The Road Home to You: A Claddagh Ring Novel

By Melinda D. Galloway

Anna Gallagher is returning home from her nursing practicum in Africa a different woman compared to when she first arrived. In her heart, she carries a painful secret and with it, the weight of a patients death on her shoulders. When Annas plane gets rerouted to Dublin, Ireland, on her journey home, she makes a decision to stay with an aunt until she can figure some things out. What she wasnt prepared for was the handsome guy her aunt sent to pick her upJamie ONiell. Now life just got a bit more complicated.
Charmer Jamie ONiell has decidedly given up on women. After the hurt and betrayal he has endured in the past, he cant see anyone in his future anytime soon until he meets Anna.
Together, they face the difficulties of their pasts and look forward to a future together. But just when life is looking up, one finalmaybe fatalobstacle stands in their way.

• Language: English
• Publisher: WestBow Press
• Release date: Jul 10, 2017
• ISBN: 9781512791044

Melinda D. Galloway

Melinda D. Galloway accredits travel as being the inspiration for her first novel, “The Road Home to You.” Ireland has always had a special spot in Melinda’s heart as one of the most beautiful and romantic places in the world. When in Ireland, she never misses the opportunity of visiting Killarney National Park for a Jaunty Cart ride. Melinda and her family reside near Stratford, Canada.

Book preview

Chapter 1

I T WAS DARK. So dark. I turned the wheel of the white Isuzu pickup, trying to maneuver the diesel engine vehicle closer to the interior of the village.

Torches burned brightly. Bonfires glowed, ghostly dots amongst the mud huts, like tortured souls in the deepest recesses of hell. I climbed down from the truck, still dazed by the night’s events.

Anna! I jumped at the head nurses’ sharp hiss. Over here. She pointed to the ground beside her and I hurried to her. Together we watched as four orderlies hefted a stretcher from the back of the truck. It held a body, wrapped in a white cotton sheet. The stench of death was worse in the heat. I steeled myself against it, lest I offend by bringing my hand to my nose.

The orderlies set the stretcher down in front of one of the huts. One of them called inside to the inhabitants. The Luvale language still sounded strange to my ears. One by one, family members poured out of the hut, more people than should have fit into a dwelling so small.

They gathered around the draped figure until the last person exited the dwelling, a withered figure, stooped, and small.

It was an old woman. A handkerchief covered her hair, a white t-shirt, and a colorful chetengi wrapped around her from the waist down. Her bare feet shuffled towards the body until at last, she reached the side of the stretcher and pulled back the white sheet to reveal the face of a young girl and a tiny, swaddled bundle tucked close to her side.

The old woman rocked back on her heels, lifted her head to the skies, and rent the night air with such a heart-wrenching cry of anguish that I, too, fell to my knees at the sound of her pain. The entire group picked up the death chant, grabbed fistfuls of dirt, and covered themselves with it. They rolled on the ground, grasped the dead girl’s hands, arms, feet, anything they could touch, and mourned her. I watched in abject horror the extreme grief of this family and felt my own tears begin to fall.

I’m sorry…I’m so sorry…

A figure emerged out of the darkness to my right, beating a small tambourine.

Ten feet tall and broad shouldered with a large, grotesque mask, he chanted in low, menacing tones, banging his feet in time with the tambourine. Long grasses tied around his knees hissed with each step. Grass bracelets decorated his wrists and ankles, and a skeleton, painted across his torso and exposed limbs, danced towards us.

The chanting grew louder. The wailing persisted until I covered my ears, trying to drown out the nightmarish sounds. He stalked forward, lifting an arm and pointing a bony finger in my direction.

You. He spoke in heavily accented English. You are responsible for her death.

I shook my head back and forth. No, I cried out, not me.

My body tensed, preparing for flight as he advanced. Closer. Closer.

My fingers sank into the warm sandy earth beneath me. I pushed myself up and ran into the night.

And I didn’t stopped running—until now.

Now, I was sitting in front of a block of pay phones at the Dublin International airport. I stared them down like they were my mortal enemy, standing in the way of my escape.

I weighed my options.

Option one: I called home and ‘fessed up. Or, option two: I called my great-aunt and threw myself upon her mercy.

I was definitely leaning towards option two. Oh just call her!

I shifted in my chair and bit my thumb nail nervously. I should let mom and dad know where I was, but…that would lead to questions.

