Healing Our Hearts: Irish Hearts, #1

By Grace Roberts

Love can heal a crushed heart.

Kathleen O'Hagan used to love life. She had plans, dreams, and faith in life; but that was before the accident that took it all away from her in an instant. Now that her beloved brother is dead and she's confined to a wheelchair, her future is but a dark cloud hovering above her head. How can she ever find the will to move on and keep living without him?

That's when he comes along.

Colin Byrne has been a physiotherapist in Dublin for almost five years, but he's never bonded with a patient like he is bonding with Kathleen. There's something about those sad blue eyes that makes him want to help her, to take away the pain that reminds him so much of his own.

That's when something changes.

The more time they spend together, the stronger their feelings for each other grow. But Kathleen doesn't want to be anyone's burden and Colin doesn't think he's worthy of love. Finding a way to heal their hearts seems impossible, until an angelic presence comes into their lives to help them fulfill their destiny.

Sometimes love can work miracles. If you believe.

***This book was previously published as "Hugged By An Angel" ***

• Language: English
• Publisher: Grace Roberts
• Release date: Jul 15, 2019
• ISBN: 9781393393276

Grace Roberts

Grace writes heartwarming stories set in Ireland or in small towns in the United States—two places where she’d love to live while writing full-time. She’s also an avid reader who thinks daydreaming should be a paid profession and that the world would be a better place if bookworms ruled it. Growing up as an only child, she spent all her free time with her nose stuck in books, enjoying the company of fictional friends, while dreaming of becoming an author. Discovering books by Rosamunde Pilcher was the turning point in her life, and she decided to start writing down the stories that kept playing in her head, just for fun. After the first couple of stories, though, she found it impossible to stop—and she’s been writing ever since. Subscribe to Graces’s newsletter to make sure you’re always up-to-date with her writing world.

Book preview

Prologue

Kathleen

Ihad just turned twenty-three when I nearly died.

I was in my car on the way to Dublin airport where I should have been taking a direct flight to New York with my brother and best friend, Declan. I had plans to start a new life there; I’d spent my college years organizing everything down to the last detail and I was just a step away from making my dream come true.

But I never got to the airport.

I never boarded that plane.

On a cold January day, the day I’d waited so long for, fate took everything from me, leaving me hollow and broken.

On that cold January day, my life lost its meaning—although, back then, I didn’t know it would all make sense when the time was right.

I was twenty-three when I met an angel. He didn’t have wings, he didn’t have a halo, but he healed my soul when it had been torn apart and gave meaning to my life again.

Chapter 1

Kathleen

January 5

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Iwoke up in a bed that didn’t feel like my own. I opened my eyes and the white light was so bright it stung, so I quickly shut them again.

I couldn’t remember where I was and I felt weird, as if something were wrong, although I couldn’t quite define what or why.

I took a deep breath and realized there was something stuck in my nostrils. Instinctively I brought my hand up to touch it, but when I did, a piercing pain shot up my arm. My eyelids fluttered open, and as my eyes slowly adjusted to the bright light, they settled on a needle piercing my skin. I shivered. I had never been a fan of needles and the sight of one pulsing fluids into my arm was enough to give me the creeps.

I looked away and noticed a screen next to my bed from which a steady, rhythmical beep came, echoing in the empty room. Okay, I was in hospital; it didn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that one out.

But why was I there? I tried to remember where I’d been or what I’d been doing before everything had gone black but, as much as I tried, it was all blurred. I needed to find out what hospital I was in and why, because the uncertainty was driving me crazy.

Distant voices echoed outside the room, but I wasn’t sure they would hear me if I called for help. I needed to get out of bed, but when I tried to move my legs something just didn’t feel right. It took me a couple of seconds to realize I couldn’t feel them; it was as if my body ended just below my waist. A chill ran down my spine, taking my breath away.

With shaking hands I slowly lifted the sheet covering the lower part of my body and I squinted, not sure I was ready to see if my legs weren’t there anymore. But they were, just where they’d always been, so I opened my eyes wider and touched my thigh with the tip of my finger.

