A match made in ireland.., p.1
A Match Made in Ireland: A Romantic Women's Fiction Novel, page 1
E.D. Hackett
A Match Made in Ireland
A Romantic Women’s Fiction Novel
First published by E.D. Hackett 2023
Copyright © 2023 by E.D. Hackett
All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.
E.D. Hackett asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.
Designations used by companies to distinguish their products are often claimed as trademarks. All brand names and product names used in this book and on its cover are trade names, service marks, trademarks and registered trademarks of their respective owners. The publishers and the book are not associated with any product or vendor mentioned in this book. None of the companies referenced within the book have endorsed the book.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. Cities, towns and historic landmarks are accurate but all experiences within those locations are fiction. All characters, with the exception of Willie Daly are fictional. Willie Daly agreed to allow his name and likeness to be use during the scenes related to the Lisdoonvarna Matchingmaking Festival. All interactions with Willie Daly are fictional.
First edition
Editing by Granite Editorial
Cover art by Maryann Garlick
This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy
Find out more at reedsy.com
This novel is dedicated to the true Galway Girls of 2002.
Hanna, Cate, and Kat, may we never forget the memories we shared.
Contents
Acknowledgement
I. PART ONE
Chapter 1:
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
II. PART TWO
Chapter 40: February 2003
Chapter 41: August 2003
About the Author
Also by E.D. Hackett
Acknowledgement
This novel had been sitting on my heart for years, and one day it spilled out of my fingers and onto the paper.
Thank you to my family, critique group, beta readers, and author friends who listened to me question my story, help to make it stronger, and encourage me to keep going. Without your support, this dream to be a writer would have died a long time ago.
Nicky, from Granite Editorial, your feedback on my writing and the Irish culture has made this story a million times stronger and more authentic. Thank you. I will forever remember what a third leg and digestives really mean.
Maryann Haraldsen, once again, your cover is beautiful.
Thank you to Willie Daly for allowing me to use your name as the Irish Matchmaker. The Lisdoonvarna Matchmaking Festival occurs every September in County Clare. For those who attend, I wish you luck finding true love.
Lastly, thank you to my readers. I hope you fall in love with Rory and Jaime’s story.
I
Part One
Living the Dream
August 2002
Chapter 1:
I knew my life was about to change, but I believed it would be transient, morphing back into my natural state like a rubber band that had been stretched, and flung across the room, yet outwardly looking no different after its journey. Looking through the small, oval window, I said goodbye to the old me, and snuggled back against the overstuffed leather chair.
People outside hurried on the tarmac, and people inside scrambled to find their seats. A line of luggage squeezed through the tiny aisle and found its way to the overhead compartments for the six-hour journey across the Atlantic.
The seat beside me remained empty, and I stretched my legs around my extra-large pocketbook. Pulling it closer to my feet, I dug out my Ireland guidebook and flipped through the pages. Reviewing my wishlist and dreaming about the incredible sights and picturesque scenery, I catapulted into a utopia of sorts.
Planning this semester precisely and intentionally, I had relied on the internet, the library, and friends and family to create a detailed route for every weekend excursion. Only this weekend and the last weekend were left open for the nonnegotiable trip to and from America. All major cities, plus the quaint towns dotted along the way were starred, highlighted, and flagged within the pages of my semester bible. This book had stayed with me morning, noon, and night since my study abroad application was accepted six months ago.
Checking my watch, I pulled a paper-thin blanket over my legs and smiled. The flight was due to leave in four minutes. My stomach tumbled at the thought of leaving my friends and my boyfriend for what might feel like an eternity, but I pushed aside images of missing out and instead embraced the hope of infinite new experiences.
The flight attendant walked by and smiled. I admired her splattered freckles, ivory skin, and strawberry-blonde hair that reminded me of summer. I pulled my own straight, jet-black mop into a messy bun behind my head and continued to look around the plane. “Few moments to go,” she said, and my heart jolted with excitement. I turned to grin at the passenger two seats away, but he remained stoic, his eyes never leaving his book.
Undeterred, I leaned across the empty seat between us. “What are you reading?”
He placed the book face down on his lap and turned to me. “Just something I picked up at the book kiosk.”
I glanced at the book, not recognizing the cover, and then at him. “It looks good.”
He didn’t respond.
“Have you ever been to Ireland?” I leaned against my seat and readjusted my blanket.
He rubbed his eyes. “Yes, often for business. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a book to get back to.”
