Maybe she had every right to be unforgiving. He didn't know Seamus well enough to defend him. Certainly, what Grace had told him about an affair—another woman, another child—had not been part of his conversations with Seamus. He couldn't imagine how he would feel if his father had done that to his mother. Perhaps he would be just as unforgiving. No perhaps about it, really. He had a strong sense of what was right and what was wrong. He had much more trouble with grayed-out middle ground. He didn't like it when things didn't make sense, and to counter that, he usually tried to make them make sense. But this wasn't his problem to solve or figure out.
Grace Donelan O'Malley could make her own decision when it came to her father.
He just wished she didn't paint all scientists with the same brush.
Didn't matter, he reminded himself. He was here for the conference and for a few days of relaxation. As soon as the snow stopped, he'd go to the hotel and move on with his life. Hopefully, he'd finally be able to forget about Grace, because the real reason he'd brought her the package was because he hadn't been able to stop thinking about her since he'd seen her photo in Seamus's office several months ago. At the time, he'd had the sense that Grace was looking right at him, asking him for something. It had been the strangest sensation he'd ever felt.
Now that he'd met her in person, hopefully he could move past the ridiculous feeling that they were somehow connected, that they shared some destiny. He didn't even believe in fate. But the trip to Ireland, the time spent with his relatives there, and even the Irish lilt in Grace's voice had connected him to the Emerald Isle, to the feeling that impossible magic just might be possible.
He smiled to himself at that random thought. He didn't believe that at all. What he was feeling wasn't magic; it was just attraction, sexual chemistry, a biologic need. Everything could be explained with science if you looked hard enough for the answer.
He poured the spaghetti noodles through a strainer, then took them to the table along with the sauce, the salad, and the garlic bread.
Grace and Tyler appeared in the doorway just as he was about to call for them.
"We smelled food," she said with a sparkle in her eyes, looking more relaxed than she'd been earlier.
"Spaghetti is my favorite," Tyler said, sliding into a chair and grabbing a piece of garlic bread.
"Mine, too," he said, taking the seat across from Tyler.
As Grace joined them at the table, another odd feeling ran through him. Aside from Thanksgiving, he hadn't sat down for a dinner at a family table in a very long time, and it felt good. Maybe too good. This wasn't his life. He might be willing to slow down, but he wasn't going to stop doing what he did, which was trying to make the world a better place. And Seamus had already proven how difficult that was to do and keep a family happy, too.
But he didn't want Seamus's life; he wanted his own.
He filled his plate and decided to change the subject running around in his head. "I heard you two laughing," he said. "What were you doing?"
"Tyler was helping me make up tomorrow's lesson plan," Grace answered, as she scooped salad onto her plate.
"You're a teacher?"
"Yes, second grade. I'm Tyler's teacher, in fact. His mom, my friend Carrie, teaches fifth grade."
"I see. How is Grace as a teacher?" he asked Tyler.
"She's good," Tyler said, as he sucked in the spaghetti noodles dangling from his mouth.
"I should probably say something about that," Grace said to Ian with a helpless smile. "Shouldn't I?"
He grinned. "I don't know. My brother Hunter still eats spaghetti that way, and he's thirty-one."
"You have a brother?"
"I have two brothers and three sisters."
"That's a big family."
"And it's only the tip of the Callaway iceberg. My father is one of six, and most of his siblings have large families, so it's a big group when we all get together. Thanksgiving got up to forty-one people this year."
Her eyes widened. "Seriously? How many turkeys was that?"
"Four, plus a roast beef and a ham. My mom was the host, but everyone pitched in and somehow we managed to clear out the buffet table by the end of the day."
"That sounds crazy and chaotic."
"It always is, but also fun."
"I met some Callaways in Ireland; they were from Wexford. Two guys who would be in their early twenties now—they might be your cousins."
"No doubt. I haven't explored the Irish Callaway side of the family. When I was in Kenmare and Waterford, it was to get to know my grandmother's relatives, and she was a Rafferty."
"Well, you can always go back."
He gave her a thoughtful look. "I know you don't miss your father, but do you miss Ireland?"
"All the time," she said, her tone turning nostalgic. "I loved growing up there. It was so beautiful: the lush green hills, the turquoise blue of the water, the small towns, the music, the laughter, and the stories. Everyone in Ireland is a storyteller. I think I missed that the most." Wistfulness filled her eyes. "I hated leaving Ireland, but my mother was from San Francisco, and she wanted to come home."
"You still have a hint of Ireland in your voice, but you said you haven't been back in a long time."
"Not for over a decade."
"Is that because you don't want to run into your father?"
"It was in the beginning, but now it's because my life has moved on. I moved up here three years ago, and I really like Tahoe. It's not Ireland, but I love the mountains, the seasons, the small-town feeling. It's become home."
"It doesn't get boring?"
"Not at all. There is a lot to do here with boating and hiking in the summer and skiing in the winter. The winter holidays are beautiful. The trees are dusted with snow. Fires are burning in every fireplace, sparkly lights on all the trees. It's quite pretty—almost magical."
