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Erin looks at me and laughs. “The house is full because you’re coming, silly. It’s not a bad day at all.”
As I step through the doorway, guided by Erin’s enthusiastic tug, the warmth of the home envelopes me. The living room is cozy and cluttered in a charming way that speaks of generations of memories.
There’s a large, worn sofa overflowing with mismatched cushions, and a stone fireplace that dominates one wall, the mantle adorned with photos and trinkets.
Lace curtains flutter gently at the windows, and the walls are lined with bookshelves stuffed to the brim with well-thumbed novels and family albums.
The scent of freshly baked bread and something sweet and cinnamon-spiced fills the air, mingling with the faint smell of peat from the fireplace.
At the far end of the room, a large, round wooden table is set with a lace tablecloth and piled high with dishes that make my mouth water from across the room. The table is surrounded by a mix of chairs, each one different from the next, adding to the room’s eclectic charm.
As I take in my surroundings, a petite, sprightly woman in her eighties emerges from what I assume is the kitchen, wiping her hands on a floral apron.
Her hair is a snowy white halo around her sharp, bright face, and her eyes, a clear, vivid blue that matches Erin’s, light up with joy as she sees me.
“Madelaine! Oh, look at you, dear, just as lovely as your mother said!” Her voice is rich and warm, with a lilting accent that wraps around me like a hug. She moves toward me with surprising agility for her age, her arms open wide.
I step into her embrace, feeling an immediate sense of belonging. Her hug is firm and comforting, filled with genuine affection that you feel deep in your bones.
She smells faintly of rosewater and something herbaceous, an aroma that I instantly associate with this quaint, welcoming home.
“Auntie Maeve,” I say, finally putting a name to the face.
“Just Maeve, or Auntie, whichever you fancy, my dear,” she chuckles, holding me at arm’s length to look at me again. “Let’s get you introduced, and then we’ll be seated and fed. You must be famished after your journey.”
It was only just over an hour in the car and Cora sent us with baked yummies, but why bring that up? I learned very quickly that the Irish like to feed people. “Thank you, Auntie.”
“Come now, into the sitting room. I have so many people for you to meet.”
I glance around the room, and all eyes are on me. There must be a dozen people here. “Wow. I never dreamed I had so many relatives.”
“And there are many more than this,” says Aunt Maeve with a little laugh. “This is your cousin Geraldine, and this is Allison.”
“So nice to meet you girls,” I say.
“Over here is Finley O’Dell. He lives not far down the road, a local lad. He was your mother’s first sweetheart.”
Tall and muscular with dark curly hair, he is vibrantly handsome and attractive in his late fifties. He gets to his feet and as he looks at my face, tears water in his eyes.
“Och, you have the look of your beautiful mam.” He pulls me into a hug. “It’s a pleasure to meet you.”
“You too.” I ease back and wonder what mom’s life would’ve looked like if her parents hadn’t moved to the States when she was a kid. “Since you knew my mom, you might know some of her favorite places, right?”
“Aye, I suppose that’s true.”
“Then, maybe we can talk more later about where you think she might like her ashes spread for her final resting place.”
Finley nods. “I’ll give it some thought and take you on a little tour when you’re ready.”
I squeeze his hands and step back. “That’s great. Thank you.”
With that set, Aunt Maeve goes around the room and introduces me to all. I try to remember their names, but that will have to come in time.
“Now, with that done,” Aunt Maeve says, gesturing to the dining table, “everyone help yourselves to the buffet.”
That sets the room into motion, and I step back and watch them bustle about, making plates.
“You really didn’t need to go to all this trouble on such short notice, Auntie. I am happy just to come and meet everyone.”
