Chapter Thirty-One

Norah

Kilkenny is beautiful and just as magical as all of the pictures showed. There are light displays and Christmas decorations stationed all over the city. Street lamps are wrapped in lights and hold decorative wreaths while door frames are lined with garlands or bows. I had forgotten about the holiday in the midst of getting ready for the trip. This time of year always makes me a little melancholy. Even though my friends welcome me into their homes, it just isn't the same without my Mom.

"Do you think we'll still be here for Christmas?" I ask Eamon.

He releases a breath before answering, "I don't honestly know, love. If we are, I'm sorry."

"What on earth are you sorry for?"

"Well," he begins, "we didn't talk about it, but don't you have traditions or plans you don't want to miss out on?"

"Not really. I usually just go to Charlie's." I shrug. "I'm excited to be spending Christmas with you. And your Mom. And hopefully your sister." Eamon doesn't respond right away, so I reach across the console for his hand. "Hey, you okay?"

He laces our fingers together and squeezes my hand. "Aye. Sorry. I was just thinking about the last Christmas I spent with Mam. Caity was actually home and sober for that one. It was one of the more pleasant holidays since losing Da."

"Hopefully this time will be just as good," I offer.

"It will be," he says, turning his head and smiling at me. "You're here. I can't imagine anything better than spending it with you and my family."

Eamon navigates through his hometown with ease, remembering every road like he never left. Eventually, he turns onto a quiet street lined with quaint houses, all similar in size and style. They're each two stories high with brown brick covering the lower level of the house and white siding on the upper level. The second-floor exterior boasts twin windows with queen post gables crowning them. Each home has a small yard in the front, some landscaped with precision while others are littered with children's toys or bicycles. We reach the end of the cul-de-sac and pull into the driveway of the second house on the right. The yard is tidy, and there are flower boxes nestled below the bay windows flanking the front door, which has a simple Christmas wreath hanging from a hook.

After putting the car in park, Eamon turns off the ignition but doesn't move. When I look over, his hands are gripping the steering wheel tightly while he hangs his head, eyes closed. My heart aches for him, so I reach over and stroke the back of his head.

"Hey," I say softly. "Babe, talk to me."

"I'm okay, love," he whispers. "I just need a minute."

"I know. This is big. But I'm here. You're not doing this alone," I promise him.

"Thank you," he says hoarsely before leaning across the console to place a gentle kiss on my lips. "I love you. "

"I love you, too," I answer, resting my forehead against his. "Are you ready to go in now?"

"Aye," he nods. "Let's do this. I'm surprised Mam hasn't come tearing out the door already."

I glance towards the front of the house, nerves fluttering in my stomach. This trip isn't even remotely about me, but I'm meeting his Mom for the first time. This is big.

"She'll love you, Acushla. Don't worry," Eamon assures me, sensing my hesitation. "C'mon, we're in this together now."

We step out of the car and Eamon rounds the front to grasp my hand, squeezing my fingers reassuringly. Before we hit the front steps, the door flies open and a curvy middle-aged woman with curly copper hair rushes out. She freezes on the top step, a hand immediately going to her chest, while tears fill her eyes and her bottom lip quivers.

"Eamon, my boy…" is all she manages to get out before breaking into a sob and lunging for him. She throws her arms around his neck, holding him tightly as she openly weeps.

Wrapping his arms around her waist, he pulls her close and whispers, "Hiya, Mam."

Tears escape my eyes watching the man I love reunite with the woman who brought him into this world. The tender way he holds her and lets her cry all over him is endearing, to say the least, and a small part of my heart cracks, missing my own mother. What I wouldn't give to hug her again.

When they finally pull apart, his Mom cups his tear-streaked face and absorbs every detail. "Ach, son, you've grown even more handsome. I didn't think that was possible. You look so much like your Da."

Her lip quivers again, and Eamon's brow furrows in sadness. He lets out a ragged breath and glances at me, drawing his Mom's attention. She pulls back, wiping her eyes, and fixates on me.

"Oh!" she exclaims. "You must be Norah!"

I smile and step forward, extending my hand. "It's an honor to meet you, Mrs. Kennedy. I'm so sorry it's not under better circumstances."

Mrs. Kennedy grabs my hand, abruptly pulling me into a hug. "Please, call me Rosie. And thank you, love."

