“If you have a mind to write a letter now and then, I would promise to write back. And I hope we could exchange some photos.” He hurried across to the shelf and took the photo of Tiernan down. “You should take this. You need a photo of him.”

She looked at Carey, at the hope that was in his eyes. He’d never even known her, yet she could tell he didn’t want her to leave. Maybe, he even loved her like every grandfather loved his granddaughter. She tried to imagine him, opening her mother’s letters, staring at the photos, trying to know the girl she was. “Thank you,” she murmured.

“And if you ever come back to Ireland, you must promise to visit.”

Nan nodded. “Yes. I promise.” She paused. “Do you really think they were in love?”

“Oh, yes. I know they were,” he said. “If you’d have seen them together, you’d have known it, too. But I don’t believe your mother was ready to give up her life in America to marry an Irish boy she barely knew. She made the right decision. My son wasn’t ready to be a husband or a father. Ireland would have been an unhappy place for both of you.”

Nan quickly stood. This was too much to take in all at once. “I-I should go. But-but I’ll come back. Tomorrow.”

“Yes,” he said. “Tomorrow. I’ll have your mother’s letters for you. Maybe you’d like to come for a late breakfast? Or lunch?”

“Yes,” Nan said. “Breakfast would be nice.” She hurried to the door, then turned around. “Thank you.”

He smiled. “No, thank you. You’ve made an old man very happy.”

Nan slipped outside, then hurried down the front walk to the road. She started out at a brisk walk, but in the end, she ran, the sketchbook and photo pressed against her chest. When she reached her car, Nan leaned against the bumper and drew a deep breath.

Everything had changed. She had another grandfather, and another father. A life here in Ireland that she’d never had a chance to live. Nan opened the car door and slipped behind the wheel, carefully placing the book and photo on the passenger seat.

She’d go home, to the cottage and to Riley, to a place she felt safe. And she’d tell him everything she’d learned. He’d know what to make of it.


RILEY PACED BACK and forth in front of the hearth. It was nearly six and Nan had promised to be back before dinner. He glanced at his watch again. He should have sent his mobile with her and insisted that she call if she was going to be late. She could have had car trouble along the way. He should have demanded that she take his car instead of the Fiat.

“Idiot,” he muttered to himself. “I’m a feckin’ idiot.”

He walked back to the kitchen and checked on the dinner he’d prepared. The shepherd’s pie was sitting on top of the cooker, stone cold. And the bread he’d tossed in the oven to warm was so dry it was hard as a rock.

Riley grabbed the bottle of wine and removed the cork. Maybe getting pissed would make the time pass faster. He wasn’t going to worry until dark. She could have gotten lost or just wrapped up in some interesting spot she found.

He didn’t bother with a glass and drank the wine directly out of the bottle. The sound of a car on the road caught his attention and Riley strode to the front door and pulled it open.

To his relief, the Fiat appeared from below the rise and sputtered to a stop at the front gate. He cursed softly, but continued to stand in the doorway in an attempt to cool his temper. He wanted to demand an explanation but the moment she stepped inside the gate, he strode up the walk and pulled her into his arms.

His mouth came down on hers in a desperate kiss. Was she all right? Had anything changed? She looked nervous and upset and her eyes were red. Riley ran his fingers through her hair, then drew back. “I was worried. Is everything all right?”

“I-I’m sorry I’m late.”

He grinned and gave her a hug. “You should be. Dinner is ruined. But then, it probably wasn’t much good to start with.”

“You made dinner?” A wide smile broke across her pretty features. “That’s sweet.”

“Well, I didn’t exactly make it myself. It came frozen and I put it in the oven. Shepherd’s pie. And bread.”

“Yum,” she said. Sighing softly, she wrapped her arms around his waist and rested her head on his chest. “I went to see him today.”

Riley stepped back and hooked her chin with his thumb, forcing her gaze to meet his. “Carey Findley?”

She nodded, then looked up into his gaze. “He’s my grandfather.”

“What?”

“I’m Tiernan’s daughter. That’s why I have his name. After my mother left Ireland, she found out she was pregnant with me. She wrote to him and he didn’t want anything to do with me, so she married my father.” Emotion clogged her throat and tears tumbled from her eyes. Wrapped in the curve of his arm, Nan slowly walked into the cottage. He drew her along to the sofa and they sat, Riley wiping the tears from her cheeks with his fingers.

“Oh, I’m sorry. I never even imagined that this was possible. Did you?”