He found himself completely captivated by the picture she'd painted, the joy in her voice. It almost made him want to stay until Christmas just to see what she was talking about.
"Santa comes, too," Tyler popped in. "Do you think Mommy will be back in time to take me to see him?" he asked Grace, a worried look in his eyes.
"I'm sure she will be," Grace replied. "We have lots of time until then. Why don't you eat some of your salad?"
"I don't like tomatoes."
"Well, you can pick those out." Grace turned back to him with a smile. "So, tell me more about you, Ian. Where do you live?"
"San Francisco. I have an apartment near the Marina."
"That's a lovely area. My mom lives in Noe Valley, in a house not far from where she grew up."
"And your sister?"
"Jillian moved to Sonoma last year. She's the assistant manager of a boutique hotel in the wine country."
"Did your mother ever remarry?" he asked carefully, knowing he was probably treading back into painful territory.
"She did—three years ago. Jerry is a good man. He owns a construction business, although he's semi-retired now. He's home by five every night. They have dinner at six. They have couple friends and travel together at least three or four times a year."
Jerry definitely did not sound anything like Grace's father Seamus. "I'm happy for her."
"So am I. It took awhile, but she finally got over my dad's betrayal. Or at least, she moved on. I don't think she'll ever forget the pain she went through. She really loved my father, but he obviously didn't love her."
"Maybe it wasn't that simple."
She raised an eyebrow. "What does that mean?"
At her challenging tone, he realized he should have kept his mouth shut.
"You really want to defend him, don't you?" she continued.
"Not at all. I just don't think that relationships are ever simple. Only the two people involved really know what's going on, what's at stake, who's at fault."
"My dad cheated on my mom. He's at fault."
"That is inexcusable."
"Do you believe that, or are
you just saying that because you've suddenly found yourself in quicksand?"
He smiled at her sharp question. She might hate her father and everything he stood for, but Grace had inherited Seamus's intelligence. However, he was smart enough not to point that out. "I am quickly realizing that everything involving your father is quicksand," he said. "But to your question, I do believe cheating is inexcusable. If someone wants out of a relationship, they should get just get out."
"Exactly. Have some guts. Cheating is spineless and cowardly."
"Is there dessert?" Tyler asked, interrupting what had become a rather tense conversation.
Grace's attitude immediately changed as she realized she'd been neglecting Tyler. "There's ice cream, but you should do your homework first. Once that's done, we'll get dessert and read Madeline's Christmas Miracle together."
"We have to figure out what I'm going to make for the science fair, too," Tyler reminded her. "Mom was going to help me. We were going to make something really good to show Dad when he comes home for Christmas."
"We'll talk about that after you finish your homework," she said. "Why don't you take your plate to the counter and then get started?"
As Tyler left the room, Ian couldn't help saying, "You really hate science so much you don't want to help a second grader with his project?"
She shot him an irritated look. "I don't hate science, and, of course, I'll help Tyler."
"Good, because you're a teacher, and science should be one of your top priorities."
"Second grade is more about reading and math."
"But it should also be about science. In fact, every grade should be about science."
"Just because you love it—"
"No," he interrupted, feeling an intense desire to make her understand. "It's not because I love it; it's because science is how we improve the world. And we need scientists. Those are the people who are curing diseases, inventing technology that helps paralysis patients walk again, creating computer systems that enable people to do business over the world, developing software that makes all of our lives easier." He could hear the passion in his voice and knew he was overstating, but it bothered him that she would let her feelings about her father color her thinking about science, especially since she was a teacher.
"I told you; I'm not against science," she defended. "I understand the need to educate the next generation and to stimulate them enough to strive for new breakthroughs in every discipline."
"Well, I'm happy to hear that."
"I just don't care much for ambitious, self-absorbed scientists, Ian, and most of the ones I've met are exactly like that. I'm not just talking about my dad. His friend and partner, Harry Ferguson, was just as bad. The man's ego was enormous; I don't know how he got his head through the door. He talked to his wife and my mother like they were idiots."
"That's two men."
"Oh, it's not just men," she said hotly. "There was also Paulette Ramone. She ran through four husbands before she was forty, and she treated my mom like she was the hired help when she came for dinner. She loved to be the center of attention at the table. She'd hold everyone captive with monologues on her latest chemical experiment. I grew up in a world of self-absorbed, brilliant people, Ian, and maybe what they did was awesome, but who they were and how they treated people—not so great."
He frowned, hating to agree with her, but he did know both Harry Ferguson and Paulette Ramone and they were not his favorite people. "There are still hundreds of thousands of other people working hard and quietly in labs around the world, Grace. I could counter those three people with three more who are dedicated, altruistic, determined to do good. Shall I go down the list?" He didn't normally need to defend his field, but he could, and he would.
She let out a sigh. "No. I'm sorry, Ian."
"Really?" He was surprised by her sudden cave-in. "You're changing your attitude just like that?"
"No. But I realize that I'm insulting you with my gross generalizations, and that's not right. You were nice enough to cook me dinner, and you don't deserve to be battered by my old resentments."
