Aisling Gayle (23 page)

Aisling looked at him and, in that moment, she believed every word he said. In a matter of days, her whole life had been transformed.

She suddenly felt alive again – and in a way she’d never felt before.

Chapter 19

As they pulled into the driveway, they saw the first of the fireworks shoot up into the darkening sky.

“Wow!” Thomas clapped his hands in delight. As soon as they ground to a halt, he was out of the car and heading down to the lake as quickly as his legs would carry him.

“Watch out in case you hit something in the dark!” Jameson called after him, but Thomas was gone in his single-minded pursuit of the soaring, sparkling colours that were lighting up the sky.

“You go on down to the lake,” Aisling told Jameson. “I want to get changed into something more casual, and get out of these heels.” She looked down at the delicate, pink, high-heeled shoes. “I’m a bit like Cinderella – I can’t stand heels when it gets late in the evening.”

“I hope,” Jameson said, “that you’re not going to disappear like Cinderella. Are you?”

She laughed and shook her blonde hair. “I’m not disappearing anywhere.” She paused, biting her lip. “Just as long as w
e don’t make things too obvious to anyone . . . I’ve already explained how things are with my mother and father.”

“Sure,” he said, “I understand. I’ll just have to be content watching you from a distance.”

“I’ll see you in a bit,” she whispered. “I’ll get over to you just as soon as it’s OK.”

He smiled and inclined his head. “I’ll be waiting.”

As she passed through the kitchen, Jean and Maggie were bustling about organising trays of sandwiches and crackers with cheese, and a selection of unusual-looking American savouries that Maggie would no doubt comment over later.

“Did the wedding party finish off okay, honey?” Jean asked Aisling. “Did everyone have a good time?”

“Wonderful!” Aisling said, running a hand through her lightly tossed hair, her eyes shining. “Just wonderful . . . the best wedding I’ve ever been to!”

Maggie gave her a curious look. It wasn’t like Aisling to be so gushing, especially when the wedding was
nothing really
compared to the weddings back in Ireland. Hardly anyone had bothered to really dress up or wear a hat. All in all it was quite casual.

She wondered now – taking in her daughter’s sparkling eyes – if Aisling might have had a glass of wine too many. She gave a little shrug, and moved some strange-looking things (that Jean had referred to as ‘cheese straws’) from a baking tray to a decorative plate. She had to remind herself that Aisling was a grown woman – not all that far off thirty – and a married woman. And, after all, she was on holidays and supposed to be enjoying herself. What harm would a little bit of excitement do?

In the next couple of weeks the novelty of it all would have worn off – the fine weather, the fancy shops and the nice views down at the lake. Aisling would have had enough of the strange American ways, and would be glad to head back to the familiarity of home and to Oliver.

And she was sure that Oliver would have had a shock to discover just how much he had missed his wife. Everyone knew that absence made the heart grow fonder. And that was exactly the reason she had suggested to Declan that Aisling accompany them to America in the first place. To give her and Oliver a bit of a break from each other. A break that would make them appreciate just what they had.

She watched, smiling to herself as Aisling ran upstairs, carrying a pink shoe in each hand. This trip over to America had already brought the colour back to Aisling’s cheeks, and the light back in her eye. The bit of a tan made her look bright and attractive, like a young girl again. And that would all be to the good when she got back home. Seeing her look so well would make Oliver smarten up his ideas.

The holiday would definitely give them a chance to start afresh.

* * *

Aisling rushed into the room, unbuttoning her suit jacket and wondering what top would look best with her cream trousers and flat loafers. Before she met Jameson Carroll she would have just pulled on a blouse or short-sleeved jumper without thinking. Now every item had to be carefully examined, because she wanted to look attractive for him. Jameson was different to any of the men back home – particularly Oliver.

The main outward difference was his casual dress. Even his suit and shirt had ended up looking casual but attractive. Oliver never looked anything other than pristine. And that’s how he liked Aisling to look. Feminine and pretty. But she knew that the American would probably prefer her looking casual too.

