The Delaney Woman (5 page)

Crawling between the soft, clean sheets, Kellie pulled the comforter over her head. God, she missed Connor and Danny. The evenings were harder than anything. Gillian had buffered her at first but she had her own life. In a way maybe it hadn't been a good idea to wallow in the security of their friendship. Weeks later the ache was as fresh and raw as if it had happened yesterday. Kellie was unprepared for the magnitude of her pain. The overwhelming feelings of tenderness and delight she'd experienced every time she'd looked at her nephew, the glow that lit her from within whenever she thought of him, the miracle of his gurgling laugh, the softness of his cheeks, was gone from her forever.

A harsh, primitive sob rose in her throat. She was a coward. She didn't really want to do this. She wanted her life back, the pleasant easy days when Connor and Danny were alive and they'd lived in Oxford together. She wanted long walks amid falling leaves, bread and cheese by the river, tea and scones in the mornings and the indescribable joy of Danny shrieking with delight when she picked him up from the child care center. That life was over. Now she wanted answers, reasons for such a brutal tragedy. A start would be an explanation for Tom's phone number in her brother's suit pocket.

Pushing away the pain, blanking her mind, had become nearly physical. The grit of her teeth, the wrinkling of her forehead, the cold water on her temples, had become a nightly ritual. Eventually it worked and she came close to relaxing.

Her feeling was that her presence in Banburren was more than likely an error in judgment, that Connor's relationship with Tom Whelan, whatever it was, was a misguided shot in the dark. Still, she was here. Maybe, in this peaceful village close to the sea, she would find her answers and begin to heal.

She must have dreamed it, a sound from her youth, the sweet, aching notes of the uillean pipes, the sigh of the drones, the quick fingers on the notes. She recognized the tune, “A Brown-Haired Lass.” Her father had favored the pipes. Only true musicians could play such an instrument. She hadn't heard them in years. She smiled and turned over. It was a lovely welcome to Ireland even if it was only her imagination.

T
he child was beautiful in the fey, flame-lit way the ancient bards had immortalized in songs only the clever and very skilled could still play. At her feet sat a sweet-faced dog with a shiny red coat, the dog in the photograph. There was no sign of Susan Whelan. Kellie stifled her disappointment. She very much wanted to place a face with the voice on the phone last night.

Heather pulled away from her father and walked across the room to Kellie. The dog didn't move.

“Hello.” Kellie held out her hand.

“Hello,” the little girl replied politely. “Will you be with us for long?”

Kellie swallowed. Would children always be difficult for her? If so, her job was going to be a problem. “Not too long,” she replied.

“Will you stay for the festival?”

“I'm not sure,” said Kellie. “When is the festival?”

“Not for a few weeks,” said Tom.

“I might be here that long.”

“It's a wedding festival,” Heather announced.

Kelly was intrigued. “What's that?”

Tom raised his eyebrows. “I thought everyone in Ireland knew about our wedding festival.”

“I don't.”

Tom explained. “Men and women from all over the world come to Banburren looking for a happy-ever-after ending.”

“Do they find it?”

“I imagine some have. No one I know.”

Heather's eyes shone. “Everyone makes puddings and we have a carnival.”

Kellie laughed. It felt strange. How long had it been since she'd really laughed? “I can see where her priorities are.”

Tom's eyes were on her face, narrowed, considering. “You're a teacher but you didn't say what level.”

“Second grade,” Kellie said. “I teach children Heather's age.”

Heather slipped her hand inside Kellie's. “I hope you stay,” she said honestly. “I like ladies. The washroom always smells lovely after they leave it.”

Again, Kellie laughed. “I'll keep that in mind.” She sat down on the couch. Reaching out, she drew the little girl to her. “What do you do when you're not in school?”

The child tilted her head. Her soft straight hair, the color of deerskin, swung across her cheek. How Kellie envied that hair, the straight lovely swing of it.

“I play with my friends or watch the telly. Sometimes Da and I walk Lexi. I like visiting my friends,” she confided. “They all have mothers who make bread and jam sandwiches and they sweep the stairs and hang the sheets to dry.”

“Do they?”

Heather nodded. “Da does all that now. I don't know what he'd do if we had a mother.”

“He would do what fathers do, whatever that is.” Kellie's memories of her father were restricted, most of them reduced to helping him to stagger home from various pubs.

Heather thought a moment. “They eat food, I think.”

Kellie chuckled. The little girl was lovely, warm and unspoiled. “What do you like to eat?”

“Puddings,” she said promptly. “I like those the best. Da won't let me eat them first.” The little girl brightened. “Do you have a little girl?”

“No,” said Kellie. The darkness began to close in on her again.

