An Irish Christmas Blessing

  An Irish Christmas Blessing

  Coupled by Christmas, Volume 3

  Roxanne Rustand

  Published by Roxanne Rustand, 2020.

  This is a work of fiction. Similarities to real people, places, or events are entirely coincidental.

  AN IRISH CHRISTMAS BLESSING

  First edition. October 29, 2020.

  Copyright © 2020 Roxanne Rustand.

  ISBN: 978-1393767985

  Written by Roxanne Rustand.

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Copyright Page

  CHAPTER ONE

  CHAPTER TWO

  CHAPTER THREE

  CHAPTER FOUR

  CHAPTER FIVE

  CHAPTER SIX

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  CHAPTER EIGHT

  CHAPTER NINE

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  CHAPTER TWELVE

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  CHAPTER ONE

  EVE GINGERLY PULLED into a parallel space along the one-lane road through the village of Conneally. Reassessed. Then tried again, hooking her drivers' side tires well up onto the sidewalk just as all of the other drivers had done.

  In the U.S., this would warrant a parking ticket. Here, with the impossibly narrow roads, it seemed to be the norm in every little village she'd passed through.

  She waited for an elderly woman bent over a cane to toddle past, then cautiously opened the door of her Vauxhall rental car and stepped out into the crisp, snowy December air.

  Weathered two-story buildings of rough gray stone with mullioned windows marched along each side of the road. A butcher. Chemist. Doctor's office. A charity shop, with festive holiday decorations and a display of red sweaters hanging in its front window.

  And beyond that, her home for the next two months: the Shamrocks & Shivers Antiquarian Book Shoppe. Golden, welcoming light streamed through its wide front windows and a trio of upstairs dormers. The place had picture postcard charm, with gusts of snowflakes coming down, the wreaths and candles in the windows, and a Christmas tree covered with twinkling lights inside.

  Excitement and anticipation, laced with a liberal dash of worry, washed through her as she walked across the road.

  She'd have just three days to learn about her responsibilities at the store before Shauna left for a writing residence program in London and then went on to Eve's place in Minneapolis for a temporary apartment swap. But would three days be enough?

  Even though Shauna would be just a phone call away to answer any questions, taking care of her shop during the busy holiday season would be a challenge for someone with no retail experience whatsoever.

  But this is my dream come true—Ireland, for two whole months. And really, what could go terribly wrong?

  Eve took a deep breath as she opened the heavy front door, then narrowly missed tripping over a fat sausage of a Welsh Corgi sleeping on the welcome mat. She grabbed for the end of a book stack, righted herself, and surveyed the store with delight.

  Bookshelves lined every wall, while additional floor-to-ceiling stacks of shelves appeared to honeycomb every available bit of interior space. Upholstered chairs in cranberry and deep green were strewn here and there, each with a small table and stained glass lamp. The scent of evergreen boughs and warm cookies filled the air.

  A stout woman in a shapeless gray dress and a cloud of snowy hair stepped from behind a festive display of candles and holiday greeting cards with a mug of steaming cinnamon tea in her hand. "Can I help ye?"

  "I'm Shauna's friend from the U.S., and she's expecting me. Is she here?"

  The older woman pursed her lips. "Ach...ye didn't hear, then. I know she tried calling."

  Eve felt a niggle of unease wash through her. "What didn't I hear?"

  "It's her granny, poor thing. Took a fierce chill and Shauna had to leave for Cork yesterday."

  "But she's coming back, right? Before she leaves for London?"

  "That I doubt, with her gran weak as a kitten and all alone in that big house of hers."

  Eve gripped the shoulder strap of her purse a little tighter. "Then is...is our arrangement still on?"

  "She said nothing different to me." The woman glanced at her watch and gave Eve an apologetic smile as she lifted a coat from a peg behind the sales counter and hurried to the front door. "But best if ye call her yourself."

  "Y-you're leaving?" Eve's heart stilled as a dozen questions spun through her mind. "Already?"

