Finding Our Hearts Read online

  Finding Our Hearts

  An Irish Hearts novel, book 2

  Grace Roberts

  Copyright © 2015 by Grace Roberts

  All rights reserved.

  Edited by Lauren McKellar

  Cover designed by Najla Qamber Designs (www.najlaqamberdesigns.com)

  To discover other titles by Grace Roberts, please visit her website: authorgraceroberts.com

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

  This book is licensed for your personal enjoyment only and remains the copyrighted property of the author. No part of this book may be reproduced or used in any manner without written permission of the copyright owner except for the use of quotations in a book review. For more information, address: [email protected]

  If you enjoyed this book, please encourage your friends to purchase their own copy.

  Thank you for your support and for respecting the hard work of this author.

  Contents

  Newsletter

  Author’s Note

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Afterword

  Healing Our Hearts (Irish Hearts, #1)

  Healing Our Hearts - Chapter 1

  Also by Grace Roberts

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  This novel is dedicated to Lucy Nolan.

  May your guardian angel always watch over you.

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  Author’s Note

  Dear reader,

  This book is written mainly in American English, but since it is set in Ireland and the characters are Irish, you will find a few Irish English words and slang too, especially in the dialogues.

  At some point in the story there are a couple of references to the Rose of Tralee. For those of you who are not familiar with this, the Rose of Tralee festival is a traditional beauty pageant held annually in August in Tralee, County Kerry and it was inspired by “The Rose of Tralee” love song.

  The young woman who will be crowned “The Rose” will be the ambassador of Ireland around the world and will be selected based on her personality and talents, not on her beauty.

  Each of the 32 counties in Ireland will select one Rose, and, in June, 6 finalists will be chosen to participate in the International Rose Of Tralee Festival that takes place in August.

  Since the festival is celebrated among Irish communities all over the world, there are also international Roses from other European countries, as well as America, Australia, Canada, UAE and New Zealand.

  I was in Tralee during the festival a few years ago and it was truly a beautiful experience, especially as I was there when the parade took place. The Roses went around the town on decorative floats, greeting all the young girls who dreamed that one day they too will be a Rose.

  If you plan on visiting Ireland in August, make sure you spend a day in Tralee during the festival.

  If you’re interested in knowing more about this festival and the traditions behind it, you can check out the official website: http://www.roseoftralee.ie/.

  All this said, I hope you enjoy reading about the nerdy girl who has never wanted to be a Rose of Tralee and the handsome Irish man who fell in love with her.

  Happy reading!

  Grace

  Chapter 1

  Claire

  I was always the invisible one. In spite of my natural ginger hair, which should have stood out like a beacon in the night, nobody ever looked twice at me—especially men.

  Maybe it also had to do with the fact that I’d always been an introverted, nerdy kind of girl, who’d rather spend her afternoons at the public library getting lost in an Agatha Christie book than at the mall checking out guys, or dressing up hoping to be the next Rose of Tralee in the famous Irish beauty pageant.

  Whatever the reason, I was always the one who went unnoticed, and today was no exception.

  As I dragged my huge rolling suitcase, a trolley and my full-to-near-explosion-point duffel bag down the platform of Galway railway station, I felt no more visible than I’d ever been. I dodged people, as I tried not to topple over and break something or hurt someone else, which would have been a poor start to my new life. After the events of the past few months, I’d relished my invisibility to the rest of the world, and I’d shied away from all human contact, needing to be left alone with my thoughts and my grief; right now, though, I wouldn’t have minded someone to notice me and lend a hand. The bigger suitcase kept bumping in turns against my hip and the trolley, causing the duffel bag on top of it to lose its balance and forcing me to stop every few steps to grab it before it fell off. Not a single man who passed me by even bothered asking if I needed help, although it was clear I was struggling to juggle two suitcases and a heavy bag on my own.

  And they say chivalry isn’t dead. Ha.

  But that was the story of my life. The one time a guy had shown interest in me—a hot rugby player buying me a drink in a pub and flirting with me all night had been quite spectacular, if not a once-in-a-lifetime event for me—I’d ended up with a bruised cheek and a split lip, courtesy of said hot player. Lucky me. So from that moment on, even though I’d been only twenty-two at the time, I’d sworn off men, especially the hot, bulky ones, and I’d stuck my nose back into my beloved paperbacks, dreaming one day I’d find a job that would involve books, as I’d always dreamed since I was a child.

  By the time I finally managed to reach the exit and drag my heavy luggage to the taxi rank, I was sweating. Luckily, chivalry wasn’t dead in the taxi-driver society, and when a middle-aged man came over and relieved me of my luggage I wanted to hug him.

