Finding Ellie (Complete)

Chapter 3

Mrs. Callaghan saw her from the kitchen window as she was washing the dishes. The young woman was sopping wet and had a purpose in her step. She could understand why her footwear would be drenched; the poor girl was only wearing trainers, which was fine for the city but not so much in the countryside. The question still remained. How on earth was the rest of her so wet when she had given her an umbrella?

            “This way dear, this way,” Mrs. Callaghan opened a side door and ushered Ellie in, taking the picnic basket from her. “You’re soaked to the bone, what happened?”

            “I don’t want to talk about it,” Ellie snapped and immediately regretted it. “I’m sorry Mrs. Callaghan, it was a lovely lunch and I had a nice walk. I passed by a lot of shops that I can’t wait to explore.”

            The older woman nodded and pointed to a staircase, clearly a back way to the rooms upstairs.

            “Go on up to your room and have yourself a nice hot shower.” Mrs. Callaghan knew if something had happened, she would find out soon enough.

                                                                                            ***

Ellie felt the day’s events begin to wash away once she was under the hot water. So far, the people she had met had all been so kind and welcoming. Of course it was irrational to think everyone would be inviting but he could have been a tad less rude about it. Who went around snapping people’s heads off just for accidentally bumping into them? Any sane person would have accepted the apology with a smile. This guy was obviously not sane.

            “An American by the sounds of it,” she mimicked, contorting her face in a less than flattering grimace. She undeniably would do everything in her power not to see him again; she’d make sure of it. She would keep her eyes open and if she saw him cross her path she’d turn the other way. There, the matter was solved as far as Ellie was concerned. She turned off the water and grabbed a towel.

She had to admit, though, her reaction to him had surprised her. He wasn’t her type. She had a tendency to go for clean-shaven, well-manicured men. Men who took pride in the way they looked and presented themselves. Wasn’t it? Her type was certainly not a scruffy, rude Irishman who knew nothing about her. As she wrapped a towel around her body she heard the chirping from her laptop that meant a video call was coming in. She quickly moved to her bed to answer.

            “You’re there!” Poppy’s excited voice came first then her face appeared on the screen. Ellie let out a short burst of laughter and felt the remaining anger towards the obnoxious local drain out of her system.

            “Of course I’m here, where would I be?” Ellie sat on the bed and pulled her laptop closer.

            Poppy shot Ellie a disbelieving look “Oh, I don’t know, you’re in Ireland. I would be running around finding ruined castles or whatever. You didn’t go there to stay in your room for Pete’s sake.”

“When did you dye your hair red?”

            Poppy toyed with a strand of hair. “Last night, in honor of you being in Ireland, and don’t change the subject”

             “That’s great! Maybe I should dye my hair.” Ellie ignored Poppy’s last comment.

“No, you have the perfect hair color,” Poppy answered, then without missing a beat. “So tell me… what’s Ireland like? Where are you staying? Is it really as green as they say? How is your room? Are the bathrooms as small as they say? Did you see any sheep crossings? What have you done? What have you seen? Does it rain a lot? Better yet have you met a dreamy Irishman to sweep you off your feet? Does he have that sexy, Irish accent?

Ellie burst into laughter. “Slow down! Slow down! Okay, so Ireland is amazing and beautiful and green and rainy and, yes, sheep really do cross the road. I am staying in this very quaint B & B. The owner, Mrs. Callaghan, is very sweet. My accommodations, well, have a… look for yourself.” Ellie swung the laptop around giving her friend a quick tour of her room. “The bathroom is fine, perfect actually. I haven’t done much yet, today was my first day of exploring and would you have it I got caught in the rain. Which really wouldn’t have been so bad if he hadn’t stolen my umbrella?”

“HE?!” Poppy interrupted.

            Ellie’s mood shifted and she gave her friend a scowl. “No one important”

            “Tell me everything” Poppy clapped her hands, knowing there would be a story behind that statement.

            “There’s nothing to tell,” Ellie insisted then sighed. There was no getting out of it, Poppy would poke and prod until she got what she wanted. “I went for a walk today and ran into the most arrogant, snobbish, pompous and disrespectful man I’ve ever met.”

            “Wow, really?” Poppy sat up. Ellie was never usually this wound-up over an encounter. This would be good. She almost wished she had a bowl of popcorn.

            “I walked right into him the first time….”

            “The first time?” Poppy raised a questioning eyebrow.

            “Yes, now listen.” Ellie let out an exasperated sigh. “I wasn’t looking where I was going so I suppose it was my own fault but he could have been nicer about it. I smacked right into him and almost fell backwards and he grabbed me.”

            “Grabbed you?”

