𝚜𝚒𝚗𝚗𝚎𝚛

thirteen

That night, Tara couldn't sleep and it wasn't for lack of trying. Her mind was too alive, thoughts racing back and forth too exuberantly to get a decent rest.

Tara thought about a lot of things as she lay awake. Sometimes, the image of her mother would appear. She thought about Ali. There was a bitter guilt inside of her. After leaving Ireland, she'd treated the place and everything in it like a distant memory best not to be divulged in, even the good parts.

When she'd first mentioned to Alice her plan to leave, Tara had asked her to come. The girl had smiled sadly and shook her head. "Mam would never make it." She'd said.

A part of Tara had gone sour at the taste of those words when they'd first kissed the air. She was torn from wanting to go it all alone and wanting a touch of familiarity by her side as she started her new life and Alice had denied her that.

She'd only nodded understandingly and changed the subject. It took Donnelly a long time to realise the importance of her best friend's duty to her mother and to realise that she would only miss her more for it.

Lord, it was pounding outside. The slamming of heavy droplets against the metal roof didn't help in her quest to fall asleep.

A draft had seeped into the barn, forcing Tara to cocoon herself in Billy's thick cotton blanket. He was also a popular thought for her brain that night. She assumed he'd sailed off to see his sweet Evangeline and forgotten all about her.

Maybe that had just been wishful thinking. Tara wanted nothing more than to hope she'd had no effect on his life and had settled on a conclusion that was easiest for her to stomach.

It was selfish and cruel, and she'd have never given it a second thought if he hadn't come barrelling into The Ritter earlier that day.

Her thoughts tried to creep to Thomas, the strange man who'd almost killed her that morning, but she was disciplined and sent it away without examination. If she would have anything go her way while she was in this backwater town, it would be that today was the last time she'd see that Tom again.

A series of clanking sounds came from outside, breaking through the rough patter of rain and catching her attention. She caught herself before she could rise and glance a look at the source of the noise.

It wasn't her business. It was not her business. But who on earth would be out this time of night in the lashing rain?

Tara sighed softly, the sounds were persistent, feathered by occasional voices filtering through the heavy rain. She lay a second longer, before hesitantly rising and slotting her feet into the shoes she'd left on the freezing floor, not parting from her thick blanket.

She padded softly to the door, opening it a single crack and instantly feeling the cold bite of the air. Her teeth gave a warning chitter and she squeezed the cotton tighter around her shoulders in response.

Outside were four men, each paired off carrying a crate between them, their faces were a little flushed. The boxes looked heavy with the way they lumbered them across the yard.

She spotted Vern standing off to the side, supervising the men with his arms crossed. His peaky and heavy black coat blocked out the rain.

It was a little unusual seeing him out so late, he usually turned in quite early and it was the middle of the night. Tara saw his lips occasionally moving as he directed them with that undying frown of his.

He watched the last crate set down under an alcove at the side of the house sheltered by an overhang.

Tara was undeniably curious. What kind of delivery was Vern getting that he couldn't receive anytime else but in the dead of night?