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Forge Your Own Holiday Reading Party

The end of the year is fast approaching, which means it’s time to get in the holiday spirit! To help you plan your very own festive reading list, we’ve compiled a number of Forge books that we think are perfectly fitting for this time of year!


An Irish Country Yuletide by Patrick Taylor

An Irish Country Yuletide-1Nothing says “happy holidays” more than An Irish Country Yuletide by Patrick Taylor, which will give you all the cozy vibes as you read this while curled up next to the fireplace!

December 1965. ‘Tis the season once again in the cozy Irish village of Ballybucklebo, which means that Doctor Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly, his young colleague Barry Laverty, and their assorted friends, neighbors, and patients are enjoying all their favorite holiday traditions: caroling, trimming the tree, finding the perfect gifts for their near and dear ones, and anticipating a proper Yuletide feast complete with roast turkey and chestnut stuffing. There’s even the promise of snow in the air, raising the prospect of a white Christmas.

Not that trouble has entirely taken a holiday as the season brings its fair share of challenges as well, including a black-sheep brother hoping to reconcile with his estranged family before it’s too late, a worrisome outbreak of chickenpox, and a sick little girl whose faith in Christmas is in danger of being crushed in the worst way.

As roaring fireplaces combat the brisk December chill, it’s up to O’Reilly to play Santa, both literally and figuratively, to make sure that Ballybucklebo has a Christmas it will never forget!

A Dog’s Perfect Christmas by W. Bruce Cameron

A Dog's Perfect ChristmasIf you’re a Hallmark Christmas movie lover during this time of year, then we think that A Dog’s Perfect Christmas by W. Bruce Cameron is nothing short of a perfect pick for you!

The problems fracturing the Goss family as Christmas approaches are hardly unique, though perhaps they are handling them a little differently than most people might. But then a true emergency arises, one with the potential to not only ruin Christmas, but everything holding the family together.

Is the arrival of a lost puppy yet another in the string of calamities facing them, or could the little canine be just what they all need?

A Dog’s Perfect Christmas is a beautiful, poignant, delightful tale of what can happen when family members open their hearts to new possibilities. You’ll find love and tears and laughter—the ideal holiday read.

A Bathroom Book For People Not Pooping or Peeing but Using the Bathroom as an Escape by Joe Pera, illustrated by Joe Bennett

A Bathroom Book for People Not Pooping or Peeing but Using the Bathroom as an Escape-1While this book isn’t specifically holiday-themed, it is absolutely perfect for helping you get through the stress that comes along with holiday-prepping…and perhaps seeing relatives at the dinner table that aren’t quite your favorite people.

Joe Pera goes to the bathroom a lot. And his friend, Joe Bennett, does too. They both have small bladders but more often it’s just to get a moment of quiet, a break from work, or because it’s the only way they know how to politely end conversations.

So they created a functional meditative guide to help people who suffer from social anxiety and deal with it in this very particular way. Although, it’s a comedic book, the goal is to help these readers:

  1. Relax
  2. Recharge
  3. Rejoin the world outside of the bathroom

It’s also fun entertainment for people simply hiding in the bathroom to avoid doing work.

A Bathroom Book for People Not Pooping or Peeing But Using the Bathroom as an Escape will be waiting in the bathroom like a beacon for anxious readers looking to feel calm, confident, and less alone.

It’s a Wonderful Woof by Spencer Quinn

It's a Wonderful WoofSuspense, a holiday adventure, buried secrets, and the most lovable dog sidekick all wrapped up in one story with a bow on top? Count us in!

Holiday time in the Valley, and in the holiday spirit—despite the dismal shape of the finances at the Little Detective Agency—Bernie refers a potential client to Victor Klovsky, a fellow private eye. It’s also true that the case—promising lots of online research but little action—doesn’t appeal to Bernie, while it seems perfect for Victor, who is not cut out for rough stuff. But Victor disappears in a rough-stuff way, and when he doesn’t show up at his mom’s to light the Hanukkah candles, she hires Chet and Bernie to find him.

They soon discover that Victor’s client has also vanished. The trail leads to the ruins of a mission called Nuestra Señora de los Saguaros, dating back to the earliest Spanish explorers. Some very dangerous people are interested in the old mission. Does some dusty archive hold the secret of a previously unknown art treasure, possibly buried for centuries? What does the Flight into Egypt—when Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus fled Herod—have to do with saguaros, the Sonoran desert cactus?

No one is better than Chet at nosing out buried secrets, but before he can, he and Bernie are forced to take flight themselves, chased through a Christmas Eve blizzard by a murderous foe who loves art all too much.

Her Perfect Life by Hank Phillippi Ryan

Her Perfect Life-1Are you someone who would rather skip traditional holiday books and instead read thrillers all year round, even after Halloween has come and gone? If so, then look no further than Her Perfect Life by Hank Phillippi Ryan.

Everyone knows Lily Atwood—and that may be her biggest problem. The beloved television reporter has it all—fame, fortune, Emmys, an adorable seven-year-old daughter, and the hashtag her loving fans created: #PerfectLily. To keep it, all she has to do is protect one life-changing secret.

Her own.

Lily has an anonymous source who feeds her story tips—but suddenly, the source begins telling Lily inside information about her own life. How does he—or she—know the truth?

Lily understands that no one reveals a secret unless they have a reason. Now she’s terrified someone is determined to destroy her world—and with it, everyone and everything she holds dear.

How much will she risk to keep her perfect life?

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5 Books to Read that Take Place During the Holidays

The winter season is upon us, and what better way to celebrate than reading a book that takes place during the holidays! From Christmas in the cozy Irish village of Ballybucklebo to New Year’s Eve in Gilded Age Manhattan, these books are sure to get you in the holiday spirit.


