Page 68 of The Past

I did as he instructed, working the wrench and carefully detaching the glass bowl before handing it over to Rory to inspect.“There’s the problem.All kinds of debris in there.Hand me yer rag.”

I passed the cloth over and Rory cleaned out all the gunk.We then cleaned off the metal mesh screen and following his instructions, I put it all back together again.

“I’d been sayin’ yer good with yer hands,” he said with a chuckle.“Could be ye’ve got a bit of a mechanic in ye.”

I chuckled, leaning against the fender.“Doubt that.But I can follow directions.”

Rory smirked.“That’s more than I can say for most.”

It was a quiet Saturday, one of the slower days at Glenhaven.The farmhands were tending to the pastures, Fiona had gone into town with Kathleen for groceries, and they were preparing a roast for dinner.For the first time in a long time, things felt settled.It had been four days since Seamus stormed onto the property, spitting fire and threats, and three days since Fiona accepted my proposal, an event that Rory and Kathleen had blessed.

Fiona had adjusted to life at Rory and Kathleen’s, happier than I’d ever seen her.There were still moments when she missed her family, but every day she grew stronger.She was where she was supposed to be.And even though we had to keep things respectful now that she was under their guardianship, we still stole what moments we could—kisses behind the stables, her fingers slipping into mine when no one was looking.

We’d figure out the rest.

Rory fiddled with a few things before proclaiming, “Should do the trick.Let’s crank the old girl and see if she’ll run.Ye do the honors.”

I climbed up onto the metal seat, the coolness of it seeping through my jeans.The steering wheel was large, almost oversized, but familiar under my hands as I reached for the ignition switch just below the dashboard.The Massey was an old workhorse, a little worn, but still reliable—so long as you treated her right.

“Pump the throttle a bit,” Rory said, watching as I slid the lever up a notch on the right side of the steering column.“Be gentle with her.Too much, and she’ll choke.Too little, and she’ll sputter out.”

“Finicky lass,” I said in my best impersonation of an Irish accent.

Rory snorted and I pressed the clutch with my foot and turned the ignition key.The motor groaned before turning over with a deep, throaty rumble.A plume of gray smoke puffed from the exhaust stack and the entire frame shuddered slightly.I eased off the clutch and let the engine idle, pleased with the mechanical chug-chug I was hearing.

Rory grinned at me and waved me down.“Not bad, lad.Not bad at all.Come on… let’s go grab some lunch.”

“Appreciate you teachin’ me all this,” I said to Rory as we walked toward the cottage.I was hungry, but I was more looking forward to seeing Fiona.

Rory chuckled.“Well, if yer gonna be part of this family, I suppose ye oughta learn how to fix what breaks.”

My chest tightened.

He’d accepted me.

Despite everything—my age, my background, the fact that I was taking Fiona away from everything she’d ever known—he’d accepted me.

I was about to say something when Rory stopped in his tracks.I turned to face him, thinking he’d forgotten something back at the tractor.He stood so still, he looked like a statue.Then he inhaled sharply, sucking through his teeth while his forehead creased with pain.

His hand went to his chest and my stomach dropped clear to my feet.

“Rory?”

The man swayed, his other hand reaching out to me blindly.

“Rory—” I exclaimed, trying to grab onto him as he collapsed to the ground.I was able to get my arms around him enough that I could lower him down and I could tell from just that momentary touch that something was seriously wrong.

“Hey, hey, c’mon now,” I said, shaking him lightly.His eyes were half open, but distant.“Talk to me.”

Nothing.

“Rory,” I said, giving his shoulder a slight shake.“You’re scaring me here.”

His eyes rolled into the back of his head and panic surged through me.“Fuck,” I muttered, shoving the fear aside.

Years of lifeguarding at the community pool back home had taught me one thing—panic never saved a damn person.

I pressed two fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse.

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