Because You're Mine(6)

Someone knocked on the door. Still stunned, Alanna went to answer it and found Ciara there. “Is it quite late?” Alanna asked, glancing at her watch.

“No, I just thought I’d help you. You might think you want to be alone, but I’m not having it. It’s not good for you.” Ciara brushed past her.

Alanna closed the door. “I’m glad you’re here. Look.” She handed the letter to her mate.

Ciara carried it to the sofa with her. She dropped onto the sofa and scanned the letter. “Your mum’s right here?”

Alanna sank into the chair opposite the sofa. “She was last month. I want to find Neila. I don’t care about my mum.”

“So you say. You have to be having some feelings for her.”

“Why should I have any love left for a woman who would just walk off and leave her three-year-old behind in a trailer, alone? She had so little care for me. But Neila had no say. She was only eight when Mum took her away with her.”

Ciara looked up from the letter. “We should check this place out.”

“I was hoping you’d say that.”

“Mate, you know I wouldn’t let you do this alone.”

Alanna studied her friend’s face. There hadn’t been an opportunity to tell Ciara about the baby. “I have news to tell them—and you. I’m pregnant.”

Ciara’s eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open. “Oh, Alanna. So a part of Liam is still with us.”

“Yes, it’s quite the comfort. I’m just over four months along. It’s a boy.”

“So far along! And you’re not showing.”

“I’ve been clever with my clothing choices.” She stood and smoothed her loose top over her tiny belly. “See?”

“Just barely.” Ciara folded her in a fierce hug. “Me and the rest of your mates will be here for you and that baby, Alanna.”

“I’m counting on that.” Alanna glanced at her watch. “It’s time we go to see Thomas and Sheila. I want to catch them before supper. My Citroen was serviced and left in the parking stall. We can take that. It will be grand to drive on the proper side of the road again. Let me change clothes. Thomas will be quite scandalized if I show up in jeans. Even the news of the baby won’t pacify.”

She left Ciara in the living room, then dragged her bag to the bedroom, where she changed into a navy skirt and jacket over a crisp white blouse. The despised navy pumps pinched her toes, but she wore them anyway.

Outside, she soaked up the sights and sounds of Dublin as she led Ciara to the car: the honks, good-natured calls between mates, the smell of mead spilling out of the pubs, and even the car exhaust. If only Liam were here with her.

The black Citroen started on the first try. She drove through the streets and out to the countryside. Rolling down her window, she inhaled. “Nothing smells like Irish rain.”

“I’m feeling a bit peckish. We should have grabbed some fish and chips,” Ciara said. “Shall your in-laws have mercy and invite us to eat?”

“I’m hoping not. I’d rather not stay.” Alanna applied the brakes as she neared the laneway to the Connolly manor. The large house sat back from the lane a fair distance so that only a glimpse could be seen by the common folk Thomas represented in parliament. She paused at the entrance, then stuck her arm out the window and punched in the code to open the gate.

Her heart was beating fast and erratically. She parked in the circle laneway, right in front of the house. Seeing Sheila’s joy in the coming baby would make putting up with Thomas much easier.

“It’s pale you are,” Ciara said. “Are you sure you’re up to this?”

Alanna wet her lips and nodded, though acid churned in her stomach. “We’ll just stay a short time. We can tell them we have plans.”

“I have a date with mash and bangers,” Ciara said, opening her door. “The sooner we’re done here, the sooner I’ll be eating them.”

It seemed a lifetime since she’d last walked this flagstone path to the front door. She rang the bell and tried to compose herself, without success.

The butler opened the door. His expressionless face changed as he looked her over. “It’s sorry I am for you, missus. Come in. I’ll let them know you’ve arrived.”

They followed him into the drawing room, where he left them. Sheila had redecorated since Alanna had been here. The blue wing chairs were quite lovely, as was the camelback sofa and new rug. She heard footsteps on the wood floor and whirled to see Thomas in the doorway. Sheila was right behind him. She usually wore makeup, but today her face was tearstained and strained.

Thomas was slim and tanned, handsome. His gray hair and impeccable navy suit exuded power and prestige. Liam would have looked like him someday. The thought made Alanna’s heart squeeze. Sheila’s blonde hair was perfectly coiffed, and she wore a pale blue suit and pumps. About three years younger than Thomas, she was the perfect wife.

Thomas looked Alanna over. “You should have called us from the airport. I would have sent a driver for you. The funeral director called to let me know he has received our Liam.” He swallowed hard. “We should discuss arrangements.”

He came forward and she raised her cheek for him to kiss. His dry lips brushed across her skin and lifted away as if any prolonged contact would sully him. Sheila waited until Alanna stepped back, then opened her arms. Tears lay tracks down her cheeks, and her face was white.