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tree, I’d consider it the greatest of compliments.” She pointed the knife toward Clare. “I swear to you, I’d catch her speaking to the Almighty Himself all of the time. I can understand why she would, what with those two sons of hers battling all the time, your father and that wild uncle of yours.”
    She scooped up the vegetables in her apron, turned, and dumped them evenly into the two cauldrons. “Your grandma worried about you, Clare.”
    Clare shrugged. She wasn’t sure she wanted to be reliving the pain of losing her nanna. She wished she hadn’t mentioned her name.
    â€œElla was concerned how life was pressing on you, wearing you down. She told me this in her last days.”
    So many gentle moments sharing tea on the front porch with Grandma Ella and never could Clare remember seeing concern on the woman’s face. “She never spoke of this to me.”
    â€œShe wouldn’t. That wasn’t her way. But I knew she saw in you the hope of righting the wrongs of her two sons.”
    â€œDoesn’t sound like she was worrying.” Sometimes Fiona got too close to the hurt and this bothered Clare. She wanted to push back.
    â€œI’m sorry, dear.” The matronly woman tried to smile. “This is your special day, and here I am getting somber, tired old lady that I am.”
    Now Clare felt guilty. Fiona lived a hard life and it was written on her body and face. “Please, I truly want to know. What was it Grandma Ella told you?”
    â€œWere you waving at me, Mrs. MacBrennan?” Pierce said, who had approached out of Clare’s line of sight.
    â€œI most certainly was.” Fiona ignored Clare’s shielded expression of disapproval. She put her arm around Clare’s shoulder. “This young lady needs a dance in the worst of ways.”
    Pierce bowed. “Then dance the lady will.” He held his arm out to Clare, who yielded and then gave Fiona an expression of protest.
    â€œYour father outdid himself,” Pierce said, guiding her to the dancing.
    â€œIt’s a bit much, don’t you think?”
    Pierce’s shirt was drenched with sweat and he was breathing heavily. “Ah, Clare. You should just enjoy yourself. Don’t keep joy in a box all of the time.”
    She tugged on his arm. “If I heard clearly, I believe you just called me a prude.”
    â€œWell. A bit of warmth at times would well accompany your looks.”
    â€œNow I’m certain you’ve called me a prude.”
    Cormac finished another wordy introduction to the next song and the music started, this time with a slow tempo. Clare tried to hide her displeasure.
    Pierce’s face opened up with a toothy smile, and he held out his arms to her. “Come. We need to practice so we can show the Yanks how it’s really done.”
    As the words of the song lamented about lost battles and wistful lovers, the two waltzed across the tufts of grass. Pierce was a good dancer, and as she followed his lead, she allowed herself to join in the revelry of her guests. While pirouetting and gliding to the music, she was pleased to see many of the people she had known all of her life.
    Clare wrestled with the idea that Pierce would be accompanying her and Seamus on their voyage to America. It would be good to have another strong companion on the trip, and one she trusted, but it would be uncomfortable being in close quarters with someone who cared for her in ways she couldn’t return.
    Or could she? Maybe she was being too particular. Even arrogant. Who was she to believe herself worthy of something different? Was this how love was supposed to feel? Clare at least knew she didn’t want to endure the pain of being alone all her life.
    When the song ended Clare curtsied to the ground and swept her dress behind her.
    â€œJust one dance?”
    â€œThank you kindly, Pierce. You are a gentleman and a fine hoofer. But I think my brother could