He was equally glad that the hospital staff had been discreet. He'd really expected to see his name splashed across some tabloid with a photo of a startled Erina and a crying Colin.
"Hey, Son, come on in," Brian said from behind his large, cluttered desk, his phone to his ear. "I'll be with you in just a minute."
Grant took a seat and looked around the office. Brian was a true Texan, with the requisite Western paintings on the walls and the bronze cowboy and horse statue on the credenza. Two uncomfortable leather chairs faced the desk; the seats were hard and straight so guests wouldn't want to linger and talk. Brian got down to business fast and concluded promptly.
He might look and sound like just another good ol' boy, but Brian was no fool. He'd graduated near the top of his class at Harvard, had a mind like a steel trap and instincts that were astounding.
He hung up the phone. "Is everything arranged for that wedding?"
"I didn't ask Mother yet. She's coming over to the apartment to talk to Erina. I'm sure they'll get the plans finalized."
"I hope you know what you're doing."
Grant nodded. "I feel good about this."
"No doubts?"
"Not one."
"What about your bride's story of being from the past? Has she 'fessed up?"
"No, she still claims a miracle occurred. I have a theory that something bad happened to her and she created that story to cope. But whatever the truth, I'm not worried. Erina is as good as they come. She's a great mother and . . . well, hell, she just makes me feel good."
"I know that it's hard to reason clearly when you're not thinking with your brain, but marriage is for a long, long time. And divorces last even longer."
"I'm not worried, Brian. I know that sounds like I've flipped, but I can't help thinking that this is going to be the best thing I've ever done."
"I hope you're right. So is that what you came to tell me?
"Not really." Grant shifted in the uncomfortable chair. "I've come to a decision about Kirby Investments. You've known since the beginning that my heart wasn't in the real estate business. The problem was that if I didn't manage the company, what would I do? So I told myself that I should stay and just do it. Hell, almost anyone in America would have felt blessed to inherit such a position."
"You've taken to real estate real well, even if it wasn't your first choice. Are you sure this isn't just some kind of reaction to getting married?"
"No, but being around Erina and Colin has made me re-evaluate my priorities. I'm going to have a family now, Brian, and I want to spend more time with them."
"So what are you thinking?"
"A real estate investment trust. I think it's the answer for all of us."
"You're ready to give up the family business, sell it off to a bunch of investors?"
"I'm ready to settle up, that's for sure. I think Mother will agree. We'd be viable as an investment trust. I don't think the public offering would be a problem. But I want you to know one thing; you're family, too."
Brian shook his head. "I'm not family. I'm part of the hired help."
"Bull. For years, you were Kirby Investments. When--if--we go public, you'll be taken care of. If you want to continue representing the firm, you can. I'll set it up. I'll probably be around for at least a year. If you want out, then we can arrange that too."
"What are you going to do?"
"I'm not sure. I've been thinking about a few things. You know how much I love to climb. I've got some ideas for new equipment. I'd like to explore that, maybe in partnership with a couple of guides I know."
"You haven't talked this over with your mother?"
"No, I thought I'd dropped enough bombshells for a week or so."
"When are you going to talk to her?"
"After the wedding. She'll have enough to do until then. Erina doesn't seem to know much about wedding customs and . . . hell, whatever it is that needs to be done."
"Your mother is the woman to get this wedding on track."
"That's for sure." Grant looked down at the standard beige office carpet. Not working with Brian would be like losing a family member, but setting up a REIT would give them all financial and personal freedom.
"So if the trust goes through and you end up with some extra time on your hands, can you think of anything you'd like to do?"
Brian shrugged. "Go fishing, I guess."
Grant laughed. "I have a better idea. I think you should learn a little more about tennis. Maybe make a few more appearances at the country club. Get involved in some charities."
"Hell, then I'd be doing what your mo--oh, no you don't. Don't start matchmaking. Just because you're infatuated doesn't mean the rest of us have lost our minds."
