Page 28 of Beneath the Quiet

“Thanks,” I mutter, pulling into the parking spot behind the stables. “Look, I’ve got to go. But I’m glad you rang. It’s been too long.”

“I know. I’m in the middle of a big merger here in London, but I’ll try to come visit you and my goddaughter before Christmas.”

The tension ebbs away. “That’d be grand.”

“I have to go. Don’t forget to send me those photos.”

“I won’t. Bye.”

“Later.”

I put my car in park and turn it off. As soon as the engine dies down, I open the door and step down. The scents and sounds of my farm–of my home–fill my senses, and I push the conversation with Joseph to the far back of my mind.

I have work to do.

Both old and new friends must wait until I’m in the right frame of mind to revisit them.

The farm has been in my family for eight generations. It’s as much a legacy as a part of life working here, day in and day out. Being outside most days is gruelling, and the most rewarding thing that I can think of. People who don’t lead this kind of life don’t understand how much we rely on the seasons changing at a specific pace. They don’t realise that all the hours we spend are for the protection of future generations. If there’s one thing my dad passed on to me, it’s the knowledge and understanding that being a farmer means learning from past mistakes and constantly evolving. Both in terms of produce, but also for the sake of growing the business. In the past few years, we’ve expanded our ecological range to include wild berries and the herb garden, and last year, I decided it was time to go beyond that, and that was when the idea for the alpacas and selling their wool to the yarn mill was born.

I walk through one of the polytunnels where we grow and cultivate the different greens and cabbages, and pride fills me as it always does when I see how far I’ve come with this particular business venture. The numbers in the bank don’t lie, and while my dad wasn’t altogether sold on my ideas when I took over at his retirement five years ago, I know he’s proud that I proved him wrong.

I stop my wanderings and turn in a half-circle, taking in my employees doing their rounds in much the same way as I am.

This is where I belong. What I know beyond a shadow of a doubt that I’ll end up doing for the rest of my life.

Sometimes, though, I can’t help but wonder if the dream of sharing it with someone other than Katie and my parents would be such a bad idea. What it would feel like to walk the same steps with someone’s fingers entwined with mine instead of doing it alone.

But deep down I know that the dream died with Tierney, so I’m resigned to walk alone instead.

It’s safer that way.

Chapter Nine

Maeve

By the time the weekend arrives, it feels like I’ve barely had time to breathe. Roísin and I decided to head into Cork for brunch and a bit of shopping. Something light, fun, and easy.

I’m in desperate need of fun and easy in my life.

Aside from gaining another friend, I’m looking forward to doing a bit of sightseeing since I haven’t been out much since I arrived.

I’ve just finished trying to tame my curls with a brush in front of the mirror in my small hallway when I hear a light knock on my front door. I hurry to open it and smile at my date for the day. Roísin’s hair is swept back with a dark-red scarf tied at the nape of her neck, and the dark-blue turtleneck peeking out from underneath her black denim jacket makes her eyes pop.

“You look stunning,” I blurt.

Red tinges her cheeks and she wipes her hand on her corduroy skirt, the exact same colour as her shirt.

“Thank you.” She practically throws a to-go cup at me, the cluster of silver bracelets on her wrist letting out a jingling sound. “This is for you. I’ve got snacks in the car, just in case we need something to tide us over before we get to the café.”

“Thank you.” I take the huge takeaway cup and smile wryly at the size of it. “Question: why do you always throw coffee at me?”

She grins at me. “Because you’re too polite to say no. You’re easy”

I snort and shake my head at her. “I’m almost ready. I just need to set the alarm. Why don’t you wait in the car?”

“Sure.”

I make quick work of fetching my handbag and make sure I have my mobile in it before I grab my classic cream trenchcoat and set the alarm. When I lock the door and turn, a gust of wind hits me square in face, causing my hair to toss and twirl wildly around my face. A strand gets stuck on the pale pink lip gloss I’m trying out for the first time, and I swipe a finger across it to get it unstuck. I tilt my head back and blink against the sun, my lips stretching in a wide smile at seeing the bluest sky in weeks. I inhale deeply, breathing in the flowery scents around me, and then set off down the short path to the wooden gate. There’s a spring in my step that I haven’t felt in a long while, and excitement flutters in my belly. I shut the gate behind me and then skirt around Roísin’s Mini Cooper to open the door and slide inside. After I’ve fastened my seatbelt, I let out a long sigh.