Image Placeholder of - 56It’s a Wonderful Woof by Spencer Quinn

Holiday time in the Valley, and in the holiday spirit—despite the dismal shape of the finances at the Little Detective Agency—Bernie refers a potential client to Victor Klovsky, a fellow private eye. It’s also true that the case—promising lots of online research but little action—doesn’t appeal to Bernie, while it seems perfect for Victor, who is not cut out for rough stuff. But Victor disappears in a rough-stuff way, and when he doesn’t show up at his mom’s to light the Hanukkah candles, she hires Chet and Bernie to find him.

They soon discover that Victor’s client has also vanished. The trail leads to the ruins of a mission called Nuestra Señora de los Saguaros, dating back to the earliest Spanish explorers. Some very dangerous people are interested in the old mission. Does some dusty archive hold the secret of a previously unknown art treasure, possibly buried for centuries? What does the Flight into Egypt—when Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus fled Herod—have to do with saguaros, the Sonoran desert cactus?

No one is better than Chet at nosing out buried secrets, but before he can, he and Bernie are forced to take flight themselves, chased through a Christmas Eve blizzard by a murderous foe who loves art all too much.

Placeholder of  -51An Irish Country Yuletide by Patrick Taylor

December 1965. ‘Tis the season once again in the cozy Irish village of Ballybucklebo, which means that Doctor Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly, his young colleague Barry Laverty, and their assorted friends, neighbors, and patients are enjoying all their favorite holiday traditions: caroling, trimming the tree, finding the perfect gifts for their near and dear ones, and anticipating a proper Yuletide feast complete with roast turkey and chestnut stuffing. There’s even the promise of snow in the air, raising the prospect of a white Christmas.

Not that trouble has entirely taken a holiday as the season brings its fair share of challenges as well, including a black-sheep brother hoping to reconcile with his estranged family before it’s too late, a worrisome outbreak of chickenpox, and a sick little girl whose faith in Christmas is in danger of being crushed in the worst way.

As roaring fireplaces combat the brisk December chill, it’s up to O’Reilly to play Santa, both literally and figuratively, to make sure that Ballybucklebo has a Christmas it will never forget!

Image Place holder  of - 21An Irish Country Christmas by Patrick Taylor

Barry Laverty, M.B., is looking forward to his first Christmas in the cozy village of Ballybucklebo, at least until he learns that his sweetheart, Patricia, might not be coming home for the holidays. That unhappy prospect dampens his spirits somewhat, but Barry has little time to dwell on his romantic disappointments. Christmas may be drawing nigh, but there is little peace to be found on earth, especially for a young doctor plying his trade in the emerald hills and glens of rural Ireland.

Along with his senior partner, Doctor Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly, Barry has his hands full dealing with seasonal coughs and colds, as well as the occasional medical emergency. To add to the doctors’ worries, competition arrives in the form of a patient-poaching new physician whose quackery threatens the health and well-being of the good people of Ballybucklebo. Can one territory support three hungry doctors? Barry has his doubts.

But the wintry days and nights are not without a few tidings of comfort and joy. Between their hectic medical practice, Rugby Club parties, and the kiddies’ Christmas Pageant, the two doctors still find time to play Santa Claus to a struggling single mother with a sick child and not enough money in the bank. Snow is rare in Ulster, and so are miracles, but that doesn’t mean they never happen. . . .

Poster Placeholder of - 26A Dog’s Perfect Christmas by W. Bruce Cameron

The problems fracturing the Goss family as Christmas approaches are hardly unique, though perhaps they are handling them a little differently than most people might. But then a true emergency arises, one with the potential to not only ruin Christmas, but everything holding the family together.

Is the arrival of a lost puppy yet another in the string of calamities facing them, or could the little canine be just what they all need?

A Dog’s Perfect Christmas is a beautiful, poignant, delightful tale of what can happen when family members open their hearts to new possibilities. You’ll find love and tears and laughter—the ideal holiday read.

Place holder  of - 52A Resolution at Midnight by Shelley Noble

Roasted chestnuts from vendor’s carts, fresh cut spruce trees lining the sidewalks, extravagant gifts, opulent dinners, carols at St Patrick’s Cathedral, a warm meal and a few minutes shelter from the cold at one of the charitable food lines . . .

It’s Christmas in Gilded Age Manhattan.

And for the first time ever an amazing giant ball will drop along a rod on the roof of the New York Times building to ring in the New Year. Everyone plans to attend the event.

But the murder of a prominent newsman hits a little too close to home. And when a young newspaper woman, a protégé of the great Jacob Riis and old Vassar school chum of Bev’s, is the target of a similar attack, it is clear this is not just a single act of violence but a conspiracy of malicious proportions. Really, you’d think murderers would take a holiday.

Something absolutely must be done. And Lady Dunbridge is happy to oblige in A Resolution at Midnight, the third book in this delightful series.

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Books to Read This Fall, Based on Your Latest Binge Watch

By Lizzy Hosty

With all the new content lately, it’s easy to get sucked into a series and binge the whole show. After catching up on the latest season of a popular show or watching an intense limited series with twists and turns, check out the books we suggest below to complement your watching experience!


If you love You then try Her Perfect Life

Placeholder of  -61If you use social media, then you’ve probably seen the memes from You (season 3) floating around right now. And rightfully so! This gripping series showcases what happens when charming yet awkward crushes become something even more ominous and obsession goes a little too far. If you’re a fan of You, then we promise you’ll love Hank Phillippi Ryan’s latest novel, Her Perfect Life, which is a thrilling story about a successful and beloved television reporter who has it all. But to keep it, all she has to do is protect one life-changing secret: Her own. While You poses the question: “What would you do for love?,” Her Perfect Life poses the question: “How much will she risk to keep her perfect life?” And both have the same sinister answer: “Everything.”

