Irish Secrets

by Paula Martin

  Kara grinned in delight when two red squirrels scampered across the path, and was about to ask Ryan about the dense shrubs with small yellow flowers when he put a restraining hand on her arm. "Ssh."

  Startled, she looked at him and, at the same time, somehow managed to trip over something, a stone maybe, or even her own foot.

  He grabbed her other arm to stop her from falling and she ended up facing him.

  "Are you okay?" he whispered.

  She nodded. "Why are you—?"

  He tilted his head toward the lough, and continued to whisper, "There's a swan nesting underneath those branches, and they can be aggressive in the breeding season."

  She peered through the shrubs, saw something white, and turned back to him with wide eyes. "D'you think she'll attack us?" she mouthed.

  "Hope not. She rose up and spread her wings when you stumbled, but I think she's settled on the nest again."

  "What do we do now?"

  "We wait here a minute."

  Conscious of his hand still holding her arm and of her pulse racing like a supersonic jet, she looked up at him. Her face was only a couple of inches from his, his blue eyes met hers, and she could swear the air crackled with electricity, so much so that she forgot to breathe.

  Her heart thumped with uncertain anticipation as they gazed at each other for what seemed like an eternity, but was probably less than a minute, until he closed the distance between them. His mouth was soft against hers, and his beard tickled her chin as his warm tongue gently explored her lips. A quiver of arousal shimmied through her when he tightened his arms and pressed her firmly to his chest. Trembling slightly, she opened her mouth to him, and let her tongue meet his in a sensual exploration that flooded her with delicious thrills.

  Ryan broke away when a loud snorting was followed by a hiss. He looked around at the lough and back at her. "Time to beat a hasty retreat, I think. Mrs. Swan is getting angsty."

  Grasping her hand, he led the way back toward the marina. Once they were well away from the nesting swan, she turned to him with a smile. "I enjoyed that. You kissing me, I mean."

  "Aye, so did I, and maybe it was kind of inevitable." His hand tightened around hers. "But I'm thinking we shouldn't make a habit of it."

  She frowned. "Why not?"

  Again his hand squeezed hers. "I'll be honest, Kara. You're a very attractive woman, and I like you a lot, but—"

  Her spirits, which had soared during their kiss, plummeted like a falling rock. "But what?"

  He drew in a deep breath and let it out. "I'm sorry, but this is the wrong time for me."

  A dozen questions hammered through her mind, but she asked the simplest one. "Why?"

  "I can't explain, but I hope we can still be friends."

  So he was giving her a brush-off. A gentle one, but still a brush-off.

  Disappointment sliced through her.

  Chapter 6

  At Kara's request, Ryan stopped at the top of the lane leading down to Mist Na Mara. "I'll call you when Declan tells me the birth certificates have arrived."

  She nodded. "Thanks. I'd still like to know the names, even if there's no way of tracing the mother."

  "And you'll let me know if you hear anything from the Sister at the convent, won't you?"

  Her eyes widened. "Do you mean that?"

  "Of course. I'm as intrigued as you are about your mother's birth, and about her mother." He reached across to squeeze her hand. "Kara, I meant what I said about us being friends."

  "Okay. Yes, I'll call you. And – and thank you for today."

  "Sure you'll be all right walking down the lane on your own?"

  "Fer sure. I'll be grand, so don't ye be worrying about me."

  He laughed. "You've been practising your accent, haven't you? Now you're sounding more like County Galway."

  Her blue eyes lit up as she grinned. "Thanks. It helps when we're surrounded by Irish house staff every day."

  That reminded him of the disappearing white van. Was the driver one of their staff? Of course, the van could have been driven into one of the barns at the Leary farm, but equally it might have been parked somewhere in the grounds of Mist Na Mara.

  "Do you employ a lot of local people?" he asked.

  "The housekeeping and catering staff are all local, and the grounds man, too."

  "Does someone called Patrick Walsh work at Mist Na Mara?"

  She frowned and shook her head. "I don't think so. Why?"

  "He booked a taxi last week." At least that was an honest answer.

  "Perhaps he was coming to the Film Festival?"

  "Ah, yes, I didn't think of that. Anyhow, I'll call you next week, or sooner if I hear anything from Declan."

  He waited until she reached a bend in the lane and returned her small wave before setting off back to Clifden. His mind jumped from one thing to another: her despair and anger at the site of the mother and baby home, the problem of finding out more about her mother, their kiss, the taste of her lips, the softness of her breasts pressing against his chest, his clumsy effort to back off…

  When he reached Bridge Street, he pulled into his usual parking place, and glanced at his watch. Twenty past five. Much earlier than he usually went to Coyne's, but maybe a pint of Guinness would take his mind off Kara, at least for a while.

  After glancing around the crowded bar, he hitched himself onto a tall stool next to the polished oak counter, chatted for a minute or so to the landlord, and sipped his beer, ignoring the babble of chatter and laughter from groups of tourists and hikers.

