Letters Across the Sea by Genevieve Graham (spicy books to read .txt) 📕

That was the hardest part for me about being home. For so many years I’d come home to the chaos of my family, my brothers all going in different directions, my parents trying to herd us to the table. Now all of it was gone. Richie would never walk through that door again, though Barbara brought his little daughters over when she could. Liam was still afraid to step outside most of the time, despite the thick, grey scarf he insisted on wearing year round. Mark and Jimmy were still gone, fighting somewhere far away.

“Jimmy and Mark will be home soon, Mum.”

“Of course they will. But still.” She flashed a weak smile. “You remember all those ball games we went to? Cheering on your brothers until we lost our voices? Life’s thrown us a few curveballs these past few years, hasn’t it?”

I set the dry plate aside. “Game’s not over. We can still win.”

“I know. And you and Ian are giving us a chance to have joy in our lives again.” She put her hand on my arm. “Maybe someday you’ll have a daughter, and she’ll come see her grandmother, and I’ll tell her stories so she can write them all down.”

My heart ached, remembering Seanmháthair. “Do you think she would have liked Ian, Mum?”

“She would have loved him.”

“How do you know?” Then I asked the real question. “How will I know?”

Her face softened with memory. “Your grandmother was a wise, wise woman. She told me something once, a long time ago. It was the day I was to marry your father, and I was filled with doubt as every young bride is. I asked her just what you asked me, and she told me, the thing about love is that you can never know until you know.”

“What does that mean?”

“Tell me, Molly, when you look into Ian’s eyes, what do you see? Do you see a friend? A lover? Someone who will always stand behind you?”

From the corner of my eye I spotted Ian poking his head into the kitchen. “Excuse me, ladies, but do you need help in here? Or if you’re done, can you come sit with us? I think I’m boring your dad.”

Mum smiled. “Oh, I doubt that, but yes. We’re done in here.” Ian turned back to the living room, and her eyes sparkled at me. “Come on, Molly. Let’s go enjoy ourselves.”

Dad poured each of us a glass of brandy, filling his and Ian’s back up as he did so, then he raised his in a toast.

“I’m glad to know you, Ian. Thank you for making Molly happy.”

Ian grinned, then wrapped one arm around my waist. “It has been my pleasure.”

“Got an extra glass? It sounds like a celebration down here.”

I spun around at the sound of Liam’s voice. He stood at the bottom of the stairs, small and quiet, his scars shining with the candlelight in the room. In the next instant, Mum had placed a brandy glass in his hand.

“I’m so glad you came down,” I told him. “I wanted you to meet—”

Ian held out his left hand, and I caught my breath, loving him so much in that moment. He’d remembered that Liam’s right hand was useless and had offered him respect without hesitation. I saw a flicker of appreciation cross Liam’s face as he took Ian’s hand in his.

“Ian Collins,” Ian said. “It’s a privilege to meet you.”

“And you,” Liam replied, then he turned slightly, so only I could see, and he gave me a wink.

After an hour or so of warm, spirited conversation about politics and the war, always keeping Liam’s sensitivities in mind, Ian thanked my parents profusely for the dinner, and I went to collect his coat and hat.

At the door, he paused, his eyes on mine. “Would you care to walk with me?”

“You’ll need galoshes,” Mum said out of habit. She and Dad were watching me like hawks.

I slipped them on, and Ian helped me into my coat.

The temperature outside was pleasant, but I shivered in spite of myself as we stepped down the walk toward the street, the snow sinking gently beneath our boots.

“I thought that went well,” Ian said, taking my arm.

“It went very well. They loved you.”

He stopped, studied my face, his own full of affection. “And what about you?”

“I love you too,” I told him, and I meant it.

“You know what I’m gonna ask,” he said.

“You aren’t very good at secrets,” I replied, then I lifted my chin a little. “But I won’t give you an answer until you ask me properly.”

“That’s my girl,” he said, then he knelt before me, right there on the snowy sidewalk, the streetlight shining down on him.

I laughed. “Not in the snow, you silly man!”

“Why not?” He grinned. Then he held out a gold ring, looking up at me through sky blue eyes while snowflakes caught on his lashes. “Molly Ryan, you’re the most incredible girl I’ve ever met. You’re smart and beautiful, and despite all your brains, you still put up with me. My favourite sound in the world is your laugh, and I promise to do everything I can to keep hearing it. So tell me, Molly, will you do me the honour of marrying me?”

I hesitated for only a heartbeat, and I didn’t think he noticed. It was time. I held out my hand so he could slip the ring onto my finger. “Yes, Ian. I will marry you.”

With a look of pure joy on his face, he rose, gathered me up in his arms, then kissed me with a bold, confident strength I’d never felt before. His passion swept through me, and my heart raced, keeping up to his.

“Woohoo!” he yelled into the night, our arms still around each other. “She said yes!”

He squeezed me tight against him, and as I looked over his shoulder at my house, I caught the shadows of my parents watching me. I raised my hand to wave, and as I did, the gold of my