Now he liked her even more. Smart, honest, and self-aware.
"I think it's the package from my dad that rattled me," she continued. "Believe me, I don't spend every waking minute hating on him. He's in the past, and I've successfully left him there most of the time. But you showing up with that package sort of made that impossible, which is probably why he sent you. He wanted to give me a more forcible reminder, and it worked."
"Does that mean you're going to open the package?"
"No. I think it's better if I just send it back. I might share DNA with my dad, but that's it. I'm grown up. I'm twenty-seven years old. I don't need him in my life, and he certainly never needed me in his."
Ian wasn't so sure about that, but she'd already made one big concession; he wasn't going to push for more. "I understand."
"Do you? It sounds like you grew up in a happy family."
"That's true, but I know that not all families are like mine."
"What are your parents like? What do they do?"
"My mom Sharon is a nurse. My dad Tim is a retired firefighter. He followed in a long family tradition of firefighters. My grandfather always told us that the Callaways were born to serve and protect, and many of them became firefighters to do that."
"Were you tempted to be a firefighter?"
"Not even for one second," he said with a shake of his head. "I was always about school. I loved to learn. My brothers Dylan and Hunter, however, answered the call. They're both firefighters in San Francisco."
"And your sisters?"
"Annie is a graphic designer, Kate is an FBI agent in DC, and Mia runs a small art gallery in Angel's Bay."
"That's quite a group," she said, sipping her water.
He laughed at her description. "You don't know the half of it; lots of big personalities."
"Where do you fall? Are you the oldest?"
"No, that's Dylan. I'm second from the top, then comes Hunter, Annie, and the twins, Kate and Mia. We're all fairly close in age, which made for a lot of noise and chaos."
"You have an affectionate tone in your voice when you talk about your family," she observed.
"They're family. Are you and your sister close?"
"We talk quite often, but we don't see each other as much as we used to." She put her napkin on the table. "Thanks for dinner, Ian. It was very good."
"Hard to screw up spaghetti."
"I doubt you would screw up anything you set your mind to making—the scientist in you."
"I'm going to take that as a compliment," he said with a smile.
"You should."
He picked up his plate and stood up. "I'll clean up."
"No, you will not do that," she said, also getting to her feet. "You cooked. I'll do the dishes." She glanced out the window where a gusty wind was splattering snow against the pane. "I don't think you'll be able to leave any time soon. So feel free to relax in the living room, watch television, or you can borrow my computer. It's on the desk if you want to go on the Internet."
"My computer is in the car."
"And that's probably where it's going to stay for a while," she told him. "Are you going to have withdrawal?"
She was joking, but there was some truth to her words.
"I can unplug—when I have to."
"That's good. A lot of people can't." As her gaze moved to the window again, her expression grew worried. "I hope Carrie made it to Reno. She's going to go nuts if she can't get on a plane tonight."
"You haven't heard from her, so that's a good sign."
"I hope it is."
As Grace cleared the table, he went into the living room. Tyler was kneeling on the floor in front of the coffee table, writing something on a piece of binder paper.
"I'm done," Tyler told him, holding up a page of ten words. "Can you check them to see if they're right?"
He looked through the spelling words as he sat down on
the couch. "They look good to me."
"Where's Grace?"
"She's cleaning up. She'll be out in a minute."
"I have to think of a science project."
"What kind of a project?"
"I don't know. My mom said we could do something with the solar system. We could make planets and stuff."
"That's a cool idea."
"But Amy said she might do that, and I want to be different. What else could I do?"
"Lots of things."
"Like what?"
He considered the question. It had been a very long time since he'd thought about a science experiment appropriate for a child. He actually probably hadn't thought about it since he was a little kid. "Let's see. You could build a volcano and make it erupt."
"Really? How would I do that?" Tyler asked, wide-eyed.
"It's all about mixing the right substances together." He thought about what Grace might have in the house. "It's possible I could show you now. Let's go into the kitchen and see if we have the right ingredients."
"Okay." Tyler got up and ran into the kitchen ahead of him. "We're going to make a volcano for my science project," he told Grace as he barreled into the room.
"That sounds messy," she said, giving Ian a questioning look.
"It's not too bad," he replied. "It's an easy experiment. All we need is baking soda and vinegar. Do you have those two items?"
"I think so." She opened a nearby cabinet and pulled out the items he'd requested.
"And a glass," he added. He grabbed a dishtowel and spread it out on the counter. Then he picked Tyler up and sat him on the counter next to him. "Tell me what you know about volcanoes."
"They're big mountains and sometimes hot lava comes out of them," Tyler replied.
"Very good. The word volcano comes from the name of the Roman god of fire, Vulcan."
"I didn't know that," Tyler said, awe in his voice.
"Underneath the mountainous volcano is a pool of molten rock. When the pressure from the pool builds up, the volcano erupts. During the eruption, gases and rock shoot up through the opening and cause a flow of fiery lava." He paused. "Now, if you were doing this for the science fair, you would actually make a volcano. You could build it out of an egg carton or clay or anything else you wanted."
Closer To You (Callaways Book 11) Page 4