No, I couldn’t call mom and dad. I couldn’t tell them I had left my nursing placement early, abandoned my fellow classmates, and perhaps even changed my mind about nursing.

Not yet.

I shifted my legs, hooking one over the other, nearly knocking my suitcase down in the process. I put a hand out to steady it, inhaling a ragged breath.

Disturbing images still whirled through my mind like a silent film. The reel flipped, flashing from one frame to the next. A tear slipped past my lashes. Would it never end? The guilt? The gut-twisting fear?

I scrubbed my face with both hands and pulled myself to my feet. Slinging my backpack over my shoulder, I wheeled my suitcase towards a large window and looked out over the quiet runways of Dublin Airport. The gray October day and misty rain suited my mood. If I kept being wishy-washy, I would have to sleep in the airport another night. I couldn’t stay here forever.

I had been on my way home just a few hours ago when we were re-routed because of some sort of technical problem while flying over the Celtic Sea.

Re-routed to Dublin, Ireland.

I shook my head slowly back and forth. Unreal.

What had begun as a relatively simple placement trip for school a few months ago had turned into a life-altering experience of life and death, deep in the heart of Zambia.

Attention travelers. I rolled my eyes upward, hearing the same message for the hundredth time in the last two days of bouncing through airports. Please do not leave your luggage unattended. Any unattended luggage will be immediately removed and destroyed.

Yeah, yeah. I know. The monotone voice grated on my nerves, but I instinctively gripped on the handle of my luggage a bit tighter.

There were no flights available to Toronto for a few days. Figures.

My plans of showing up on my parent’s doorstep a month early from my missions/practicum trip was now a dream.

I needed to find a place to stay. Think. Regroup. Maybe for a week or so, until I decided what to do.

I had failed to complete my required practicum hours. If I wanted to return to nursing college, I would be forced to complete them at a local hospital before the last semester began in January. I shook my head, sighing. I wasn’t sure if I would be able to graduate this spring. I’d be behind.

That is—if I decided to go back at all.

There was only one other option: my great-aunt, Katie O’Shea.

Grow up Anna! Just call! You have exactly 100 Euro in your pocket, and that’s not going to last long!

I straightened my shoulders and grabbed my cell from my back pocket. I spoke with Aunt Katie every year at Christmas, and on my birthday. She was an absolute sweetheart and had asked me many times to come for a visit.

I flipped through my contacts list in my iPhone until I came to her name.

Here goes nothing…

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Aunt Katie was as helpful and understanding as she could be. She said she was sending someone she called Jamie-boy to come and get me. She was still recovering from a recent knee replacement and couldn’t drive yet.

I felt a twinge of guilt at the inconvenience I was causing. I suggested that catching a bus would be easier. But Aunt Katie had insisted that Jamie wouldn’t mind, so I left it at that.

Thank you again, Aunt Katie, I told her. I’ll see you later.

I hung up the receiver with a sigh of relief. I had some time to kill. According to my aunt, Killarney was almost three hours away from Dublin.

My stomach growled. Time to find some food.

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Once I was through customs, my passport stamped for a three-month visitors’ entrance, I headed towards the nearest café in the arrivals area and got in line. The scents of beef and onions assailed me. I could have eaten every tasty goodie on display, but I’d start with a meat pie and a water bottle.

Oh and I’ll take one of those! I said to the kind looking woman behind the counter, pointing at a tray of iced buns.

Of course, dear. She smiled warmly at me. Everyone loves our wee iced buns!

I smiled back, paid, and found a table.

While sipping on my water bottle, I noticed a heavily pregnant woman sitting at a table in the café.

Second trimester. Mild edema. She needed to elevate her feet. I was relieved to see her awkwardly kick out a nearby chair and throw her legs up on the seat. I silently applauded her. Good girl.

My thoughts were interrupted by the arrival of my meal. I devoured it in short order but found myself too full for the delicious looking iced bun. I scooted back to the till to ask the cashier for a takeaway box.

The nice old lady had vanished, and in her place was a greasy looking fellow with bad teeth.

Excuse me, I said, trying not to judge this guy by his appearance.

The dude looked at me and smiled. Not a nice smile. A smile that gives you the creeps and makes you want to go and bathe. I arched and eyebrow and waited.

Well, hello there, darlin’. Is there something I can be doing for you?