Instinctively, with a sensitivity beyond her age, Heather seemed to understand Kellie's distress. She rested her hand on Kellie's knee. “I like you,” she pronounced. She turned to her father. “I like her, Da. I want her to stay with us.”

Tom separated himself from the wall and walked toward them. “That was already decided, Heather, but it's grand that you approve. It makes everything much easier.” He transferred his attention to Kellie. “I don't know how you're fixed for cash, but if you think you'll be here for a while, perhaps we could work something out.”

Kellie frowned. “I don't understand.”

“You said you weren't working. I'm dreadful in the kitchen and right now I'm in the middle of something. There isn't much time for houseguests. I could use the help if you think you might be staying awhile.”

“You said you weren't booked.”

“Not now,” said Tom. “But I've a pipe order and the wait for a set is long enough. If you wouldn't mind doing the meals and your own laundry, I could discount your rate.”

He'd captured her interest. “A pipe order?”

“I make uillean pipes. My father did before me and his before him. We're one of the original families. There aren't many of us left.”

“Do you play as well?”

“I'm fair at it.”

“I'd like to hear you. My father played the pipes.”

“I wouldn't mind striking up a tune or two if you're interested. What about my offer?”

“Is it a job you're offering?”

“In a manner of speaking. I can't pay you, of course.”

She couldn't decide if his suggestion was a golden opportunity or a roadblock. She decided to go for it. “How about instead of a discount you make my meals complimentary?”

He thought a minute. “I can do that.”

“What exactly would my duties be?”

“I haven't given it much thought,” he said. “The idea just occurred to me.”

“Why don't I look around and do whatever I think needs to be done?”

“All right as long as I can make a suggestion now and then.”

Kellie nodded. “What about grocery shopping? Will you do that as well?”

“I don't mind giving up the shopping.”

“And the cooking?”

“You can start tonight?”

A genuine smile lit her face. ‘ ‘You really don't like to cook, do you?”

He hedged the question. “I have a feeling you're a talent in the kitchen. Am I right?”

She looked directly at him, not at all intimidated. “I'm fair. Do you have any food preferences for this evening?”

“We have what it takes for shepherd's pie.”

Heather cupped her hand over her mouth and leaned close to Kellie's ear. “It's Da's favorite.”

Kellie waited a full minute before answering.
Shepherd's pie. Was there ever a week that her mother hadn't prepared it?
“I think I can manage that.”

“It's settled then. I'll take Lexi for a run and then I'll work for a while in the study. Come along, Heather.”

“I want to help Miss Delaney. May I, please?”

Tom hesitated, obviously torn between his protective instincts and his daughter's pleading.

Kellie stepped in. “I would love to have Heather help me. Perhaps you could walk Lexi after dinner?”

Tom relented. “I could do that.” He reached down to stroke the dog. “You'll be all right until after dinner, won't you, girl?”

Kellie swallowed. It was now or never. If she didn't take risks, she would end up with nothing to show for her time. All he could say was no. Breathing quickly, she dove in. “May I go with the two of you? I'd like to see some of the town and who better to show me than natives.”

Tom's eyes narrowed, but his expression gave nothing away. “Banburren isn't much to look at, but you're welcome to come along.”

“I was hoping to meet your mother. We spoke on the phone.”

“I suppose we can stop by,” Tom said slowly.

“Good.” Kellie stood and took Heather's hand. “Shall we start dinner?”

Heather nodded and skipped alongside Kellie. In the kitchen, she pulled a chair out from the table, climbed on it and sat down on the edge of the counter. “I like cooking,” she confided. “Da lets me stir the pots and mash praties. What I really like is to crack the eggs, but I'm not allowed.”

“Why not?”

“Eggs are dear and I might waste one.”

“I see.” Kellie thought a minute. “Perhaps we can figure out a recipe where it doesn't matter if an egg or two is wasted.”

Heather clapped her hands. “Today? May I crack one today?”

“You may.”

“What will we make?”

“Your father's favorite.”

“Da likes shepherd's pie before anything. Everyone knows that.”

The child tilted her head thoughtfully. “This is nice. It's like having a mum, but you're not like other mothers, are you?”

A cold fist closed around Kellie's heart. She wet her lips. “Why do you say that?”

“Kathleen Mallory's mum is red-faced and she smokes cigarettes.”

“Is Kathleen your friend?”

“She's my best friend and so is Mollie Malone.”

“What is Mollie's mum like?”

Heather narrowed her eyes, deep in thought. “She's nice but she doesn't say much,” she pronounced at last. “She gives us puddings and tea but she never speaks to us, not the way you do. She's not pretty either, not like you.”