            “He just grabbed my arms so I wouldn’t fall I guess.” Ellie plucked at a stray hair as she talked. “But then he got all angry, told me to watch it and stalked off but not before stealing my umbrella.”

            Stunned, Poppy sat there and stared at her friend. “Why the hell would he steal your umbrella?”

            “All right, maybe it fell and he picked it up but he didn’t give it back until I bumped into him the second time.” Ellie felt a little disappointed. Poppy was usually on her side, no questions asked, why wasn’t she seething? “After lunch it started to rain and I couldn’t find the umbrella so I made a run for it and ended up under the canopy of this pub. And who was there?”

            “I’m going to take a wild guess and say Mr. Personality.” Poppy was getting impatient. There was more to this story than Ellie was letting on. There had to be. She knew her best friend. It wasn’t like her to let someone else’s bad mood really get to her.

            “You would be correct.” Ellie pointed to the image of Poppy on the screen. “And he has the nerve to stand there all scruffy and tall….”

            “And good looking.” Poppy interjected as she inspected her nails, hoping to catch Ellie off guard.

            Never noticing, Ellie kept going. “And good looking with his dark brown, untamed hair and his eyes are like a greenish grey color and he has a stupid, cute dimple in his right cheek….” She stopped, slapped a hand over her mouth and watched as Poppy’s mouth curved into an evil grin.

            “I KNEW IT!” Poppy screeched. “Tell me more about his stupid, cute dimple.”

            “Shut up.” Ellie could feel her face grow hotter by the second. “I’d never be interested in someone like him and he certainly would have no interest in me.”

                                                                                        ***

Somehow, after her video chat with Poppy, Ellie found herself drinking tea in Mrs. Callaghan’s kitchen. The warmth and intoxicating scent of the lavender drink helped relax her. A butcher block with a hanging, pot rack overhead sat in the middle of the floor adjacent to the kitchen sink. At the pink old-fashioned stove was a simmering pot of beef barley soup.

            “Are you feeling better, dear?” the old woman kneaded the dough which would later become dinner rolls to go with the roast pork currently slow-cooking in the oven which smelled heavenly.

            Ellie sipped her tea and contemplated telling Mrs. Callaghan about her encounter but decided against it as she doubted she would get much support. In small villages like this, everyone knew each other and Mrs. Callaghan would probably defend Mr. Personality.

            “Much better thank you.”

            Mrs. Callaghan worked the dough and wondered if she should say something. Her old friend, Aileen Murray, had come by earlier and passed along what she had seen. It seemed there had been quite the run in with Ellie and the perpetual bachelor of the village, Aidan. As it were Aileen had been on her way to pick up some yarn for a new project she was working on and walked by just in time to witness the two in a compromising position.

“They were quite the sight.” Aileen said. “He’s so tall and dashing and your Ellie is quite fetching, they would make a lovely pair. You could feel the electricity in the air.”

“Hush now Aileen.” Mrs. Callaghan cast an eye upstairs, afraid they would be caught gossiping about her guest.

Everyone knew them to be gossips. And they knew the village of Doolin, as a whole, affectionately called them, Aileen and Patricia Brady and herself, the gossip circle. The women got together every Friday for afternoon tea and talked about the latest news in, and around, Doolin. Quite frankly, if you needed to know anything about anyone, they were the ones to talk to.

“I clearly underestimated Ireland’s weather.” Ellie was saying, bringing Mrs. Callaghan back from her thoughts. “How far are we from Galway? I’m thinking I may need to go pick up some more appropriate clothes.”

“I would say about an hour and a half,” Mrs. Callaghan draped a cloth over the dough so it could rise then turned to Ellie. “If you’ll be doing some shopping might I suggest nice, warm sweaters, a heavy coat with a hood, a pair of good, stylish leather boots and maybe some wellies. Although it does rain quite a bit, the heavy rain of earlier is not the normal unless it’s calling for a storm. For the most part you’re better off with leather boots and a coat, maybe an umbrella if it suits you.”

“That sounds like the perfect outing. I’ll leave in the morning so I can take my time and admire the countryside” Ellie stood and placed her empty tea cup in the sink. She really enjoyed talking with the older woman and hoped they would have the opportunity again soon. She had a feeling not a lot of guests were invited in the kitchen and was grateful for the company.

“May I make another suggestion?” The corner of the old woman’s mouth curved up in a scheming manner. “Why don’t you stop at Dunne’s pub here in the village on your way back? You can sit down for a nice, evening meal as well as enjoy good music.”

“Thanks Mrs. Callaghan, I just might.” What a nice woman, Ellie thought as she climbed the back stairway to her room.

