Because You're Mine(57)

“I doubt it.” Alanna’s eyes burned. This woman had never loved her. Even now she was here for some kind of handout. But at least she knew something about Neila. Alanna would ask Barry to help look for her.

Maire stuffed the newspaper back into her bag. “You come see us at the village. I want to stay in touch now that we’ve found each other.”

“Do you know Patricia Kavanagh?” Alanna asked.

Maire glanced up, her gaze guarded. “Should I be knowing her?”

“You tell me why she was so upset to see you here.”

“Women like that, who knows how they think?”

“I want to show you something.” Alanna motioned for Maire to follow her. She led the way to the stair landing where the picture of Deirdre hung. “Who is she?”

“Deirdre O’Hara,” Maire said, her voice full of reverence.

“Who was she?”

“My grandmother. Some say she had the second sight. But if she was having it, she should have known her own death. She disappeared right after Mum was born. Mum said a leprechaun spirited her away. Granddad always thought she ran off with a suitor. She was quite gorgeous, wasn’t she?” Maire moved her gaze from the portrait to Alanna. “How did it get here?”

“I hoped you might tell me. Have you ever seen it before?”

Maire shook her head and turned her eyes back to the picture. “Me mum’s family wouldn’t be having money for a portrait like this. But it’s Deirdre, that’s sure.”

“What connection could there be between a Traveller family and the Kavanaghs?”

“She might have come to tell their fortune. She traveled around in a wagon from town to town, selling pots and telling the future.”

“Where was she when she disappeared?”

“Down south of here, near Beaufort. My granddad came home from a construction job and found me mum wailing in the bedroom with Deirdre nowhere to be found.”

Alanna shivered. “And he never found any sign of her?”

“Not a red hair from her head.”

“Is your granddad still alive?”

Maire nodded. “He lives at the village, but he doesn’t work much anymore. No one knows his age, but he’s ninety-five if he’s a day. Darby O’Hara. Everyone knows him.”

“I’d like to talk to him.” Alanna remembered Patricia’s face when she’d seen Maire. Her expression had been one of fear, then warning, and Alanna wanted to know why. Besides, she found she wanted to connect to her family in some way. She’d been without a family so long. Now that she carried this baby, she wanted some roots. More than what Barry could offer.

Her gaze went back to her great-grandmother. Did Barry know of the connection between Deirdre and the Travellers? What she’d just discovered made her wonder why he’d married her.





Twenty-Four


Jesse craned his neck as the mansion came into view through the driving rain. He’d hoped to catch Alanna outside and reduce his chances of meeting Barry. Jesse’s earlier certainty about his connection to her had faded, and he wondered . . . if he could touch her again, would he have another surge of memories?

Ciara sat beside him in the van’s last bench seat. “You’re being quiet today. Feeling all right?”

“Quite fine, thanks.” He glanced at her. “You probably know Alanna better than anyone.”

“We’ve been mates for five years.”

“You knew Liam well too.”

“So did you.”

“I can’t remember,” he reminded her. “They were very much in love?”

“I never saw two people more attuned to one another,” she said. “Liam could start a sentence and Alanna could be finishing it.”

“How did they meet?”

Her black eyes widened. “You introduced them. The two of you had been going out, but once Liam met her, that was it.”

Just as Alanna had told him. “Was I in love with her?”

Ciara shook her head. “I never heard that you were. Both Liam and Alanna said you’d never even kissed her.”

Then it wasn’t his own memories that had surfaced when he remembered the softness of her lips, the scent of her breath. Unless he’d wanted more from their relationship than Alanna had? Maybe what he thought were memories were longings.

“Did I have feelings for her?”

Ciara bit her lip. “I often wondered about that very thing. You stared at her a lot.”

That was the answer then. He’d carried a torch for his best friend’s wife. One more thing to prove what a sleazeball he was.

The van stopped behind a beat-up truck. Probably a contractor. Ena slid open the van’s side door and stepped out into the rain. She dashed for the porch followed by Fiona, who was driving the van. Ciara clambered around the seat and ran through puddles to the porch while Jesse pulled the van’s door shut.

Rain pelted his face and ran in rivulets down his cheeks. He leaped over puddles and ducked under the shelter of the porch roof. Rain sluiced over the gutters in a stream that battered at the roses lining the house.

Ciara rang the bell. “Alanna, it’s us.”

Light steps came from inside, and the door opened. Alanna’s smile was strained. “You’re soaked. Let me get you some towels.”