Quinn's Deirdre (26 page)

“I’ll sell
it.
 
Then I’ll use the money to start one
in Dungannon.
 
Ye don’t mind?”

“Not at
all,” she said, one hand folded against his cheek. “I like the idea very much.”

“Then we
will.” It was settled, then. “Give me a long kiss,
mo chroide,
to seal the bargain.”

And she
did.

Happily Ever After

“I didn’t
think you really meant we’d get married again,” Deirdre said as she dressed for
her wedding day.

Quinn,
resplendent as gentry in a gray swallow-tailed coat and top hat borrowed from
one of his brothers, grinned. “I told
ye
we would,
woman.
 
The first was for the vows, this
time is for the family.”

“They do
know we’re already man and wife, don’t they?”

“Aye, ye
know well they do.
 
We sent the pictures,
remember?”

She
did.
 
The simple snapshots of their
brief, weekday afternoon wedding at Our Lady of Perpetual Help, the
Redemptorist Church in Kansas City depicted them in nice, but casual
clothing.
 
Deirdre had worn a short, navy
blue dress with white collar and cuffs.
 
Quinn wore his black trousers from the pub with a dress shirt and
tie.
 
Her bouquet had been fashioned from
roses and daisies.
 
Desmond served his
nephew as best man and Deirdre’s aunts attended.
 
A few of the staff from County Tyrone came,
too and some of the patrons.
 
After a
brief honeymoon trip to California, a place Quinn had always wanted to
experience, they returned to Missouri.

County
Tyrone never reopened, but they redid the kitchen and listed it for sale with a
real estate agent.
 
It sold within weeks
for a sum Deirdre still found staggering. They then headed home to Quinn’s
native land, together.

Almost the
moment they stepped off the plane at Shannon, Quinn’s mother, Sheila, treated
Deirdre as if she were one more daughter.
 
They’d been back three months, long enough for Quinn to open a small
pub.
 
They’d found a house and after
today, they would settle down into a new life.

“Help me
with the veil, please,” Deirdre asked and Quinn placed his mother’s heirloom
Irish lace veil over her dark hair.
 
He
handed her the bouquet he’d bought, dark pink roses, and offered her his arm.

“I think
we’re ready,
mo ghra.”

“Then
let’s do this thing,” Deirdre said. “But it’s the last wedding I plan to ever
have.”

“Fine with
me, love,” Quinn said. “Let’s go make you a Sullivan on Irish soil,
then
we’ll go home and see if we can’t get another wee
Sullivan started.”

She
grasped his hand and placed it over her belly. “I’ve been saving this as a
wedding present,” she said. “But we already have.”

“Oh,
woman,” he said, his voice husky with emotion. “’Tis the grandest gift ye could
give me.”

His smile
lit her world brighter than sunshine, and he kissed her.
 
Then they walked out together into the
sunlight and made their way down to the church to be wed, once and for always,
forever.

The End

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Other Books by Lee Ann
Sontheimer
Murphy:

www.evernightpublishing.com/pages/Lee-Ann-Sontheimer-Murphy.html

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