Nothing.

I pinched the bare skin, but it felt weird, as if I were touching someone else’s leg. I couldn’t feel my thigh, although my fingers were still pinching as hard as they could. Panic overcame me. I propped myself up on the bed using my arms to support my weight, but I wasn’t as strong as I thought and when my left arm, the one the IV was attached to, gave in, I slipped and fell, crashing to the floor. I pulled everything attached to my body down with me except for the oxygen tube that was wrenched out of my nose.

I didn’t feel pain though; at first I didn’t feel anything at all. Then sudden despair took hold of me as I lay there, face down on the tiled floor of a hospital room, and my first thought was how much I needed my brother Declan to wrap me in his arms right now.

Oh, dear, what happened to you?

A woman came rushing in wearing a pair of those green rubber slippers only doctors and nurses wear. She turned back toward the door and shouted: Colin, come here now, will ya? I need help.

A minute later, a set of feet in white sneakers came into view. Two strong arms lifted me up, and shortly afterward, I was back in bed.

Trying to sneak out, were you? a soft, deep, male voice said. As I looked up to match a face to the sound, I was a little taken aback by the unexpected vision. A young man was standing by my bed and my first impression was that he reminded me of Declan. His eyes were blue, the same shade as my brother’s, and he had brown hair just like him—only his was wavy and tousled and it slightly curled up on the back of his neck, while Declan’s had always been short.

The nurse fixed the nasal cannula back into my nose, checked that the needle was still in my arm and, when she looked at me again, she had a friendly smile. She looked in her mid-fifties, and her face was round and rosy; her uniform seemed a little too tight for her generous curves and her manner was somehow reassuring, very motherly. It was silly, but it made me feel a little better.

I’m Judith, by the way. I’m the head nurse in this ward and you can call me whenever you need anything. She smiled when I nodded. Good. I’ll leave you in the capable hands of our best physiotherapist, now. He’ll keep you company until Dr. O’Donnell gets here. You don’t mind, Colin, do you? the nurse asked, turning toward the man in a white T-shirt and pants. He smiled and nodded; then the nurse looked at me and said she’d be back later.

I didn’t say a word; besides being in shock, I was too scared to find out if I’d lost my voice, too.

I looked away, taking a long, deep breath as I stared at the gray-paneled ceiling, wondering what was going to happen next.

So, you’re Kathleen, right?

I winced at the sound of my name: I didn’t know many people who called me by my full name. I had always been Kathy to everyone in my family and circle of friends—even the teachers at school used to call me that.

How are you feeling? Did you get hurt when you fell off the bed? he asked, checking the screen and looking down at me. He was tall, just as tall as Declan, or maybe he looked taller because I was lying in bed; even so, he wasn’t intimidating, not like any doctor I’d met before.

His gaze was soft and he was smiling gently at me in a way that made me temporarily forget the reason I’d fallen out of bed. I was momentarily dumbfounded, and I couldn’t tear my eyes away from his face, from his smooth, gentle features.

Kathleen? Can you understand me?

His words shook me out of my reverie, and I nodded, feeling stupid. I was stuck in a hospital bed and all I could think about was how cute the doctor looked.

I’m Colin Byrne. I’m a physiotherapist here, he said, stretching out his hand toward me and letting it fall to his side when I didn’t take it. From what Dr. O’Donnell told me, I guess we’ll be spending quite a lot of time together over the next few weeks.

I frowned, not sure I understood what he was talking about.

He smiled. I help people with rehab therapies. I try to get them back on their feet, or at least to a normal life.

Who’s Dr. O’Donnell? I asked, trying to ignore the fact he’d just talked about rehab. I wouldn’t need any therapies; even though I couldn’t feel my legs now, surely I’d be fine soon.

He’s the head physician in this ward, and a great orthopedic surgeon. He’s been taking care of you since you were brought up from the ER. I’m sure he’ll pop in later on when he comes out of the operating room.

Are you American? His accent sounded unfamiliar to my ears and, although I knew it had nothing to do with the conversation we were having, the words tumbled from my mouth before I could stop them.