Stripped down to her brassiere and panties now, she paused to looked at herself in the dressing-table mirror. The underwear was one of the sets she had bought in the li
ngerie shop the day she met Jameson. She wondered what he would think if he saw how she looked now. Would he still find her attractive? Would he find her slim . . .
or would he think she was a bit heavy around the hips and thighs as she often thought herself?

Then, as she buttoned up a pink gingham shirt and threw a cream cardigan over her shoulders, Aisling suddenly wondered what Thomas’s mother had looked like – and what sort of clothes she wore. She pondered over it for a few moments, coming to the conclusion that she would probably be very casual like Jameson. An arty, beatnik type, with floaty dresses and blouses and probably loads of beads. And she would probably wear exotic, frilly underwear. The sort of underwear that Aisling would never dare to walk into a shop and buy.

Aisling shrugged to herself. It was silly to let her imagination run away. It didn’t matter how Thomas’s mother looked, because there was little likelihood of them ever meeting. She turned to the little box that contained the few bits of jewellery that she had brought with her. She hurriedly tipped the contents out on the dressing-table, and sorted through the necklaces and chains. She lifted the two-strand pearl necklace that she often wore to school, and immediately rejected it. Pearls were definitely too formal. Then she picked up a fine gold chain with a small crystal pendant. It was one Pauline had bought her for her twenty-first birthday. She loved the way the light changed the colour of the crystal from blue to green or purple. She quickly fastened it around her neck, and changed her elaborate wedding earrings for a smaller gold pair.

As she slipped her suit onto a hanger, she paused to glance at herself in the mirror. A familiar, maybe above-average-looking face, with sun-streaked blonde hair looked back at her – but her eyes looked different. A dewy, gleam that she’d never noticed before looked back. A gleam that she knew had been put there by Jameson Carroll.

Next, she tackled her hair. She rummaged in the small bag that held her clasps and ribbons. After trying a few on, she settled on a broad piece of cream-coloured lace.

She brushed her hair through, then tied it back in a pony-tail with the lace. She gave her make-up and lipstick a quick touch-up, and she was ready. Ready and tingling with excitement at the thought of the party at the beautiful lakeside. Ready and tingling at the thought of being close to the handsome American again.

As she crossed the little bridge at the bottom of the garden, a rocket suddenly soared up over the tall trees. She stopped in her tracks to watch as it left its silvery trail along the black night sky. Then – just as it seemed to have disappeared – a burst of colour exploded in the darkness and thousands of tiny rainbow stars scattered amongst the real ones. Aisling caught her breath and smiled broadly at the beauty of it.

As she neared the lake, she could make out clusters of figures amongst the trees. The long, wide branches were lit up by strings of coloured lanterns, and more light came from flickering candles on the tables and in the nooks and crannies in the trees.

“Aisling, honey!” Jean called. She was presiding over a long trestle table of food and drinks. “Are you going to have a sandwich or something to eat? There’s food down here and more back at the house, if you prefer to eat indoors.”

“It’s the flies,” Maggie whispered, passing her by with a tray of hot drinks. “You couldn’t touch anything out here with all the bloomin’ flies. There’s some huge ones – I’ve never seen anything like them before in my life.”

“You get used to them, Mammy,” Aisling laughed. “They’re not that bad.”

Maggie tipped Aisling’s elbow with her own. “I’ll be taking my own bite to eat inside, when I’ve finished helping out here – and I’d advise you to do the same.”

“I’ll see how it goes,” Aisling said. “I wonder if Jean needs any help now.”

Maggie gave a smile. “The fireworks are lovely – and if the flies don’t bother you then you may as well sit back and enjoy yourself.” Then she headed off purposefully with the drinks.

Aisling made her way over to the Mother of the Bride. “Oh, Jean, this is lovely,” she said, picking up half a bagel spread with cream cheese. “The whole celebration is lovely.” She gestured to the lanterns and candles. “It all looks like something from a fairytale.”

