Lilac Lane (Chesapeake Shores #14)(52)

Bryan sighed heavily at the end of his recitation. As sweet as those memories were, they made his heart ache all over again.

Kiera must have sensed this, because she never once released her grip on his hand, only squeezed it from time to time.

“She was my little angel, the most amazing gift I’d ever been given,” he said, surprised to find that his voice cracked on the words. “And then she was taken away, through no one’s fault but my own.”

“If we were all punished for our careless failure to realize how important some things are in our life until too late, we’d all be alone and miserable,” Kiera said in an attempt to console him. “It’s why we’re given second chances. And, remember this, Bryan. It was your wife’s decision to go, not yours.”

Others had said the same, but he’d argued with them as he did now with her. “She wouldn’t have left if I’d truly listened to her complaints. I thought I did. I thought I saw how unhappy she was and I was trying to make changes, but I ran out of time. She was clearly far unhappier than I’d ever imagined, her patience worn too thin.”

“Sometimes we can only know what another person is thinking if they say the words in plain English.”

Bryan gave her a rueful smile. “I believe she did. More than once, in fact. I was just arrogant enough not to recognize the depth of the pain and desperation behind the pleas or the finality when she truly had reached her limit. Each time we fought and she stayed, I thought I had a little longer. And then, one day, without my recognizing the difference, she’d reached her limit. I never saw it until she was gone.”

“Still, to take a child from her father, especially a loving father, is unforgivable,” Kiera said, apparently choosing to take his side, even though he didn’t deserve it.

He leveled a considering look at her. “And yet you kept Moira from Sean Malone, didn’t you? Were you as much at fault for that as my wife was for leaving me?”

To his surprise, she didn’t bristle. Instead, she held his gaze solemnly, making her words more powerful.

“Not in the same way,” she declared evenly. “Sean always knew exactly where we were and that the door was open, if he chose to walk through it. He never did. His sons eventually went in search of him and embraced the man they found, despite his neglect. Moira never showed any interest in that. If she had, I would have done my best to broker some sort of relationship between them, though not of the sort my sons have found.”

The last was said with a level of bitterness and dismay that took Bryan aback.

“What does that mean?” he asked.

“They’ve joined their father carousing in bars at the end of their workdays. They’ve lost jobs and the women in their lives because of it. They’ve spent more than a night or two jailed because of their brawls. I finally stopped answering the calls that came in the middle of the night. I thought I was being a terrible mother, but Peter called it tough love.”

Bryan read the questions in her eyes, and this time he was the one to offer her hand a reassuring squeeze. “Peter was right, I suspect. Men eventually have to learn to live with the consequences of their actions. That’s what I’m trying to do, what I’ve been working on for so many years now.”

“Perhaps all parents have regrets of one sort or another. In the case of my sons, I can’t help wondering if things would have been different if only I’d raised them better,” Kiera lamented. “Taught them right from wrong.”

“They were raised in the same household as Moira,” Bryan contradicted. “She learned those lessons well enough. You can’t deny that. Her moral compass is steady and sure.”

“But boys and their fathers,” she countered. “It’s a special bond, and if the father’s not around, they can hate him for abandoning them or in their imaginations they turn him into some sort of hero. And, as my boys did, they set out to emulate him, even when it’s the last thing he deserves.” She shook her head. “Enough about that. We were talking about your daughter. She’d be how old now?”

“Not quite twenty.”

Kiera smiled. “A young woman, then. And beautiful, if she got your coloring and your eyes.”

Startled, Bryan glanced over and laughed. “You’ve taken note of my looks, Kiera Malone?”

The teasing, slightly flirtatious question clearly flustered her and charged the atmosphere around them.

“I’ve always been partial to blue eyes,” she said as if it were of no consequence when it came to him. “They remind me of the sea.” She gave him a steady, challenging look. “And the Irish rogues I’ve known have all had black hair. It’s not necessarily a recommendation, but it is lovely coloring on a woman.”

“I see.”

“Don’t be thinking that I’m flattering you, Bryan.”

“Of course not. Nothing personal meant at all.”

“Exactly.”

But with her cheeks flushed pink and the spark of temper in her eyes, it felt suddenly very personal and they both knew it.

“It’s late. You should go, Kiera. You need your rest.” He stood up. “I’ll walk you home.”

“Nonsense. It’s right next door and the path is lit.”

He walked down the steps from the deck, simply ignoring her argument. She was still muttering under her breath when they reached her back door.