His eyes lit with amusement at my question and his lips curled up in a smile.

I can’t disguise it, can I?

I shook my head and couldn’t help smiling weakly at him.

Byrne is a very Irish family name, though. I was probably starting to sound intrusive, but he didn’t seem to mind.

My father grew up in County Sligo; then he met my mother, who was American, and they moved back to the States where I was born and grew up. Hence, the American accent. He winked as he said it.

Sorry, I didn’t mean to pry, I said, blushing. I’d never been a prying person, especially with strangers, but with this guy, well, I couldn’t help wanting to know more. Maybe it was because I wanted to keep my mind off my condition, off the fact I couldn’t feel my legs. Or maybe because he was the first friendly person I’d met.

No worries. It happens all the time. I’m used to it.

How long have you been here, then? I asked, wanting to keep the conversation going.

Almost fourteen years, so I’m kinda mixed up right now. I’m not sure if I’m more American or more Irish. A bit of both, I guess. He smiled and shrugged. Then he stared at me and his expression changed, as if he’d realized he was there to do his job and not make small talk with a patient. Now, back to you. How are you doing?

I can’t feel my legs.

Saying it out loud made it even scarier and my heartbeat sped up, echoing in the room through the machine next to my bed.

We’ll have to carry out some more tests; sometimes the numbness is only temporary. I know that while you were unconscious they carried out a magnetic resonance of your spine, as well as a brain scan. We’ll know more once we get the results, later on today.

You mean I could be paralyzed? I whispered, staring at him as if he’d just told me the moon was pink.

Like I said, we won’t know for sure until we carry out some more tests and have a better idea of your prognosis. But I won’t lie to you, Kathleen—I never lie to my patients. It’s a possibility you have to consider.

I felt as if he’d slapped me hard on the face.

Paralyzed.

I might never be able to walk again.

Tears filled my eyes. I tried to fight them but it didn’t work, and they rolled down my cheeks. This couldn’t be true. I was only twenty-three, I’d barely started living my life and he was telling me I might be confined to a wheelchair? How could this happen? Why did it happen to me?

How did it happen? How did I end up in here? I… I don’t remember… Where are we, anyway? I asked, unable to keep my thoughts to myself any longer.

You’re in Beaumont Hospital, in Dublin, he said, softly. You were brought here over five hours ago but you’ve been unconscious the whole time. Your parents should be here shortly. They’re downstairs… with your brother.

My brother? Which one was he talking about? Was it Declan? Or was it David? No, David would never waste his precious time with me, when he could be with his friends. I wondered if Maggie was here too, but then again, we’d never really gotten along, so she was probably back home in Galway by now. But why were my parents downstairs with one of my brothers? Were they simply having a coffee while they were waiting for me to wake up? Or was it something worse? A million questions shot through my mind.

My brother? I finally dared ask, my voice hoarse and barely more than a whisper.

He nodded, scrutinizing my face. He was in the car with you.

Car? What car? I frowned, trying to recall, but my mind was blank. He must have noticed my confusion because he pulled up a chair and sat next to my bed, his gaze turning softer.

Don’t you remember the accident, Kathleen?

Accident? I asked, as panic grew inside of me again.

He nodded, as if he’d expected my reaction. Sometimes the mind shuts out bad memories to protect itself. It’s a survival mechanism; it’s not unusual in cases like yours. Don’t worry if you can’t remember now; it’ll all slowly come back, as soon as the shock wears off.

What accident? I asked more firmly this time, ignoring his last comment. I couldn’t care less about how my mind worked; I just wanted to know what had happened to me and my brother.

He didn’t seem to mind my lack of politeness and took a deep breath, looking at me.

A car crashed into yours. The driver was drunk and he didn’t see the traffic light. Your parents said you and your brother were going to the airport. Does it ring any bells?

The airport. Our flight to New York. Suddenly it all came back. Declan and I were supposed to take a flight to JFK. I was going to start a new life in New York with Declan, who’d moved there almost three years ago.

Declan.

He was in the car with me.

Oh my God, I whispered, as realization hit me. Is he here? Is he okay?

