Better those dreams, though, than the ones that came after, the familiar ones that rarely changed. There were always a baby’s cries, the whispered words he couldn’t quite make out and, when he awakened, the same emptiness that he’d felt on that morning nearly two decades ago when he’d discovered his wife and baby had vanished without so much as a note of goodbye.
A morning run didn’t help. Nor did a cold, bracing shower, nor a pot of very strong coffee. Nothing helped. He felt the pain as sharply as he had on that first day when he’d realized that his wife and child were truly gone. And every single time he’d hit a dead end in his search for them, the pain had been his companion, the dreams the reason he fought sleep.
No matter how often he told himself to let it go, to end the hunt and move on with his life, he couldn’t quite put aside the way his daughter had giggled when he held her in the air, the way her smiles had moved him. He’d loved his wife with all his heart, but their baby girl had stolen his breath away.
Not a day went by that he didn’t try to imagine what Deanna must look like now, where she might be, what direction her life had taken. When he thought of the woman who’d run away with her, his feelings were mixed. The part of him that had loved Melody and her wild spirit still ached at times, but then he remembered what she’d stolen from him—the future she’d stolen from the three of them—and he hated her for that.
Other people got over failed marriages, he told himself repeatedly. They recognized the mistakes they’d made and either fixed them or repeated them. He’d recognized his; he knew that on too many occasions he’d chosen work over his wife and child. Melody had repeatedly tried to make her point about that, but she hadn’t stuck around long enough for him to try to fix the problem. Instead, she’d tired of waiting. One day she’d simply packed up and left. Maybe there’d been someone else waiting for her, though he’d never had any reason to suspect her of cheating. More likely, she’d simply given up and done the one thing she could think of that would punish him for not putting their marriage first.
He might have forgiven that, but the lack of contact, the inability to even see his precious daughter from time to time, had filled him with rage at first. He’d gone to court once seeking help, but he’d found none. Instead, he’d met skepticism that his wife would take his child and flee if she hadn’t had good reason to do so. The implication that he might have abused her or their daughter was unmistakable. None of them had understood that a wife and mother might be immature enough to simply want retaliation. So he’d gone back to spending a fortune on private detectives.
Then, once the trail had gone cold in Baltimore, he’d abandoned hope, though he’d taken the job in the deli there on the very unlikely chance that one day they might cross paths. Of course, they never had. And inertia had kept him there for fifteen years.
When Luke had advertised for a chef for his new pub in Chesapeake Shores, Bryan had seized on the chance to make a fresh start. The change of scenery had, indeed, been good for him. He liked the quiet little town along the bay. He liked and respected the O’Briens. He had a garden behind his rented house. Working it in the early morning, his hands in the cool dirt, watching the herbs and vegetables grow and ripen, gave him a certain serenity. He’d found some peace here, at least during the day.
At night, though, that was another story. At night the dreams came back. He wondered if PTSD was a little like this, sneaky and devastating when it turned up to shatter calm. All he wanted these days was calm, the chance to be a little creative in the kitchen, to grow the restaurant’s fresh vegetables and herbs in his own garden, to enjoy a morning run or a glass of wine on his back deck from time to time. That’s it. He didn’t need anything else. Or anyone, he amended. Perhaps he was every bit as selfish and self-absorbed as Melody had once accused him of being.
Now, though, Kiera Malone had come along and made him wonder about the narrow life he’d chosen. If he were going to change his solitary ways, he most certainly wouldn’t choose a woman who annoyed the daylights out of him or one who was here only temporarily. What would be the point, then, in letting her into his life only to watch her fly off to Ireland? Better to keep his distance.
Satisfied with the stern talking-to he’d given himself, he drank one more cup of coffee for good measure, then headed to O’Brien’s, convinced that Kiera could do nothing at all to get under his skin today. He wouldn’t allow it.
Sadly, within the hour, the vow was broken and the pesky woman had managed to trip his temper and his lust just by walking into his kitchen with an Irish tune on her soft pink lips and a couple of “wee little suggestions” for his menu.
*
Kiera wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong, but at Bryan’s fierce scowl and command that she leave his kitchen, she backed through the door and headed for Luke’s office.
“I suppose now you’re going to complain about me to your son-in-law?” Bryan asked, following her.
Kiera whirled around. “I was going to do no such thing,” she said, standing toe-to-toe with the infuriating man. “If you and I have a problem, then we’ll work it out between us like the adults we’re meant to be, though right at the moment I’m not so sure your maturity rises to that level.”
Bryan’s cheeks flushed. “Kiera, I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m behaving like an idiot. I had a terrible night and I’m taking it out on you. Again. I swear I’ll stop doing this. I’ll bite my tongue off before I utter another sharp word.”
She regarded him with amusement. “I appreciate the commitment, but I’ve serious doubts about you being able to keep it. You’re not cut out for staying silent, any more than I am.”
He laughed, and it was a fine sight to see. It warmed her heart.
“You’re right about that,” he conceded, “but I can vow to try. Bring those suggestions of yours over to a table and let’s talk them through.”
She studied him and noted the weariness in his eyes, as well as the sincerity behind his apology. “Okay, then. Would you like a cup of coffee while we talk?”