If you love The Undoing, then try I Don’t Forgive You

Place holder  of - 45If you couldn’t get enough of watching Nicole Kidman (and her gorgeous coats) as the successful psychologist watching her world fall apart in a twisty murder mystery, then make I Don’t Forgive You your next read. Allie Ross thinks she has it all – career, family, new house in the suburbs. But it all comes crashing down when she is suspected of murdering one of her new neighbors. This page-turner about a mother’s desperate attempts to keep her life together is a ride you won’t forget. 

If you love Mare of Easttown, then try And Now She’s Gone

Poster Placeholder of - 37After you finish watching the twists and turns of Mare of Easttown, be sure to check out And Now She’s Gone by Rachel Howzell Hall. Both Mare and Grayson Sykes have to make tough decisions to try and find people who may or may not be missing – and both will have you on the edge of your seat trying to figure out just what is the truth and what is deception.

 

If you love The Great British Baking Show, then try The Lights of Sugarberry Cove

Image Placeholder of - 21Are you someone who likes to try their hand at creative baking and finding new recipes? Do you have a sweet tooth that you’re always looking to satisfy? Or do you perhaps like to wind down at the end of the day by focusing on some good, wholesome content? If any of these apply to you, then we heartily suggest you check out The Lights of Sugarberry Cove by Heather Webbera delightful book about family dynamics, healing, love, small town Southern charm, good food, and a touch of lake magic. And while you’re at it, you can accompany it by watching episodes of The Great British Baking Show on Netflix because it’s equally as wholesome and endearing! 

If you love Joe Pera Talks With You, then try A Bathroom Book for People Not Pooping or Peeing but Using the Bathroom as an Escape

Image Place holder  of - 83If you’re a fan of Joe Pera’s cozy comedy Joe Pera Talks With You  on Adult Swim, then it’s a no-brainer that you’ll love his first book. Here you’ll find all the wholesome, deadpan comedy you’ve come to expect from Joe. But you’ll also be delighted to find Joe Bennett’s illustrations that bring the book to life. This charming little read will not only make you feel good, it will make you feel better. Who doesn’t love a bit of sincerity along with silliness?

If you love Hallmark holiday movies, then try An Irish Country Yuletide or It’s a Wonderful Woof

Have you found yourself ready to skip straight to the holiday season and watch cozy Christmas Hallmark movies? You are not alone! Hallmark started their Christmas countdown on October 22nd, which means it is now totally acceptable to start drinking eggnog and hanging stockings. While you sit by the fireplace, be sure to grab either It’s a Wonderful Woof by Spencer Quinn or An Irish Country Yuletide by Patrick Taylor, two delightful holiday treats!

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A Celebration of Patrick Taylor

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The publication of An Irish Country Yuletide marks the end of an era. After bringing much joy to readers with his bestselling Irish Country series, author Patrick Taylor has announced his retirement. Today we celebrate and honor Pat’s work.

A few words from our Chairman, Tom Doherty:

I’ve loved Patrick Taylor’s books, particularly his New York Times bestselling series of the Irish Country; they pull me in, wrap me up and carry me along, so completely involved. I’m sorry there will be no new ones but glad of those I have to read again.

I’ve felt Pat a friend I saw far too seldom; he on the west coast of Canada, me on the east coast of the United States. We’ve had some great lunches and dinners in the past, and I hope we’ll have more during his retirement. I wish Pat all the best.

Pat’s editor at Forge, Kristin Sevick, sat down with Pat to talk more about his experience bringing the Irish Country books to life.


Kristin Sevick: Pat, I know this is a difficult question, but who is your favorite character in the series, and why?

Patrick Taylor: That’s like asking a mother of ten—and they were not uncommon in Ireland in the early sixties—“Who is your favourite child?” If I must pick it has to be Kinky Kincaid.  Why? Because Doctor Fingal O’Reilly, who must solve every problem with which he is presented, be able to crush all opposition, and who on the surface appears to be an ogre, can be squashed by a single glance or a vocal inflection from this rock-of-ages strong yet deeply caring woman. And as a man it has been a challenge to draw a credible woman. I like to think I have succeeded.

KS: And do you have any favorite moments in the series?

PT: That’s an easier question. My favourite moments are when the background to the action is the pastoral Ireland where I grew up. As a young man Strangford Lough was my personal idea of heaven, so when O’Reilly goes wildfowling there with Arthur Guinness or just walking with Kitty and his brother Lars, I’m taking myself to a place I have always loved. And I have a soft spot for the scene at the Lughnasa Fair in County Cork where a sixteen-year-old Maureen O’Hanlon is falling in love with Paudeen Kincaid. I am not a lyrical writer, but I am quite pleased with this sentence. “As if using sparkling hands just beneath its surface, the distant sea caught moonbeams, and polished them before release them shimmering from the calm waters.”

KS:  That’s such a beautiful line, and I’ve always loved your descriptions of Ireland. How much of your own experience has appeared in the series?

PT: I wish I could remember the author, and I am paraphrasing, who remarked, “Writing fiction is the art of sifting through the slag heaps of your memory to find the occasional gold nugget.” The medical scenes are all accurate because I have experienced them all. And of course, I have taken many of the humorous episodes from my own life or those of my doctor friends.

KS: Did you ever envision the series taking off in such a big way – and lasting so many books?

PT: I envisioned An Irish Country Doctor as one of a kind when first published by a Canadian house in 2004. When I was contacted by Natalia Aponte of Forge and told they wanted to acquire the rights I came as close to needing CPR as I ever have. And a two-book contract? I thought that would be the end of it. Now, 15 books and a novella later, I still don’t really believe it. I have to be one of the luckiest authors of the last 20 years

KS: I know firsthand just how delightful your fans are. They are so wonderful, and so many have taken the time to write you such lovely notes! Do you have any favorite stories about your fans?

