Page 12 of The Calendar of New Beginnings (Dare Valley #9)

CHAPTER SIX

B y the time Lucy drove down Main Street later that afternoon to meet Andy, she had lost one skirmish and won a much larger battle. While her toenails were a glittery pink, she had a new place to hang her hat while she was in Dare Valley.

After seeing four rental properties, she’d selected a quaint cottage up in the mountains surrounded by lush trees and craggy rock walls.

The owner, Mrs. Weidman, an eccentric elderly woman who’d moved in with her son for health reasons, had described her place as a tad too old-fashioned for students at Emmits Merriam.

Lucy remembered seeing her at some town functions growing up, but she’d never really known the family.

The house was a decided change from all of the blank, white-wall spaces she’d occupied while traveling overseas.

Fully furnished with a Victorian couch—her mother had described it as mustard-colored, but to her it had looked brownish—in the lavender parlor and a brass bed in the light-pink master bedroom, it suited Lucy perfectly.

The second bedroom, painted a light blue, would be her home office.

In the small cottage, Lucy felt like she was inside a cupcake.

After dropping her mother off at the house for a power-walking date with April, Lucy drove to her father’s bar.

Dare Valley’s stores seemed more prosperous than ever, what with the fresh paint, power-washed brick, and shining windows.

People mingled on the street, running errands and sharing gossip.

Parking was a pain, so she ended up choosing a spot three blocks away.

She almost laughed at herself for being annoyed—parking spaces and paved roads were luxuries in many parts of the world, but it was funny how quickly a person started to take them for granted.

She walked down Main Street to Hairy’s. Growing up, this bar had been her second home. She traced the green sign on the door announcing that an Irish band called Maddie’s Shillelagh would be playing this Saturday. The door chimed an Irish jig when she opened it.

The hardwood floors, dark mahogany bar, and carved bench seats made her think of the pubs she’d crawled through in Dublin on past vacations.

The smell of strong stout and freshly fried fish and chips teased her nose.

She could no longer distinguish between the two shades of green on the walls—lime and Kelly—but before she had time to stew over it, a familiar voice called out her name.

Her dad strode toward her in jeans and a black T-shirt with a green logo that read “Irish Superhero.”

“Hey everybody! My daughter is back from saving the world!” He grabbed her shoulders and kissed her cheek as the small crowd of regulars cheered from their posts all around the bar. “Welcome home, sweet girl.”

She gave him a bright smile. “I was just thinking about all the afternoons I did my homework here.”

He grinned back, the laugh lines around his mouth deepening. “Pretty much whenever your mother was taking some class or another.”

Yeah, her mother had tried everything from stained glass to wicker furniture making. Of course, Lucy had also gone over to Andy’s house a lot too. Maybe that was why she had the ability to feel at home anywhere—she’d started living a vagabond existence at a young age.

“I’ve missed this place, Dad,” she said, leaning her head against his shoulder after he situated her on a bar stool in the corner. “I’ve been to lots of pubs around the world, but there’s no place to match yours.”

He kissed her temple before walking around to the back of the bar. “You’re partial, but I’ll take the praise. Your mother has been busting my balls for not talking you out of renting Eustace Weidman’s cottage.”

Eustace was that eighty-seven-year-old lady’s first name?

She winced. “News travels fast.” Not that she was surprised.

Her mother had insisted on accompanying her on what she’d described as “rental shopping,” and she’d carped all the while about how Lucy should stay at home.

“I need my own space, Dad. Surely you understand.”

“I know it,” he said, building a Guinness for her. “You’re like me that way. Now, your mother. She doesn’t understand the concept of personal space, God love her.”

Lucy’s heart swelled as she stroked the bar’s wood grain. “You planning on drinking with me? It’s my first beer in your place in some time.”

He beamed as brightly as his bald head shone under the lights. “How could I refuse?”

After pouring himself a Guinness, he lifted his glass to hers. “Slainte.”

“Slainte,” she repeated and took a sip. The foam tickled her lips and the dark brew coated her tongue. “Mmm. Delicious.”

