Because You're Mine(55)

Barry stopped by the grocery to get milk then continued on to the house. The car rolled up the long driveway, and the shadows thickened as the trees blocked out the sun. An unfamiliar vehicle sat in front of the house.

“Who’s here?” she asked.

Barry frowned. “No one I recognize.”

The beat-up pickup had more rust than paint. One tire was almost flat. “Maybe it’s the contractor,” she said.

“He wouldn’t be parking a vehicle like that in front of my house.” Barry parked behind the truck and got out. He grabbed Alanna’s bag from the backseat. She got out and approached the porch behind him.

A woman rose from the rocking chair at the end of the porch. Her hair was a gaudy dyed red, and she wore a skirt that was too tight across her stomach. The leather on the toes of her brown shoes had been scuffed away. The lipstick she wore was a slash of red that had bled around the edges of her mouth a bit.

Alanna took all this in with one glance. She didn’t recognize the woman, and she saw from Barry’s blank gaze that he had no idea who she was either. Pasting on the smile of a hostess, Alanna approached the woman with her hand outstretched. “How are you? Can I help you?”

The woman took her hand in a sweaty grip that felt too much like desperation. Her green eyes searched Alanna’s. She gave a tentative smile. “Alanna, you’ve not been changing in all these years. I could have picked you out of a crowd.”

Alanna tried to pull her hand away, but the woman kept hold. “Do I know you?”

“You’ll not be knowing your own mum?”

“Pardon me?” She couldn’t have heard the woman right.

“It’s me, dearie. Your mum, come to see you.” She released Alanna’s fingers and fanned her face with her hand. “It’s deadly hot here. Might you be having some iced tea to offer me?”

My mum? Alanna took a step back. Her gaze searched the woman’s face, and she found a familiar landmark to guide her in the tiny mole by the corner of her mouth. Many people had moles, she told herself. Her mother’s memory had long been buried in the mists of one foster mother after another. The only thing she remembered was the scent of heather.

And that aroma was wafting up her nose.

Thunder rumbled overhead as Alanna gaped at the woman. The weather forecast for the weekend promised heavy downpours and possible flooding. Alanna nearly let loose a flood of her own—of tears. Her mother’s appearance here unsettled the future she was trying to build. How would she explain all this to Barry?

“Come in, let’s talk this out.” Barry held open the door for them. “Alanna, would you bring in some iced tea?”

My mother? Still in a daze, Alanna went past him into the house and to the kitchen. The pitcher of tea and glasses full of ice were on a tray before she realized she’d prepared them. She carried the refreshments into the parlor.

“It’s sweet tea,” she said. “That’s all we have here.”

“Sounds lovely,” her mother said. She hiked her legs onto the ottoman Barry had brought her, revealing a run in her hose.

Alanna exchanged a glance with Barry. His manners were impeccable, but she knew he was as perplexed as she was by her mother’s appearance. And was the woman even her mother? She poured the tea and handed one to the woman who called herself Maire Costello.

Maire took a sip of tea. “You’ll probably be wondering how I found you.” She put down her glass and rummaged in the gigantic cloth bag at her feet. She pulled out a newspaper with an air of triumph. “The minute I was seeing this, I knew. Knew it was my Alanna. I imagine you’re surprised to see me.” She opened the paper and revealed the article Alanna had seen at the hospital.

Surprised was an understatement for the gobsmacked sensation reeling in Alanna’s brain, but she just nodded. Barry took her hand, and she curled her fingers around his. The comfort he offered was a lifeline in this sea of confusion.

She heard steps from the hall. Patricia stepped into the room followed by Richard. Patricia’s eyes widened when she saw Maire. Her gaze swept the woman from her scuffed shoes to the spot on her scarf. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know we had a guest.”

“This is, ah, this is Alanna’s mother.” Barry’s fingers twitched in Alanna’s hand.

Alanna bit her tongue so hard she tasted blood. Her gaze went back to the woman. Her mum? Really and truly? The woman’s skin was that pale coloring found on many redheads, including Alanna. Maire’s eyes drew Alanna’s attention—clear green with gold lights, just like her own.

A sudden rain lashed the screens in the windows and began to blow onto the wood floors. Barry sprang to close the panes, and his father hurried to help him. The three women stared at one another, and Alanna had no idea how to ease the tense atmosphere. She wasn’t comfortable with either woman.

Maire twisted her hands in her lap and glanced at Patricia. The fear in her eyes made Alanna frown. She would have guessed that Maire knew Patricia. Her mother-in-law had a warning glare fixed on Maire, who kept her gaze down.

“How . . . how will I be knowing you’re really my mum?” Alanna eased onto a chair.

“All you need to be doing is to look at the two of us. You’re the spitting image of me when I was your age.”

Alanna suppressed a shudder. She saw no hint of herself in this woman, other than the eye color and skin tone. The hideous dyed hair covered whatever the natural color might have been. “I think we’ll need more proof.”