Rogan?"
"Michigan. He has a lead on her, and the man she married." He glanced at his wife. "And the child."
"She had a daughter, Brie," Maggie murmured, cuddling her own baby. "He located the birth certificate. Amanda named her Shannon."
"For the river," Brianna whispered and felt tears rise up in her throat. "We have a sister, Maggie."
"We have. We may find her soon, for better or worse."
"I hope so. Oh, I'm glad you came to tell me." It helped a little, took some of the sting out of her heart. "It'll be good to think of it."
"It may just be thinking for a while," Rogan warned. "The lead he's following is twenty-five years old."
"Then we'll be patient," Brianna said simply.
Far from certain of her own feelings, Maggie shifted the baby, and the topic. "I'd like to show the piece I've finished to Gray, see if he recognizes the inspiration. Where is he? Working?"
"He's gone." Brianna sent the needle neatly through a buttonhole.
"Gone where? To the pub?"
"No, to Dublin, I think, or wherever the road takes him."
"You mean he's gone? Left?" She rose then, making the baby chortle with glee at the sudden movement.
"Yes, just an hour ago."
"And you sit here sewing?"
"What should I be doing? Flogging myself?"
"Flogging him's more like. Why, that Yank bastard. To think I'd grown fond of him."
"Maggie." Rogan laid a warning hand on her arm. "Are you all right, Brianna?"
"I'm fine, thank you, Rogan. Don't take on so, Maggie. He's doing what's right for him."
"To hell with what's right for him. What about you? Take the baby, will you?" she said impatiently to Rogan, then, arms free, went to kneel in front of her sister. "I know how you feel about him, Brie, and I can't understand how he could leave this way. What did he say when you asked him to stay."
"I didn't ask him to stay."
"You didn't-Why the devil not?"
"Because it would have made us both unhappy." She jabbed the needle, swore lightly at the prick on her thumb. "And I have my pride."
"A fat lot of good that does you. You probably offered to fix him sandwiches for the trip."
"I did."
"Oh." Disgusted, Maggie rose, turned around the room. "There's no reasoning with you. Never has been."
"I'm sure you're making Brianna feel much better by having a tantrum," Rogan said dryly.
"I was just-" But catching his eye, Maggie bit her tongue. "You're right, of course. I'm sorry, Brie. If you like I can stay awhile, keep you company. Or I'll pack up some things for the baby, and we'll both stay the night."
"You both belong at home. I'll be fine, Maggie, on my own. I always am."
Gray was nearly to Dublin and the scene kept working on his mind. The ending of the book, the damn ending just wouldn't settle. That's why he was so edgy.
He should have mailed the manuscript off to Arlene and forgotten it. That last scene wouldn't be digging at him now if he had. He could already be toying with the next story.
But he couldn't think of another when he wasn't able to let go of the last.
McGee had driven away because he'd finished what he'd come to Ireland to do. He was going to pick up his life again, his work. He had to move on because... because he had to, Gray thought irritably.
And Tullia had stayed because her life was in the cottage, in the land around it, the people. She was happy there the way she never would be anywhere else. Brianna-Tullia, he corrected, would wither without her roots.
The ending made sense. It was perfectly plausible, fit both character and mood.
So why was it nagging at him like a bad tooth?
She hadn't asked him to stay, he thought. Hadn't shed a tear. When he realized his mind had once again shifted from Tullia to Brianna, he swore and pressed harder on the accelerator.
That's the way it was supposed to be, he reminded himself. Brianna was a sensible, levelheaded woman. It was one of the things he admired about her.
If she'd loved him so damn much, the least she could have done was said she'd miss him.
He didn't want her to miss him. He didn't want a light burning in the window, or her darning his socks or ironing his shirts. And most of all, he didn't want her preying on his mind.
He was footloose and free, as he'd always been. As he needed to be. He had places to go, a pin to stick in a map. A little vacation somewhere before the tour, and then new horizons to explore.
That was his life. He tapped his fingers impatiently on the steering wheel. He liked his life. And he was picking it up again, just like McGee.
Just like McGee, he thought with a scowl.
The lights of Dublin glowed in welcome. It relaxed him to see them, to know he'd come where he'd intended to go. He didn't mind the traffic. Of course he didn't. Or the noise. He'd just spent too long away from cities.
What he needed was to find a hotel, check in. All he wanted was a chance to stretch his legs after the long drive, to buy himself a drink or two.