He wiped the foam from his mouth with the back of his hand. “Nothing like mother’s milk, as they say in the old country. Should I ask to see your new toes?”

She shuddered playfully. “Don’t encourage Mom. I decided to pick my battles.”

He laughed. “Always were a smarty pants. I also heard you agreed to shoot the photos for this calendar she and April have cooked up,” he said, leaning his elbows on the bar.

Since his expression was neutral, she couldn’t get a read on him. “What do you think about it?”

“It’s like a lot of things your mother has set her sights on over the years,” he said with a sigh. “It’s for a good cause and comes from a good place. Personally? Well, I figure the photos of your mother are the closest thing I’m going to get to those boudoir photos I’ve heard about.”

Lucy’s beer went down the wrong pipe, and she coughed violently. “Oh, gross! Did you have to put that thought in my head?”

“When you’ve been married forty years, you can judge me for looking for a little marital spice wherever I can find it,” he said, reaching across the bar and pounding her back.

The whack of his hand inflamed her lingering soreness, and she made a sound of distress before she could stop herself.

His hand froze immediately, and his clever eyes narrowed. “Are you hurt, young lady?”

She continued to sputter, shaking her head. Uh-oh. But he came around the bar and planted himself down on the stool beside her as she coughed into a napkin .

“Don’t make me pull up your shirt in the back and embarrass us both,” he said, putting his hand on her knee.

He sounded way too much like Andy Hale, and she wasn’t sure how to deflect his concern.

“I’m fine,” she said, rubbing her chest. “You have a hand like a meat cleaver.”

“Bullshit. I know my daughter. You wouldn’t return to Dare Valley if something dire hadn’t happened.”

She clutched the beer in her hand. “I was burned out.”

“Don’t make me say bullshit again. You’ve been burned out before. Talk to me.”

Since she knew he would only press her until she caved, she decided to share a vague description of the events. “Fine. Something bad happened in a village where I was working, and I needed time to recover.”

His mouth pursed, and his ears turned red before her eyes—a sure sign he was more than upset. He was livid. “Recover from what?”

“I wasn’t beaten or raped,” she said, putting her hand on top of his. “But I was hurt, and I’m recovering. Please don’t make me talk about it more, and please don’t tell Mom.”

He pulled her close and hugged her, and for a moment, she let her arms curl around him.

“You worry me something fierce, young lady,” he said, his voice rough.

“I remind myself you’re your own woman and always will be, but I love you, and your work in all those war zones takes a toll on those who love you too.

I don’t say it to make you feel guilty. I only say it because…

shit…it gives me some bad moments. Okay? ”

“I know it does,” she said softly, helpless in the face of his show of emotion.

He let her go and picked up his beer, downing half the contents. “I can’t promise not to tell your mother. ”

“But—”

“You know how this works, Luce,” he said, setting his beer back on the bar top with a clack. “She’s my partner, and you’re our kid. I don’t keep secrets from Ellie. Not even for you.”

No, he never had, and it was something she admired. Most of the time. “I was hoping for a reprieve this one time.”

“Not a chance, kid. But I will do my best to get her to give you some space. If you’ve come home to heal, we’ll do everything we can to support that. You have my word.”

“Oh, Daddy,” she said, feeling uncharacteristically teary-eyed.

“Don’t you dare make me cry, missy,” he said, swiping at his eyes. “But you have to promise to tell me if you need help with anything. I won’t accept anything but a resounding yes from you there.”

As a bargain, it was the best she could hope for. “I promise.”

“Good,” he said, cracking his neck and standing. “Now, how about some fish and chips?”

Lucy tapped her finger in time with the Irish music playing over the speakers to lighten the moment between them. She’d always known her dad worried about her, but he usually didn’t let her see it. “Sounds great.”

“This time home will be good for you, Luce. And the calendar will be a fun change.” He gave her a wink, shaking off his own emotions. “Then you can decide what the incredible Lucy O’Brien will do next. I can’t wait to see what that will be.”

She knew how much that cost him to say, fighting his worry and all, so she stood and kissed his cheek. “I love you, Daddy.”

He gave her a butterfly kiss like he’d done when she was little. “I love you too, Lucy Lu.”