I rapped my knuckles on the open barn door, but Kellen didn’t notice over the clinking of his chisel and hammer. I hadn’t found a publisher for them yet, but I had managed to land a literary agent, which felt like a dream come true all by itself. So far, I’d written The Ghost of Glenshire, The Lady in the Lough, The Witch in the Woods, and I was working on The Fairies in the Forest. With Kellen’s encouragement, I also added a minor in creative writing and began writing a creepy children’s book series about Irish legends and fairy tales. And I’d made some really good friends at the yoga studio I’d joined near my therapist’s office.Īs soon as we’d decided to stay in Glenshire, I’d transferred to an online English literature program through Trinity College. Kellen wasn’t happy about that part, but he didn’t fight me on it. Doing my schoolwork in his workshop helped, but challenging myself to go places without him for short periods of time did too. We lived in constant fear that the other was going to be hurt or killed-which wasn’t completely irrational, considering that the Brotherhood still wanted us dead-but our panic attacks were at least becoming fewer and farther between. And it seemed to manifest in an extreme attachment to one another. We both had complex post-traumatic stress disorder from the repeated traumas we’d endured, beginning in childhood and ending with the events that had taken place the year before. Kellen wasn’t ready to talk about what he’d experienced with anyone other than me, but a lot of what I was learning helped him too. I’d been seeing a therapist in Killarney once a week. The white noise of power tools helped me focus, and being together helped both of us relax. Some days-okay, every day-I took my laptop in there and did my schoolwork at a table he’d built for me in the corner. He had workbenches, table saws, lathes, hammers, chisels, sanders, and sawdust as far as the eye could see. With the money we’d gotten for the sheep, Kellen had been able to convert Grandpa’s old barn into a woodworking paradise. The downside of only having one sheep to take care of was that now we had an entire pasture to mow-or evidently, not mow. I skipped off toward Kellen’s workshop, which wasn’t easy to do with the length of our grass. “And happy anniversary, by the way.” There was a twinkle in her eye that made me wonder if she knew something that I didn’t.

“Well, send him home whenever she gets sick of him.” “He’s got himself a wee crush on Miss Petunia, I believe.” “He’s, em … oh, there he is.” She pointed in the direction of the only black sheep in the flock. Speaking of, have you seen Vlad this morning?” If you’d kept his flock, you’d be dealin’ with all this lambing right now.”

Devil of dublin bb easton read online