I pulled back and my shoulders tightened, surprised by his stern words softened with an apologetic smile. “Oh, yes, sorry. Enjoy.” I returned to the window and checked my watch. We were supposed to leave three minutes ago. Glancing around the plane, the flight attendants huddled near the front. Nothing seemed amiss, so I flipped through my book again.
I couldn’t wait to get away from my parents and take a break from college. I was due to graduate in less than two years and deserved a four-month vacation from my normal, everyday life. Some of my friends took a year off after high school, but when I approached the subject with my parents, they quickly dismissed me. Now, I was free. I flipped through my book and imagined myself among the photographs of abandoned castles and flocks of sheep, while living my best life.
The numbers on my watch taunted me, a reminder that the flight should have departed six minutes ago. What is the hold-up? I glanced again at the flight attendants, and the woman with the strawberry-blonde hair opened the door. A man with flaming red hair and an overgrown crimson beard cruised down the aisle, scanning the numbers above the seats. He stopped directly in front of my row and shoved his backpack into the overhead bin above me, then slammed the lid down. I closed my eyes. Please, don’t sit here. Clothing brushed against my arm, and I squeezed closer to the window as his arms flailed while taking off his sweatshirt.
When I opened my eyes, big sneakers pushed against my bag. I scanned up and noticed grass-stained knees and random holes decorating his pants. My eyes moved to his face, and he grinned at me with crooked front teeth, scrunched eyes, and bushy red eyebrows. A plethora of freckles sprayed his cheeks, morphing into the perimeter of his beard.
“Hello,” he said. “Would you mind moving your bag a bit?” He pointed down, and my eyes followed. It sat slightly tilted toward his foot but leaned mostly on my side.
Tossing him a polite grimace, I moved it over some more. “Sorry about that,” I said, rising to a sitting position.
“No worries.” He widened his legs and his knee pressed against mine, pushing me and my bag toward the airplane wall. I clenched my jaw and tapped my toe before tilting my hips toward him.
“You know,” I said, “it’s a long flight, and I’d appreciate a little space. I’m practically kissing the window.” For extra theatrics, I tipped my head and it clunked against the glass.
“No worries.” He completed one last leg stretch before sitting upright and reaching down to move my bag back to its original resting place.
The captain’s Irish lilt permeated the plane over the loudspeaker. “Attention travelers. My name is Michael, and I am your captain. We have a six-
The airplane tiptoed toward the runway, then shot like an arrow. I clutched my book and held it to my chest. My eyes fixated on the steady and blinking lights that illuminated the runway until the plane lifted and the lights turned to distant glitter.
I turned toward my new neighbor in the middle seat to share my excitement, but his eyes were closed, and his headphones were on, so I pulled out a notebook and listed all the places I wanted to see.
I couldn’t wait to see the new person I would become at the end of my Irish fall.
Chapter 2
My butt hurt, and my knees ached. I needed to get up, but the guy in the middle was sleeping. He had stopped snoring about an hour ago, but his eyes remained shut. The guy next to him was almost done with his book, the stretched spine dying for closure. I didn’t want to disrupt either one of them, so I shifted my weight and leaned toward the window, noticing the faint wispy clouds obscuring my view from the night sky.
I spied the flight attendant at the head of the plane, preparing the food carts. It was ten p.m., Boston time, and I was starving. When she finally approached and placed our trays in front of us, the guy in the middle removed his headphones and stretched. His right arm shot out in front of me and hit my tray on the way down. My full cup tipped against his outstretched hand, and cola poured off the tray and down my leg.
“Feck!” He placed the napkins from his tray on the puddle of brown bubbles.
“Uh,” I grumbled. My wet leg turned sticky, and with each move, a Velcro-sound ripped through the cabin. Too close, his tray obstructed my arm from cleaning the mess, so I sat there and did nothing. “It’s okay,” I said. “I wasn’t hungry, anyway.”
My chicken swam in soda, but the flight attendants were already two-thirds of the way back. “Oh no! My book.” My pitch dropped in sadness as soda trickled from the pages of my guidebook onto my lap.
He handed me his napkins and I squeezed the book, watching the brown liquid saturate the square napkin from one corner to the other.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“It’s okay.” I flipped through the book, and scowled at the swollen, stained pages. Yellow highlighter and black ink bled up and down the text. “It’s just my guidebook. I can get another.”
I didn’t know why I was considering this guy’s feelings when I was disappointed and starving. Had he been a gentleman, he would have given me his dinner, but instead he dove right in, elbowing me every time he tried to cut his food. It smelled delicious for airplane food, and my stomach rumbled. I leaned around the soppy tray and fumbled through my purse, removing the small bag of trail mix I had purchased at the airport store.
