at the bottom.
I smiled when I thought of the many hours I’d spent at the pub with Colin and the other summer workers. We’d been a motley crew, with Colin, being local, taking the role of our leader. He’d kept us out of trouble for the most part, but he’d also gotten us into some ridiculous scrapes as well. In addition to his natural ability to lead, Colin Donovan had been quite a mischief maker.
I’d spent as much time online as I could trying to find Colin, but I hadn’t found a presence for him on any social media. I hoped that someone at the farm still remembered him and knew how I could locate him.
I felt a flutter of nerves in my belly. It had been seven years since I’d seen Colin. Would he remember me? Would he mind that I was popping up in his life after so much radio silence? I felt as if I were living out an Adele song and the potential for pain and humiliation was spectacularly high.
Colin Finley Donovan. I tried to picture what he’d look like now. Would he still have his thick thatch of red hair with the crazy cowlick and the smattering of freckles across his nose? Were his eyes still the pretty blue of the common field speedwell that bloomed all over the farm between craggy rocks and along the roadsides? When we’d last been together, he’d begged me not to go on to my next post but to stay with him in Ireland. He’d tried to convince me that Finn’s Hollow was where I belonged—with him. It had been tempting, so tempting.
But I had made commitments for different jobs all over Europe that I felt honor bound to keep. Plus, I’d wanted to see as much as I could during my year abroad, and staying in the first place I landed wasn’t a part of the plan. When I kissed Colin goodbye, I promised to stay in touch, but, of course, I hadn’t. I wondered how he’d felt about that, if he’d felt anything at all.
I hadn’t kept up with Jean Claude either, which made me question whether my plan to visit Paris was wise. Eh, who was I kidding? Paris was always a good idea!
My itinerary was vague at best. I didn’t know if I’d be retracing my footsteps from my year abroad for a week, a month, or a year. That’s why I’d taken a leave of absence. I simply had no idea what was going to happen, which was both exhilarating and terrifying and reminded me so much of how I’d felt during my year abroad.
Life was an adventure! For now, I’d deal with Ireland and worry about Paris when I got there. No matter what happened here or there, I had heard from Marcellino in Italy, via email, and he was looking forward to seeing me when I arrived. The thought made me smile.
Right now, my mission was to find Colin. For the first time since I’d conceived this trip, I wondered what exactly I was going to say to him if and when I found him. I decided to practice just like I did for my important meetings.
“Hi, Colin, do you remember me?” I said it out loud, trying it on. No, it was too desperate. It didn’t fit, like a pair of jeans that were too tight in the crotch. I tried again.
“Hey, aren’t you Colin Donovan?” I shook my head. Nope. I was a lousy fibber and would never be able to pretend I just happened to be in Finn’s Hollow, the backside of nowhere, without a purpose, like stalking my ex-boyfriend.
I lowered my voice as I shifted into a higher gear, picking up speed down the hill toward town. In my sultriest tone, I said, “Well, hello, Colin.”
Yeah, no, that was awful. I sounded like I had a horrible head cold and was likely contagious. I sighed. What was I going to say? How was I supposed to approach a man I hadn’t seen in seven years?
The panic began to thrum in my chest. What if he didn’t remember me? What if he rejected me? That would be levels of embarrassing I wasn’t sure I could handle. I shook it off, thinking of the sparkly pink flower girl dress waiting for me back in Boston. Right, so it could always be worse.
I turned my car onto the main road through town. There were a few people out and about, and