  He'd told Kara the truth. This was the wrong time for him to be tempted into a new relationship. After a month's work with zero results, the last couple of weeks had started to provide some possible leads. He needed to concentrate on those, not on Kara or on the search for her mother's family. And yet…

  He blew out a deep sigh, and was about to take another gulp of beer when a voice beside him said, "Jaysus, that sigh sounds like ye have the whole weight of the world on yer shoulders."

  Turning, he did a double-take at the man who stood next to him. He hadn't noticed him coming into the pub but his half-empty glass of beer indicated he must have been there some time. Short and stocky, with receding brown hair, it was the man he'd seen twice getting into Tom Wild's car.

  His quick mind slipped into detective mode as he shrugged and adopted a broader accent. "Aye, problems with me van. Just wonderin' how much it'll cost to get the damn thing fixed."

  "What's the problem?"

  "Keeps stalling at low speed. Ford Transit. Know anything about 'em?"

  The man shook his head. "I'm a motorbike man meself, but the brother-in-law has a Transit. He likes it."

  Ryan stored the information and nodded. "I liked mine until this started happening but I'm hoping it'll be some readjustment it's needing and not a major repair." He raised his eyebrows. "You live around here?"

  "I'm out near Skelleen, but me sister's here in Clifden. I'm jus' grabbing a quick pint before I visit her and the six kids. All under ten, and the five year old lad is a holy terror." The man grinned. "Jus' like his Uncle Paddy at the same age. That's me," he added.

  Ryan laughed. "Good to meet you, Paddy, and rather you than me with the holy terror." Paddy was a common name, of course, but he didn't need the man's confirmation of his name to know this was Patrick Walsh.

  "The others are all girls, and they can be a handful, too," Paddy said.

  "Where do they live?"

  "One of those new houses on Tully Avenue, off the Galway road."

  "I know it. Mate o' mine looked at one of them sometime last year. Number ten or twelve, I think it was."

  "Sister's house is down at the bottom end. Thirty-something, never can remember the number."

  Ryan took another mouthful of beer while his inner voice warned him not to push for any more information about Paddy's sister or brother-in-law. He changed the subject. "I was in Skelleen last week. Looks like they're doing some repairs to the church
spire."

  "Is that right? I've not been into the village for a couple of weeks. I live about half way between Skelleen and Waterside Hall. That's where I work."

  More shrill bells rang in Ryan's mind. There'd been a spate of car thefts at the five star hotel earlier in the year. He grinned. "Expensive place, couldn't afford to stay there meself. What do you do there?"

  "Gardening, lawn maintenance, tree care, all the outdoor stuff."

  Including robbing the guests' cars?

  "Sounds interestin'. Been there long?"

  "'Bout a year at Waterside, but I've worked at a dozen or more other places over the years." The man drained his glass. "Anyhow, it's been grand talking to you, but I need to be off now. The sister'll be wonderin' where I am."

  "Good luck with the holy terror."

  "I'll need it – an' good luck with yer van."

  Ryan watched him go, and pondered his next move. With the taxi sign on the roof of his car, he could cruise along Tully Avenue without arousing any suspicions and see if he could spot the white van. And then what? Patrick Walsh, and possibly the brother-in-law, might simply be links in a long chain, together with Tom Wild, who may or may not be involved. If he jumped too soon, this route would immediately be closed down, like the earlier one via Monaghan.

  He slurped his beer, wiped the froth from his upper lip, and stared unseeingly into some middle distance, drumming his fingers against the bar counter. Instinct told him the disappearing van could be a significant clue, and the only places it could have gone were the Leary farm or Mist Na Mara.

  * * * * *

  Over a week later, Kara still hadn't heard anything from Ryan. He'd said the birth certificates usually arrived within seven to ten days, and now nine days had passed since she last saw him. Several times she took his business card from her purse, and deliberated whether to call him. Only his comment about this being the wrong time for him stopped her. Had he decided not to see her again?

  After supper on Friday, she joined the other members of the Living History group in the lounge at Mist Na Mara. They'd had a busy week, with several presentations to tourist groups every afternoon, followed each evening with planning the drama activities for the children at the local school, which they were scheduled to visit for two days the following week. At least there were no residents or events over the weekend, and, like everyone else, she was looking forward to some time off.

  "Any plans for the weekend?" Guy asked her.

  "No, not really." She'd checked her phone several times that day, but there was still no message from Ryan.

  "Jenna and I are going to Galway tomorrow, so you're welcome to come with us."

  Before she had a chance to answer, Liz laughed. "Jenna's not going to buy more baby clothes, is she?"

  Guy grinned. "How did you guess? Ever since we found out the baby's a boy, she's been drooling over dungaree sets in the online catalogues, and Dunne's have a sale this week. That's probably where we'll be spending most of the day, and a lot of cash, too."

  "Probably the best place to be," Liz said. "We were going to go cycling, but the forecast is predicting more rain and wind all weekend, so Conor suggested we go and see the new James Bond film in Galway instead."

  "How long have you been dating him now?" asked Maria, one of the other members of the Living History group. "I'm assuming it's the same Conor? The builder or whatever he calls himself?"

  "Construction Contractor." Liz grinned. "And it's nearly five months now. Longest I've ever dated anyone."