“I think I’ve probably had more than my share this morning, as it is.”
“Tea, then. I keep some chamomile here for occasions when I’m feeling restless and uneasy.”
“I’m not a big fan of tea, but perhaps I should give yours a try,” Bryan said.
“Ah, you’re more amenable already,” she said approvingly, busying herself with pouring boiling water over a tea bag she’d retrieved from her supply.
She put the cup on the table in front of him. “Would you be wanting to talk about whatever ruined your night’s rest?”
“Are you suggesting I’m in need of counseling? After the display I just put on, I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Not counseling,” she corrected. “Perhaps just a friendly ear.”
Bryan studied her curiously. “Do you take in stray puppies that have nipped at you, too?”
Kiera chuckled at the comparison. “No, I’ve subjected a few people to my own quick temper from time to time. I’ve wanted forgiveness and understanding for that, so it’s only reasonable that I return the favor.”
“I appreciate the offer, but the story’s too long and dull for the time we have before the pub opens.” He beckoned to her. “Let’s see that list you stuffed in your pocket when I ran you out of the kitchen.”
She pulled the crumpled paper from her pocket and smoothed it out, then met his gaze with an earnest expression. “I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job. At least that’s not how it’s meant. It’s just that I’m a fresh pair of eyes and I’ve had years of working in a restaurant in Ireland, which gives me some level of competence.”
He smiled. “And you’re Irish,” he said. “I get it. I’ll try to be more open-minded, rather than taking offense.”
She looked skeptical. “Can you do that?”
“I can try.”
“Okay, then. I was thinking perhaps that the lunch menu could use a few hearty sandwiches. I’ve listed them on
here. These would be found in countryside pubs all over Ireland. To be honest, I think they’re on the menu because they’re not only appealing to a farmer who might be going back into the fields, but because it takes a lot of ale to wash them down.”
Bryan chuckled at that. “An interesting observation,” he said as he scanned her suggestions, which seemed to rely heavily on thick bread, cheese, meats and tomatoes in season. “It would be like working in the deli again,” he muttered disparagingly.
Kiera frowned at his comment. “And there goes the open mind you promised.”
“Sorry. You’re right. Why do you think these might work, aside from selling extra ale, perhaps?”
“Because they’re a staple of an Irish pub, especially in the countryside. We want people who come here to have a truly Irish experience. One or two options like these on the menu give them a better picture of what they might find if they were to pull into a pub on the side of the road anywhere in Ireland. For anyone who’s traveled there, it will be a pleasant reminder.”
She sat quietly as Bryan seemed to weigh her argument. “Fine. We’ll try them as specials here and there and see how it goes.”
Kiera beamed at him. “You’re really going to take my suggestion?”
“As an experiment,” he cautioned.
“That’s good enough.” She leveled a steady look into his eyes. “Was it so difficult, then, giving me this tiny victory?”
Bryan laughed. “No, Kiera, it was almost painless.”
“Then perhaps we can try it again sometime,” she said. “I want to be on the same team with you, Bryan.”
An odd expression flitted across his face at that, and he almost knocked over his cup of tea in his rush to stand. “I need to get back to work.”
“You don’t want the rest of your tea?” she asked innocently, well aware that he’d stopped drinking it after the first cautious sip.
“You and I will find our way to peace, Kiera, but I doubt I’ll ever give that chamomile tea of yours another chance. It’s worse than medicine.”
“But even better for you,” she told him. “Sometimes it takes a bitter pill to cure what ails you.”
“I’ll take the ailment,” he said vehemently.
“You’ll let me know if things get bad enough that you change your mind,” she told him. “I won’t hold the shift in attitude against you.”
He shook his head at that, a smile tugging at his lips. “Good to know.”
And then he was gone.
A moment later, Luke came out of his office to join her. “Did you and Bryan work things out?”
“Nothing to work out,” she said.
“That’s not what the shouts from the kitchen earlier suggested.”
“I believe his day got off to a wobbly start. It was nothing to do with me.” She studied her son-in-law’s worried expression. “Don’t be fretting about this, Luke. Bryan and I will find a way to work together. Today was a good first step in that direction.”
“Thank you.”
“No need. I’ve had a good bit of experience dealing with obstinate men. One more will be no challenge.”
Though this one was showing signs of being far more complicated than those she’d dealt with in the past.
Chapter 8
Though it was Saturday morning, Ash was already up and dressed for a construction site when Deanna joined him at the kitchen table. She poured herself a cup of coffee and reached for a doughnut that was a familiar part of their Saturday ritual. Ash was always out of the house at dawn to bring home the fresh doughnuts from their favorite bakery. She and her mom had loved that sugary treat. She wondered if he still followed that routine when she wasn’t home or if this was his way of trying to create normalcy on a day that was anything but routine.
“Going to work on a Saturday?” she asked as she selected a still-warm doughnut with maple icing. “That’s new.”
Ash shrugged. “The house is just too empty without your mom,” he admitted. “For a long time after she died, I used Saturdays as a chance to catch up on all the work I’d missed. Now it’s become a welcome habit. I was already dressed for it this morning before I remembered that today isn’t the same. You’re home.”
