The Selkie Spell (Seal Island Trilogy) (5 page)

“Learn how to cook.”

“It’s all up here,” she said, tapping her forehead.

Tara glanced wistfully at the books.  “I found some interesting recipes in them.”  She picked up the book on the top of the pile.  “Most of them call for fresh herbs.  Do you have access to fresh herbs on the island?”

“We do.”

“Lavender?”

Caitlin nodded.

“What about rosemary?  Arrow root?  Burdock?”

Caitlin nodded, taking the book from Tara’s hands and scanning the recipes.  “Most of these herbs grow wild around the island.”

“Would you show me later?”

Caitlin glanced up at Tara, the corner of her mouth twitching up into a smile.  “Why don’t we start with something simple first, before you go getting ahead of yourself?”

“Okay,” Tara agreed, reluctantly.  “Where do you think we should start?”

“We’ll start at the beginning.” 
With the very simplest of recipes
.  She turned to the first recipe, handed it to Tara.

“Soda bread,” Tara read aloud.  “That doesn’t seem so hard.”

“Famous last words,” Caitlin muttered, draining her mug.

***

“I don’t understand,” Caitlin said, after the last customer left.  Shaking her head, she walked over to where Tara was staring at the gooey black mess clinging to the bottom of the trash can.  “I’ve never been much of a cook myself, but I’ve never met anyone who was as terrible in the kitchen as you.”

Tara waved a hand over the steam rising out of the can.  “I didn’t know it would be this hard.”

“It’s not.”

Tara glanced up at Caitlin.  “Do you think he’ll fire me?”

“I don’t know,” Caitlin admitted.  “Half the village sent their breakfast back this morning.”

  Tara groaned and covered her face with her hands. 
She’d made it through four years of med school and she was being brought down by a loaf of bread?
  Taking a deep breath, she reached for the book.  “Okay,” she said, squaring her shoulders.  “I can do this.  I
will
do this.”  She turned, walking back to the stove and turned when the back door swung open and Kelsey and Dominic raced into the kitchen.

“Dad!” Kelsey shouted.  “Give me back the ball!”

Dominic laughed, holding it up over his head.  “Not until you promise to take better care of it.”

“I promise!” Kelsey pleaded, jumping up and trying to bat it out of his hand.

“And how am I supposed to believe that?”

“Dad!”

“I’ve a mind to hide it and make you search for it.”

“But I told Ashling I’d meet her an hour ago!”

Dominic shifted the ball to his fingertips, grinned.  “She can help you search.”

Caitlin put her hands on her hips and shook her head.  “Where was it?”

“Floating in a tidal pool,” Kelsey said, jumping up again for the ball.  “But Dad won’t give it back because he says I’m not responsible.”

“You’re
not
responsible,” Cailtin agreed, ruffling Kelsey’s hair.  “Because you’re spoiled rotten.”

“Am not!”

“Are too,” Dominic laughed, bouncing the ball off the wall.

Kelsey grabbed for it, but she was too slow.

Dominic spun around, almost dropping the ball when he spotted Tara by the stove.  “Christ, I didn’t see you there.”  He paused when he saw that she was staring at him and Kelsey, a strange, almost wistful, expression on her face.  She’d pulled her dark hair back and tucked it into a faded bandana.  But it only made her eyes seem wider and greener.  Her pale skin was flushed from the heat of the stove and her lips were full and soft.  He wondered suddenly what they would taste like. Scooping the ball back into his hands, he tore his eyes from her mouth.  “Shouldn’t you be on break by now?”

Tara gazed at Dominic’s jeans, rolled up and soaking wet.  His sleeves were pushed back over the strong muscles in his forearms and his black hair was curling from the water splashed on his face. 
He’d gone out to find her soccer ball.  He’d gone into the ocean in April to find his daughter’s ball
.  “I’m fine,” Tara said, wondering why the words felt lodged in her throat.  “I have a lot of catching up to do.”