"Don't give me that. You know you're attracted to her. Why not go for it?"
"We're about as alike as night and day."
"You're no more different from Mother than Erina is from me."
"Exactly my point."
"Well, we're getting married on Wednesday. What does that say about you and Mother?"
"Not a damn thing. Now get on back to your girl and leave my love life alone."
"I wasn't aware you had one," Grant said, laughing at the mock ferocity of Brian's response.
"Out!"
"You'll talk to a brokerage representative?"
"I know just the one to call. Believe it or not, this isn't a total surprise."
"Really?"
"You've always been a little restless. I'm not too surprised."
"As usual, you're one step ahead of me." Grant pushed himself out of the chair. "Okay, I'll get back to the apartment. I'll call you if anything comes up this weekend."
"If you need me . . ."
"I know. Thanks, Brian." Grant paused at the doorway. "This is going to work out, you know."
"The investment trust or the wedding?"
"Both."
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
"The priest doesn't want to marry us," Erina told Grant as soon as he came through the door.
"What do you mean?" he asked, walking over to the refrigerator underneath the bar. He took out a can of soft drink and opened the top.
"You mother said that he doesn't believe we should marry so quickly," Erina explained, clasping her hands together. She'd felt extremely nervous ever since Grant's mother had arrived with the news.
"He's resistant," Mrs. Kirby explained with a patience Erina found exasperating.
"What's the problem?" Grant asked.
"If you'd remember your teachings as a boy, or even attend mass occasionally, I'm sure you'd realize that marriage is considered a solemn occasion. The church believes you should enter into the union with a bit of forethought," his mother explained.
"I'm entering into this with lots of thought," Grant said defensively.
"But you want to get married in five days," she said.
"No, I'd like to take a few months and plan a big wedding, if that's what Erina wants." He looked at her and her heart skipped a beat. She'd never imagined having a large wedding with a white gown, not since Jerrold Kirby had changed her life. "Unfortunately, we don't have the time with the social worker and the INS problems. I want to make sure that no one can take Colin and Erina away."
"I understand, but the church is more cautious. They expect baptismal certificates and an Affidavit of Free Status along with your attendance at pre-wedding counseling."
"We can't do that. What other options do I have?" he asked.
"What we need to do is convince the father that we are serious," Erina answered. "We should go see him and explain the truth."
"The truth that we have very little documentation on you and Colin?" Grant asked as he walked toward her.
She sat down in one of the chairs beside the sofa. "I'm thinkin' we shouldn't lie to a priest," she said before recalling that Grant's mother didn't know the truth--the truth he wouldn't believe.
"Erina, I don't want you to have to lie."
"What are you two talking
about?"
"Erina thinks we should tell the whole story of how she came to the U.S. and why she has nothing except birth certificates for herself and Colin."
"Surely you could just allow some time to obtain the proper documentation. You could even take the wedding counseling on a weekend."
"Mother, I know we won't be able to get those certificates."
"Why not?"
"I'm from a very small village in Ireland. I don't think the church is there anymore," Erina hedged. In fact, she was fairly certain the small chapel had long since crumbled away. When she and her da attended, the thatched roof had leaked and wind whistled between the stones. Outside, the cemetery where her mother was buried was in better condition than the church itself.
"But if you attended mass somewhere else recently . . . Surely someone knows you and can vouch for you," Mrs. Kirby said.
"No," Erina said, "there's no one. Not anymore. They're all . . . gone." That was the truth. Mrs. Abernathy would be the closest person to a relative, and she'd been dead now for at least fifty years.
"You've certainly gotten yourself into a mess this time, Grant," his mother said.
"I don't want to cause problems for you and your family," Erina said, looking up at him. "Maybe it would be best if--"
"Maybe we should make an appointment to see the priest tomorrow. Erina needs to get back to Colin before tonight."
"I don't like to leave him for so long," she explained.