I'm stunned for a moment, absorbing the motherly affection that I've gone so long without. I've had numerous hugs from friends and Eamon, but there's nothing like a mother's hug. The way their arms are gentle but full of strength, love, and security. I almost let loose a sob of my own at the contact.

I lean back, looking into eyes so similar to Eamon's it's shocking. "Thank me? What for?"

"For making my boy so happy and bringing him home to me for a short while. You'll never know how much that means to me."

"I can't take credit for bringing him home, but I'm happy to be here with him," I tell her.

Rosie cups my cheek and studies my face before saying, "Aye, I doubt he would have been so willing to come if you weren't with him. He wasn't stretching the truth when he said you were beautiful. It's no wonder he doesn't want to leave your side."

I blush, in response to the compliment and look to Eamon. Winking at me, he steps towards us and slides an arm around my waist. When he kisses my temple, I can't help but melt into him a little bit.

"Yer not completely wrong, Mam," he interjects. "I would have come regardless, but having Norah with me feels right."

His mother presses her fingers to her mouth as her eyes fill with tears again. "Ach, enough of my blubbering. Come inside. I'll make us a cuppa."

We follow Rosie through the door, stepping into a small entryway connected to a staircase leading to the second floor. To my right is a dining room outfitted with a simple rectangular table and four matching chairs, a small buffet up against the far wall with a painting of a seaside above it. To my left is a small sitting room that is the epitome of cozy with a loveseat sitting in front of the bay window and facing an oval coffee table and two recliners. An old wood-burning fireplace takes up the adjacent wall, and the mantle is adorned with a garland, long tapered candles, and various picture frames.

"Are you hungry, Eamon, love? Norah? Shall I make you a bite to eat?" Rosie asks.

Eamon looks at me, and I shake my head. "No, Ma," he says, "we're grand. We ate in Dublin before we set off."

"Did ye get enough? It would be no trouble at all," she offers.

I place a hand on her elbow. "Really, Mrs. Kennedy. We're fine. There's no need to do any extra work."

She playfully shakes a finger at me. "What did I tell ya about calling me Rosie? There will be no Mrs. Kennedy as long as you're taking good care of my boy."

"Sorry. Rosie, " I say pointedly, grinning at her. "Just tea would be lovely."

"Grand! I'll be right back. Eamon, would you give Norah the tour? I've set your room up with fresh sheets and all…" She hesitates. "I don't mean to be sticking my nose where it doesn't belong, but I assumed you'd be sharing a room. I can make up Caity's if need be…"

"One room is fine, Mam," Eamon says, clearing his throat nervously, his cheeks coloring slightly.

Rosie's cheeks turn a darker shade of red. "Right, I'll just go wet the tea." She scurries down the hall towards what I assume is the kitchen.

"Well," I begin, eyeing Eamon, "that wasn't awkward at all. If she's uncomfortable with us sharing, I don't mind moving to a separate room."

"No," he says quickly. "That doesn't bother her. She and Da weren't married before they…uh…right. It's just a topic that can be a bit tricky talking about with your Mam while your girlfriend is standing there."

I nod in understanding. "It's awkward being the girlfriend while your boyfriend discusses sleeping arrangements with his mother. I don't want her to think I'm some sort of hussy!"

Eamon rolls his eyes and grabs my hand. "C'mon, Acushla. Let's go check out the den of iniquity."

Leading me up the staircase, we turn left at the landing. It's a short hallway with two doors on either side. The walls are covered in a subtle, floral wallpaper and various paintings and photographs.

"Right, so, this first door," he says, pointing to the right, "is the jacks. Shower, all that. Across from it is Caity's room. My room is the last on the left, and across from that is the office. Mam's room is back on the other side of the stairs."

I follow him to the last door on the left, suddenly feeling butterflies in my stomach. We've shared much more than a bed, but something about being in the room he grew up in, in his mother's house, makes me feel like a teenager sneaking into a boy's room.

He stops in front of the door and crosses his arms. "There are a few rules you must know before entering this room, Grady."

I raise an eyebrow at him. "Is that right, Kennedy?"

