Dublin Rose

By Cash Sullivan

Callum Flint has lived a life most only dream about. Growing up in a loving family with supportive parents and countless opportunities to find his niche, Callum finds himself doing what he loves as a production manager of a large construction company based in Ireland.

Now confident that he can direct his own path, Callum finds himself swept away and fumbling for the super suave nature he usually permeates as he finds himself face to face with a feisty pub waitress in the heart of Ireland.

Chloe Wakefield has spent all of her adult life as a loner. With all of her family gone and having moved to a foreign country right out of high school, the hard-working Montana native is determined to make a new life for herself.

After years of heartbreak from which she never intended to recover from, Chloe finds herself in the unexpected grips of an emotional roller coaster with her one true soul mate. Through life's twists and turns, Chloe's life falls back and forth from the easy predictability of being alone to the frightening vulnerability that comes with giving the heart away to another.

Follow along as Chloe and Callum find through life and death, victory and tragedy, and love and loss, who they are truly meant to be and the beautiful disastrous life that they are truly meant to live.

• Language: English
• Publisher: AuthorHouse
• Release date: Mar 5, 2010
• ISBN: 9781449079512

Cash Sullivan

A native to New England, Cash Sullivan spent most of her childhood in rural Vermont. Through her life experiences there as well as her love for fiction and her unique view of society, she has been able to create a vivid illustration of life in the Hanover area. The Wager, the first in the Legend of Finch Landing series, is just the beginning of many tails of love and life in the Boone family. Cash Sullivan now lives with her family in the mountains of Western North Carolina and works in law enforcement.

Book preview

Chapter 1

Chloe picked a plot in the far end of the cemetery. There were hardly any plots there yet and she had all but begged the priest to let her have that lonesome spot near the edge of the property. It could not be seen from the parking lot and it was so far out, that one could hardly hear passer-bys driving beyond the church. There was a reason why Chloe picked this place. It was peaceful and silent and solitary. She could come here and breathe and reminisce and remember. She could talk and sing and laugh … and she could cry, though for all the tears she had poured out, one might wonder how she had not yet dried up.

Chloe hiked through the plots in front with their ornate stones and bouquet holders, only glancing down at the dead around her so that she did not disturb their own sacred sites. She stopped exactly where the cemetery appeared to end and look out over the hill. One lonesome willow tree sat a hundred yards away with its sad bowed branches that seemed to reach down and barely caress the single stone below.

I’m here baby. With a whisper, she wiped the wetness from her cheeks and picked up her pace as she headed down the slope.

At the tree, Chloe all but fell beside the rock there and hugged it like a long lost lover. Sitting up, she swiped the bits of dirt and debris from the simple carving there: ‘Eden Rose Wakefield ~ May 1, 2002 – May2, 2006 ~ Loved always. Will always be loved’

Chloe laid the heather beside the tree and leaned against the rock. I’m sorry it took so long for me to come. You know once I am here, I am home. It’s the journey that is so hard. But I am here now Eden and mommy missed you. Laying her cheek to the rock’s cool surface, she closed her eyes and began to hum. It had been Eden’s favorite bedtime song. And though Chloe had little ability to hold a note, her tiny daughter would fall into dreams each night that Chloe sang it to her:

Over in Killarney

Many years ago,

Me Mither sang a song to me

In tones so sweet and low.

Just a simple little ditty,

In her good ould Irish way,

And l’d give the world if she could sing

That song to me this day.

"Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, hush now, don’t you cry!

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, Too-ra-loo-ra-li,

Too-ra-loo-ra-loo-ral, that’s an Irish lullaby."

Oft in dreams I wander

To that cot again,

I feel her arms a-huggin’ me

As when she held me then.

And I hear her voice a -hummin’

To me as in days of yore,

When she used to rock me fast asleep

Outside the cabin door.

With those words, Chloe soothed herself into her own dreamy world where she could remember a child no longer there, as if Eden was sitting under that tree with her, quietly singing. When she looked up, Eden was standing by the tree’s base scratching with great effort at the bark.

Eden baby what are you doing? Chloe turned a little to watch the child, with her thick wool sweater and her Osh Kosh corduroys and miniature sized riding boots, her caramel colored curls framed a heart-shaped face with ruddy cheeks and her blue eyes, which looked even bigger than they were for the long eyelashes that swept Eden’s upper eyelids. She smiled with mischief and coin sized dimples revealed themselves in the corners of her mouth. There was never a cuter child – ever. There was not one brighter and more loving than she was either. Eden never met a stranger and was always very vocal about pointing out the beauty in others. She dropped the stick she was holding in her chubby little hand and stumbled the few feet to her mother.