  "I was expecting ye a mite earlier." The woman's voice held a tone of mild reproof. "And now I have to hurry along and take my granddaughter to her orthodontist down in Killarney."

  "But...but I don't know anything about this place."

  "She said she left ye a good long list of what to do. Ye'll be fine."

  "Do you work here every day? Will you be back?"

  One hand on the doorknob, the old woman looked over her shoulder and chuckled. "Goodness no, dear. I'm just a neighbor. Shauna asked if I could step in until you arrived."

  "But—" Now Eve felt seriously dizzy. "Wait—who are you?"

  "Colleen. Colleen Moriarty. This is just a small shop, dear. Shauna said you're a librarian in some big, fancy library in Minneapolis. Sure and ye'll not have a bit of trouble, coming from a big place like that."

  Eve glanced frantically around the shop, feeling the walls closing in on her. "I...I've never run a cash register like this one. And what about sales tax—do you have that here?"

  "Give Shauna a call.—She'll set you straight soon enough. C'mon, Bonnie." The woman whistled to the Corgi and stepped outside, then hesitated and popped back in the open doorway. "I'm not sure what ye'll want to do about that man she's got in the back room, though. And don't forget about Walter, dearie—or that beastly creature upstairs."

  Eve stared at her. A man? What man? Maybe he was Shauna's significant other. But who on earth was Walter? And what began to worry her more with each passing second was the presence of a creature upstairs.

  But before she could ask any more questions, Colleen disappeared into the intensifying snowfall outside.

  EVE PROWLED THROUGH the bookshop once again, her cell phone in hand. She'd found no sign of any instructions for running the store. None. She'd tried Shauna's cell number a half-dozen times during the past hour, and had left that many messages to no avail. What if something had happened to her?

  All four doors along the hallway leading to the back entrance of the shop were locked, so further exploration hadn't been possible. She'd knocked on those doors, though, and there'd not been even the faintest hint of a mysterious man anywhere in the building, much less—heaven forbid—a creature somewhere.

  Surely Colleen hadn't been spinning silly tales to a gullible American...had she? In her sturdy shoes and drab clothes, she'd hardly seemed the type.

  The early dusk of December had deepened, and now Eve saw her own fractured, worried reflection in the mullioned windows as she paced. At first she'd feared the arrival of customers and how she would manage the massive antique cash register sitting on the front counter.

  Now, she wished someone—anyone—would walk through the front door during these last few minutes before closing time, because the deepening shadows in the shop as darkness fell outside were beginning to seriously make her nervous.

  Eve stopped behind the front counter and once again bent down to open all the drawers, hoping she'd missed finding a packet of instructions. A list of phone numbers for those who might work here. A set of keys. Something.

  The front door squealed open and she straightened up with a jerk, barely stifling a gasp of alarm.

  A young boy of eight or nine stood in the open doorway, his mouth
open and his eyes wide. He backed up a step. "Are you stealing Ms. O'Connor's money? I'm telling!"

  He spun around and disappeared into the darkness,

  "Wait," she called out, hurrying to the door. "I'm Shauna's friend. Maybe you can tell me—"

  The village was quiet, with no cars passing by, and the other stores were dark. The faint glow of the old fashioned street lamps did little to reveal anything beyond the nearest buildings. The little footsteps leading to and away from the shop were already filling with snow.

  With a sigh, Eve stepped back inside, shut the door and rammed the deadbolt home.

  In the deafening stillness of the empty shop, she heard the faint sound of something rustling upstairs. A long, low moan.

  And then a woman screamed.

  CHAPTER TWO

  EVE FROZE.

  A second blood-curdling scream jarred her into action.

  She raced to the back hallway. Twisted the doorknobs. Kicked at the heavy oak doors, then pounded on them frantically one after another, her heart pounding. “Hello—is anyone here? I need help.”

  No luck.

  "Who's upstairs?" She looked up at the high ceiling and raised her voice. "I'm calling the police right now—just so you know."

  Silence.