"You should just move in here. That would be much more convenient."
"Colin's doctor wants him to stay in Galveston until he has his check-up on Thursday morning. He's still on antibiotics. Besides, his nurse is in Galveston."
Erina didn't want to bring up the subject at the moment, but she dreaded moving into this apartment. She'd much rather stay in Galveston, even though she realized now that the condo wasn't as grand as what the Kirbys were accustomed to. She'd miss the sound of the surf and the smell of the ocean. As a matter of fact, at the moment she'd like nothing better than to run back to Grant's condo, lock the door, and stay there forever.
But she couldn't run away from her problems that easily. And she couldn't ignore the teachings of the church. If she stayed too long with Grant, she'd want to be his wife in every way. She needed the blessing of a priest before that happened.
"Do you have the church's number? I'll call and make an appointment for tomorrow. We'll get this straightened out."
Grant's mother gave him the number. After he'd gone into the other room to make the telephone call, Erina turned to Mrs. Kirby. "I'm sorry that this is such a problem. I wish it could be otherwise."
"My dear, nothing is easy. Don't worry. I've never seen anyone that Grant couldn't turn around. He doesn't realize it, but he'd so much like his father in that way." Her face took on a wistful look before changing into a more reserved attitude. "That is, when he wasn't drinking. But thankfully, between Brian and Grant, Kirby Investments is on solid footing once again."
"Grant doesn't discuss his business with me," Erina said weakly. She didn't want to discuss family matters or business with Mrs. Kirby at the moment.
Grant came back into the room. "We've got an appointment for eleven tomorrow morning," he announced. "Father Flannigan is anxious to meet Erina."
"Father Flannigan? He's Irish then?"
"By family, not by birth. But perhaps he has a bit of sympathy for a fellow Irishman--or Irishwoman, as the case may be," Grant said with a smile.
#
Grant walked into the priest's dark, quiet, office prepared to defend Erina and his relationship to her. She didn't need his help. From the minute she perched on the edge of one of the leather chairs facing the desk, her tentative smile won over the cherubic-looking father.
"And what the rush with you two young people?" Father Flannigan had asked right out, a smile in place even as he looked at Erina's very young face.
"We have a bit of a problem with Colin," Erina answered quickly.
"Ah, yes. Mrs. Kirby explained the whole story to me earlier. I'm sorry the baby had such as serious heart problem, but I'm glad he's doing so well." The priest smile faded as he steepled his fingers and looked at them above his reading glasses. "Now, I must say that you two have gone about this all wrong."
"What do you mean?" Grant asked, moving forward in the chair and resting his hands on his knees. If this man thought he'd give Erina a hard time for--
"Courting, marriage, then babies, Mr. Kirby," the priest answered. "I know your mother didn't raise you to disregard the laws of God and man."
"Of course not," Erina said, jumping in quickly. "This was not Grant's fault."
"I'm not blaming just him," the man said, looking at Erina over his half-glasses. "You should have thought of the church's teachings before leaping into . . . a situation with this young man."
"Yes, Father," Erina said, bowing her head.
"And you, Mr. Kirby, should have gone back to Ireland to make things right with this young woman."
"I realize that now, Father. That's what I'm trying to do--make things right."
The priest turned his attention to Erina. "You're the problem, young lady. Mrs. Kirby said you have no church records."
"That's true, Father. Our village church burned when I was twelve. My baptismal certificate was destroyed, and I have no idea where the priests went afterwards. My da and I moved . . . away the next year."
"Do you have no one from the village who could vouch for your baptism?"
"No, Father. I don't even know how to contact anyone there. It was a very small village."
Father Flannigan sighed. "Would you be willing to sign a Supplitory Oath stating that you were baptized in the Catholic church?"
"Of course! I've attended the church my whole life, Father."
"And what do you say, Mr. Kirby? Can you give me a good reason to disregard our pre-wedding counseling?"