Momma, let’s get an ice cream please. Eden plopped into Chloe’s lap and looked up at her with hope. She reached up and wiped another tear from Chloe’s cheek. You’re leaking, Mommy. I think ice cream might fix that.

Chloe linked her arms around Eden and rested her chin amidst the curly mass. Yes, baby. Ice cream it is. Let’s just rest, you and me for a time though, okay.

With that, Eden turned her face to her mother’s chest, nestled herself into a most comfy position and dozed off. And as always, when Chloe woke, Eden was gone. It was sweetness for those few moments. Chloe had learned that she could not get past that short exchange each time she dreamt of Eden. She had stopped trying in vain to make the dream last longer than it was meant to and had learned to simply relish the few life-like moments with her daughter before it was time to wake again. Chloe stood and brushed the dirt from her pants, squatted back down and kissed her daughter’s name. I’ll be back next year, love. And with that, she turned and headed back to the parking lot.

It was always easier for Chloe to leave than it was for her to come. Walking away from the rock and the willow tree, she could somehow breathe better and she could smile… at least for a little while. She neared her Suburban and just as she turned the lock in the door, the rain began to fall - tears from heaven. Chloe stood with her head tipped toward the sky and felt the warm, wet beads slide over her cheeks and forehead. A droplet hit her eyelid and slid to the side, mixing easily with the salty tears that were still slowly leaking from the corners. This was peace right for this moment for her. And while she wanted to cry so hard that her body would shudder, in the lazy calmness she sensed, being still was the closest to perfect she felt she could reach, all things considered. She breathed in the cool air through the rain and let out a sigh.

Thanks for waiting on me. Chloe peered up at the sky with a shadow of a smile, hopped up into the driver’s seat and headed for home.

Chapter 2

December 1st, 2008

Flint, you have five minutes till your break is over and when that whistle blows I expect that hammer to be swinging. Aiden Ludlow prided himself on keeping his thumb a top all of his employees – even his very best carpenters. And Callum Flint was his best man, in part because Ludlow was always pushing, always demanding more and never backing down.

Callum brushed a lone lock of hair hanging down over his forehead, glistening heavy with sweat and tipped up the remainder of his coffee. Only 9 in the morning and Ludlow was already up his rear end. As cold as the winter had already become, the November air only felt like a light breeze as Callum worked quickly and efficiently.

With a swipe of his sleeve across his face, he shook his head and with a smile walked back to his work area. Ludlow Construction had been Callum’s godsend for a little over 2 years and he was not about to start slipping now that he was finally gaining some rank in the company. It mattered very little to Callum that Ludlow would call him out in front of the work crew. That was the way it was and the way it had been from the start.

Every man out there knew that while one could never find a better business man than Aiden Ludlow, one could not find a worst carpenter. The man could swing a hammer about as good as he could bake a cake and his wife could attest that Ludlow could do little more than boil water. But he made the company what it had become – the best and most recognized and sought after construction company in the greater Clark Galway valley and business had boomed itself all the way into West Meath, Kildare and even into Dublin.

Callum grabbed a handful of nails and shoved the heads between his teeth. One by one he removed them and with hefty and skilled swings, he buried them into the 4x4 in front of him. The structure before him was a simple skeleton of the house that would soon be complete. But when Callum looked at the scattered beams and stark white dry wall, he did not see the work, he saw the end result. Smiling, he went back to swinging his hammer.

Eight hours later, Callum gathered his tools and lunch box and headed for his truck. He was tired but such was the way it was with the job. Ten hour days could be ruthless but they paid well and the money in fact was what kept him on his routine. Rise at 4 am. Run until 5 am. Clean up and eat and be to work by 6 am. He had a system and while most would cringe at the idea of getting up so early in the morning, he loved it. Mornings were peaceful. They were his time to think, his time to focus, his time to dream and plan, and they were above all, his time to remember. Though Callum lived alone, ate alone, slept alone, and often enough, worked alone, there had been a time in his life when being alone was as impossible as defying gravity. He had once held the dream - a lover, a family and a future, but time changed people and too many of those changes were out of his control.

So now, Callum embraced being alone. There was comfort in knowing that he needed only to rely on himself and he would not let himself down. He swung his work belt over the truck back and laid it in the bed and with a wave to the few stragglers still at the work-site; he pulled onto the snowy roadway and headed home.

For the amount of money that Callum Flint made, any rational person with a mind to think would expect him to be living the lavish life. But Callum was simple and liked things to be that way. He pulled into the driveway of his home, a modest 3-bedroom house that he himself had built only a year and a half before. It was all logs and while it was simple in its structure and appearance, Callum had paid a hefty price to have the right kind of wood and the right amount of logs for the job. And it was worth it. In the time he had lived there, the house had not sprung a leak or been lacking in properly holding in the heat in the winter months or properly ventilating in the summer months. To him, it was perfect, and that was all that mattered. He turned the key to the front door and gently slid its oak frame open. Before Callum could reach in to turn the front light on, a huge mass of hair covered him and enormous black paws clung to his chest.