“I’ll say,” he agreed, his gaze dropping to the charred loaf on the counter.  “I thought you said you were a fast learner?”

“It’s her
first
morning,” Caitlin cut in.

“Still,” Dominic said.  “Another morning like this, and our neighbors will start dusting off their own fry pans.”

“I need a little more time,” Tara said, swallowing the lump in her throat.  “But I will get better at this.  I won’t rest until I do.”

Dominic took in flash of determination, the slight lift of her chin.  “I can’t pay you overtime.”

“I know.  I want to get this right.”

Dominic let his gaze linger on her face for a moment longer before lifting a shoulder.  “Suit yourself.”  He nudged Kelsey back toward the door.

“Dom,” Caitlin turned, trailing after him.  “Maeve came in earlier.  She’s got another leak in her faucet.  Could you have a look at it?”

He tucked the ball in the crook of his arm, holding Kelsey back with one arm as she grabbed for it, trying to knock it loose.

“And Brennan’s got a fence down in the high field.  He’ll need your help in mending it.  His arthritis is making his knees weaker by the day.”

Dominic’s brows knitted together in concern.  “It’s getting worse?”

Caitlin nodded.

“He needs to see a doctor.”

“You know he won’t.  He doesn’t trust them.”

Dominic dragged a hand through his wet hair. “Alright.  I’ll head up there now.  See if I can talk him into it.”

Caitlin sent him a look.  “Just fix the fence, Dom.”

“If I fix the fence, it’ll just be something else next week.  He needs help.  There’s medicine that can make the pain go away.  He’s too young to be suffering.”

Tara set down the rag she was using to clean.  “Don’t you have a traveling doctor who makes rounds out to the island?  Someone who could prescribe something?”

“We do,” Dominic answered.  “But the visits are sporadic at best.”

“And doctor’s cost money,” Caitlin added.  “Plus they usually find more things that are wrong with you when they’re looking over the first.  Most islanders think it’s easier not to know.”

“But that’s crazy,” Tara exclaimed.  “The faster you catch something, the easier it is to treat.”

“You and I know that,” Dominic ceded.  “But try convincing a farmer who’s lived on this island his entire life.”

Tara stared at the three islanders across the room.  She hadn’t considered the need for modern medicine on these islands.  Even after treating Caitlin’s hand last night, it hadn’t occurred to her that they wouldn’t at least have regular access to a primary care physician.  “Where does Brennan live?”

“Why?”

“Maybe I could talk to him.”

“About what?”

“About seeing a doctor.”

Dominic smiled.  “Tell you what, Tara.  If you decide you want to have a talk with Brennan Lockley, you let me know.  I’ll walk you over there myself.”

“Why?”

“Because I don’t want to miss his reaction.”

Tara angled her head.  “You don’t think he’ll listen to me?”

“I’ll be surprised if he even lets you into his house.”

***

“He really doesn’t think much of me, does he?” Tara asked, still staring at the door Dominic and Kelsey walked through after they left.

“No,” Caitlin admitted.  “He doesn’t.”

“Why not?”

Caitlin reached for the book, flipped to a new recipe.  “You remind him too much of someone else.”

“Who?”

Crossing the kitchen, Caitlin pulled a sack of potatoes off the shelf.  “Kelsey’s mother.”

“Kelsey’s mother?”

Caitlin nodded.

“Where
is
Kelsey’s mother?”

“I’d rather not get into that at the moment.”

“Is she on the island?”

“No.”

“Are they still… together?”

Caitlin shook her head.

“But I remind him of her?”

Caitlin nodded.

“Do I look like her?”

“No,” Caitlin answered, pulling the flour out of the cabinet.  “She was blond and blue-eyed.  Like Kelsey.”

“If she looks nothing like me, then what about me reminds Dominic of Kelsey’s mother?”

“Maybe it’s your lack of talent in the kitchen.”  At the sound of the unfamiliar voice, Tara turned and came face to face with a woman whose hair fell in rich, chocolate ringlets.  Her eyes were the same warm tawny as the amber stones that dripped from her ears and clung to her throat.