The young doctor looked down at the floor, refusing to meet my stare, and my blood ran cold.

Is he here? I asked again.

He cleared his throat and fumbled with a loose thread on the sheet. He’s here, only… not in this ward.

Can I see him? Or can he come see me? You said my parents were with him, right? I need to talk to him. We’re gonna have to get new tickets; maybe if we explain we’ve been involved in an accident we’ll get a refund and—

Kathleen, listen, he cut in, resting his hand on my arm and making me wince. It should probably be up to Dr. O’Donnell to tell you this, but I don’t know when he’ll be here and I guess it’ll be tough for your parents to say it—

Say what? I cut him off, upset by the tone he was using. It was soft, too soft for a doctor, and I didn’t like the look on his face. I was sure I wasn’t going to like what he was about to tell me, and suddenly I wasn’t so determined to find out what, exactly, it was.

You’re lucky you’re here, he said in the same soft tone, ignoring my reaction. When the paramedics arrived on the spot they thought you were dead.

Lucky? I couldn’t feel my legs, I had an IV in my arm, a machine monitoring my vitals and I was lucky? This guy had a sick sense of humor, no doubt.

Where’s my brother? I asked, impatience growing inside me like a poisonous weed that tangled my heart.

There was nothing the paramedics could do, Kathleen. The other car crashed right into the driver’s side. He died on impact; he was dead when they got there.

I don’t care if the driver died, I want to see my brother!

Dr. Byrne looked up and when his eyes met mine his words sunk in and my mouth fell open, as if my jawbone had come out of its socket and I had no control over it anymore.

He’s not… is he… um… what did you just… I stammered, unable to form a single, logical sentence. I swallowed hard, feeling as if a rock had settled inside my throat and was stopping all air from passing through. I’m sorry, I just… I don’t understand… I…

His hand was still on my arm and he brushed it gently, as if he thought it could comfort me, but it only annoyed me and I moved away abruptly.

He didn’t have time to realize, Kathleen. At least he didn’t feel the pain.

The machine next to my bed sounded as if it was going to explode. My heart beat so fast in my chest it slammed against my ribcage, and my throat constricted, as if a hand was around my neck and squeezing hard. I wanted to vomit. I wanted to scream. I wanted to punch the doctor in the face just because he’d said my brother hadn’t felt pain.

But I couldn’t move. I couldn’t think. I couldn’t breathe. Oh, God, I couldn’t breathe. I was going to die. I wanted to die. Yes, I wanted to be with Declan, whatever it would mean.

I. Can’t. Breathe, I whispered, gasping for air, as blood drained from my face.

Dr. Byrne sprang up, removed the oxygen tube from my nose and replaced it quickly with a mask. With a swift movement, he pulled the foot of my bed up so I was lying almost upside-down and, while everything around me started to become fuzzy, I heard him scream a woman’s name, asking her to bring sedatives. He sounded upset, and I kept gasping while my throat seemed to constrict more and more with every passing second, until Dr. Byrne bent down toward me, his face only a few inches away. He was talking to me, but I wasn’t listening, and when his blue eyes finally locked with mine, tears overcame me. Through blurred vision I saw Declan, and he was talking to me; so I listened to him, like I always did. I concentrated on my breath, just like he was telling me: I inhaled. I exhaled. In. Out. Just like he was ordering. I was starting to feel better, the rock in my throat was moving down. Declan was saving me.

It’s all right, you’re doing great. Keep breathing, Kathleen; keep breathing.

Kathleen.

Declan never called me Kathleen, not once in my whole life. I stared at the man standing above me and realized it wasn’t Declan, although he looked so much like him. My heart started beating fast again. After the nurse came in, something pricked my arm and a moment later my eyelids became heavy. Then everything went black.

Chapter 2

Colin

January 5

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Icouldn’t understand why I was in such a state. My hands were shaking and, for the first time in almost fourteen years, I felt the need for a cigarette. I hadn’t smoked ever since my grandmother found me smoking in her back garden at sixteen shortly after I’d moved in with her. She’d smacked the back of my head so hard that day, it had been sore for a whole day afterward. My grandpa died of lung cancer and she’d always been pretty nasty with smokers; as soon as she’d caught me and dealt with it I’d known better than to ever try going down that road again—and I’d been thankful to her ever since.