He leaned forward on the countertop beside the register, resting on his forearms. His gaze wandered down to my chest.

I instantly crossed my arms and took a step back.

Sorry luv, just admiring your… locket.

Why you nasty little…

I tossed him a disgusted look, turned and walked out as fast as I could to the sound of his slimy laughter ringing in my ears. My hand clasped the cool metal of my locket. Locket indeed. I know exactly where your eyes were, you grubby little man, and they weren’t on my locket. I had made a promise to myself when I was 16. The locket would remain empty until I met someone special enough to carry close to my heart.

I sat down near the doors and wedged my backpack beside me. I settled in to wait for this Jamie person. How was I supposed to recognize him? I guess I’d have to rely on him to find me.

I yawned, already beginning to feel sleepy from my meal. I looked at my IPhone I had tons of time.

My eyes drooped.

Maybe I’ll just close my eyes for a few minutes…

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A breeze ruffled my hair and I caught a slight whiff of coffee and—what was that? Horses?

Slowly, I stretched my arms out in front of me with linked fingers and opened my eyes. I checked my watch. I’d slept for over an hour. Aunt Katie’s guy should be here soon. My eye caught the movement of someone getting to his feet beside me.

I glanced at the stranger quickly, then did a double take as he stood up.

Whoa.

He was in his mid-twenties, around 6’2", slim but broad shouldered. With an oval shaped face and high cheekbones, he was incredibly handsome. He had a strong jawline covered in a few days’ worth of dark stubble. He had dark blue eyes, fringed with long, sooty black eyelashes that would make any woman jealous. He wore faded blue jeans and dirty runners, a navy blue hoodie with the letters U.C.D est. 1854 stamped on the front, and a dusty navy ball cap.

The dark curls that escaped his hat, curled invitingly at the nape of his neck and temples. I swallowed under his own intense scrutiny and noticed he held two large paper cups of coffee.

My word.

Tilting my head to the side, I asked, Can I help you?

The coffee-bearing stranger dropped his eyes and ducked his head with a soft chuckle. He shifted from one foot to another, before raising his eyes to meet mine.

Well, I be thinking that if you’re Anna Gallagher, I’m the one to be helping you. I’m Jamie O’Neill. He smiled, showing off white, straight teeth.

Yeah, I’m Anna. I eyed him warily. You must be the ‘Jamie-boy’, my aunt referred to.

I smiled as his laughter rang out. That would be me. He shook his head, smile still in place. Ah, Aunt Katie, bless her.

I nodded. Yeah, she’s something else. Thanks for the lift by the way. I really appreciate it.

Not at t’all! His accent was thick, and, a bit confusing. Oh, this is for you. He handed me one of the paper cups in his hands. I figured you’d be needing it, right enough. Tis just a flat white, hope that’s all right with you.

I puckered my lips, puzzled as I looked at the cup now in my hands. I tried to translate ‘flat white’ into a coffee drink I was familiar with and came up short. Nevertheless, I was touched by his thoughtfulness.

Thanks, I told him. I was just thinking how I could use a coffee.

The side of his mouth tilted as he looked at me curiously. We stood there long enough for the moment to become awkward before he reached for my suitcase handle.

Right! Let me take this for you, I’m parked just outside if you’re ready to go.

I looked at the coffee cup in my hand. Actually, I’ll just use the restroom really quickly if that’s ok. I handed my coffee back to him. Can you hold this? I lifted my eyebrows, waiting for him to take the cup.

He nodded. Sure. I’ll wait here for you.

Thanks.

I completed my business quickly, before pausing to glance at my reflection. My hair was a mess. Ugh. Well, that’s attractive.

I tried to pull my wayward, light brown hair into a neat ponytail, but gave up with a sigh. It would not be tamed. It wasn’t as if I was trying to impress anyone anyway. I straightened my green infinity scarf around my neck as Jamie’s face flashed to mind. He was pretty cute, but I had no room for complications of the male persuasion right now.

Leaving the restrooms, I headed back to where Jamie was still waiting. With quiet thanks, I reclaimed my coffee and followed him outside. Jamie easily hefted my suitcase into the trunk of a red hatchback.

Doors unlocked, he called.

Thanks!

I automatically opened the right side door and saw the steering wheel. Shaking my head, I quickly shut the door again, looking over my shoulder to see if Jamie had noticed. He was standing behind me, keys dangling from the ends of his fingertips. Care to drive?