  “How on earth could a little thing like you carry all of this weight?” he asked, hoisting my luggage and storing it into the trunk of the white sedan. Obviously, he wasn’t referring to my height, since I was five-feet eight, but rather to my lanky build. I’d never been chunky but I’d never been thin either—I was a normal girl all through my teenage years. After what happened with my mother though, I lost a good few pounds, and now I was way thinner than I liked. Hopefully my sharing the house with someone who’d remind me to eat would help me regain all the weight I’d involuntarily lost. It’d be nice to finally stop swimming in my own clothes.

  “Either you’re staying for a long while or you’re not a light traveler.” He grinned, closing the trunk with a loud thud. “Don’t know what it is with women always needing so much stuff. My wife always packs at least two suitcases for herself, even when we go away for a weekend.”

  “I’m moving from Kerry,” I said with a shrug, hoping it would be enough of an explanation for him, and opened the door to get inside. I didn’t really feel like chatting with him right now. I wanted to enjoy the view of the familiar city streets I’d come to learn so well after living here fo
r four years, and get my bearings before I reached what would be my new home.

  I gave him the destination and he left the station, plunging into the city traffic. I hadn’t been back since I left Galway two years ago, but so far everything looked just the same as I remembered. We passed the famous Eyre Square and I noticed it was crowded, as usual, with tourists taking pictures and locals strolling along the paths across the trees and manicured flowerbeds. We turned left at the traffic light on the corner of the square, and headed toward the docks. I rolled down the window and breathed in the scent of salt and fish, while seagulls squawked and fought with one another over a fish. The taxi drove across the bridge, and we left the Spanish Arch and the Latin Quarter with all the pubs and shops behind as we headed toward Salthill, where my new home would be.

  When the car stopped in front of a two-story brick house in a quiet cul-de-sac, reality finally kicked in. This would be my new home for a while—at least until I had the funds to afford a house for myself or until my landlady and friend, Ciara, decided she’d had enough of having a housemate and kicked me out. Even though I really hoped this wouldn’t be the case. We’d had fun sharing a room back in college; sharing a house, with our own separate rooms, should be even better.

  While I was checking out the house and my surroundings, the driver carried my suitcases up the three steps to the front door, and even though I was a little short on money and should be careful not to spend it carelessly, I told him to keep the five-euro change he’d well earned.

  I rang the bell, and a second later, footsteps shuffled toward the entrance. The door opened, followed by a shriek, and before I could even say hello I was wrapped in a bone-crushing hug, bouncing up and down in time with my friend.

  “It’s so good to see you again, Claire!” Ciara squealed, nearly piercing my eardrums. I’d forgotten how exuberant she was. “I’ve missed being roomie with you—although technically we won’t be sharing a room anymore.” She giggled and flailed her arms, urging me inside.

  “Come in. How’s your trip been? Oh, and when did you say your stuff would be arriving?”

  I’d also forgotten Ciara talked non-stop. She took a step toward me, lifted my bigger suitcase and groaned.

  “Jaisus, are you carrying a dead body inside this suitcase? I thought you said you’d be travelling light, but I guess you were talking about yourself, since you look like you’ve just been freed from a concentration camp. I’ll have to stuff you like a goose!”

  I couldn’t help laughing at her statement. Being alone with my mother for the past two years—save for the occasional visits from my aunt—I’d forgotten how good it felt to spend some time with someone so lively and cheerful. I’d forgotten how good it felt to laugh and act like a carefree twenty-three-year-old, living for the moment and not worrying about the future. Moving in with Ciara was going to help me get back on my feet and press the play button for my life that had been in stand-by mode for too long.

  “Let me in, and we can catch up over a cup of tea. What do you say?”

  “I say, hell yes!” she shouted, fist pumping the air. She moved aside to let me into my new home, and as soon as the door closed with a click, a dog yapped in another room. A moment later a small black and beige fur ball came running toward us.

  “And who’s this?” I asked as it stopped by my feet, looking up with his tongue lolling out as if he’d just run a mile. Considering the size of his paws, it might as well have felt like it to the poor pup.

  “This is Robbie. My boyfriend gave him to me on Valentine’s Day. He won’t get much bigger than this. He’s a Morkie: half Maltese and half Yorkshire, or something like that.”

  I smiled, and stared down at him for a moment. He was rather adorable, and I was sure we’d be best friends before long.

  “You’re not allergic or scared, are you? If you are, I could buy him a shed or something and leave him outside if you—”

  “No, it’s okay,” I reassured her with a headshake. “I’ve always wanted a puppy, but Mum was allergic to animal fur so we could never have pets. It’ll be nice to finally have one.”

