Page 82 of The Way Back Home
Donal’s mouth curved faintly, not in amusement, but in memory. “She had a gift with animals,” he said softly. “Especially horses. She preferred chrysanthemumsto roses. She couldn’t eat scrambled eggs without drenching them in ketchup. And she had a voice like an angel. I could listen to her for hours.”
Teagan didn’t remember much about her mother, but she did remember a hauntingly beautiful voice singing her back to sleep after a nightmare. The memory landed low in her chest.
“What color was the sweater she wore the last time you saw her?”
He answered without hesitation, “Sea green, with a loose stitch at the cuff that she kept meaning to mend.”
Teagan had no way of knowing if that was true, but he spoke with absolute conviction.
She asked more—some questions genuine, some meant to trip him up. He answered them with a quiet steadiness, wrapped in a grief so tangible that it squeezed her chest.
“You loved her.”
“Aye,” he murmured. “Maggie was the love of my life. Not a day goes by that I don’t think of her.”
Donal’s gaze slid over Teagan’s shoulder toward the door, and she knew without looking that Noah was on the other side.
“Your young man grows impatient.”
“Noah is not mine.”
Donal smiled, but it was a sad smile. “Your mother said the same of me once, and I was fool enough to let her believe it. I hope Noah is a smarter man.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
NOAH
The shadows across the snow-covered lawn were growing longer by the moment. The solstice had come and gone, but it would be months before they ate dinner in the daylight again.
Noah’s boots pounded on the sturdy porch boards. His father and Alex stood off to the side, speaking quietly.
Alex saw Noah first and held out a thermos. “Irish coffee. Figured you’d be stopping by. How’s Teagan holding up?”
Noah accepted the thermos and opened the cap, breathing in the scented steam, holding notes of strong, hot coffee and good whiskey. “She’s resting. Bear’s with her.”
Martin chuckled. “That dog is smitten with her.”
“He’s not the only one,” Alex said, shooting a glance at Noah.
Noah ignored him. “Where’s Donal?”
“Went back to his hotel,” Alex said.
That was probably for the best. Noah had been avoiding the guy. He didn’t like the fact that Donal had suddenly shown up out of the blue after nearly three decades of not being around. Sure, Donal had claimed he hadn’t known Teagan’s mother was pregnant when he left, but if he cared enough about the woman to give her a family heirloom, why had he left at all?
“Do you believe he is who he says he is?” Noah asked quietly, taking a slow drink to mask the edge in his voice.
Alex shrugged, practical as always. “I can tell you, the Callaghans don’t make mistakes. Not about family. If they say he’s her father, he’s her father.”
“What about a DNA test?”
Martin nodded. “Done the minute he stepped off the plane. But it wasn’t necessary. You saw him when he first laid eyes on her, Noah. He knew, the same way I knew which newborn was mine every time I stepped into the hospital nursery.”
Noah didn’t argue, but suspicion simmered anyway. Maybe it wasn’t the truth he doubted—but the repercussions. Now that Donal knew about Teagan, would he want to get to know her? Build a relationship with her?
Want to take her back to Ireland with him?
“How long is he staying?”