No thanks! I said, before scooting back to the passenger side door. I chuckled as I dropped into the seat and buckled my seat belt. You’d think after living in Zambia, I’d be used to driving on the left side of the road.

He shrugged. Don’t worry about it, I imagine I’d have difficulty adjusting as well.

I took a deep breath and let it out. The horse smell I had noticed earlier was obviously from Jamie. It brought back happy memories of days of riding as a child with Dad and my brother. A pang of nostalgia pierced me.

So Africa, yeah? he asked, pulling me out of my reverie. How was that?

He was watching the road, merging away from the curb into traffic. I struggled, not really knowing how to respond. My feelings on the outcome of my trip were still a tender topic.

What can I say? It was a life-altering experience, something I’ll never forget.

No doubt. He replied. So why Africa?

School. I’m in my fourth year of nursing. One of my professors has family connections with a mission station in rural Zambia. She offered certain students the chance to complete their practical hours there.

Now when you say certain students, what do you mean? he asked.

Umm. How do I answer this without sounding completely arrogant? She made the offer to a handful of students who maintained a higher grade point average over the year.

Jamie raised his eyebrows. Wow, good for you! So how many of you went?

Five. Please, please, please don’t ask where the other four are.

Where are the others? You didn’t travel together?

Jamie was very nice, but he had entered into my no go zone.

They’re still there, I said, and pretended to watch the passing scenery outside my window. I didn’t feel like talking about Zambia right now.

The traffic was crazy. I had done my fair share of driving in rural Zambia, where they also drove on the left, but it was nothing like this. There was roundabout after roundabout. One roundabout in particular had three lanes winding away in a circle so large I couldn’t see the other side. There were two traffic lights, one before you entered, and one, half way through.

Man, I said as we waited at the red light. That’s intense.

Jamie kept his eyes glued to the traffic light. Don’t they have roundabouts in Canada then?

Not like this one.

Jamie gave an incredulous, Huh, as the light changed from red to yellow, to green.

I tried to hold on as Jamie zipped around the curve like were part of some kind of crazy race, but the speed caught me completely off guard and tossed me sharply against the armrest. Right against Jamie’s arm. My hot coffee splashed into his lap.

Jamie gave a shout and pulled his arm away..

I am so sorry! I cried, covering my eyes with my hands. Well done, Anna.

It’s fine. He cleared his throat, shifting in his seat uncomfortably. Guess I took that curve a bit too quickly for ya.

The poor guy. Maybe he’ll stop asking me questions, at least.

So, is this your first time in Ireland, Anna?

Or not.

Yeah. I’ve always wanted to visit. I guess it’s lucky for me that my flight was re-routed.

Jamie shrugged. I don’t believe in luck. He said.

I couldn’t help but smile at that. Seriously? An Irishman who doesn’t believe in luck? Will wonders never cease?

Jamie threw me a look of mock disdain. As a matter of fact, I believe that everything happens for a purpose, even if we don’t know what that purpose is immediately. His scowl became a smile. And don’t be cheeky.

Sorry. I shrugged. I agree with you, actually. Outside the window, the lanes had diminished to just two. Are we heading out of Dublin already?

Ah, yeah, Jamie nodded. Only about two and a half more hours to go.

I winced. That’s six hours out of your day wasted on driving me. Sorry, you got roped into it, I probably could have gotten a bus.

Jamie laughed out loud, a deep pleasant sound. Please! Don’t apologize! My brother was green with envy when I told him Aunt Katie had asked me to go pick up her pretty young niece in Dublin.

I snorted softly. Right. So how many times has this guy kissed the blarney stone?

What? It’s true! he replied. Your Aunt Katie has pictures of you and your family taped up on her refrigerator door from the past ten years at least! She might have shown them off to us once or twice.

I felt my cheeks begin to burn at the thought. Oh, for the love of…Not those goofy Christmas pictures!

That’s how I knew it was you at the airport. I’ve watched you grow up, you might say.

I caught his smirk, and my eyes widened with embarrassment. Wonderful, I muttered. He turned his head and gave me a coy wink.

Moving on.

So, you have a brother? I asked, desperate to change the subject.

"Yeah, two. One younger and one older. Patrick, he’s the eldest at 26. Then there’s yours truly, I’m 24, and our younger brother