“Just because they’re Travellers doesn’t mean they’re criminals.”
He held up his hands. “What’s got you riled? Just because they’re Irish doesn’t mean they reflect on you.”
She’d caught the note of contempt in his voice. Alanna turned her gaze back on the settlement. What would he think if he knew he’d married the daughter of Travellers? Their backgrounds couldn’t be more different.
“I’d like to buy a basket.” She pointed to a roadside stand where baskets of Irish design hung.
He rolled his eyes. “I’ll buy you some authentic sweet-grass baskets instead of these cheap things.”
She didn’t wait for his approval and threw open her door. “I want one of these.”
The woman sitting in the stand watched her approach. “You like a basket, missus? I have good prices.”
Though the woman’s words were friendly enough, Alanna wasn’t sure about the intense stare from the woman’s brown eyes. “They’re quite lovely,” she said, though now that she was closer, she saw the cheap materials and workmanship.
Her mother used to make baskets. She dimly remembered sitting on the floor beside her mother in a booth much like this one. A trug basket to hold cut flowers would be a good choice. She picked it up. “How much?”
“For you, thirty dollars.”
“Too much.” Alanna haggled her down to twenty. Barry had gotten out of the car but stood back leaning against the hood. She fished a bill out of her purse and handed it over.
She could smell Irish stew bubbling in the pot over the open fire, an aroma she hadn’t inhaled in years. Nostalgia swept over her. That life hadn’t been so bad, even with her foster mother’s harshness. At least she’d the freedom to play barefooted in the dirt.
“I will throw in a smaller basket,” the woman said suddenly. “You wait here.” She exited the back of the stand and went to a small trailer. The glance back toward Alanna before she entered the trailer held speculation. Almost recognition, though Alanna was sure she’d never seen the woman before.
“You done?” Barry called.
Alanna didn’t really want a smaller basket. She’d only bought this one so she could see a tiny part of her past she’d all but forgotten. If the woman came back out, she might make it difficult for Alanna to get away. She grabbed her basket and joined Barry at the car.
His nose wrinkled at the sight of the basket. “There are much better ones around, sugar. We’ll stop on the way home.”
Alanna got into the car and fastened her seatbelt. As Barry pulled away from the ditch, she saw the woman come out of the trailer with a cell phone in her hand. She was talking animatedly into it and waved for the car to stop.
Barry accelerated. “I don’t like the way she was staring at you. They probably recognized your accent and thought they had a gullible one on the hook.”
Alanna said nothing though she bristled at his tone. She wanted to tell him the truth about her past, but the fake story their first manager had concocted sometimes seemed more real than the actual life she’d experienced. Why was she even thinking about all this? She’d never find her mother or her sister. She and Liam had tried many times. She had to accept the fact that she was alone in the world.
Except for God. She pushed away the whisper in her head. If God had answered any prayer, it had been Jesse’s, not hers.
Barry reached across the seat and took her hand. “Are you okay, Alanna? I’m sorry if I was a little gruff.”
“Just a little homesick.”
He squeezed her fingers. “I know you’ll never forget Liam, but I hope you can move on. We’ve got a future together if you’ll open your hand and take it.”
She stared into Barry’s warm eyes. “Maybe you’re right.” It was about time she forgot the past altogether and just looked to the future. She knew he would do all he could to make their future together a good one. She squeezed his fingers. “You’re a good man, Barry Kavanagh.”
He smiled. “Too bad there’s no demand for good men, huh?”
“Let’s go out to dinner tonight, just the two of us?”
His eyebrows rose. “Really? How about we take in a concert too? I’ve got tickets to Hibernian Hall. A small symphony event.”
She kept the bright smile on her face. Marriage was all about compromises, of each one growing and giving. She and Liam hadn’t liked the same things either, but she’d learned to enjoy making him happy.
Twenty-Three
Barry stopped by the grocery to get milk then continued on to the house. The car rolled up the long driveway, and the shadows thickened as the trees blocked out the sun. An unfamiliar vehicle sat in front of the house.
“Who’s here?” she asked.
Barry frowned. “No one I recognize.”
The beat-up pickup had more rust than paint. One tire was almost flat. “Maybe it’s the contractor,” she said.