Free IRISH FIRE by Jeanette Baker Page B

eyes had a jaundiced cast that resembled detox patients from the hospital in Louisville where Lucy Claiborne volunteered. The smell of leftover bacon from the kitchen gagged her.
    Shakily, she gathered her clothing and headed for the shower. Thank God the bathroom was free. She needed to find a place to live, somewhere private, preferably with a barn, a large kitchen, and at least two bathrooms.
    The inadequate trickle of lukewarm water, so different from the steaming, powerful spray in her Kentucky bathroom, barely managed to revive her. Shed forgotten how cold Ireland could be. Shivering from the lack of heat she toweled herself dry, wrapped her wet hair in a turban and quickly pulled on her clothes. She was weak as a cat, and knowing her mothers shopping habits, there probably wasnt enough in the refrigerator to feed a ghost.
    The house was unusually quiet. Slipping her feet into fleece-lined moccasins, Caitlin walked down the stairs into the kitchen, turned the heat on under the kettle, and opened the refrigerator. The contents actually looked promising. She pulled out eggs, cheese, mushrooms, and a hambone with enough meat left on it for a decent omelet.
    The familiar tasks of cracking eggs, slicing meat into neat, even cubes, and grating cheese restored her balance. The mindless routine of cooking always worked its magic on her. Through the colors and textures of food, she assuaged an appetite that had nothing to do with hunger. The sharp blade of a knife slicing through the skin of a tomato, the crisp tartness of an apple, the flaky sweetness of a cobbler laced with cream, the subtle hint of rosemary and sage lifted her above hurt and loss, regret and shattered confidence. Cooking brought Caitlin serenity, the glow of accomplishment. Each time, each new creation, like the act of contrition, restored her badly damaged pride.
    By the time she added mushrooms, ham, and grated cheese to the sizzling eggs, and efficiently flipped the omelet on to a plate, her spirits had lifted enough to consider taking Annie and Ben with her to see
Kentucky Gold
. Food in her stomach improved her spirits even further.
    Caitlin frowned. Where were Annie and Ben?
    Carrying her dishes to the sink, she unwrapped the towel from her hair. Fingercombing her curls, she walked out of the kitchen and down the hall to the pub.
    Kirsty, the part-time help, was serving Guinness to two patrons in the wool slouch caps typical of Irish men. She called out to Caitlin. If your lookin for your mum, shes in the store.
    Caitlin nodded, walked back down the hall and through the door to the convenience store where her mother had spent the better part of her life. There was no sign of Annie and Ben. Where are the children? she asked.
    Brigid, reading glasses perched on her nose, looked up from the order she was filling. They wanted t see the foal. Martin came by t see you and offered t take them. How are you feelin?
    Better. Caitlin frowned. Mum, the next time someone wants to take my children somewhere, please ask me. She sounded ungrateful and petulant. Why did her mother always bring out the worst in her?
    I would have if it was anyone but Martin, said her mother, but you were asleep and I thought you needed the rest.
    I havent seen Martin in fourteen years.
    Brigid entered another figure in her ledger. He hasnt changed much.
    Hes a priest.
    Again Brigid looked up, her blue eyes level and steady. All the more reason t trust him.
    Caitlin stared mutinously at her mother. There was no reasonable rejoinder to such a statement. She was being absurd and she knew it. Martin OShea would never hurt anyone, least of all her children. I think Ill join them.
    What a good idea. Take the car if youre still feelin weak.
    Ill walk.
    Brigid nodded. Nothin like fresh air t clear up a headache.
    Frowning at her reflection in the mirror, Caitlin rubbed out the worry lines between her brows. What would Martin think of her after all these years? She hadnt exactly come home a wild