Kellie's heart craved these children. “Do your friends come to visit often? I could make a pudding and tea.”

Heather's cheeks glowed. “May I?”

“Of course.”

“Shall I ask Da?”

“I'm sure he'll agree.”

Heather frowned. “I don't usually have friends over.”

“Why not?”

“Da doesn't make puddings and he needs quiet to work. But I don't mind,” the child said sunnily. “May I crack an egg now?”

Kellie laughed and moved toward the refrigerator. “You may. Shepherd's pie requires an egg and it doesn't matter in the least if the cracking isn't perfect.”

The sound, filtered through the hallway and around several corners, was unmistakable and beautiful, the pipes. Kellie stopped, mesmerized. Another tune from her youth, “Isobel Mackay.” “He's very good, isn't he?” she whispered.

“Da's one of the best,” confided Heather. “Wait until he's warmed up.”

The pie was delicious. Kellie noted with satisfaction the odd look on Tom's face after he'd tasted the first mouthful.

“Do you like it, Da?” Heather asked hopefully, her own food forgotten. “Miss Delaney and I made it together.”

“I like it very much, love,” her father answered slowly. “It's one of the best I've tasted.”

“I cracked the egg myself.”

“Did you now?”

Heather nodded. “Miss Delaney said it didn't matter if the cracking isn't perfect. But it was, wasn't it, Miss Delaney?”

Kellie nodded, her heart full. She was falling in love with a seven-year-old girl. “Absolutely perfect. Why don't you call me Kellie?”

Heather maneuvered her fork loaded with beef, mashed potatoes and vegetables into her mouth. “Tomorrow night we'll have a pudding. Kellie promised.”

Tom stared. “Since when will you eat peas and carrots?”

“I made them myself,” the child said. “It wouldn't be right if I didn't eat them.”

“I see.” Tom reached across the table and ruffled his daughter's hair. “Perhaps you should make dinner every night.”

Heather dimpled. “Perhaps I should. But what will Kellie do?”

“She can supervise,” Tom said smoothly.

Kellie laughed. “We'll work something out, I'm sure. Meanwhile, if I have as many takers for doing the dishes, I'll be in heaven.”

“I'll dry,” Heather offered.

“Thank you, love. That would be wonderful.” She looked at Tom. “And what will you do?”

He grinned and Kellie's throat closed. Could a man who smiled like that have something to hide?

“I'll check my e-mail,” he said, “read and take a short nap, while you finish. How does that sound?”

Kellie smiled sweetly. “Self-absorbed.”

He placed his hand over his heart. “You've a quick tongue, Kellie Delaney. Don't think twice about sparing my feelings.”

“The idea never crossed my mind.”

This time he laughed. “I'll wash and dry,” he said. “I'd intended it all along. My thanks for the tasty meal.”

Kellie folded her napkin and placed it beside her plate. “What shall you and I do, Heather, while your da cleans the kitchen?”

The child looked hopefully at her father. “We can watch the telly for a while.”

“You have school tomorrow,” Tom reminded her.

Kellie interrupted. “Shall we read together?”

Heather wrinkled her nose. “I don't like to read.”

Kellie's eyebrows rose. “How can that possibly be?” She winked at the little girl. “Everyone likes to read. It must be that you're not reading the right books.”

“I don't know about that.” Heather looked doubtful.

“I'll tell you a story,” Kellie suggested, “a story that comes from a wonderful book. How does that sound?”

Heather brightened. “I love stories.”

“Then it's settled.” Heather stood and held out her hand. “Come along.”

Heather slid off her chair and tucked her hand inside Kellie's. “Sometimes Da tells me stories.”

“Does he now?”

Heather nodded. “He knows lots of them.” She looked up. “Do you?”

“I'll try to measure up.”

Tom watched them disappear into the sitting room. Kellie Delaney was definitely not in the common way. On the one hand she appeared vulnerable, almost desperate, yet there was a sophistication about her that wasn't typical of Irish women from her class. He couldn't make her out. Not that twenty-four hours was enough time to give the matter any real thought. He frowned, filled the sink with soapy water and began cleaning the plates. Heather didn't normally warm up to people the way she had to Kellie. The woman had a way with children.

He finished drying the last of the silverware, hung the towel over the rack, turned down the lights and walked into the sitting room. It was empty. A small tick came to life in Tom's left cheek. He walked down the hallway toward Heather's bedroom and stopped in the doorway.

Heather was asleep; the comforter pulled over her and tucked in. Kellie had dozed off in the chair beside the bed and Lexi was on the floor at her feet, her head resting on her paws.

Gradually, so as not to wake them, Tom dimmed the lights and motioned to the dog. There would be no walk for Lexi tonight