                                                                                        ***

The drive to Galway and back had been exactly what Ellie needed. As predicted she hit some rain showers but it never rained for long or very hard. By the time she reached Galway the sun had made an appearance. She made it to Eyre Square Center in good time and managed to buy everything she had intended. Looking back at the bags sitting in the backseat of her car she couldn’t wait to slip her feet in the dark brown, knee-high leather boots she had not been able to leave without. Turning the key in the ignition she started making her way back to Doolin, calculating that she should be arriving in time for dinner. Driving on the wrong side of the road was starting to become second nature for Ellie. She was happy to say she had nearly only hit one car on this trip.

During her shopping excursion she had all but forgotten about the pub Mrs. Callaghan had suggested she visit. On her way back, she suddenly realized how hungry she was. So, when she drove by and saw the sign for Dunne’s Pub she decided, “why not?” The pub itself wasn’t very far from the B & B so Ellie dropped off the bags to her room in favor of walking to the pub. She was starting to like this whole being spontaneous thing. While she loved being an author, one could get bogged down with schedules and timelines making spontaneity a rare thing indeed. Donning her new coat and boots she passed by Mrs. Callaghan in the hallway.

“Well now, look at you.” The older woman nodded her approval. Ellie was wearing a pair of dark blue jeans tucked into her new boots, a well-fitted forest green blouse and, her new periwinkle toggle coat. Finishing off the outfit nicely was a pair of golden hoop earrings that peeked through her hair and the slender, golden bracelet Poppy had bought her a few years back for her birthday. The low lighting of the pub would give a romantic air about her. Even a certain someone would have to take notice, which is exactly what Mrs. Callaghan was hoping for.

“Do you think it’s too much?” Ellie pressed her hands to her cheeks. She couldn’t recall being nervous about going out, not even back in Boston.

As a married woman her nights had consisted of writing and waiting up for Chad who was off to another “client meeting”. After her marriage collapsed her nights had consisted of writing. Poppy came down from NYC a few times and they had gone out for a night on the town during one such visit, to which Poppy had apologized profusely after a young, drunk college student wouldn’t stop hitting on Ellie, telling her she reminded him of his mother and finally passing out cold at her feet but not before attempting to kiss her.

“I think it’s just right,” Mrs. Callaghan responded, and patted Ellie’s arm. “Go on now and have fun. I don’t want you back until late.”

It took her about ten minutes to reach the pub and when she finally stood in front of it she realized it was the same pub she had sheltered under during the downpour. Wouldn’t it just be her luck that she would find Mr. Personality inside? No matter, she thought, she would just ignore him. She would not let him wreck her first experience in a real Irish pub.

Dunne’s was exactly what Ellie had expected of an Irish pub. She instantly fell in love with it. The inviting warmth hit her first. When she walked in initially she could see the old, wooden floor scuffed from one too many Irish jigs. The dark-colored walls were decorated with old pictures of Doolin and its inhabitants. The pub smelled of a hearty, home cooked meal mixed with warm bread and beer. On the wall, across from the door, was the bar with several stools occupied by a few, burly men. To her far right, a striking red head was strumming a guitar and singing Irish Rover on a small, raised platform. Two men were at her side, one playing a fiddle and the other an accordion. It all came together perfectly with soft, golden lighting coming from the strategically placed, wall lamps.

An older gentleman was already standing at the bar waiting for a drink when she approached. He tipped his hat to her and smiled, his indigo eyes the color of the sky just before the sun disappeared.

            “Good evening to you, miss.”

            “Good evening to you, Mr.…?” she trailed off, waited for him to give her his name.

            An arm, instead, snaked around her shoulders and pulled her into a sweaty body.

            “You shouldn’t be talking with old men,” a lazy voice said in her ear the stench of beer hitting her in the face. “A pretty thing like you should be with a real man.”

“Riley O’Brien you’re rubbered.” the old man, drink in hand, moved between Ellie and her admirer. “Go home and leave the poor girl alone.”

            Riley, a big man with a thick neck and skin problems, muttered something incomprehensible but surprisingly released Ellie and sat down on his stool.

            “Thank you!” Relieved, Ellie allowed the man to guide her to a table right next to the bar where another man was sitting.

            “It’s no trouble at all.” He winked at her then extended his hand. “The name is Colm Brady and this is Carrick Murray.” Colm pointed to his friend.

            The two old men, locals by the sound of things, looked weathered by the years but still had a sparkle in their eyes. She guessed them to be in their seventies and she could see both had been very handsome in their day. They must have had to beat off the ladies with a stick. Both were wearing almost matching outfits of thick, polyester dark pants, flannel shirts and those leather boots. And both had almost identical jackets sitting on the back of their chairs. This pair must have known each other for years. They instantly made her feel like an old friend.

