First and Only (Callaghan Brothers #2)

*

Lexi was in the kitchen of the old stone cottage, sitting in the large bow window seat, looking out at the moon. Her knees were drawn up to her chin, her arms wrapped loosely around her legs as she leaned against the panes, her mind millions of miles away. Several candles burned on the counters, bathing the room in a dim, warm glow.

It seemed a fitting way to spend her last night in Pine Ridge. Tomorrow she’d be gone, and she would not be coming back. Things had come full circle, in a way. It seemed appropriate that one of her last memories of this place should be the same as some of her first.

How she had loved sitting here when she was little. Back then, her grandmother had stitched a soft cushion for her, perfectly contoured to the window seat. Here she would perch for hours, reading, drawing, playing games while her Greek mother and Irish grandmother cooked or baked or quilted. It always smelled so good when they made their homemade bread, pies, and cakes. She smiled to herself. Maybe that’s where her love of cooking had begun all those years ago.

Her heart ached. How she wished they were still here. They would know what to do.

She began singing softly, the same melody her grandmother used to sing to her all those years ago. Lexi didn’t understand all of the words, but she didn’t have to. Even back then she knew her grandmother was singing of something very special.

Once Lexi had asked her mother about the song, and her mother simply said that it was the song her husband used to sing to her back in Ireland. It was haunting, and filled with so much love that just singing it made her feel like her grandmother was right there in the room with her again. As she sang, she felt a familiar presence, and despite the torrent of emotions roiling within her, everything calmed.

*

Ian watched her from the doorway, listening in stunned silence as the long-forgotten melody filled his heart and soul. Lexi had a beautiful voice, low and lilting, perfect for singing ancient Irish lullabies. And he could envision it so clearly – Lexi sitting in the window, singing their child to sleep as he looked on silently...

His heart began to hammer in his chest. The image was so clear, so perfectly defined, he had to blink several times before he convinced himself it wasn’t real.

“My grandmother used to have the most beautiful lilies right outside this window,” Lexi said quietly, breaking into his vision. “Bright yellow ones, and white ones with streaks of pink in the middle. I could stare at them for hours sometimes, daydreaming that instead of flowers they were fierce dragons, and I was a fairy princess, stuck in her tower, waiting for someone to come and rescue me.”

It took him a moment to realize she was talking to him. She continued to gaze out the window, still and unmoving. Ian was sure he hadn’t made any noise, yet she had known he was there.

“Come sit with me,” she said, patting the area beside her.

Ian crossed the room silently, sitting beside her in the huge seat. He held his hand out to her. Lexi smiled at the handful of juicy black raspberries cradled in his palm, then looked directly into his eyes. In that moment, Ian felt like he had given her the moon.

He reached for her hand and gently rolled the berries into her palm, frowning when he saw the tight bandage covering it. She took one raspberry and lifted it to his lips before taking one for herself, repeating the gesture until they were all gone. It was all done without a word, without a touch, but it was one of the most intimate things he had ever shared with anyone.

“I miss them so much,” she said finally, looking out the window once again.

Ian knew how it felt to lose his mother at an early age, but he’d always had his father and brothers around him. He couldn’t imagine what it would have been like without them. Wishing he had words that could help, but knowing he didn’t, he gently put his arms around her.

Thankfully, she didn’t resist. She curled into him like a kitten against his chest. He closed his eyes, letting the warmth of her body soak into him. A sense of peace, of rightness settled over him as he rested his chin on the top of her head and breathed in that familiar orange and honey scent.

“Why did you come here, Ian?” she asked several minutes later, breaking the silence.

“I was worried about you,” he answered honestly, though there was so much more to it than that.

“Why?”

He’d been wondering the same thing himself, and he wasn’t sure she wanted to hear his theories, especially after his earlier vision still had him a bit shaken. “You shouldn’t be out here all alone,” he said finally. It was the truth. Sort of.

“I’m used to being alone, Ian,” she said against his collarbone, sounding weary. There was no anger, no malice in her words, just simple truth.

“Not anymore,” he answered.