“Are you allergic to nuts?” I asked.
He shoved a potato wedge in his mouth and shook his head no. “Yer good.”
Before I put the first peanut in my mouth, his tray was empty.
“You gonna eat that?” He pointed to my roll, protected by a wax bag from the soda. I raised my eyes to the ceiling and handed it to him. “Thanks.”
Watching him rip open the bag, smear butter on the inside, and shove it in his mouth, I squinted my eyes and scrunched my nose. This guy is an animal, like he hasn’t eaten in days. Crumbs rested along the small hairs growing out of his lower face and I rubbed my chin to alert him to the crumbly food.
“Whatcha doing in Ireland?” he asked, wiping his chin.
“Excuse me?”
“You’re American, right? Whatcha gonna do over here?”
I straightened my back and held up the book. “Study abroad.”
“Figured so much. A pretty girl like you, traveling alone, with a travel guide.” He shifted his torso, and faced me.
I felt my chest tighten, unsure how much information I should give this guy. He didn’t appear threatening, but he was right. I was traveling alone.
“What about you?” I changed the subject.
He stretched his arms in front of him. “Heading home.”
“Were you visiting family?” I asked.
“Nah, visiting America.”
I looked out the window and noticed a brightening along the horizon. “Two more hours,” I said under my breath.
The flight attendants strolled up the aisle and removed all the trays. “Sorry,” I said, motioning to the brown lake on my tray. I picked it up and handed it to her, careful not to let a drop spill on my two airplane friends.
Her eyes widened. “Oh, would you like another meal?”
I shook my head. “No, thank you.”
“Would you like a clean seat? We have a few empty seats throughout the aircraft.”
I wanted to get away from this guy, but we were closer to landing than take-off, and I didn’t want to leave my luggage unsupervised. “That’s okay. Thank you.”
As she walked away, the guy beside me elbowed me in the ribs.
“Ouch.” Rubbing my side, I narrowed my eyes.
“Why’d you say no to the food?”
“Because I have nowhere to put it. My tray is still swimming. Hopefully she’ll come back with a pile of napkins.”
“You could have used my tray. She offered you free food. You should always take free food. I would’ve eaten it if you didn’t want it.” He leaned back and pulled his headphones over his ears.
I shook my head in disbelief. Who does this guy think he is? Focusing my attention on the sky, I ignored his lame head bopping to whatever music he was playing. As his shoulders shook to the beat, his arms brushed against mine and I couldn’t help but notice the goosepimples that rose from my skin.
Over the next hour, I watched the sky transition from pewter to tangerine and strawberry. It was only eleven p.m., Boston time, but four in the morning in Ireland. The ocean water flowed below us, and the blue waves eventually transitioned to round green hills.
My heart thumped in my chest, and excitement brewed up from my toes. I am in Ireland! I pinched my arm and embraced the pain. Yep, I’m definitely here.
The guy beside me leaned over to see the landscape out the tiny window, obscuring my view. The scent of his soap caused me to shiver. Squeezing against the seat to give him more room, I pursed my lips, and waited for him to return to his seat. This guy is so rude. His knee pushed against mine, and I did everything I could to slink away from him.
“Ah-hem,” I roared into his ear. He turned toward me, and his light brown eyes remained inches from mine. The deep amber color glistened under the muted light, and my stomach fluttered when laughter flashed from his eyes to mine. I fought the urge to smile. “Do you mind?”
“Almost home.” He grinned like he had a secret he was dying to share, and leaned back in his seat.
“Thanks, a little space would be nice.” I flapped my arms like a chicken, demonstrating my personal bubble.
His left freckled arm flapped in response. “Sorry about that. Airplanes are tight.”
The butterflies inside took flight, and I questioned if they were due to anticipation or attraction. This guy might have been cute if he wasn’t so damn annoying.
Chapter 3
A crowd of strangers swept me along the concourse. It seemed they knew where they were going, so I fell into the current they controlled, and it led me straight to customs. Watching the guy with the red hair march past me to the green channel, I envied the speed his line moved. I debated following him, but most of my flight remained at the red channel, and I needed to stick with my fellow Americans.
Shannon Airport looked like any other airport, except for signs in English and Gaelic. Looking out the floor-to-ceiling windows, you would think you were in Chicago, Boston, or Baltimore. There were no signs of Irish life except for the traditional music blasting through the overhead speakers.
I snaked through the immigration line with other foreigners, where we pushed through the turnstiles like cattle. My hand shook as I gave my passport to the attendant.