PT: You are right, they are delightful. Sometimes, when the muse falters, knowing I am going to disappoint my loyal readers is the spur to give her a nudge. I don’t have any favourite individual fan-mail stories, but I do have a special category. I am an old physician and when, as often happens, I get a letter telling me that my work has helped the author or a loved one to weather an illness or a difficult time in their lives, I do feel very gratified.

KS: Is there anywhere your fans can still travel to get the Ballybucklebo experience?

PT: Even though Dorothy and I went back to live in Ireland from late 2007 to early 2010, I’m sorry to say times have changed very much in the fifty plus years since the series began. By all means please do visit Ulster. The scenery is still much the same, the people are still open, welcoming to strangers, and still possessed of a wicked sense of humour, but if I may quote L.P. Hartley, “The past is a foreign country; they do things differently there.”

KS: As we bid a fond farewell to the Irish Country series, is there anything you would like to say to your loyal readers?

PT: To all my loyal readers, I would like to say it has given me enormous pleasure to have created this successful series, and much of that pleasure and all of the success has come from you. I can only thank you most sincerely for your support and apologise for not being able to find another fresh episode within me.

Please enjoy Yuletide and wish me well in my retirement.

With my best wishes to you all,

Patrick Taylor.

KS: Thank you so much, Pat! Not only for spending this time with me today, but for your charming stories that have warmed so many hearts over the years. It’s been a privilege to have played a part in the publication of these books, and I join Tom Doherty and your many fans by wishing you the very best in your retirement.

Order Copy of An Irish Country Yuletide—available now!

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Excerpt: An Irish Country Yuletide by Patrick Taylor

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A charming Christmas entry in Patrick Taylor’s beloved internationally bestselling Irish Country series, An Irish Country Yuletide.

December 1965. ‘Tis the season once again in the cozy Irish village of Ballybucklebo, which means that Doctor Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly, his young colleague Barry Laverty, and their assorted friends, neighbors, and patients are enjoying all their favorite holiday traditions: caroling, trimming the tree, finding the perfect gifts for their near and dear ones, and anticipating a proper Yuletide feast complete with roast turkey and chestnut stuffing. There’s even the promise of snow in the air, raising the prospect of a white Christmas.

Not that trouble has entirely taken a holiday as the season brings its fair share of challenges as well, including a black-sheep brother hoping to reconcile with his estranged family before it’s too late, a worrisome outbreak of chickenpox, and a sick little girl whose faith in Christmas is in danger of being crushed in the worst way.

As roaring fireplaces combat the brisk December chill, it’s up to O’Reilly to play Santa, both literally and figuratively, to make sure that Ballybucklebo has a Christmas it will never forget!

An Irish Country Yuletide will be available on October 12th, 2021. Please enjoy the following excerpt!


Doctor Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly tried to stifle a distinctly satisfied burp as he finished the last trace of his housekeeper’s sherry trifle. “Sorry, Kitty,” he said to his wife of nearly six months.

“You are forgiven.” She smiled at him, and the sparkle in her grey-flecked-with-amber eyes, as always, made him tingle. Had done so ever since he’d met her as a student nurse in Sir Patrick Dun’s Hospital in Dublin in 1934. They’d parted in 1936, he to pursue his, to him, all-important career, she to Tenerife in the Canary Islands to care for orphans of the Spanish Civil War.

Until last summer, he hadn’t seen her since, but he’d carried an ember for the student nurse from Tallaght, Dublin, all his life. Even during his short marriage in 1940. That ember had woken and burst into flame when he, a widower for twenty-four years, had discovered she was working in Belfast’s Royal Victoria Hospital as a senior nursing sister in the neurosurgical operating theatre.

Kitty leant to one side, stretched her right arm down, and straightened up holding something tied with a red ribbon.

“Seeing Christmas Day will be here soon, I’ve brought you an early present.”

“What are they?” he said, eying what he now saw was a bundle of envelopes.

“I’m still unpacking a few boxes from my Belfast flat and this morning I found these and thought you might enjoy reading them today.”

“Why today?”

She smiled. “Because it’s special. Our first Christmas as man and wife.” She blew him a kiss.

The door to the dining room opened and Mrs. Kincaid, or “Kinky,” as she was known, his housekeeper of nineteen years, entered carrying a tray with a steaming pot of coffee and an open box of Rowntree’s After Eight dark chocolate mint cremes.

“Kinky, you have excelled yourself,” O’Reilly said. “Prawn cocktail, roast leg of lamb with mint sauce, potatoes roasted in goose fat, broad beans, and carrots? You are a culinary genius.” She chuckled, making her silver chignon and three chins shake. “Sure, wasn’t it only a shmall-little thing, so,” she said in her offhand way, but he could tell she was pleased with the praise. “I see you’ve eaten up however little much was in it.” Her Cork accent was gentle on O’Reilly’s ear.

“It’s nothing less than you deserve, Doctor, and you, Mrs. O’Reilly. You work very hard the pair of you, helping other people, day in, day out. You deserve good food when you come home, so. Now, here does be your coffee and After Eights.” She set the tray on the table, unloaded its contents, and cleared away the dirty plates. “I know you’re expecting the marquis in a few minutes, so when he arrives, I’ll take him up to the lounge and bring the coffee and mints up once you’re all settled.” She fixed O’Reilly with a steely gaze. “Do not, sir. Do not eat all of them.”

