"So I gathered. Didn't Murphy want to come in for coffee?"
"No, he-" She broke off, blew out a breath. "I guess we weren't very discreet."
"You could say I'm not surprised to see you coming in now when I saw the way you looked when you walked out with him last night." Since the coffee was brewing, Brianna turned around. "You look happy."
"Do I?" She laughed, then gave into impulse and rushed over to throw her arms around Brianna. "I must be. I must be idiotically happy. I just spent the night with a man in a horse pasture. Me. In a horse pasture. It's incredible."
"I'm happy for you." Brianna held tight, moved by this first free burst of affection of sister for sister. "For both of you. He's a special man, Murphy. I've hoped for a long time he'd find someone as special."
Shannon clung for another minute. "Brianna, it isn't quite like that. I care for him. I care for him very much. I couldn't have been with him if I didn't."
"I know. I understand that very well."
"But I'm not like you." Shannon stepped back, hoping to explain to Brianna what she needed to explain to herself. "I'm not like you or Maggie. I'm not looking to settle down here, get married, and raise a family. I have other ambitions."
The trouble had already come into Brianna's eyes before she lowered them. "He's very much in love with you."
"I know. And I'm not sure that I'm not in love with him." She turned away, thinking to keep her balance in movement. "But love isn't always enough to build a life on. You and I should understand that, because of our parents. I've tried to explain this to Murphy, and can only hope I have. Because the last thing I want to do is hurt him."
"And you don't think you'll hurt yourself by turning away from your heart?"
"I have my head to think about, too."
Brianna reached into a cupboard for cups and saucers. "That's true. It's all of you that has to decide what's right. And it's hard when one part of you tugs away from the other."
"You do understand." Grateful, Shannon laid a hand on her shoulder. "You really do."
"Of course. For Murphy it's easy. He has no questions about his thoughts or feelings or needs. They're all you. For you it's not so simple. So you have to take your happiness as it comes, and not question every step of it."
"That's what I'm trying to do. Not just with Murphy. I'm happy, Brianna," she said softly, "with you."
"It means more than I can say to hear you say that." With the love easing gently through her, Brianna turned and smiled. "To know you could say it. It's a fine morning."
"It's a great morning." Shannon caught Brianna's hands and squeezed. "The best morning. I'm going to go change."
"Take your coffee with you." Blinking at tears, Brianna poured a cup. "I'll fix you breakfast before church."
"No. I'll take the coffee," Shannon said and did so. "And I'll go change. Then I'll come back and help you fix breakfast."
"But-"
"I'm not a guest here anymore."
This time Brianna's eyes filled before she could stop them. "No, you're not. Well, be smart about it then," she ordered and turned briskly to pour herself tea. "Those that are will be rising soon."
Gray waited until Shannon had left the kitchen before he stepped in himself. He crossed over and gathered his quietly weeping wife into his arms.
"Go ahead, honey," he murmured and patted her back. "Have a good one. The two of you nearly had me bawling myself."
"Grayson." Rocked against him she sobbed happily into his shoulder. "She's my sister."
"That's right." He kissed the top of her head. "She's your sister."
Chapter Seventeen
Shannon hadn't attended Sunday Mass often in New York. Her parents had been quietly devout Catholics, and she'd attended Catholic schools, gone through all the rites and rituals. She considered herself a Catholic, a modern, female Catholic who was dissatisfied with many of the doctrines and laws that came through the Vatican.
Sunday Mass was simply a habit she'd slipped out of once she'd established her life and pattern in New York.
But to the people in her small spot in County Clare, Sunday Mass wasn't a habit. It was fundamental.
She had to admit, she enjoyed the small church, the smell of flickering votive candles and polished pews that brought back sensory memories from her youth. The statues of Mary and Joseph, the plaques that illustrated the Stations of the Cross, the embroidered altar cloth were all symbols that were found across the world.
The little village church boasted small stained-glass windows through which softly colored light streamed. The pews were scarred with age, the kneelers worn, and the old floor creaked at each genuflection.
However simple the setting, the rite itself had a stirring pomp and grandeur here, as it would in Saint Patrick's magnificent cathedral on Fifth Avenue. She felt solid and steady sitting beside Brianna, listening to the lyrical tone of the priest, the murmured responses from the congregation, the occasional cry or whimper of a child.
Murphy's family was across the narrow aisle, taking up two pews. And hers-for she was beginning to think of them as her family-ranged together in one.
When they stood for the final blessing, Liam clambered over the pew and held up his arms to her. She hoisted him onto her hip, grinning when he pursed his lips.
"Pretty," he said in a stage whisper when she'd obliged him with a kiss. His pudgy fingers went to the citrine and amethyst stones she wore at her ears. "Mine."
"Nope. Mine." She carried him out with her as the congregation emptied the pews and spilled out into the late morning sunshine.
"Pretty," he said again, so hopefully, that she rooted through her purse to see if she could find something to please him.
"She is that, lad." Murphy snatched Liam away, tossing him high to make him laugh. "Pretty as a May morning."
Shannon felt a little thrill ripple up her spine. Only hours before they'd been naked, sweaty, and locked together. Now they were trimmed out for church and surrounded by people. It didn't stop fresh need from curling in her gut.
Pulling a small mirror out of her bag, she aimed it at Liam. "There's pretty."
Delighted, Liam clutched at it and began to make faces at himself.
"Look, Ma." Nearby Kate cradled her youngest on her shoulder. "They look like a little family together there. Did you ever think Murphy would set his sights on a Yank? And such a fancy one?"