  Maria laughed. "Ooh, must be getting serious."

  "Liz, will you tell Conor I'd like a word with him?" Guy said. "He was supposed to make a start on the roof of the cottage this week, but obviously the weather's been too bad. I'm hoping he hasn't taken on some lengthy indoor job in the meantime."

  Kara let the conversation go on around her and eventually stood up. "Think I'll go to my room now. It's been a busy few days and I'm tired."

  "Have you called your mom recently?" Guy asked. "She gave me strict instructions to remind you to call her."

  "Yeah, must remember to do that. 'Night, all."

  Her room, in the modern extension at the back of the house, was small but comfortable enough, with a desk, television, and fridge, as well as her own bathroom. She opened a can of lager and took a long gulp straight from the can. After checking her phone for what seemed like the thousandth time that week, she hit the short-cut key for her mother's cell phone.

  Linda Stewart answered after a couple of rings. "Hi, honey. Are you okay?"

  "I'm good, Mom."

  She spent several minutes telling her mother about the Film Festival and the different activities they'd done during the past week.

  "Don't you get any time off?"

  "Yes, usually two days each week. Not always the same days, because it depends what presentations we're doing, and what other events we have to cover."

  "And what do you do on your days off?"

  "Sometimes we go into Clifden, and I've also been to Galway. Last week, one of my friends took me to Ballykane."

  "Ballykane? Why on earth did you go there?"

  Despite the three thousand miles between them, Kara heard the sharpness in her mother's voice, and frowned. "I wanted to see where you were born, Mom."

  "And is the building still there? The mother and baby home, or whatever they called it?"

  "No, it's been demolished, but—"

  "Demolished? I guess that's the best thing that could happen, since it's the place where that Irish woman gave me away."

  Stunned by her mother's dismissive tone, Kara was speechless for a few seconds. "Mom, the girls and women there didn't have any choice—"

  "No choice? Of course they did. Everyone has a choice, and she chose to have me adopted."

  "But that's what I'm trying to tell you. They didn't—"

  "Kara, I don't want to hear anything more about this, least of all about that woman. I don't even want to think about her."

  Kara bit her lip. "Okay. I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." Recognising the futility of trying to pursue the subject, she went on quickly, "How are Dad and Matt?"

  "Dad's been at a conference in Chicago this week, and Matthew seems to be playing more baseball than studying."

  The conversation ran on as her mother updated her on other news about family and friends before she changed the subject.

  "We went to see Tosca at the Met last weekend, and guess who I saw?"

  "Who?"

  "Janette Palmer. Did you know she's been promoted to Sergeant now? She said they miss your expertise in the forensic section, and she wondered if you'd consider re-joining the department."

  "I hope you told her no."

  "Kara—" Her mother hesitated for a second. "Mark Rankin has been transferred. He's no longer in New York."

  "Oh." The news caused Kara's breath to hitch, but she shrugged. "I might think about it one day, but for now, I'm enjoying being here in Ireland and doing something completely different from analysing blood and gore. This is a beautiful island, Mom. The scenery is stunning and the people are so friendly. I love it."

  "Well, as long as you're happy, I guess that's the important thing. How are Guy and Jenna? The baby's due in a couple of months, isn't it?"

  They chatted for another five minutes, and as Kara clicked off her phone, she saw the voicemail icon blinking.

  Her heart skipped a beat, and she jabbed the screen and listened.

  "Kara, it's Ryan. Call me when you have a spare moment, will you?"

  She hit the reply key and his phone rang only once before he said, "Hi, Kara."

  "Hi. I'm sorry I missed you earlier. I was talking to my mom."

  He chuckled. "And if she's anything like mine, she wanted a detailed report about everything you've been doing."

  "Something like that, yes." She needed time to process what her mother had said before she told Ryan about it.

  "I called to tell you Declan says the certificate
s have arrived."

  "Have you seen them?"

  "Not yet, but Dec said he'll scan them and email them to me after he finishes work tonight. I could send them to you, but – well, I wondered if you'd like to meet up tomorrow? For lunch?"

  Her heart did a quick flip, but she kept her voice casual. "Sounds good to me."

  "Will I pick you up at Mist Na Mara?"

  "Oh! Erm – yes, please." After all, going for lunch with a friend wasn't something she needed to hide from everyone.

  "Do you like seafood?"

  "Love it."

  "Then I know a good place for us. Is twelve-thirty okay for you?"

  "Perfect. Look forward to it."

  After she clicked off her phone, she hugged herself in delight, and her grin felt like it stretched from ear to ear. He could easily have emailed the certificates to her, but he wanted to take her out for lunch. Okay, maybe as friends but… Tingles scampered through her at the memory of their kiss, but her uncertainty returned. Tomorrow she would ask him what he meant by the wrong time for him.

  And now she needed to think about what her mother had said.

  * * * * * *

  Next morning, she declined Guy's offer to take her on the shopping trip to Galway, and at twelve-fifteen stood by the large bay window in the lounge. Even the heavy rain, blown almost sideways by the gusting wind from the Atlantic, couldn't dampen her eager anticipation.