O’Reilly cringed just a little at his housekeeper’s no-nonsense tone. “I promise.” Those citizens of Ballybucklebo who knew their middle-aged medical advisor as gruff and taciturn would have been amazed by his humility. But she’d always had that effect on him whenever she admonished him. He’d met Kinky here in this very house in 1938, just before he’d gone off to the war, and had returned here to buy the practice in 1946.

The housekeeper left, closing the door behind her. As she went, a sudden gust hurled rain against the room’s bow window making a noise like a badly uncoordinated kettle drummer.

“Glad we’re in here tonight,” O’Reilly said. “Heaven help the sailors. That’s a powerful wind.” He shook his head, offered Kitty a mint chocolate, and helped himself to two wrapped in their open-ended paper envelopes. “Speaking of power, as her fellow Cork folk would say, ‘That Maureen “Kinky” Kincaid is a powerful woman, so.’” He bit into a bittersweet mint. Perfection. “I’d have been lost without her these nineteen years. Back then for her sake I’d hoped she might remarry, but for my own, I don’t know what I’d have done without her. Now with you here, love, I’m not a domestically useless old bachelor anymore, and when she told us she was getting married again, I couldn’t have been more delighted. I suppose I’m selfish, but I’m very glad she stayed on with me for as long as she did.”

“You? Selfish, old bear?” Kitty finished her mint. “I know you too well. It’s all part of the—put that third mint down, Fingal.”

He set it back in the box.

“Do you remember that 1950s song, ‘The Great Pretender’?”

“Yes. The Platters wasn’t it, 1955?”

She nodded. “That’s you in a nutshell. Stiff upper lip. Terrified of letting your feelings show.”

“Well. I, that is. I mean . . .” But it was true. He often felt things deeply inside but had great difficulty saying the words aloud.

“Rubbish.” She smiled to show there was no anger in her, picked up her early gift, and handed it to him. “And I’ve got proof of your feelings in writing. Have a read of some of these.” He accepted the bundle and recognised his own straggling scrawl on the top envelope: Miss Kitty O’Hallorhan, 10A, Wellington Park, Belfast. His breath caught. She’d kept the letters he’d written to her after they’d met again in August 1964. Too scared of being rejected face-to-face, he’d taken to expressing his true feelings in letters. He inhaled deeply. “You kept them, even after we were married?”

She blew him a kiss. “Of course, I did. Some of them are very sweet, Fingal. You were and still are a very romantic man, and I love you.”

He rose, leaving the bundle on the table and intending to give her a kiss, but the front doorbell rang.

“That’ll be the marquis. Let’s greet him.” Kitty rose and as they left the room, she sang out. “We’re answering the door, Kinky.”

Lord John MacNeill stood on the step of Number One Main, Ballybucklebo, his camelhair coat sodden, his trilby hat dripping with rain, looking very much like a man in need of a friend. He and O’Reilly had got to know each other years ago through their shared interest in the game of rugby and the Ballybucklebo Bonnaughts Sports Club.

“Come in out of that, John. I’m sure the geese are flying backward.”

“Thanks, Fingal.” John MacNeill came in from the howling gale and shut the door behind him. “Hello, Kitty.”

“Hello, John. My goodness, you look wet through.”

Kinky, who had always had a soft spot for the marquis, had come to the door anyway. Now she curtseyed, and said, “Let me take your hat and coat, sir. The wires must be shaking out there, so.”

“It is a dirty night.” He handed her his sopping coat and hat, revealing a head of neatly brushed iron-grey hair.

“I’ll take these through to my kitchen,” she said, “and put them to dry in front of the range then I’ll bring up the coffee.”

“Thank you, Mrs. Kincaid. That is very kind.” She made another curtsey and left.

“Come up to the fire, John,” O’Reilly said. “You must be foundered.”

“Mmm.” He rubbed his hands together. “Trifle nippy. Please lead on.”

As they crossed the first landing, the marquis nodded to the photograph of O’Reilly’s old battleship, HMS Warspite. “Saw the Times yesterday. Historical piece. I didn’t know, but seems they finished scrapping her in 1957.”

“She ran aground ten years before in Prussia Cove, Cornwall, on her way to the breaker’s yard.” O’Reilly laughed. “The grand old lady always did have a mind of her own.” He and Kitty stood aside to let John MacNeill precede them into the cosy upstairs lounge where the curtains were closed over the bay windows and a coal fire burned in the grate. There, presumably under some kind of truce, O’Reilly’s white cat Lady Macbeth lay curled up beside his black Labrador, Arthur Guinness.

Her ladyship ignored them. Arthur opened one brown eye, smiled at the newcomer, and thumped his tail down—once.

“Have a pew, John.” O’Reilly indicated a semicircle of four armchairs arranged around the fire.

Kitty took a chair and John sat beside her, crossing his legs and hitching up his flannel trouser leg to protect the crease.

Kinky appeared and set the coffee and mints on a table beside the fire as O’Reilly stood by the sideboard. “Thanks, Kinky,” he said as she left. “My love?”

“Have we some Taylor’s port still?” O’Reilly nodded. “John?”

“Same as you, Fingal, as always.”

In moments Kitty had her port, the men their neat John Jameson Irish whiskey, and O’Reilly had seated himself beside John MacNeill. “Cheers.”

“Cheers.” They drank.

“So, John. You sounded a bit—well—not entirely yourself on the phone. What can we do?”

John MacNeill stared at the carpet for what seemed like ages until he raised his head and looked O’Reilly in the eye. “It’s my brother in Australia.”

O’Reilly choked on his whiskey, coughing and spluttering, “Brother? What brother? John, I didn’t know you had a brother. How could I not know?”

John’s smile was wry. “Not many people do, and the rest of the family would be quite happy if no one did. Father was adamant that people not speak of Andrew and it’s a measure of how much my father was respected—or feared—that no one did.”