She’d always been a tough one, Gran. She still was, at eighty-two—she made us grandchildren feel dread when she shot you one of those glares. But right now, as I was drinking a cup of coffee in the staff room, I longed for a cigarette to calm my nerves.

I’d been working in Dublin’s Beaumont Hospital for almost five years and I’d seen lots of sad cases, but I’d never felt so bad as I had when that young woman, Kathleen, had gone into shock and gasped for air.

What a terrible, horrible fate. Her parents told me she was going to move to New York with her older brother, the guy who’d died in the accident. They were so shocked when they reached the hospital I wondered how they’d even managed to drive to Dublin from Galway. It was over 124 miles, and they’d made it all that way knowing their oldest son was dead and their daughter was unconscious.

Honestly, I wouldn’t have been able to do that; I probably would’ve crashed my car at the first set of lights. When they’d told me my parents died in that plane crash, my first reaction had been to get in the car I’d only just learned to drive and crash it against a cement wall.

It’s hard when you see a family member slowly die of disease, but at least you have the opportunity of sorting everything out, of saying all the things you wanted to say; when you lose someone in a tragedy there are too many unspoken words, broken promises and unsolved matters. That, together with the pain, crushes you in a way that leaves you totally empty.

Hollow.

I knew what Kathleen was going through. I could remember the day my parents died, and how I’d felt as if the whole world was crumbling under my feet. I was sixteen and an only child, and my parents were everything to me. I had no other family in the States. My only living relative was my father’s mother, who lived in Rosses Point, a small coastal village in County Sligo, Ireland, where my father was born and had lived until the day he’d met my mother and followed her back to America. When my parents died, I had no other options but to move to Ireland where I still had family. Moving in with my grandmother saved my life. I probably would’ve ended up wasted if she hadn’t been by my side.

The sense of guilt at the time was so strong it blinded my right from my wrong. I never did drugs, but for a few months after the accident I used alcohol to numb the pain. I wanted to punish myself, I wanted to feel awful, so I started drinking and smoking, hating myself, and my life, with each passing day.

Seeing Kathleen in such despair stirred something inside of me, something I’d repressed in my heart for fourteen years. Today, I’d seen the same pain I’d felt back then in Kathleen’s eyes, the same sense of emptiness, of incredulity, of bewilderment. I’d seen her heart break, anguish crush her soul, those big, blue eyes veil with sorrow, and I’d felt the pain all over again. Those feelings I had carefully hidden somewhere deep down in my soul had crept back to the surface, just as overwhelming as they’d been back then and just as suffocating, like a giant wave in a shipwreck.

Yes, the pain was still alive, somewhere inside of me; I knew it. The ashes were still smoldering, but I’d somehow been able to repress the memories in an attempt to save my life. Now I had a chance to help someone else, someone who was feeling just as devastated as I’d been back then. I knew how to help her stay away from the road I’d gone down and how to get back on her feet. I only hoped she would let me.

Could I help her, though? I knew it would be a hard task; she’d been sucked into a whirlpool of events and emotions and I knew all too well how easy it would be for her to fall apart if nobody understood. When you thought your life didn’t mean a thing anymore it was very easy to turn your back to reason and choose the easy way out, the one that numbed the pain and made you feel less miserable. I couldn’t understand why, in all of the years I’d been working and with all of the patients I’d helped, this young woman was so important to me, but I knew I wouldn’t be satisfied until I’d helped her get over it. Maybe it was because I needed something to feed my ego, or maybe it was because I felt for her and I could see a shared pain. Whatever the reason, I knew I had to help.

Getting that young woman back on her feet would not only be my job, but my challenge. She would be my mission. I would make sure those big, blue eyes never looked so sad again.

I drained the remains of what had become a cold coffee and left the room, headed to Dr. O’Donnell’s office. I wanted