message. Somehow they had gotten their wires crossed.

Fuzzy-headed after the long flight, Julianne carried her suitcase and tote bag back into the terminal and bought herself a latte and scone at a small, uncrowded coffee shop. Most of the people from her flight had departed. The lobby was dead. She checked her email messages on her phone and found the one from Lindsey confirming the pickup:
I’ll meet you in the lobby. We’ll stop for a full Irish breakfast and be in Declan’s Cross for lunch. Can’t wait to see you! xo Lindsey

Straightforward enough. Julianne double-checked to make sure she had given Lindsey the correct date, and she had.

She slathered her scone with butter and jam. The only thing to do at this point was to get herself to Declan’s Cross.