O’Reilly leant forward in his seat, ignoring his whiskey. “Why ever not?”

John sipped his drink. “Andrew MacNeill was only two years younger than me, but in some ways, he was younger than that. I took him under my wing when we were children. Especially for the three years we were at Harrow together. MacNeill major and MacNeill minor they called us. I protected him from the inevitable bullying. Kept an eye on him as long as I could. He was sixteen when I left Harrow in 1919. I didn’t learn until after he’d been sent down from Cambridge in 1925 with a rowing blue, but no degree, that he had become a complete scoundrel. The usual culprits I’m afraid—drinking, gambling, a rather racy taste in women. By then, I was within weeks of finishing at Sandhurst officer’s training school.”

O’Reilly shook his head.

John set his glass on the table. “Then, in mid-1926, Andrew was expelled from White’s club in Piccadilly.” He glanced up and saw Kitty’s questioning look.

“It’s the oldest gentlemen’s club in London. Founded in 1693. Very exclusive. Very proper. Very.”

There was a short silence until O’Reilly said, “This must be difficult for you to talk about, John. Take your time.”

“Thank you, Fingal.” He uncrossed and recrossed his legs. “I tried to help him. He was my little brother and I loved him. But he wouldn’t accept my help. Would never be serious long enough to discuss anything. I never found out why he was thrown out of White’s. Father refused to talk about it. He was a reasonably patient man, my father. He’d survived the shame of Andrew being sent down. Willing to let a young man go through a bit of a wild period. But the business at White’s, well, it was the last straw for the old man. So, Father paid off Andrew’s gambling debts and settled an out-of-wedlock paternity suit.” The marquis shook his head.

O’Reilly said, “And you probably still feel guilty about not being able to help him.”

“I do.” John nodded. “I know, Fingal, you’ve read Somerset Maugham’s pre-war South Pacific short stories. I’ve seen them sitting in this very room. One of his stock characters was the upper-class waster who was provided with a monthly stipend remitted to a local bank in one of the distant colonies on condition he never came home. The remittance man.

“Andrew was one. Father packed him off to Australia, gave him a monthly allowance sent to a bank in Perth, and told my brother never to show his face in Ireland again.”

“How awful. For both of you,” Kitty said.

John grimaced. “It was. I missed Andrew, but the war kept me occupied for some time. I stayed in the Guards until 1951, then I had to come back to run the estate after Father’s death.”

“Of course.”

“I thought we’d never hear from Andrew again, but I got a letter in June of ’51 shortly after Father’s death.”

O’Reilly thought immediately of his letters sitting in the dining room, but he turned his attention back to John MacNeill. “The letter, sending his condolences for Father’s death and asking me to cancel his allowance, contained a clipping from the County Down Spectator about the Ballybucklebo Bonnaughts seeking donations to improve their clubhouse. Someone here must have stayed in touch with him and sent him the paper. In the letter, Andrew claimed to have made a great deal of money in gold mining and asked for the privilege of meeting half the costs of the clubhouse renovations. Anonymously, of course. There was only a PO box address from a place called Kalgoorlie in Western Australia.”

“Good gracious. So, he was still in Australia twenty-five years later,” Kitty said.

“He was. And a rich man.”

O’Reilly asked, “And was the promise honoured?”

“After some back and forth correspondence, indeed it was. Although I made it clear this was an anonymous donation, I’m afraid most people at the time suspected my father was their benefactor, and I couldn’t correct them.”

“I certainly thought it was your father,” said Fingal.

“I wrote Andrew a number of personal letters in care of the address in Kalgoorlie asking him to come home, but never received any reply. Indeed, those letters about the clubhouse were the last we’d heard until two days ago.” He sat back in his chair and picked up his glass but didn’t drink.

Lady Macbeth stood, arched her back, then trotted to Kitty, jumped up onto her lap, and began dough-punching, alternately pushing and withdrawing one front paw then the other against Kitty’s thighs.

She stroked the little cat, whose purrs rumbled gently, and looked at O’Reilly. He wanted to jump into the conversation, to ask outright what had happened next. But one look at John told him the man had to tell this in his own time. So, O’Reilly diverted himself by sipping his whiskey, taking a long deep breath, and listening to the rattle of the rain on the window.

“Two days ago, I got a long-distance call from someone purporting to be Andrew and I’m damn sure it was. I’d know that voice anywhere. Said he was ill, that he’d booked flights to Heathrow arriving on Thursday the sixteenth. He’ll overnight there, fly to Aldergrove, and arrive in Ulster on Friday the seventeenth. He wants to see his old home one more time, he said, and wondered if he might also be able to see the clubhouse.”

“One more time,” O’Reilly said.

“Yes, that’s how he put it. It doesn’t sound good, I’m afraid. I fear the worst.” John ran a hand through his hair and looked down to the ground.

“And of course, you said yes, John?” Kitty spoke gently. “Naturally. He can stay with Myrna and me at the house.” O’Reilly watched as John again raked a hand through his hair.

“You know how strong-willed my sister can be. She had very little empathy for him then. I hope she will have more now.” He paused. “I’ll hire a private nurse if he needs one. But perhaps, if he’s well enough . . .” He paused and cleared his throat. “Perhaps I can put on a little thank-you for him at the club.” He shrugged, raising his hands palms up. “What do you think, Fingal?”

O’Reilly frowned. “I’ll come and see him on Sunday. I know he’ll be jet-lagged, but if he’s fit enough, why not bring him to the club’s annual Christmas party on Wednesday the twenty-second. Let the rest of the executive know in advance, of course, and simply introduce him to the folks in attendance? If that would be all right with your brother?”

John frowned, stroked his chin, then smiled. “I think that would be a splendid idea. Andrew’s always loved a party from the time he was a small child. But he’s not under the National Health Service, so send me a bill.”