He studied her intently. “How did you sleep last night? I hope my dropping the news about your father like that didn’t keep you awake. I’m sure it was upsetting to be hit with it out of the blue.”
“Amazingly, I slept better than I had in a while,” Deanna confessed. “I don’t know if it was being in my own bed and away from all the craziness that comes with studying for finals or if it was finally having some concrete piece of information about my father that I hadn’t even realized I wanted.”
“Have you made any decisions about seeing him?”
“Will it bother you if I decide to go to Chesapeake Shores?” she asked, watching him closely. She wasn’t entirely sure that she wasn’t looking for even the slightest excuse not to go.
Though Ash hesitated, in the end he shook his head. “I always thought this day would come eventually. If I were thinking only of myself, maybe I would have kept that information from you, but I knew how wrong that would be. That’s why I dragged you home so close to finals, to get it out in the open before I could change my mind. As hard as it is for me to believe sometimes, you’re an adult now. You have to make your own choices.”
“Even when I’m afraid the choice I make might hurt you?”
“Even then,” he told her gently. “Dee, I’ll be fine, whatever you decide. You and I have had years as father and daughter. You’ve been an incredible blessing. How could I possibly begrudge the man who gave you life the chance to get to know you? You exist because of your mother’s marriage to Bryan Laramie. That’s an inescapable fact.”
She took a sip of her coffee to buy time, then dared asking, “Did Mom ever tell you why she left him?”
“Not really. She just said things had been going wrong for a long time and she wanted to start over.”
She nodded. “That’s pretty much all she ever told me. Do you think things were really bad? Could he have been an awful person? Would it be a terrible mistake for me to even consider letting him into my life or even meeting him? Like you said, I’m an adult and I’ve had you, an amazing stepfather, for all these years. It’s not as if I need a dad. Maybe there’s no reason to rock the boat.”
Even as she said the words that could let her, let both of them, off the hook, she wasn’t sure what response she was hoping for.
“You read that article,” Ash reminded her. “The people the writer interviewed in Chesapeake Shores seem to regard your father very highly. Their comments were glowing about him, about the excellent menu he’s created at that pub and about the pub itself. Don’t you think he sounded like someone you might like to know?”
She thought about how everyone interviewed had spoken of Bryan Laramie—or at least his food—in such positive terms. “That’s what I thought, too.” She hesitated, then admitted, “It made me wonder if Mom really told me the whole story. He seemed to have a lot going for him in New York in the restaurant business. If that’s true, though, how did he end up in some little town in Maryland?” The pieces just didn’t seem to mesh. “We must be missing something.” She looked to her stepfather for guidance. “Don’t you think so?”
An odd expression flitted across Ash’s face. It almost looked like guilt. Deanna frowned. “Is there something you’re not telling me?”
He was quiet for so long, she thought he might not answer, but then he set aside his coffee and leaned toward her. “There is something you need to know, something your mother and I kept from you. I’m just not sure I can find the words to explain.”
Her heart thumped unsteadily. “What, Ash? What could you and my mother possibly have kept from me that’s so terrible? Is it about my father?”
“No, this is about your mother and me.”
Deanna didn’t understand and told him just that.
“Just hear me
out,” he said, but then fell silent, his expression more deeply troubled than Deanna could ever recall.
“To be honest, after a while I almost forgot about all this myself or at least managed to tell myself that it didn’t change anything,” he said eventually. He gave her a long look, his expression oddly wistful. “We were so happy together, the way a family was supposed to be. The day I met you and your mom was the very best day of my life, and not a day went by after that when I wasn’t grateful for everything we had. I stopped thinking about the one thing we didn’t have.”
The knot in Deanna’s stomach tightened. “Just say it, Ash. You’re scaring me. We were a great family. All of my friends envied how close we were. They loved coming over here. They said their parents never laughed and teased each other the way you and Mom did, as if you were practically newlyweds.”
The color actually seemed to drain from his face then. Deanne regarded him with dismay. “I’ve really upset you, when I was trying so hard to do the opposite. What did I say?”
“It was a lie,” Ash responded bluntly, the ugly word left hanging in the air between them.
“Don’t be ridiculous,” she said, thoroughly confused. “I know exactly how wonderful our life was. I was here every minute. I remember everything from the day we moved into this house.”
“You don’t remember a wedding, do you?” At her stunned silence, he gave a curt nod. “Of course not, because there wasn’t one, Dee.”
“There must have been one,” she protested, searching her memory for something, anything to prove him wrong. Not one single image came to mind. Frowning, she asked, “Did you and Mom elope or something?”
“No. There was never a wedding. We couldn’t get married because your mother never divorced your father. I suppose at some point after she disappeared, he could have sought to resolve things by divorcing her on grounds of abandonment or something, but she wouldn’t file the paperwork to divorce him and he never tracked her down to file, either.”
Deanna stared at Ash in dismay. The cozy, sun-splashed kitchen suddenly seemed to darken, as if a cloud had passed overhead. “That can’t be. She left him years and years ago. They must have gotten a divorce.”
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