“Maybe. It made so much sense once I knew. Everything fell into place.” She forced a smile and looked at him through watery eyes. “He’s so nice, Riley. He had all these pictures of me up in his parlor. Photos my mother sent him from when I was little. And he gave me her sketchbook and a photo of Tier-My father. Biological father.” She glanced over her shoulder. “I left them in the car. Let me go get them.”

“No,” he said. “I don’t want to let you go just yet.”

She sank against him. “I never really had grandparents. Not the kind that everyone has. My mother was estranged from her parents and I can see why now. And my father’s parents died before I was born. But Carey is like one of those sweet, smiling grandfathers that you see in the movies.”

“Then you’re happy you went?”

She nodded. “I’m happy I know the truth. It still hasn’t completely sunk in, but I think I’ll be all right.”

“I missed you,” he murmured, cupping her face in his palms and kissing her.

Nan giggled, then brushed aside a tear. “You did?”

“More that you can imagine,” he said with a low growl.

“Oh, no,” Nan said. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?”

“Like you want to drag me off to bed. I know that look.”

“You don’t,” Riley insisted. “I’ll get you a glass of wine, we’ll take a blanket up on the hill and we’ll relax. Wait right here.”

Riley pulled a quilt from the chest in the second bedroom, then grabbed two glasses. The wine was still sitting on the table by the door. When he got back outside, she was waiting by the gate, a large black book in her arms.

They walked up the rise behind the house to a spot in front of a drystone wall. Wildflowers swayed in the evening breeze, perfuming the air around them. Nan spread the quilt out and sat down, then took the glasses from him.

“Tell me everything,” Riley said. “Did you spend the entire day with him?”

“No,” she said. “When I left, I wasn’t even sure that I was going to stop at his place. First, I went to see Carriganass Castle and then I went to a stone circle. And I was thinking of going to see him and then this man walked up with a little black dog and it was him.”

“What?”

“Right there. At the stone circle. He was there, as if I conjured him up out of thin air.”

“That’s odd. Spooky.”

“I know,” Nan said. “That’s exactly what I said. Even if I had decided I didn’t want to meet him, we would have met. I went to his house and we talked for a little bit, but then I got overwhelmed and I had to leave. I promised I’d come back tomorrow.” She took his hand, weaving her fingers through his. “You’ll come with me, won’t you?”

“Sure.” Riley poured her a glass of wine and handed it to her, then filled a glass for himself. “So, why don’t we have a toast?”

“To what?” Nan asked.

“To your newfound family. And to your citizenship,” he said. “You are now a citizen of the Republic of Ireland.”

Nan stared at him in disbelief. “No, I’m not.”

“Yes, you are. If either of your parents are Irish citizens, then you automatically are. That’s the way it works here. You’ll probably have to do a few things to make it official, but that shouldn’t be too difficult.”

Nan stared at him for a long time, then finally shook her head. “I suddenly feel very Irish. I’m going to start talking with a brogue.”

“Well, Tiernan Galvin,” he began in a deep Irish accent, “let me teach you a few important things. You already know the proper use of ‘feck’ and its various forms. ‘Bloody’ can be used in almost any situation. But then there’s ‘bollocks.’”

“Bollocks,” she repeated.

“No. You have to say it with more attitude. Bollocks!”

“Bollocks!” Nan said, bursting into giggles. “What does it mean?”

“Stupid. A mess. A hames. Ruined. Destroyed. It’s just a term that applies to anything that’s royally fecked up. It also means testicles.”

“I can’t say that!”

“Shag,” he said. “That means anything that has to do with sex.”

“I know that one,” she said. “But what’s a culchie? Kellan called you that.”

“Someone who lives in the country. Also known as a bogger or a bog-trotter. Unlike Kellan, who is a jackeen. He lives in Dublin.”

“I have so much to learn,” she said.

“You don’t even know the half of it,” Riley said. He grabbed her glass and set it in the grass, then pulled her beneath him on the blanket. “I’ll teach you the rest.”

“Are we going to shag now?” she asked, barely able to contain her laughter.

“No. Not until you stop giggling.”

“If we were in the States we’d be doing the horizontal mambo. Or making whoopee. Or boinking. My coworker calls it baking cookies.”

“Well, that’s good to know. If I’m ever in the States, I’ll know what to say when soliciting sex.”

“If you’re ever in the States, you’ll get arrested for doing that. And I wouldn’t come and bail you out.”