Grant paused before answering, knowing what he was about to say could sway the priest's decision. "I'm not entering into this marriage with my eyes closed, Father Flannigan," he said slowly. "I know our need to marry seems rushed, but Colin is our major concern. He was born without the benefit of a ceremony in the church, and we can make that up to him now. As for Erina and me, well, we both know what we want. I would have asked her to marry me earlier if only I'd known . . ."
He let his sentence trail off, leaving the good father with the implication that he hadn't known about her pregnancy. That might have been true; he would have married Erina if she were pregnant--with his or with another man's child--although at the thought of consummating their marriage, he was glad she'd already had the baby. His body reacted strongly to the image of the two of them entwined in his large bed in just a few nights.
"And you, Ms. O'Shea. Are you entering into this marriage with realistic expectations?"
"Yes, Father. I intend to be a good wife and mother, keeping my family in the church."
"Very well. I can suspend the requirements if I agree that the circumstances are beyond the scope of our regular counseling and certification. I believe this case qualifies."
"Oh, thank you Father!" Erina said, reaching for Grant's hand. She squeezed him with surprising strength, happiness radiating from her like the sunshine on a sandy beach. "The Father has given us permission!"
"I know," Grant said, smiling at her beautiful face, her features alight with hope and joy.
"Where's that oath, Father?" Grant asked, still smiling, reluctantly breaking his gaze away from Erina. "We have a lot of plans to make."
#
The wedding took place at two o'clock Wednesday afternoon in a small chapel. Mr. Abbott and Grant's mother were the witnesses, with Colin held in the arms of Mrs. Parker in the second row of pews.
Grant had called Dr. Cook and received permission to bring Colin to Houston with Mrs. Parker. He was going to stay the night with her at Mrs. Kirby's home. Erina knew that mean she and Grant would be alone in his apartment. The thought c
aused her to flush all over and tingle in the most unexpected places.
Erina couldn't believe all that had happened since last Friday when they'd told Mrs. Kirby and Mr. Abbot of the intended wedding. The appointment with Father Flannigan had gone better than she could have expected, far better than she'd dared to hope. And the look on Grant's face had made all her doubts vanish. He didn't appear to be a man who was being forced to marry.
After leaving the parish, Mrs. Kirby had taken her shopping to buy a wedding gown. Erina rubbed a hand over the beautiful ivory lace and seed pearls. The skirt ended in something called a handkerchief hem, with V's of lace falling between her knees and ankles. Fine ivory silk hose, held in place by satin garters, covered her legs, and on her feet were ivory satin shoes with small, curved heels.
Before the wedding, Mrs. Kirby had given her a family heirloom, a choker of pearls that had belonged to Grant's great-great-grandmother. When she'd put them around Erina's neck, she'd burst into tears, hugging the older woman. How could she explain that she'd seen those pearls on the throat of her Mrs. Kirby, a hundred years ago?
Now, as Erina stood beside Grant in the quiet little chapel, she felt her eyes again fill with tears. In a few minutes she would be a Mrs. Kirby, although she wasn't marrying the man she'd been infatuated with as a girl. She was a woman and in love with Grant, not some immature, dashing young man who took what he wanted without a thought for others. No, Grant had given up his freedom to save her and Colin. Could the luck of the Irish be with her more than it was today?
"With this ring, I thee wed," Grant said, watching her eyes as he slipped a heavy band on her finger. He smiled, and when she looked down, she almost gasped as the emerald and diamond ring sparkled even in the dimmed lights of the chapel. She'd never expected such an extravagant wedding band.
"Emeralds to remind you of Ireland," he whispered.
With shaking hands she slipped a plain gold band on Grant's finger, one that his mother had helped her select. Because Erina didn't know what to buy and had no money of her own, she'd opted for simplicity. Besides, his mother had said that Grant led an active life and a gold band could always be polished. Given his hobby of climbing cliffs, that had seemed a good idea.
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