O’Reilly snorted. “Send you a bill? To do a friend’s long-lost brother a small favour?” He shook his head. “In the words of one of the locals, ‘My esteemed gracious lord—away off and chase yourself.’”

John MacNeill smiled. “Thanks, to you both, for listening and thank you, Fingal, for your sage advice. I will be happy to accept your offer of your medical services and I’ll have a word with the rest of the executive so Andrew will be welcomed properly.” He finished his whiskey, refused a second, rose, and said, “Now I must be trotting along.”

“I’ll see you out,” O’Reilly said, “and I’ll be a minute or two, Kitty. There’s something I’d like to read downstairs.”

“Good night, John. It’s lovely to see you and I do so hope your brother’s illness isn’t serious. Please say hello to Myrna.”

“Thank you, Kitty. And I will.”

“And, Fingal . . .” She smiled, and her right eyebrow rose in that enticingly provocative gesture he had always loved. “Take all the time you need with your reading. I’ve got Lady Macbeth for company and my The Spy Who Came in from the Cold to finish.”

Having shown John MacNeill out into the gale, O’Reilly closed the front door and locked it. Good God, O’Reilly thought. John MacNeill and he had been close friends since 1946. And as John and Myrna’s medical advisor, O’Reilly had thought he knew just about everything there was to know about the MacNeill family. It certainly was going to take some unravelling— but then Fingal O’Reilly had always enjoyed mysteries.

In moments he was at the dining room table holding the bundle of letters, undoing their red ribbon, and riffling through them. He soon established by the postmarks that they were in chronological order, so, he thought, in the words of Julie Andrews in this year’s film The Sound of Music, “Let’s start at the very beginning.”

He opened the first envelope, drew out three pages of notepaper, and began to read. He noted he’d dated it September 12, 1964.

 

Dear Kitty,

I had great difficulty believing it in August when Barry told me a Sister Caitlin O’Hallorhan was working in the Royal and wished to be remembered to me. Remembered? Since I let you go in 1936, I have never forgotten you and to see you last night, hear your voice, kiss you good night, filled my soul.

 

He’d tried to tell her then, but the words simply had not come until he had sat at his desk and penned these words the next day.

 

Today I took Arthur Guinness for a walk and on our way, I saw a familiar tree. A Japanese maple. It is a delicate tree with lissome boughs and multi-fingered leaves. I care deeply for that little tree.

I love its annual cycle and think of it as a reflecting glass for my own feelings.

In the winter the tree is dormant, its bony fingers knobbed with knuckles. It’s a time of sleeping, when all creation turns into itself, and the world passes by unheeded, simply to be lived through until spring.

In my spring I met you, a golden girl.

 

Fingal had to stop reading and blow his nose.

 

We fell in love, a love so gentle, so fumbling and inchoate we hardly understood it. It was a love that, like the maple’s buds, swelled, burst, and flourished—and might have been consummated but for a sudden late frost. My love, like a frozen leaf, lay curled on the unforgiving ground.

The dead leaf cannot know that the tree survives. I didn’t know you held within you the tiny buds of our love, which you would nourish and keep alive to await a new spring.

What tells the maple buds to grow once winter has passed? I do not know what kismet put me face-to-face with you last month. I do know that meeting made my love grow again. I tried to blight it, to tell it I was snow-blind. But I could no more stop loving you than the tree could stop its spring growth.

After ripening, buds must burst. When I kissed you last night, I felt myself stretched by the burgeoning growth within. When you took your courage and told me you still loved me, my own love, which had stayed quietly curled in on itself, shook loose and, like a new leaf, opened and smiled at the sun.

But this mature, full-blooded love is far from the simple green love of the past.

The ripe leaves of my maple today are full, and their weight bends the boughs. They are red, somewhere between copper and maroon, a colour that would take the skills of a painter in oils to capture, and with more accuracy than these poor words of a physician. Their beauty stops my breath in my throat just like the beauty of our love holds a warm hand round my heart.

Before long they will start to fall to make a carpet of fire, but their deaths will not be the death of my tree. My tree will bide and hold its secret into itself, ready when the time comes to flourish again in spring sun. Then its leaves will burst forth as will my love . . . now and forever.

Your loving Fingal

 

Fingal blew his nose again, folded the pages, slipped the letter into the envelope, and put it to the bottom of the pile.

He stood slowly, walked across to his surgery, and put the bundle into the one drawer of the old roll-top desk he kept locked. He’d savour his thoughts about the rest, which he would read at his leisure.

He glanced up and grinned. Now he’d go upstairs, kiss his golden girl, and tell her how much he loved her.

Copyright © 2021 by Ballybucklebo Stories Corp.

Pre-order a Copy of An Irish Country Yuletide—available October 12th!

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Every Forge Book Coming Fall 2021

Fall is almost upon us, which means we have a new season of books coming your way! Don your flannel shirts, grab your spiced drinks, and take a look at what Forge has to offer this fall.


September 7th

Poster Placeholder of - 14An Irish Country Welcome by Patrick Taylor

In the close-knit Northern Irish village of Ballybucklebo, it’s said that a new baby brings its own welcome. Young doctor Barry Laverty and his wife Sue are anxiously awaiting their first child, but as the community itself prepares to welcome a new decade, the closing months of the 1960s bring more than a televised moon landing to Barry, his friends, his neighbors, and his patients, including a number of sticky questions.

A fledgling doctor joins the practice as a trainee, but will the very upper-class Sebastian Carson be a good fit for the rough and tumble of Irish country life? And as sectarian tensions rise elsewhere in Ulster, can a Protestant man marry the Catholic woman he dearly loves, despite his father’s opposition? And who exactly is going to win the award for the best dandelion wine at this year’s Harvest Festival?

