"She'd have done nothing but rant and rave." Maggie scowled into her tea. "You shouldn't have to go through his papers on your own, Brie."
"I don't mind. I've been thinking I might turn the attic into a loft room, for guests."
"More guests." Maggie rolled her eyes. "You're overrun with them now, spring and summer."
"I like having people in the house." It was an old argument, one they would never see through the same eyes. "At any rate, it was past time to go through things. There were some clothes as well, some no more than rags now. But I found this." She rose and went to a small box. She took out the lacy white gown. "It's Granny's work, I'm sure. Da would have saved it for his grandchildren."
"Oh." Everything about Maggie softened. Her eyes, her mouth, her voice. She held out her hands, took the gown into them. "So tiny," she murmured. Even as she stroked the linen, the baby inside her stirred.
"I thought your family might have one put aside as well, Rogan, but-"
"We'll use this. Thank you, Brie." One look at his wife's face had decided him. "Here, Margaret Mary."
Maggie took the handkerchief he offered and wiped her eyes. "The books say it's hormones. I always seem to be spilling over."
"I'll put it back for you." After replacing the gown, Brianna took the next step and offered the stock certificate. "I found this as well. Da must have bought it, or invested, whatever it is, shortly before he died."
A glance at the paper had Maggie sighing. "Another of his moneymaking schemes." She was nearly as sentimental over the stock certificate as she'd been over the baby gown. "How like him. So he thought he'd go into mining, did he?"
"Well, he'd tried everything else." Rogan frowned over the certificate. "Would you like me to look into this company, see what's what?"
"I've written to them. Mr. Thane's posting the letter for me. It'll come to nothing, I imagine." None of Tom Concannon's schemes ever had. "But you might keep the paper for me unt
il I hear back." "It's ten thousand shares," Rogan pointed out. Maggie and Brianna smiled at each other. "And if it's worth more than the paper it's printed on, he'll have broken his record." Maggie shrugged and treated herself to a cake. "He was always after investing in something, or starting a new business. It was his dreams that were big, Rogan, and his heart."
Brianna's smile dimmed. "I found something else. Something I need to show you. Letters." "He was famous for writing them." "No," Brianna interrupted before Maggie could launch into one of her stories. Do it now, she ordered herself when her heart shied back. Do it quickly. "These were written to him. There are three of them, and I think it's best if you read them for yourself."
Maggie could see Brianna's eyes had gone cool and remote. A defense, she knew, against anything from temper to heartache. "All right, Brie."
Saying nothing, Brianna picked up the letters, put them in Maggie's hand.
Maggie had only to look at the return address on the first envelope for her heartbeat to thicken. She opened the letter.
Brianna heard the quick sound of distress. The fingers she'd locked together twisted. She saw Maggie reach out, grip Rogan's hand. A change, Brianna thought with a little sigh. Even a year before Maggie would have slapped any comforting hand aside.
"Amanda." There were tears in Maggie's voice. "It was Amanda he said before he died. Standing there at the cliffs at Loop Head, at that spot he loved so much. We would go there and he would joke about how we'd hop in a boat and our next stop would be a pub in New York." Now the tears spilled over. "In New York. Amanda was in New York."
"He said her name." Brianna's fingers went to her mouth. She stopped herself, barely, before she gave into her childhood habit of gnawing her nails. "I remember now that you said something about that at his wake. Did he say anything more, tell you anything about her?"
"He said nothing but her name." Maggie dashed at tears with a furious hand. "He said nothing then, nothing ever. He loved her, but he did nothing about it."
"What could he do?" Brianna asked. "Maggie-"
"Something." There were more tears and more fury when Maggie lifted her head. "Anything. Sweet Jesus, he spent his life in hell. Why? Because the Church says it's a sin to do otherwise. Well, he'd sinned already, hadn't he? He'd committed adultery. Do I blame him for that? I don't know that I can, remembering what he faced in this house. But by God, couldn't he have followed through on it? Couldn't he have finally followed through?"
"He stayed for us." Brianna's voice was tight and cold. "You know he stayed for us."
"Is that supposed to make me grateful?"
"Will you blame him for loving you?" Rogan asked quietly. "Or condemn him for loving someone else?"
Her eyes flashed. But the bitterness that rose up in her throat died into grief. "No, I'll do neither. But he should have had more than memories."
"Read the others, Maggie."
"I will. You were barely born when these were written," she said as she opened the second letter.
"I know," Brianna said dully.
"I think she loved him very much. There's a kindness here. It isn't so much to ask, love, kindness." Maggie looked at Brianna then, for some sign. She saw nothing but that same cool detachment. With a sigh, she opened the final letter while Brianna sat stiff and cold. "I only wish he..." Her words faltered. "Oh, my God. A baby." Instinctively her hand went to cover her own. "She was pregnant."
"We have a brother or sister somewhere. I don't know what to do."
Shock and fury had Maggie lurching to her feet. Teacups rattled as she pushed back to stalk around the room. "What to do? It's been done, hasn't it? Twenty-eight years ago to be exact."
Distressed, Brianna started to rise, but Rogan covered her hand. "Let her go," he murmured. "She'll be better for it after."
"What right did she have to tell him this and then go away?" Maggie demanded. "What right did he have to let her? And now, are you thinking it falls to us? To us to follow it through? This isn't some abandoned fatherless child we're speaking of now, Brianna, but a person grown. What have they to do with us?"
"Our father, Maggie. Our family."
"Oh, aye, the Concannon family. God help us." Overwhelmed, she leaned against the mantel, staring blindly into the fire. "Was he so weak, then?"
"We don't know what he did, or could have done. We may never know." Brianna took a careful breath. "If Mother had known-"
Maggie interrupted with a short, bitter laugh. "She didn't. Do you think she wouldn't have used a weapon like this to beat him into the ground? God knows she used everything else."
"Then there's no point in telling her now, is there?"
Slowly Maggie turned. "You want to say nothing?"
"To her. What purpose would it serve to hurt her?"