Mulligan Stew Read Online Free Page B

beginning." Mr. Larabee smiled again and handed another envelope to Bridget. "Open it."
    Shaking from the inside out, she leaned forward and took the envelope and looked inside. "It's full of cash."
    Mr. Larabee nodded. "Mrs. Mulligan wired the money for you and Jacob to use for plane fare."
    "I see." Bridget stared at the money in amazement. "And she trusts me enough to believe I won't use this for something else?"
    "She said if you don't bring Jacob to Ireland, she'll assume you lied about his paternity."
    Bridget’s pride reared its offended head and she rose, her knees quaking beneath her. "I never lie."
    Mr. Larabee rose as well and gave her a satisfied nod. "I know."
    After several deep breaths, she trusted herself to meet his gaze again. His eyes twinkled approvingly.
    "Now what do I do?" She held the envelope against her chest, afraid it might vanish as magically as it had appeared. "I don't even have a passport. And what about General Lee?"
    "We'll walk you through the process, but it will take a few weeks," Mr. Larabee promised. He rolled his eyes heavenward and chuckled. "And, heaven help me, we'll take care of General Lee."
    She laughed along with him, and a strange new emotion filled and empowered her. A feeling she'd rarely known in her twenty-eight years.
    Hope.
    "Is there enough here to buy plane tickets and repay you and Mrs. Larabee for your generosity?"
    "That's not ne—"
    "Yes, it is necessary." She met his gaze and he nodded.
    "Very well. I'm sure there's plenty."
    A huge grin spread across her face and she hugged the envelope close. "A real castle, Mr. Larabee?"
    He nodded, smiling. " Caisleán Dubh —Cash-Lawn Doov. At least that's how Mrs. Mulligan pronounced it."
    "Doov?" Bridget echoed. "I wonder what it means."
    "Mrs. Larabee said you'd want to know, so she looked it up on the internet. We think it means black."
    "Black? So Caisleán Dubh must mean Castle Black."
    "Or Black Castle, I suppose." He folded his arms across his lean abdomen, his expression paternal. "We're going to miss you, but I think you're about to embark on an adventure."
    "Lord, yes." Bridget stared out the window at the soft drizzle. "An adventure."
    "I think I'm jealous."
    She smiled. "You're just going to miss my biscuits and red-eye gravy."
    The man blushed to his ears and gave an emphatic nod. "And everything else you cook."
    "I'll leave recipes."
    "Much obliged."
    She released a long sigh and grinned. "By golly, that finance company can have the trailer with my blessing."
    "Good for you."
    "After all," she hugged herself to make sure she was awake, "who needs a rundown old trailer when they have a castle?"

 
     
     
    Chapter 2

     
    Flying was both the greatest thrill and the most bone-chilling fear Bridget had ever known. All across the Atlantic, she'd prayed for their safety, while maintaining a false front of calm for her son's benefit. The last thing she wanted was to frighten Jacob.
    However, Jacob was engrossed with the entire experience. He pressed his nose to the window to gaze down at the whitecaps and fluffy clouds. Every time the plane bounced through rough air, Jacob said, "Whee."
    Bridget stopped breathing.
    If—no, when —the plane landed safely at Shannon Airport, she vowed never to fly again. When the time came for them to return home, she intended to book passage on a nice, slow boat.
    Of course, the Titanic had set sail from Ireland....
    "Look, Momma," Jacob said, standing to peer out the window. "It sure is green."
    Tentatively, Bridget unbuckled her seat belt and slid closer, holding her breath as she peered over her son's shoulder. "Well, I'll be."
    "Is that where we're going?"
    "I reckon that must be Ireland," Bridget whispered, banishing her fear as the plane eased through more air turbulence. Lord, have mercy. Even after the flight attendant compared the turbulence to speed bumps or pot holes, she still hated it. After all, she could see speed bumps and pot holes.
    "What's that?" Jacob pressed