Glenna McClure dropped the scone she’d snagged off a plate on the bar into the trash distastefully, taking in Tara’s thin white T-shirt and a stained apron.  “Hello,” she said smoothly, extending a hand that sparkled with a variety of silver rings.  “I don’t think we’ve met.”

“Tara Moore,” Tara said, taking the other woman’s hand.

“Glenna McClure,” Glenna said, eyeing the stranger curiously.  “You seem… familiar to me.  Maybe we have met before?  Somewhere else?”

“I don’t think so,” Tara said quickly, releasing her hand.

“Tara just arrived yesterday,” Caitlin explained, walking over to give her friend a hug to welcome her back to the island.  “How was Paris?  Did you take pictures?”

“You know I never do.”  Glenna smiled.  “But I brought you something better.”  She pulled a package from her shoulder bag.

“Glenna, I told you—”

Glenna shoved the box at her and Caitlin took it, grumbling.  Digging through the layers of tissue paper, she found a pair of three-inch heels the color of rubies and a matching silk scarf.

Caitlin lifted a shoe with one finger, let it dangle between them.  “What am I going to do with these?”

“I don’t know, maybe wear them?”

“Where?”

“Here.  Wear them to work.  Show off your legs.”

“Oh sure, and then I’ll have a broken ankle as well as a hand.”

Glenna’s brows snapped together in concern.  “What happened to your hand?”

“I fell off a chair yesterday, and broke my finger.”  She held up the splint.  “It’s better now.  Tara fixed it.”

Glenna’s gaze drifted back to the newcomer.  “How?”

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Tara said, turning back to the stove.  “She just needed a little wrapping.”

“
After
you reset the bone,” Caitlin corrected.  “Let’s not forget that part.”  She glanced back down at her hand.  “It hurt like crazy at the time, but it feels better now.”  Turning, Caitlin set her new package on the counter and looked up at Glenna.  “These are going in the back of the closet next to the dress you bought me in Italy.”

“I’m only trying to add a little spice to your life.”

“My life is fine the way it is.”

Glenna clucked her tongue.  “I bet you-know-who wouldn’t mind seeing you in those shoes.”

Caitlin’s eyes narrowed.  “You leave
you-know-who
out of this.”

“Won’t be long before it’s summer again and Liam O’Sullivan’s back in town.  You remember that tourist who came here last summer.  What was her name?”

Caitlin gritted her teeth.  “Andrea.”

“I bet Andrea owns shoes like those.  And I bet she isn’t afraid to wear them.”

“I’m not afraid.”

Tara hid a smile and slipped off her apron.  She scooped up the stack of books and turned away from the stove. “I’ll let you two catch up while I study.  I’ll be back by four to start working on dinner.”  She looked at Glenna.  “It was nice to meet you.”

“You too, Tara.” 
And aren’t we in a hurry to get away?
  “Where are you staying?”

“She’s staying in the cliff cottage,” Caitlin answered proudly.

“Dominic’s cliff cottage?”  Glenna raised a perfectly winged brow.  “How interesting.  Come to think of it, I could use a bit of fresh air.”  Crossing the room, she held open the door.  “I’ll walk you home.”  She winked at Caitlin over her shoulder.  “I’ll stop by this evening for a drink and a chat.”

The air was crisp and cool and refreshing when Tara stepped outside and she took a moment to soak in the view.  She could hear men shouting over their motors down at the docks, bringing in their catch for the day.  The ocean crashed turquoise over a silver beach, fading out to the Atlantic in darker blue.  Sunlight sparkled, dropped like diamonds into the water.  To the West, puffy clouds floated over the jagged peaks of Connemara, like rich dollops of cream.

“Takes your breath away, doesn’t it?”

Tara nodded, awestruck.  “This is the first time I’ve seen it on a sunny day.”

“I remember the first time I saw this view,” she said, starting to walk.  “It was exactly the push I needed to put my row house on the market.”