Alanna’s smile faded. “It’s his mum. She took one look at me last night and was prepared to hate me. We Irish disgust her. She told me to use this space when she knew the sound would disturb Barry’s important call.”
“He could have stood up for you. I wasn’t liking his tone when he came up here.” Ciara’s black eyes snapped. She waved a crimson-tipped finger at Alanna. “He’s too domineering.”
Alanna remembered his refusal to let her use the car. That was just concern though. “He’s trying to take care of me, make sure I’m not hurt.”
Ciara sniffed and Fiona rose, stretching like a lioness. Her blond hair rippling to her shoulders added to the illusion. “Leave her be. You haven’t given Barry a break since the first time you met him. I don’t know what you’ve got against him. He’s done a lot for Alanna. For all of us.”
Only Ena and Jesse said nothing in the argument. Ena sat snapping pictures of the water with her camera, and Jesse had his back wedged into a corner while he listened to the exchange.
Alanna was tired of her life being picked apart. “Are we going to practice or not?”
“We are.” Ena turned toward them. She picked up her pennywhistle. “I need to hear some music.” Her gaze went to the recorder in Alanna’s hand. “What’s that?”
“Oh, I almost forgot. I found a music box in one of the bedrooms. The tune is one my mother used to hum to me, and the box is just like one my sister had. Have any of you heard it?” She rewound the tape and pressed the play button. The haunting melody spilled out, and she turned it up. She wouldn’t mention the words Liam put to the tune. It was their secret, and she wanted to hoard it.
The band listened intently. Ena might be the one most apt to recognize it. Alanna watched the top of Ena’s pink head as she sat with her gaze on the floor. Ena had been in so many foster homes and in so many cities, she was likely to have picked up more snippets of culture.
“I’ve heard it,” Ena said when the music ended. “I can’t think where though. Play it again.”
Alanna rewound the tape and played the song again. The more she heard it, the more her dim memories of her mother sharpened. Mum had a mole at the corner of her mouth that Alanna had loved to touch when she was a little girl. She’d forgotten that until now. She could see the lips singing to this music, but the original words still eluded her. Alanna strained to recover more of the memory, but it slid away from her grasp.
Ena raised her pennywhistle. “My tired feet want to dance. This is getting us nowhere. Maybe it will come to us later. We need to practice now.”
Ena was right, but Alanna hated to give up when the tune hovered just beyond reach. The rest of the band rose and went to their instruments, so she had no choice but to turn off the recorder and grab her fiddle. Once the smooth basswood was in her hand, making music was all she thought about.
Ceol ran through their entire repertoire in the next two hours, and Alanna’s fingers throbbed when they finally put down their instruments.
Jesse wiped his perspiring forehead. “I’m ready for something to drink. Any chance you have some Club Orange?”
Liam’s favorite soft drink. Alanna told herself not to overreact. Jesse had likely picked up a taste for it when he was in college with Liam.
She forced a smile. “It does sound good, doesn’t it? Afraid all I have in the fridge is the typical American fare. I think I saw Coke and Sprite on the shelves.”
“A Sprite will have to do then.” He fell into step with her as the others trooped downstairs ahead of them. “How are you feeling today?”
She slowed her steps so the others would get far enough ahead not to hear their conversation. “Fair enough. A bit sore. One question though, Jesse. Why were you here last night? You never explained. It seems a bit dodgy.”
He frowned and looked away. “I needed to talk to you, ask some questions. I feel drawn to you, Alanna. Like there is something between us.” He stopped and rubbed his head. “I keep getting flashbacks of memory. Were we ever lovers?”
She hid her shock. “We dated briefly, but just as friends. I met Liam through you.”
“Maybe that’s it.” His expression and voice held doubt. “I feel I know you so well.” He rubbed his head.
“It was only through Liam. It’s your imagination, Jesse.”
“It’s not just the memories of you,” he said. “My friends and family tell me that I was agnostic and wouldn’t set foot inside a church, but I find myself drawn to St. Michael’s. The quiet, the sense of holiness there draws me. Was Liam religious?”
Liam had loved that church too. He’d made a visit there for morning mass every day they stayed in Charleston. She backed away from him and wished the others were closer. The delusions this man held might make him capable of anything.
She began to walk toward the steps again at a faster clip. “I think you need to be talking to your therapist. I’m sure the explosion has caused these strange memories that aren’t real.”