Page 15 of The Wandering Season

“Do you mind if we go back to Blackthorn for a bit? Cait and Da have put me in a mood. I’ll be a far more charming tour guide after I’ve worked off a little steam.”

Niall’s eyes were fixed on the road, and he was forcing himself to take even, measured breaths.

Something about the exchange with Caitlin was eating away at him, a years-long feud boiling under the surface that an outsider like me wouldn’t be privy to. They had gone from typical sibling bickering to something closer to genuine resentment with what seemed like minimal provocation.

Avery was prone to her moods too, especially when she’d faced romantic disappointment like Caitlin had, but we’d never thrown daggers quite like they did. And there was clearly a long-standing disagreement between Niall and Liam and their disparate visions for Blackthorn. Stepping in to these years-old feuds felt like starting a good novel a third of the way in. It was engrossing but lacked some necessary context.

“Of course.”

I considered asking him what was going on between his sister and him, but the query was better left for later, when he’d had time to decompress . . . or perhaps not at all. It wasn’t my family matter to involve myself in, but I couldn’t help but wonder what was behind the feud, given that they seemed to genuinely care for one another.

We rode in silence back to Blackthorn, and Niall immediately went off to the grounds in search of useful occupation. While the library fire and a good book were appealing, I wandered to the kitchen. It was Niall’s domain, but I thought preparing lunch might be a short relief from his duty as caretaker and tour guide and a small way to thank him for all he’d done while I was visiting. I barely knew him, but I was pretty certain he wouldn’t consider my commandeering his kitchen for one meal too grave an intrusion.

The kitchen, outfitted in professional-grade no-frills appliances, could have served as a culinary school textbook model for how to organize a kitchen for peak efficiency. I didn’t have to waste time hunting down ingredients because it was obvious where they belonged. We’d had a pretty ample tea at the Callahans’, so I had time for simmering and to let flavors bloom. When I was alone, I usually just tossed a salad or had a cup of yogurt, and Jonathan never seemed to care much when I made a fuss, so I stuck with basic steak-and-potato dishes when he’d come over. The only times I had the occasion to really cook was when I was able to coax my parents out of the mountains, which was a rare occurrence.

I lost myself in a haze of oregano, basil, and thyme, grown in the Blackthorn greenhouse and dried for winter. I had a marinara simmering before long and let the aroma of the herbs seep into my pores. I made a simple pasta dough, then availed myself of the sausage we’d bought from the Polish market in Ballyhaunis, along with some cheese and egg, and began to make a filling for ravioli. It was a comforting dish—and filling. Things I thought Niall could use in that moment.

Just as the ravioli had come to a boil, Niall emerged in the kitchen, his nose sniffing comically. “I swear I could smell this all the way from across the grounds. What magic have you concocted?”

I presented him with a heaping plateful, the tendrils of steam rising toward the kitchen ceiling with the grace of a ballet dancer. “Sausage ravioli and marinara. I hope you don’t mind my barging in on your private sanctuary.”

“I’ll leave in a fit of pique more often if this is what I come back to.”

He winked as he sat at the kitchen counter. I held my breath as he took his first bite. This was the hardest part of cooking for someone, especially someone who knew his way around a kitchen. I was always afraid I’d missed the mark, no matter how scrupulous I was about tasting as I went along.

“Veronica Stratton—I wish I knew your middle name—this is a marvel.”

I chuckled and dished up my own portion. “It’s Louise. I trust you not to middle-name me in vain.”

“I wouldn’t dare insult a woman who can cook like this. I consider myself a fair hand in the kitchen, and you’ve outclassed me by a mile.”

He punctuated his words with another bite of ravioli.

“I wouldn’t say that. I’ve probably put on five pounds in the few days you’ve been cooking for me.”

He made an exaggerated show of looking me up and down. “Well, if you have, it suits you.”

We ate in companionable silence for a few moments before I worked up the courage to address the Caitlin-shaped elephant in the room. “Caitlin seems to be taking her breakup hard.”

The words sounded stupid as I voiced them, but there was no graceful way to broach the topic.

“No, not really. Seamus was just a diversion for her. I don’t think she really fancied him. The truth is, she’s mad at me.”

“But why? What did you do?”

“She always dreamed of living in Dublin and being part of a more vibrant sphere. It’s hard to imagine wanting something more vibrant than Westport in offseason, I know. But my parents are old-fashioned to a fault. Probably comes with being late into the world of parenthood paired with four decades of being the caretaker of an eight-hundred-year-old castle. They wouldn’t let her move to Dublin without me.”

“And you didn’t want to go,”

I supplied.

He sighed. “We had it all planned. I was going to start at the university, and she’d come after she graduated. We’d share a flat, and I’d be there to look after her. But Da had a heart attack my last year in high school, and he needed my help to care for this place. It was just going to be temporary. We’d start courses locally and revisit our plan in a year or two, but two years slips into ten mighty fast. She never forgave me for staying.”

“Wow. And they haven’t relented all this time? Isn’t she twenty-six or so?”

There had never been a question about my going to school in Boulder, or even Avery going to design school on the opposite end of the country.

“I know it has to be hard for an independent American like you to understand. They’ve always felt protective of Caitlin. They worried, and let it be said, not without probable cause, that she’d have got herself into trouble in the big city if she didn’t have someone looking out for her. In my parents’ time, girls lived at home until they were married. She may have a rebellious streak in her, but she doesn’t have it in her heart to defy them. And the employment opportunities here aren’t such that she’s got a tremendous amount of savings to be fully independent, either.”

