Because You're Mine

Ena lowered the camera. “We just want you happy.”

“I am! Deadly happy,” she said through clenched teeth. She wobbled on the heels as she marched to the door. “Let’s get this day over with.”

The music started, and her mates walked the white runner to the front on the arms of the best men, Barry’s friends she’d never met. Her gut clenched. She started down the aisle and saw Jesse turn to look at her. His face was still a bit swollen from his surgeries, but he looked better than she’d imagined. What could make a man desperate enough to take his best friend’s life in addition to his own?

She averted her gaze and stepped on the rose petals strewn along her fateful path.





Six


The Mercedes rolled past giant live oak trees with Spanish moss dripping from their branches. Alanna caught sight of the glimmer of water from the swamps. A glorious sunset was the backdrop to a scene worthy of a picture postcard. Though they were only twenty miles from Charleston, it was another world.

Sluggish water moved in the river running beside the lane-way. “It looks black,” she told Barry.

He pointed to trees half submerged in the murky water. “Cypress. The tannin in the trees stains the water, and it moves so slowly that it’s never fully purged.” He turned his head and smiled at her. “Happy?”

She smiled back. “Deadly happy.”

In reality, she’d never been so tired. Her face hurt from the smile she’d forced on it as she accepted the snarky congratulations from society women who’d had their eyes on Barry. His friends had likely only shown up to gossip about the grieving young widow. Everyone in Charleston knew of Ceol’s tragedy. And she’d remarried so quickly.

She stretched and kicked off her shoes. “I’ll be glad when the rest of the band joins us. And I can’t wait to see the studio you had done up for us. The tour starts in six weeks. That’s not a lot of time for practice. And we still have to find a-a new drummer.” Her throat closed at the thought of replacing Liam. The percussionist they’d used right after Liam’s death had gone back to Ireland for another gig and couldn’t be coaxed to return. They’d interviewed dozens to replace him, and most didn’t know the difference between a bodhran and tambourine.

He cleared his throat. “About the studio. The contractor was delayed by rain on another project.”

“Oh, Barry, we have so little time! When will it be finished?”

“A couple of weeks.” His smile broadened. “It will be okay. You all can practically read each other’s minds. It won’t take much practice to get you ready.”

Alanna started to object, then closed her mouth. She studied her nails, blunt cut and unpolished. She often thought Barry saw her this way, as someone to be molded and honed. He’d find out she was more stubborn than he thought.

“I see.” She made no attempt to hide how cross she was.

His smile faded. “The studio will be finished soon, and Ceol will be here. Don’t worry about it. Let’s enjoy getting to know one another better.”

She turned her thoughts away from the sticky situation of a marriage that wasn’t real. “We can’t wait two weeks to start practice. Will you have a car for me to travel to the city? Though I’ll need time to remember how to drive on the wrong side of the road.”

“We’ll work it out,” he said.

There were other problems to iron out as well. “What about my citizenship application? How long will it take to get it through?”

“Not long. I brought home papers for you to sign, and I’ll take them to my friend tomorrow. He’s promised to run them right through. He got your permanent residency done the minute you returned to the States, so he knows what he’s doing.”

Alanna allowed herself to relax. The car rolled through the line of trees shielding the estate, and she caught her breath at the first sight of Blackwater Hall when they were still one and a half kilometers away. Her awe caused her Irish brogue to return in full force.

“It’s huge, it is,” she said.

The stone plantation house’s foundation appeared to have been laid when the area was first settled, though Barry had told her the home was built in 1890. Such a grand place for someone like her to occupy. Her toes crept across the car’s soft carpet and found her shoes. She slipped her feet into them.

“It’s beautiful.” The manicured lawn went on forever. The grass was a soft green, the perfect foreground to the magnificent mansion waiting to greet them. She craned her neck and peered through the windshield as the Mercedes rolled closer to the home.