Antonia could remain unnerved by a little storm if she got her bearings and started a fire. She had experienced her fair share of damaging hurricanes while visiting her mother and stepfather in Florida. “Now those were storms,” she said as she carefully entered the living room. A packet of matches sat atop the mantel. She groped for them and put them into the pocket of her sweatshirt. She scrunched her nose when she reached into the collection of peat bricks. Some were dried bricks of dirt while others were slightly damp. Using her sense of touch, Antonia tried to separate the dry ones to throw into her fire. She wished that she had the fire-starters that Mr. Creely spoke of, but figured that the Irish had used peat long before modern conveniences.

When she struck a match and tossed it in, she waited for a reaction. When a tiny flame flickered in the darkness she smiled proudly. She tossed in a couple more matches, for good measure and within moments, a soft glow lit her living room. She sat back on her heels and watched the fire. “You’ve still got a few tricks up your sleeve, old girl.”

The fire was a small victory that she was able to pull off without panicking. It symbolized that she was capable of fending for herself. Aside from her meltdown over the washing machine, Antonia was actually doing alright. She got to Tully Cross, Ireland, managed to make friends, and now she was finally making progress with her writing. She was especially excited about the writing. When she was away from her novel, Antonia thought about it, and even missed her characters. Waking up this morning, she had decided to get straight to it. It had been the first thing on her mind as she prepared her coffee and brushed her teeth.

Of course, it hadn’t been the only thing on her mind that morning. She replayed her night at the pub with Aiden. She’d absolutely needed a good night out with strangers who were quickly becoming family. As she listened to the patrons’ stories and sang their songs, she’d felt like one of the locals. They reminded Antonia of her family from down South, warm folks who wanted to know how you were doing. Sure, they had asked a lot of questions, but they were interested and wanted to share their own perspectives of America with her. Like her family, she was held up several times when she tried to leave the bar. Antonia smiled at the memory. She’d tried to make her exit nearly four times, but paused to exchange social media information with several women whom she’d gotten to know.

Aiden was there too, but in the background. Every once in a while, they would catch one another’s eye across the bar. She would smile and he would tip his glass to her. At one point, he saved her from an over-friendly gentleman who was quite drunk. Aiden came over and clapped the man on the back, re-introducing himself. Once they got to talking, Antonia quietly slipped away, thanking him later. Earlier that evening, a man stopped by with his young daughter, a cute blonde girl who was about six years old. Antonia watched Aiden hoist the girl onto his knee and jostle her while she ate her crisps. The girl giggled hysterically as she struggled to hold on to her snack. Watching that scene made Antonia’s heart melt. Is there anything wrong with the man? Sitting down with the little girl, chatting with her while trying to steal her crisps, was very touching. Apparently this beautiful man was also very good with children.