  Ciara grinned and picked Robbie up, scratched his tiny head and brought him close to her face.

  “He’s a good boy—much cleaner than a man. Aren’t you, baby?” She spoke in a funny voice that people normally used with little children, and I couldn’t help smiling. “And he doesn’t leave the seat up.” She winked, and I laughed—something I hadn’t done in so long it almost felt unnatural now.

  “So, Robbie, huh? He’s not by any chance named after Robbie Williams, is he?”

  Ciara grinned again. Leave it to her to use the name of her favorite artist for her dog.

  With Robbie still clutched to her chest like a teddy bear, Ciara walked down the corridor and I left my suitcases by the stairs on the right, before following her into a nice, modern kitchen, with lacquered burgundy cupboards and a huge double door fridge. Being the kitchen fanatic I was, I was already in love with my new house, and I didn’t care what my bedroom was like if I could cook in such a fantastic kitchen.

  “Wow, this is fabulous.”

  Ciara switched the kettle on, put Robbie down and turned toward me, beaming.

  “It’s quite something, isn’t it? Too bad I’m a terrible cook.” She scrunched up her nose, and I smiled.

  “I’d be happy to do the cooking, if you do the dishes instead.”

  Ciara nodded and reached out her hand. “Deal.”

  We shook and giggled like teenagers, then Ciara showed me where all the kitchen appliances, dishes and cutlery were before we finally sat on the high stools at the kitchen counter with our mugs.

  “So how was your trip to Dublin? Did you get everything sorted?”

  I nodded and stared at the bright red mug in my hands. After my mother’s funeral in February, I hadn’t really been in the frame of mind to take care of anything other than packing up my life and calling the movers to deliver most of my stuff to Ciara’s house. Once everything in Tralee had been taken care of, including leaving the sale of the house in the capable hands of an estate agent, I’d taken the bus to Dublin and spent a few days with my mother’s sister to sign a few papers and assist in the reading of my mother’s will.

  “Mum had already arranged most of the financial and bureaucratic stuff with an old friend of my aunt’s who’s an attorney in Dublin, so it all went rather quick and smooth.” I took a sip of tea, and hoped it would help me swallow the lump that had formed in my throat. My mother had been gone for more than six months now, but I’d been so busy with everything that it had never felt final until the attorney shook my hand and said goodbye. Talking about her made it real—and painful.

  “What’s in the suitcase, anyway? It’s so heavy, I’m surprised your arm didn’t get pulled out of the socket while you dragged it behind you.”

  I’d forgotten how good Ciara was at reading people. Being a psychology student, she’d always enjoyed using me as her guinea pig when we were college roomies, and I had to admit she was really good. I was sure once she finished her postgraduate studies and became a board-certified psychologist, her patients would love her.

  Right now, I was grateful for the way she understood how much it still hurt to talk about it and had deftly changed the subject.

  “My aunt insisted on giving me something for my new house,” I said, smiling as I recalled the pride on my aunt’s face when she’d given me my grandmother’s inheritance. “She gave me some linens and stuff my grandmother embroidered. A sort of family legacy to be passed on, from mother to daughter.”

  Ciara smiled. “That’s sweet.”

  I wrinkled my nose. “Some of it is a little old-fashioned, not something I’d use in my house, but there’s a nice crocheted blanket that’ll come in handy in winter.” I took another sip of the hot drink. It wasn’t that weird to be drinking tea in August, especially not in Galway, where the winds coming from the Atlantic made even a summer sunny day feel cold. “What about you? I take
it you’re still dating that guy you met last Christmas? This must be the longest relationship you’ve had so far.”

  Ciara’s face brightened. Oh my, she was in love. I’d never seen that dreamy expression on her face when she was dating someone. This guy must be good, if she’d kept him around for eight months.

  “Aidan, yes. The one and only. You’ll meet him soon enough; he lives just outside the city, so most of the time when we hit the town, he spends the night so he doesn’t have to drive all the way back to his apartment.”

  I hoped the house had thick walls. The last thing I wanted was to hear Ciara and her boyfriend’s antics at night.

  “Feel free to have guys stay over, if you want. This is your house too, now.” She looked at me with a smirk, no doubt waiting to see if I’d take the bait and spill the beans. Smooth, Ciara.

  “Thank you, but no thank you. I’m off men.”

  Ciara frowned. “As in, you’re playing for the other team now?”

  My cheeks flushed red hot, and I shook my head vehemently. “No, no, I’m still… interested in men, I just don’t want to have one. My last experience lasted for a lifetime.”

  She raised an eyebrow.

  I shrugged. “Long story.”