Hey buddy, I see you missed me! Down, Jack. Down. Let me get in the house. The coal-colored Labrador snapped back to attention and sat silently while Callum edged his way into the front hall of the house, flipped on the light and removed his flannels. There now, that wasn’t so bad, was it? You hungry? Callum reached down and grabbed a rubber ball from the corner of the hallway and with a couple of shakes, sent it whirling through the hall into the kitchen. Jack slid his clumsy feet from underneath himself and turned to follow the ball. Callum was close behind.

His kitchen was humble, just as was everything else about Callum. Stainless steel appliances lined the walls of the room but there was nothing but the basics. He wanted things uncomplicated, but the few things he had, he wanted the best, and for the best, he had been willing to pay. Callum laid his lunch box on the granite Island in the center of the kitchen and began to unload his dishes. He was hungry and tired and he was dirty, but hunger beat out everything else and Callum headed straight to the fridge.

He pulled open the fridge and found the remaining beef stew that he had slow cooked the weekend before. Three minutes in the microwave and a half a beer later, he was seated in the living room, feet propped up with the stew and a half a loaf of cornbread in his lap and Jack at his feet. Callum tossed Jack a piece of cornbread and Jack caught it mid air. It was a good day today pal. It was a good one. A few more months of good days like that and you and I might be heading back to Dublin. He tipped back his beer and leaned his head against the back of his recliner with a sigh. Callum had done enough thinking for one day. Refocusing on his stew, he shoveled beef and carrots into his mouth. He had almost cleaned the bowl when a knock at the door interrupted him.

Callum stood slowly, realizing as he did so that his mood darkened, for no other reason but that there was something unexpected in his day – invading the little time he had just for him. And he did not like the unexpected. Leaning down to ruffle Jack’s head hair, he let out a quiet, Coming, towards the door, as if somehow his slow pace would make the visitor go away. He unlatched the door and pulled back its heavy frame to the body on the other side. And all in one motion, he lost his breath and dropped his bowl.

Callum Flint, Always, expect the unexpected…

Chapter 3

She was everything she had always been and then some. Chloe Alice Wakefield was a vision. She was the cutest of babies, the most adorable in her adolescence, the most awkward teenager there ever was and still as beautiful as the rest of the girls her age, and years of life and experience, of love and laughter and joy and sadness had aged her gracefully. Chloe was grace. She embodied it and defined the very term. She had a glow about her, and there was never a room she had entered where her presence was not immediately noticed and received. Chloe was life. To Callum Flint, she was what made breathing easier, the purpose to have a smile on his face, and the very essence of joy in life. To Callum, she was all of these things and still yet, she was the reason for his solitude.

And here she was in all her splendor, as naturally beautiful as the first time he had seen her, more stunning than he remembered her being. Surprised, overwhelmed and ashamed all at the same time, he stood silent before her, taking all of her in, her loveliness, her fragrance, her presence. She was not what one would consider short by any means, but to Callum’s 6’4 frame, Chloe stood only at 5’3 and the great difference had always made Callum feel every bit the man he wanted to be for her. He could not stop staring.

Chloe’s hair was still the same perfect shade of walnut with highlights of auburn that one could only see in the sun. She had half of it piled up in a relaxed bun at the back of her head while the rest fell in thick messy curls down over her shoulders and rested near her waist. She had let it grow as she always said she wanted to. Last Callum had seen; her hair was only at her shoulders. Time had surely passed. She wore a thin scoop neck jersey that fit snug to her body, revealing to him that she had not let herself go since their last encounter. The shirt’s end disappeared beneath faded jeans that accentuated the muscles in her hips and lead the eyes down long well muscled legs. Callum smiled at Chloe’s feet. She would die in those riding boots, he was sure. A slight cough from Chloe brought his eyes back to attention and he refocused on her face. Callum looked down again. He was not ready for her eyes. They were too big and too sad right now for him to answer, and he knew without looking, there were too many questions as well. A gleam from the hallway light against metal brought his sight to Chloe’s chest - a thin chain with a tiny angel lingered close to her throat. Lost in a fog of memories, Callum reached out to touch it. Chloe’s hand stopped him from making contact.

She dropped her head and Callum watched as she held the angel snuggly between her open palm and her chest, a protection from what? Him? Chloe had so much to say, so much to ask. She had practiced this a million times in front of a mirror but now, standing in front of Callum, all strength and power, just as she remembered him, she was unable to form words. But then she never really had to say