I felt a prickle of indignation. “Maybe so, but she should have been allowed to make her own mistakes so she can learn from them. It would be up to you all to help her out of trouble or not, but forcing her to stay seems unreasonable and cruel.”

“I don’t disagree with you. And while it was maybe prudent not to let her move there alone at eighteen, she’s a grown woman now. I’ve tried to persuade them to let her go until I’m blue in the face. My father can be a stubborn man, and Ma likes having all her chicks nearby. She can’t understand why Cait wants to leave.”

“You got most of it right, brother, but you’ve left out a few key details.”

Caitlin entered the kitchen, having been quiet enough that she’d surprised us both.

“I really don’t feel like fighting, Cait. I’ve had enough for one day.”

“Fair enough. So have I. I came to apologize, especially to Veronica. Ma is mortified and begged me to come patch things up. She said she didn’t want our guest thinking she’d raised two hooligans, even if it is the truth.”

Niall barked a laugh. “That’s Ma all right.”

His face grew somber again.

Caitlin sniffed the air and her eyes twinkled. “Since I didn’t come to fight, do you think I can have a plate of whatever it is you’re eating? I could do with something that isn’t ice cream.”

Niall rolled his eyes, but I rose to fix her a plate. She refused the third stool, preferring to stand in the corner by Niall. “Consider it a peace offering and a great sacrifice. I was looking forward to seconds. Maybe thirds.”

Caitlin helped herself to a bite. “I’d give you the mickey, but this stuff is incredible, Ronnie. I like you fine, but you need to go back to America before I gain ten stone.”

It was my turn to laugh, but I was pleased with the compliment as she ate heartily. I’d not been called Ronnie since I was a preteen, but it sounded natural and friendly coming from Caitlin.

Niall twirled his fork a moment and met her eyes. “I’ll regret asking this, but what do you claim I left out of my explanation to Veronica about our . . . spat?”

She glared at him as if it were as obvious as the sun rising in the east. “That I’ve begged you to leave a million times, not just for my sake, but for yours too.”

He looked back down at his plate. “It was always going to end here, Cait. I’m following in the footsteps of countless generations of men in our family. I was born to be the caretaker of Blackthorn.”

She sighed dramatically. “Oh for the love . . . You sound like a medieval knight who’s sworn fealty to his lord. You’re living in the twenty-first century, for Pete’s sake.”

Niall pinched the bridge of his nose, trying to rein in his temper. “I won’t be the Callahan to drop the torch.”

“What torch, you daft fool? You’re not beholden to anyone.”

Realizing her tone had become too confrontational, she lowered her voice. “Listen, if I thought you really and truly wanted to spend your life as a ruddy innkeeper, I’d not have a word to say about it. But I don’t think you do. Not really.”

Niall’s color had returned, and his expression softened by a degree or two. “I’ve been the caretaker for a decade now. I haven’t been brooding or snappish, have I? We haven’t drudged up this old hatchet in several years, so why now?”

“You may not be unhappy, but you aren’t happy either. Seamus acting a fool and sneaking around with Nora Doyle was just a reminder of how small and bleak this place is. You have brains and talent. You could have done so much more.”

“But I’ve done all I wanted,”

Niall said more gently.

Caitlin looked more serious than I’d ever seen her as she placed her fork down on her plate. “I know you believe that, Niall, and I’m truly not trying to be a prat . . . but I don’t think you have. I think your dreams are bigger than Blackthorn. And I mean this sincerely—it would kill me to see you at Da’s age filled with regret. My motives may not have been entirely selfless, but I truly don’t want that for you.”

Niall stood and wrapped Caitlin in his arms. “I know, Caitie Rose. I know.”

He didn’t try to persuade her that she was wrong about him and his choices but let her cry out her frustration and her grief for time lost on his shoulder.

At length she pulled away, wiped her tears, and turned to me. “And now you must think I’m a proper dolt.”

“Not at all. I think every single one of your feelings is justified. But, of course, I’m lucky enough to come from a family where daughters aren’t kept on such short leashes.”

She reached for my hand, and I squeezed hers in return.

“Thank you for that,”

she said. “I know they love me to the moon, but their ideas are, well . . .”

“Well-meaning but old-fashioned?”

Niall supplied.

She nodded. “That’s as apt a description as I can come up with.”

“I’ll try to work on them again,”

Niall promised.

“I’d appreciate that, brother dear.”

She turned to me again. “I’m only sorry you’re here such a short while. If my fool brother is going to spend his life here, you at least brighten up this gloomy dump.”

The heat rose in my cheeks at the compliment, and I was grateful Niall didn’t bring attention to it. He also didn’t rebuke her for the insult to Blackthorn. He understood it as the symbol of the forces that kept her from finding her path out of Westport.

“It’s a shame indeed,”

Niall said, his tone lighter. “We’ll only have a few days left to persuade her to cook more ravioli.”

Caitlin laughed. “Typical Callahan man, as motivated by food as a gun dog.”

Playfully, he ruffled her hair. “Guilty as charged.”

“All right then, I’ve made my peace and eaten your food. I should be off.”

She gave me a side squeeze and kissed her brother on the cheek. She bounded toward the kitchen door but turned back before passing through it. “If you had an ounce of imagination, you’d go to France with her, you know. It’d do you some good to see something outside the county for once.”

She ducked out without waiting for his reply.