"Aye," he begins with a quick nod of his head. "First, thou shalt not laugh at anything that may or may not still be hanging on the walls or sitting on the shelves. I told her to turn this into a guest room, but she refuses to change anything about it. Second, thou shalt not rummage through the closets and drawers, for fear of being subjected to twenty-plus-year-old jumpers that should have been tossed in the bin ages ago. And last…" He steps closer and leans down to kiss the space between my neck and shoulder before murmuring in my ear, "Thou shalt not wear any clothing when in my bed."

I shiver and croak out, "Why not?"

"Because I've been fantasizing about having you naked in this bed since I knew we were staying here," he says, nibbling my earlobe.

"That's a little weird," I breathe out, pressing my body closer to his.

Eamon chuckles and slips his hands under my sweater, gripping my waist. "I want you in every part of my life. I can't go back in time and make you a part of my past, but we can pretend we're teenagers, and I can fuck you in my bed."

"Hmm, I didn't know that being back in Ireland would bring out the dirty talk. I'm not sad about it." I hook my fingers through the belt loops of his jeans and pull him closer.

"Eamon, love, the tea is ready!" Rosie calls up the stairs, effectively putting an end to our heated moment.

He growls in frustration, resting his forehead on my shoulder.

"What?" I giggle. "Did you really think making tea would take that long? "

He pinches my side, causing me to squeak in protest. "No, but a man can dream, can't he? This isn't over, Acushla."

I kiss his cheek before saying, "I'd be disappointed if it was. Now, come on. You've kept your mother waiting for years. Let's not make her wait any longer."

We lumber down the stairs and back into the sitting room where Rosie is perched in an armchair, pouring steaming tea into mugs.

"Thanks, Mam," Eamon mutters, pressing a kiss to her cheek before taking a seat on the sofa next to me. After doctoring our mugs and getting settled, he turns his attention to his Mom. "How's Caity?"

Rosie lets out a heavy sigh, her eyes flooding with tears. "She's stable but still comatose. They talked about waking her up soon if the swelling in her brain goes down."

He nods absently. "Has the prognosis changed at all, then? Are her chances of going without brain damage any better?"

She shakes her head in defeat. "It's anyone's guess at this point. Oh, Eamon. Where did I go wrong with her?"

"Mam, stop," he urges. "I already told ya; you didn't do anything wrong. Caity has been difficult most of her life, and it only got worse after Da passed. She always hung with the wrong crowd, and there's not a thing you could have done to stop her, short of sending her off to a nunnery. I doubt even that would have helped. She would have taken it as a personal challenge to see how much shite she could stir up."

"Does that not reflect on how she was brought up, then?"

"Course not. Did you raise me any differently than you raised her?" Eamon challenges.

Rosie shrugs and wipes at her eyes. "I like to think your Da and I showed you both the same love and support and discipline."

"You did, Ma. That's what I'm saying. Caity has always been headstrong, and there's not a soul in this world that can make her do what she doesn't want to do. That's just her personality. She knows right from wrong though."

"He's right, Rosie," I interject. "Anyone can see what an amazing mother you are. Eamon is testimony to that. He's thoughtful and caring and selfless, but he's also the human being he is because he makes the choice every day to be that way. Some behaviors are just a part of who we are, and we have to make the conscious decision to rise above them and do good."

Rosie gives me a watery smile. "Ach, you're right. Of course, you are. All I ever wanted for her was a good life. It's just so hard as a mother to see your child struggle and suffer. You'll understand one day."

Eamon and I glance at each other. Crimson creeps over his cheeks and his eyes sparkle. I'm not ready for kids yet, but for a split second, I see a flash of what our future could be and the idea is thrilling.

"Heavens! What was I thinking? I am so sorry, to the two of ya. Nobody likes a Mam that starts harping about grandchildren. I wasn't insinuating that you two…"

"It's grand, Ma," Eamon reassures her. "No harm done. Right, Acushla?" He winks at me, and I grin back.

"Right," I confirm. "I wasn't under that impression at all."

Rosie glances back and forth between us, then starts crying again. "Ach. I'm a weepy mess this morning, aren't I? Your Da called me that before we were married."

"He did? I had no idea," he murmurs, grief clouding his eyes. I reach for his hand and give it a small squeeze.

"Aye. And your Grandda called your granny that as well," she says, studying my hand on Eamon's. "It suits you, dear."

I smile shyly, but inside, I'm beaming.