They stood chatting for a while, then a frown crossed Jean’s face. “I’m real happy you’re enjoying everything so much, Aisling,” she said, “but I’m a little concerned about your mom . . . I think she’s getting tired. I’ve tried to persuade her to have a lie-down, but you know what she’s like – soldiering on and that kind of thing. It’s just that they have another busy day planned tomorrow . . .”

Aisling patted her aunt’s arm. “Don’t worry. I’ll have a word with her later. But you need to slow down a bit too – we don’t want our holiday wearing you out.” She lifted a tray of sausages on sticks. “I’ll take these round the groups and keep an eye out for my mother.”

Maggie was talking to a group of women at the small pier and when there was a lull in the conversation, Aisling said quietly, “Why don’t you go and have a sit-down beside Daddy? He’s over on the bench with the Irish musician,” she smiled mischievously, “and the graveyard expert.”

Maggie’s eyes lit up at the mention of the graveyards, Aisling’s humour lost on her. “Indeed! I’ll have a few minutes’ chat with them so,” she decided, “then I’ll go back up to the house for a last cup of tea.” She glanced around her, checking nobody was listening. “I know eating outside sounds a great idea with the fine weather and everything – but you could have anything floating in your drinks and taking bites out of your food.”

“Well, after you’ve seen Daddy and the man, you should go on inside,” Aisling urged.

Maggie raised her eyebrows ominously. “I don’t mean to be moaning – especially with the night that’s in it. But they’re not the kind of insects we get back home. Your father found one the size of his thumb inside his shoe only this morning.”

Aisling bit her lip, trying not to laugh.

“He was lucky that he checked first before putting his foot in,” Maggie went on, “for God knows what kind of bite he might have got.” She pursed her lips and shook her head. “Of course we didn’t say anything to anybody. We wouldn’t like to be complaining.”

Aisling stifled a grin as her mother went off to join the men. As her father often said, she was never happier than when she was moaning. Then, as she turned to head back towards her aunt, she caught sight of Jameson Carroll.

“How is the beautiful Irish colleen?” he said quietly, coming over towards her.

At the sound of his voice, Aisling felt a tingle rush over her
body like a little electric shock. “Grand,” she whispered
, looking up at his smiling face, “and now that I’ve seen you – very grand.”

Without saying anything, they moved further down the grassy bank to an empty spot, where they could watch the fireworks. There they stood chatting companionably, enjoying the colourful scenes around them. And enjoying each other’s company. To anyone watching them, they looked like two people who had just been introduced, rather than a man and a woman now linked by some secret tie.

“I think I’ve enjoyed your enjoyment of the fireworks more than anything.” Jameson said when another spectacular display of rockets had finished.

“We don’t see fireworks much in Ireland,” Aisling told him, “and certainly not at weddings. This has been so fantastic – I feel nearly overwhelmed by it all.”

“I’m sure there’s lots of things about Ireland that I would feel overwhelmed about,” he said. “That’s the thing about people – we always like things that are different to what we’re used to.”

“Some people,” Aisling said with a smile, thinking of her mother. Then, just at that moment she caught sight of her parents further down the path, weaving their way through the trees and back towards the house. “If you don’t mind,” she said, “I’m going to run back to the house for a few minutes – I just want to check my mother and father are okay – I promise I’ll be back as quick as I can.”

“I’m not moving anywhere,” he told her, leaning up against a tree. “I’ll be right here when you get back.”

When she caught up with them, Aisling linked arms with both her parents as they made the last few steps back up the path.

“I hate to look like a kill-joy,” Maggie said, slightly breathless at the uphill incline, “but I’ll be no good tomorrow if I don’t get a decent sleep – and I want to be at my best with that poor man driving all the way over here for us.”

“A night’s sleep will do you the world of good, Maggie,” Declan said. “You’ve done grand today with all the dancing and running up and down to the water this evening.”