  Though Colleen had casually mentioned the presence of a man in the building, there was no sign of him. But who was that poor woman upstairs? Eve had neither seen nor heard any sign of anyone's presence—until just now.

  Spinning around, she punched the speed dial numerals for 911 on her cell as she ran for the front door. Surely a car would come past eventually. Or she'd see someone taking a dog for a quick walk despite the weather.

  She fumbled with the deadbolt. Jerked the door wide open to a blast of wind-driven snow. Then she heard the soft squeal of door hinges far behind her.

  If someone had just broken in through the back door, or stealthily crept downstairs, she wasn't staying around for introductions.

  But she couldn't resist a backward glance.

  Looking over her shoulder as she stepped out into the night, she discovered a tall, dark and disheveled stranger standing in the shadows of the back hallway wearing only...was that a pink Miss Piggy sweatshirt just long enough to cover the most important bits, but nothing else? She blinked. Took another step back, ready to flee for her life.

  No sane person would be prowling outside on an icy night like this...especially one dressed like that. Unless he was crazy. Had he just assaulted—maybe even murdered—some poor woman upstairs?

  He yawned. Rubbed the back of his neck, then his bleary gaze landed on her and he scowled. "Who in blazes are you?"

  He didn't look dangerous, but she took another step back and shuddered as a gust of snow and icy wind rushed down the neckline of her sweater. She edged forward to the protection of the entryway. "I-I just speed-dialed the police. If I were you I'd leave the way you came."

  He snorted. "Another daft American. I s'pose you speed dialed 911. Good luck with that."

  She glanced uncertainly at the phone in her hand.

  "It's 999 here," he growled. He was weaving on his feet. Staggering to the side, he rested a shoulder against the wall. "Go ahead—dial it, so they can come and arrest ye for trespassing. Tell 'em to hurry. I'm too knackered to deal w' ye."

  "As in drunk?"

  "Drugged. And exhausted." The man had the audacity to roll his eyes. "I'm sure I look exceptionally threatenin' to a wee wren like yourself. But all I want is sleep. So if ye'll stop pounding on my door and promise not to take the till with ye on your way out, I'll be heading back to bed."

  Drugged...so that could mean he was capable of anything. Hallucinations. Mindless violence. Her mouth dropped open and she stared at him, her internal alarm bells clanging. Had Shauna known he was here—-or had he wandered in and made himself at home after she left?

  Eve shivered, seriously regretting that she hadn't grabbed her coat on her way to the front door, but there was no way she should risk going back inside. Keeping a steady eye on the intruder, she tapped 999 on her cell and quickly gave her location and situation to the person who answered.

  "Ten minutes," Eve announced archly. "You'd better be on your way, buddy."

  "Brilliant," he said dryly. "So to make this clear, ye can stand there gawking and wait for the Gardai to take you away, or leg it and try to escape."

  "I'm supposed to be here."

  "I doubt that very much."

  From upstairs came another earth-shattering scream that didn't seem to faze the man at all. Shaking his head and muttering what sounded like a colorful Gaelic curse, he wobbled, then limped back into the first room along the hallway and slammed the door behind him.

  Visions of a mad woman locked upstairs, ala Bronte's Jane Eyre, started filtering into Eve's thoughts...which was probably madness on her own part. But jet lag, driving scary, narrow roads from the airport to here, and Shauna's absence would explain that. Had Shauna left a television on that was tuned to a crime channel?

  Now, a dog started whining and barking upstairs, the crescendo telegraphing increasing urgency. Eve edged her way back inside, her gaze riveted on the back hallway, and nabbed her coat, then hurried to the front entry. She tapped Shauna's number into her cell once more. Please, for heaven's sake—answer your phone.

  She left yet another message.

  Crimson, blue and white lights suddenly began spinning through the front windows, sending a kaleidoscope of dizzying color through the store.

  Seconds later, a young man in a crisp navy blue uniform appeared in the open doorway. His gaze swept the store, then narrowed on her. "Put the phone on the counter and then step back, ma'am. Slowly. Let me see both hands."