            “Ellie Sullivan” Ellie took his hand and sent a smile to Carrick.

“I’m guessing an American.” The corner of Carrick’s warm, milk chocolate brown eyes crinkled as he spoke. Ellie’s shoulders tensed instantly. “But Sullivan is an Irish name.”

            “That’s right, I do have Irish ancestors.” Ellie relaxed. “My grandmother lived in Dunderrow when she was a little girl. During the war, my great grandfather moved the family to Boston. Growing up my grandmother always told me stories of Ireland.” She tapped her foot to a new song and looked over to the singer. “The music is great.”

            Colm nodded. “Brenna charms everyone with her voice.”

            More than just her voice, Ellie observed, taking a good look at Brenna. Her first impression of her was all legs and s*x appeal. Her ginger-colored hair fell in waves halfway down her back, her bone structure perfect in every way. This woman knew what she wanted and went for it. No man alive could say no to her.

Ellie spent a good half hour answering Colm and Carrick’s questions about where she was from, expertly dancing around the “what brought you here?” questions. But when they found out she had been in Ireland for four days now without so much as touching a Guinness they scoffed.

            “Fiona, darling, can we get a pint of the black stuff for our Ellie here.” Colm called out to the gorgeous woman with pin-straight, long, black hair standing behind the bar. Then he turned to Ellie. “Now, what’s this about spending your time in your room? Why have you not been out exploring the sights?”

            “I’ve been trying to get settled in,” Ellie defended. “There are a few places I’d like to see at least, the Blarney Stone and Blarney Castle being one of them as well as the Cliffs of Moher and the Ring of Kerry.”

            “Can’t wait to get out there and do all the touristy things I’m sure.”

            Fiona had come running into his office. Riley O’Brien was at it again, she was saying, had his arm around some woman and clearly making her uncomfortable. He squeezed the bridge of his nose and let out an oath. What the hell was he going to do with Riley? But when he came out and saw that old Colm had it under control, he thanked Fiona for letting him know. He had very nearly made it back to his office when her voice drifted over to him. He stopped and stiffened. Of all of the pubs in Doolin—there were only about four others, but still—she had to step into this one. Shaking his head clear, he went back to his office.

The first run in had been an accident. He hadn’t meant to tear her head off but she had caught him off guard his hands automatically shooting out to keep her from falling backward. Then he went and looked at her; rosy cheeks and hair up in a ponytail. He found himself looking into her dark blue eyes and, for a split second, recognized himself. He knew if he were to gaze in a mirror he would see that same, haunted look in his own eyes. For some reason it irritated him to no end and, unfortunately, she got caught at the receiving end. It didn’t help that his mother had called earlier that morning. He had evaded her call but she was no doubt looking for a payout now that the pub was actually making a profit. Coleen Dunne had no leg to stand on. His father had made sure of that. He found it amusing that at thirty-two years old his mother could still get a rise out of him.

            The second run in would have been almost comical if he hadn’t been so angry with himself for letting a pretty face get to him. That had been his father’s mistake. He would never make the same one. He should have just handed her the umbrella and sent her on her way. Instead, she got too close. If he had been in a chair, he thought, she would have practically been sitting on his lap. His one mistake had been looking down at her full lips. What had he gone and done that for? Several thoughts had popped into his head at once making him uneasy.

And so he had stepped back and spoke to her sarcastically, letting her know in no uncertain terms there was no attraction there. He knew her type. She was traveling alone, came to Ireland looking for a meaningless fling. No thank you. If he learned anything from watching his father pour everything he had in a woman only to be dragged through the mud and cast aside, it was that loving a woman was a waste of time and would only kill you in the end.

Ellie’s smile faded. Not again, please let it be anyone else but him, she silently prayed. To her dismay, when she turned around, the bane of her existence was standing there, Guinness in hand. The long sleeves of his dark brown t-shirt were pushed up to his elbows. The damn thing left nothing to the imagination. It was just tight enough to reveal a sculpted chest and very, broad shoulders. Didn’t he own anything loose fitting? It just wasn’t fair.

            “Isn’t there another table you can sit at?” Ellie spat the words out, her dislike for him growing with each passing second. “I’m sure there must be another American or two around here that you can annoy.”

            “Lucky for you,” he placed the dark ale in front of her, bent low so his face was now close to hers. “I’m working the floor tonight because the busboy wasn’t able to come in, so I’ll be available to annoy you all evening.”

            “You work here?” her shoulders slumped. She had been looking forward to coming back, had already made plans to meet Colm and Carrick for dinner the evening after next. How in the world would she be able to make this work with him lurking about?

“Work here?” he jerked his thumb toward the sign. “The pub is mine, I’m Aidan Dunne.”