Total pages in book: 49
Estimated words: 48730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 48730 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 244(@200wpm)___ 195(@250wpm)___ 162(@300wpm)
“Maybe,” I breathed. I shook my head. “But I doubt we’ll see her again.”
“What happened?” Cian asked, stomping into the house. He was soaked.
“We ran out of balloons pretty fast,” Richie explained. “So I pulled out the hose.”
“Yeah, Dick didn’t play fair,” Cian said dismissively. “What happened?”
“All good,” I replied, standing up. “She said there’s no reason to visit again.”
“Mom showed up.” Cian’s relief was visible.
“She deserves an Oscar,” I confirmed.
“Thank Christ,” he muttered. His tone and inflection were so similar to my mom’s that I jerked in surprise.
“I’m going to go tell Sersh,” I said, rounding him. “Grab a towel and clean up the floor. You’re getting water everywhere.”
I’d made it to two steps from the slider before strong arms wrapped around my waist and lifted me off the floor.
“What are you doing?” I squeaked, squirming as Richie laughed. “Put me down.”
“I think you deserve a little fun,” he replied, carrying me outside while I flailed. “You seem very…dry. And it’s such a hot day—”
“Don’t you dare,” I warned as the kids came into view. My mouth snapped shut as I watched Saoirse squeal and duck behind Aisling. Ronan had the hose, and he was using it to his advantage, his thumb over the end of it to make it spray wildly in the girls’ direction. He belly laughed. Aisling charged him, and getting sprayed directly in the face didn’t deter her as she tackled him. They went down in a tangle of limbs, their laughter filling the yard, and while they were distracted, my quiet, serious pre-teen sister snatched up the dropped hose and turned it on them, laughing maniacally.
“Sersh,” Richie called. “I’ve got another one for you!” He carried me forward.
“Don’t do it,” I yelled, pushing at Richie’s arms. “I’m an innocent bystander!”
Saoirse grinned and turned the hose on us, completely unrepentant.
I gasped as the cold water hit me in the chest. Ronan roared with laughter.
“Muah-ha-ha,” Saoirse roared.
The only consolation was that Richie was just as wet as I was by the time we wrestled the hose out of her hands. Unfortunately, Cian had rounded the house carrying the front yard hose, and it turned into an all-out war.
By the time we’d turned off the hoses, my fingers were like little prunes, the kids were sprawled out breathless in the yard around me, and I could feel my shoulders sizzling from the sun.
“I’m guessing it went okay?” Saoirse asked quietly from beside me, her eyes on the sky.
“All good, sister,” I assured her. “Mom did great.”
“Thank the good Lord,” she murmured. My eyes widened as she smiled. “Remember when he used to say that?”
“Of course,” I whispered. She’d copied our dad’s accent and inflections perfectly. “Friday night and no work until Monday. Thank the good Lord,” I said, mimicking him, too.
She giggled. “I miss him.”
“Me too.” I reached for her hand and squeezed it. “Every day.”
“Table fit through the door,” Cian said from her other side. “Thank the good Lord.” His accent was perfect, too.
“Aoife brought home perfect marks from school,” Saoirse said. “Thank the good Lord.”
“Cian didn’t fail a single class.” I kept it going. “Thank the good Lord.”
We laughed.
“Saoirse’s got my eyes,” Cian said, his voice a little lower. “Thank the good Lord.”
“Did he really say that?” Saoirse asked, turning her head toward Cian.
“More than once,” I answered for him. “He was pissed that me and Cian got Mom’s.”
“Ronan has the same eyes as me,” she pointed out.
“Yeah, but you’re the only one who looked like a little fairy.”
“The rest of us are sturdy folk,” I joked as Richie turned on his side to watch us. “Thank the good Lord.”
We were quiet, lost in our memories of Dad.
“What did he say about me?” Aisling demanded, sitting up.
“He said that you looked like a bobblehead,” Cian joked.
Aisling scowled.
“You did.” I snorted. “But you grew into your head.”
“He said you were the sweetest baby he’d ever seen,” Saoirse said, smiling up at our baby sister.
“He did?”
“Yep,” I confirmed. Saoirse was right. I hadn’t remembered it until that moment, but our dad had called Aisling the sweetest baby he’d ever seen. “He said he loved coming home because the minute you saw him, you’d start smiling. He didn’t even have to look at you, and you were grinning at him.”
“I loved him,” she said happily.
“You adored him,” I agreed.
Aisling didn’t remember much of our dad because she’d only been four when we lost him, and Ronan was only a little better. He’s been six, and I always thought he should’ve had more memories, but a part of me wondered if he’d blocked them out. Dad’s death had been so shocking and traumatic, especially with how Mom had reacted, that maybe it was how he’d protected himself from the turmoil.
“Do you think Mom would be like this if Dad was still around?” Saoirse asked after a few minutes of quiet.