James just turned two, and soon, acailínwill bless our family.
A daughter!
I dig through the rest of the envelope for a follow-up. A photo of this daughter. Nothing.
“Is Ma awake yet?” I ask Connor, who’s looking through his phone.
“Probably getting Da his morning tea. What are you planning to do with that?”
“In this very old letter, Rian tells Da he had a sonbutthat he and his wife were also expecting a daughter.”
“Thatwouldmake her old enough to marry,” Connor says cautiously. “Are you seriously looking to hack into that old wound?”
“It’s been over twenty years. And Ma knew the whole time.”
“That doesn’t mean she wants Da’s bastard—”
“Hey,” I snap at Griffin, a protective zing for Rian hitting me out of nowhere.
I should feel differently. He wrote to our father but never once reached out to any of us. He’s got four brothers and two sisters here in America, for fuck’s sake. My breath catches.Onesister. Does he even know that Norah died?
I don’t see any more letters, but I can’t get caught up in the past. “Rian is a Quinlan. His mother gave him Da’s name.Ourname. And if he’s got a daughter now, she’s a Quinlan, too. That makes her an eligible match from our bloodline for Kieran.”
“You’re assuming she’s not already married,” Griff adds.
The past haunts me as I fear I’ve only got one more shot at this.
With the Christmas letter and photo in my hand, I weave through the upper floor’s maze of hallways to find my parents. In their bedroom, Ma struggles to dress my father in bed.
“Ma, why didn’t you call me? You shouldn’t be managing all his weight yourself.”
“I can manage your father just fine.”
I have to get a nurse in here. But I keep that to myself, knowing the fight it will cause. Instead, I bully my way into the room, finish getting my da dressed, and into the recliner next to the bed. He’s on a lot of antidepressants. It looks like Ma’s already given him his morning doses, and I’m too late to ask questions.
When Da turns toward the window to greet the morning birds in the feeder we hung from the overhang, I hold up the letter. “I found this in Da’s journals. It’s from Rian.”
Ma blinks at the mention of her husband’s love child. She takes the letter in her hand and fingers the Christmas photograph. “Your father told me about writing to Rian, much of which I wasn’t privy to.” Especially when my sister Norah got sick, I bet. “Why are you asking about him?” Ma steers me out of the bedroom and into the dark-wood paneled hallway lit with brushed-gold sconces on jacquard wallpaper.
I hesitate to tell her about the Russian war brewing. It could change the face of our peaceful neighborhood. Ma still walks to the grocery store and to the fruit stands every day. Treats herself to a pastry and sits outside the bakery many mornings reading a newspaper.
Bullets may start flying by her head.
“We promised Siobhan to Kieran after Norah died because we knew the political advantages of being aligned with him as he came to power. He also needs our cooperation on the council if he wants those permits to renovate the north docks before the Italians bribe someone else for the rights. He needs to marry a Quinlan.”
Ma’s eyes flutter.
“That old Christmas letter from Rian mentions a daughter blessing their family soon.”
“You’re not seriously considering…”
“Aye. I don’t want to get into specifics, but we need that alliance with Kieran. If it means opening up this can of worms, well, get out your fishing pole.”
Ma wrinkles her nose. “I wanted to invite them here, but your da wouldn’t let me. I didn’t see the point in hiding the truth any longer. Rian was older. You were all older and could handle the truth.” Her bitter tone is the first hint that the distance between Da and his son bothers her.
I cup her shoulder, then gently take the letter and photograph back from her. “If Rian has a daughter who is single, I’m going to Waterford to broker a marriage.” I glance into the bedroom and see my father so out of it. Maybe it’s for the best that his brain is more ethereal these days, and he can’t fight me on this.
“You do what you think is best. You always do.” Ma ambles back to her bedroom to spend the morning with Da. My parents are in their early sixties and, despite my father’s condition, Ma still sleeps next to him every night. As far as I can see, they are still in love.