  "Wow. Thanks for coming so fast," she breathed as a deep sense of relief swept through her and turned her knees to pudding.

  Then his words sank in.

  Taking a closer look at his stern expression, she twisted her body a few inches to obscure slipping the phone into her front jeans pocket instead of setting it on the counter. "Wait a minute—you are here because I called 999, right?"

  "No idea what you're talking about, miss." His scowl deepened. "All the shops in the village close at five-thirty. So tell me what you're doing in here after hours in Niamh's bookshop."

  CHAPTER THREE

  "NIAMH? WHO ON EARTH is that?" Eve felt the blood drain from her face. "This place belongs to Shauna O'Connor."

  He clearly didn't believe her. "And how did you get inside?"

  "Front door. The shop was open for business when I arrived."

  He frowned.

  "My plane from Minneapolis was delayed and I missed my connection in Amsterdam this morning. Some woman named Colleen was here, and told me Shauna had already gone. Now there's a crazy man who has locked himself in a back room and I think a woman might be seriously injured upstairs. Maybe he did it—or maybe it’s just a television left running. I can't get past the locked doors to check."

  The officer blinked, his expression wary—as if he were assessing her for signs of mental illness. "We're responding to a call about a break-in, ma'am. From a young boy's ma, who said he was right upset. The boy described a coppertop intruder. Long hair. Slender." His voice dropped to a soothing tone. "And I believe that would be you."

  She took a deep breath, trying to slow her tendency to babble under pressure. "C-coppertop?"

  "Ginger." He spoke slower now, apparently so she could understand. "Red hair, if ye please."

  "Strawberry blonde, actually."

  "Yeah, well—everything will be just fine once we go for a little ride."

  That meant going to a police station somewhere...and leaving that strange man to rifle through Shauna's cash register and possessions once Eve was gone. Any guy wearing a Miss Piggy sweatshirt and admitting to drug use posed a definite risk, far as she could tell. "Wait—you've got this all wrong."

  "That's what we'll figure out at the Garda station. Come along, and we'll get you settl
ed in the patrol car."

  "But a woman upstairs may be hurt—and the man in one of the back rooms said he was on drugs, for Pete's sake," she said desperately. "Can't you check? Please."

  The officer's left eyelid started to twitch. He sighed heavily, then motioned to someone who must have been standing in the front entryway, just out of Eve's line of sight. "Handcuffs, Garda McElligott?"

  A woman cleared her throat. "Yes indeed, Brosnan. Policy."

  A ribbon of panic sped through Eve, spurring her fear of being confined in any way. "No—please. I called for assistance, like I told you. Something is terribly wrong here."

  "We'll get it sorted," the woman said politely as she moved to Brosnan's side. She was a good decade older than him, with a steely, no nonsense glint in her eye. "No worries if it's all just as ye said. But for now, I need ye to turn around with your hands behind your back."

  "But—" an Irish jig started playing in Eve's jeans pocket, engulfing her with a sense of relief. "Please—can you grab my phone and answer it? Or can I? This is Shauna O'Connor's ring tone. I've been trying to reach her for hours. She owns this place and can explain everything."

  McElligott's narrowed gaze felt like a dagger piercing Eve's very soul. "Answer, but try anything smart and you'll be on the floor in the blink of an eye. Understand?"

  "I have no doubt you could do it." Eve reached for her phone, withdrew it slowly, and raised it to her ear. "Shauna? I've been praying that you'd call me back."

  "I am so, so sorry, Eve. My gran was in the emergency room. She has pneumonia and terrible bronchitis, and became so weak and dizzy that she fell in her garden."

  "Is she all right?"

  "She didn't break a hip, thank God. But I've got to stay with her this week, at least." Shauna sighed. "Which means I'll miss part of my writer's workshop, but she's more important to me than anything else. I'll still be crushed if I can't fly to Minneapolis to stay at your place, though. What a great time that would be!"