But while Barry and Dr. Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly and their fellow physicians deal with everything from brain surgery to a tractor accident to a difficult pregnancy, there’s still time to share the comforting joys and pleasures of this very special place: fly-fishing, boat races, and even the town’s very first talent competition!

Now available in paperback!

September 14th

Image Place holder  of - 68Her Perfect Life by Hank Phillippi Ryan

Everyone knows Lily Atwood—and that may be her biggest problem. The beloved television reporter has it all—fame, fortune, Emmys, an adorable seven-year-old daughter, and the hashtag her loving fans created: #PerfectLily. To keep it, all she has to do is protect one life-changing secret. Her own.

Lily has an anonymous source who feeds her story tips—but suddenly, the source begins telling Lily inside information about her own life. How does he—or she—know the truth?

Lily understands that no one reveals a secret unless they have a reason. Now she’s terrified someone is determined to destroy her world—and with it, everyone and everything she holds dear.

How much will she risk to keep her perfect life?

October 12th

Place holder  of - 78An Irish Country Yuletide by Patrick Taylor

December 1965. ‘Tis the season once again in the cozy Irish village of Ballybucklebo, which means that Doctor Fingal Flahertie O’Reilly, his young colleague Barry Laverty, and their assorted friends, neighbors, and patients are enjoying all their favorite holiday traditions: caroling, trimming the tree, finding the perfect gifts for their near and dear ones, and anticipating a proper Yuletide feast complete with roast turkey and chestnut stuffing. There’s even the promise of snow in the air, raising the prospect of a white Christmas.

Not that trouble has entirely taken a holiday as the season brings its fair share of challenges as well, including a black-sheep brother hoping to reconcile with his estranged family before it’s too late, a worrisome outbreak of chickenpox, and a sick little girl whose faith in Christmas is in danger of being crushed in the worst way.

As roaring fireplaces combat the brisk December chill, it’s up to O’Reilly to play Santa, both literally and figuratively, to make sure that Ballybucklebo has a Christmas it will never forget!

October 19th

Placeholder of  -50It’s a Wonderful Woof by Spencer Quinn

Holiday time in the Valley, and in the holiday spirit—despite the dismal shape of the finances at the Little Detective Agency—Bernie refers a potential client to Victor Klovsky, a fellow private eye. It’s also true that the case—promising lots of online research but little action—doesn’t appeal to Bernie, while it seems perfect for Victor, who is not cut out for rough stuff. But Victor disappears in a rough-stuff way, and when he doesn’t show up at his mom’s to light the Hanukkah candles, she hires Chet and Bernie to find him.

They soon discover that Victor’s client has also vanished. The trail leads to the ruins of a mission called Nuestra Señora de los Saguaros, dating back to the earliest Spanish explorers. Some very dangerous people are interested in the old mission. Does some dusty archive hold the secret of a previously unknown art treasure, possibly buried for centuries? What does the Flight into Egypt—when Mary, Joseph and the baby Jesus fled Herod—have to do with saguaros, the Sonoran desert cactus?

No one is better than Chet at nosing out buried secrets, but before he can, he and Bernie are forced to take flight themselves, chased through a Christmas Eve blizzard by a murderous foe who loves art all too much.

November 2nd

Image Placeholder of - 53I Will Not Die Alone by Dera White, illustrated by Joe Bennett

Dera White’s I Will Not Die Alone is a hilarious, feel-good story about the end of the world. Featuring illustrations by Joe Bennett, it is a story full of realistic self-love affirmations for all of us who are just trying to get by, until we die.

November 16th

A Bathroom Book for People Not Pooping or Peeing but Using the Bathroom as an Escape by Joe Pera, illustrated by Joe Bennett

Joe Pera goes to the bathroom a lot. And his friend, Joe Bennett, does too. They both have small bladders but more often it’s just to get a moment of quiet, a break from work, or because it’s the only way they know how to politely end conversations.

So they created a functional meditative guide to help people who suffer from social anxiety and deal with it in this very particular way. Although it’s a comedic book, the goal is to help these readers:

Relax
Recharge
Rejoin the world outside of the bathroom

It’s also fun entertainment for people simply hiding in the bathroom to avoid doing work.

A Secret Never Told by Shelley Noble

Philomena Amesbury, expatriate Countess of Dunbridge, is bored. Coney Island in the sweltering summer of 1908 offers no shortage of diversions for a young woman of means, but sea bathing, horse racing, and even amusement parks can’t hold a candle to uncovering dastardly plots and chasing villains. Lady Dunbridge hadn’t had a big challenge in months.

Fate obliges when Phil is called upon to host a dinner party in honor of a visiting Austrian psychologist whose revolutionary theories may be of interest to the War Department, not to mention various foreign powers, and who may have already survived one attempt on his life. The guest list includes a wealthy industrialist, various rival scientists and academics, a party hypnotist, a flamboyant party-crasher, and a damaged beauty whose cloudy psyche is lost in a world of its own. Before the night is out, one of the guests is dead with a bullet between the eyes and Phil finds herself with another mystery on her hands, even if it’s unclear who exactly the intended victim was meant to be.

Worse yet, the police’s prime suspect is a mystery man who Phil happens to be rather intimately acquainted with. Now it’s up to Lady Dunbridge, with the invaluable assistance of her intrepid butler and lady’s maid, to find the real culprit before the police nab the wrong one . . .

Law of the Land by Elmer Kelton

Sixteen stories, where good meets bad, and everything inbetween, from the legendary author of the west, Elmer Kelton.

Law of the Land chronicles some of his most exciting and dangerous tales of the old west, collected together for the first time–including the exciting first publication of a never-before published Kelton story, Biscuits for Bandit.

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