“Where’s Kellie?”

  Claire didn’t miss the note of panic in the child’s voice. “Tom, surely your errands can wait. I think Heather would like you to come with us. Isn’t that right, love?”

  The little girl nodded. Claire could have wept at the look of relief that crossed the small features.

  Tom looked confused but he didn’t argue.

  Heather slipped her hand inside her father’s and Claire fell into step beside them.

  “Why haven’t you ever come to see me?” asked Heather.

  “I wasn’t able to get away, even though I wanted to very much.”

  “Where do you live?”

  Claire glanced at Tom. “I live here now, in Banburren, with you and your da.”

  “Where did you live before?”

  Claire drew a deep breath. She willed Tom to look at her. Somehow, he felt her need. What shall I do? Her eyes asked the question.

  Tom squeezed his daughter’s hand. “Do you remember when Sean Dougherty’s father came home last year?”

  Heather nodded. “He was sent to prison for fighting the British.”

  “That’s right. He spent a long time away and then he came home again. The same thing happened to your mother. She fought the British and, because of that, they put her in prison. Now she’s home again. Do you understand, Heather?”

  She thought a minute. “I do,” she said at last.

  “We thought you should know the truth,” continued Tom, “because your friends may hear things from their parents. We wanted you to hear it from us.”

  Heather looked at her mother. “Will you stay here long?” she asked.

  Claire was nonplussed. This small, poised stranger shook her to the, core with the questions she asked. She swallowed and, like Tom, decided on the truth. “I came back to Banburren because you are here, Heather. Wherever I go, I won’t leave you again. I want to know you that. I’d like us to be friends. If I move away, I would love to have you visit me as much as you like. What do you think of that?”

  Again, something she’d said brought that look of painful relief to the child’s face. Heather reached out to hold her mother’s hand. “Sean Dougherty’s mum and da don’t live together. He lives with his mum.”

  “Oh.” At first Claire didn’t see the logic.

  Tom cut in quickly. “That’s because Sean has always lived with his mum. His dad came home only last year. It’s the same with you. Your mum and I won’t be living together but you’ll stay with me because you always have. You’ll visit her, of course, whenever you like, as she says, but you’ll stay with me.

  The firm deliberate tone of voice was like the lid of a pot clamped securely down. There was no room for deviation, disagreement or even suggestion. Claire would be allowed her daughter on a part-time basis and that was all. More to the point, Tom had delivered an irrefutable message: he and Claire were finished. They would not be making a home together. Claire wondered if she should believe him. Perhaps she should wait until his shock wore off before she pressed him for a definite answer. Meanwhile, Heather would be shared, unequally, but not unfairly considering the circumstances.

  It wasn’t what she’d hoped for, but it wasn’t the worst case either. Tom could have tried to keep her from Heather altogether. Not that he could have done so permanently, but she would have had to hire a solicitor to see her daughter at all and that would have taken time and money she didn’t have. No, she was satisfied. A part-time daughter was better than no daughter at all, and she knew Tom Whelan. If Heather was happy when she visited Claire, he would allow the child to visit as often as she pleased.

  Suddenly Claire was content, more so than she’d been in a long time. She didn’t want to go back to Tom’s house. She didn’t want to see Kellie, the woman who had taken her place. “Would you like to go out to dinner with me, Heather?” she asked impulsively. “I know it’s early yet, but you could give Da your book bag and we could go for a walk first.”

  Heather’s eyes widened. “May I, Da? May I go out to dinner with Mum?”

  Tom’s steps slowed. Claire could see his reluctance but she wasn’t backing down. He’d promised her time alone. Heather was agreeable.

  “All right,” Tom said. “Remember that you have school tomorrow and homework tonight.”

  She clapped her hands. Her eyes shone. The promise of a treat was stronger than her natural reticence at being left with a stranger.

  They waited until Tom turned the corner before walking back in the direction they’d come from.

  “Where would you like to go?” the child ask amiably.

  “The beach,” Claire said promptly. “For seven years I never once walked on sand. I’d like to do that first.”

  Heather laughed. “We should have brought Lexi. She loves the beach.”

  “Next time,” Claire promised.

  “Are you really going to stay here?”

  Claire wanted to promise her the world but she was done with fabrication. “I don’t know, Heather. That’s up to your da.”

  Heather considered her answer thoughtfully.

  “What will you do if Da says no?”

  “I’d like to go on to university. I never knew that I was smart until I was sent to Maidenstone. I took classes there. No one ever told me I could earn a degree and do something important. I’d like to try.”

  “Aunt Mary went to university.”

  “Aye.” Claire nodded. “Mary Catherine always was a bright one. She went to Galway.”

  “I’ve been there,” said Heather. “Da goes to play the pipes sometimes and I go with him.”

  “It’s a lovely city, isn’t it?”

  “It’s a huge city.” The little girl extended her arms. “Much bigger than Banburren. Won’t you be lost in such a city?”

  “Perhaps, at first. But after a while it will be just as familiar as here. Would you visit me there?”

  “Can Da come, too?”

  “If he wants to.”

  Killean’s Beach was windswept with wild grass struggling through the dunes. It was a beach too cold for swimming and too windy for bathing, a walking and thinking beach. Claire had always loved it because it was solitary. Many a decision she had made walking the shores of this beach. Now she was here with her daughter. Only a few days ago she would never have believed it was possible.

  Heather stepped carefully to avoid sand in her shoes.

  Claire sat down on the sand and began to remove her shoes and socks. Heather watched her for a minute and then did the same. Hand in hand they approached the crashing surf. Standing just at the edge of the encroaching tide, they waited for the icy lave of ocean water to cover their toes.

  Heather couldn’t stand still. Dancing on the balls of her feet, she ran backward and then forward and backward again.

  Claire watched her, laughing. When the rise and fall of the waves no longer held their interest, they found an abandoned foam cup and began heaping wet sand into a pile. Claire dug a tunnel through the mound and around it. “Wait for a moment and then watch,” she told her daughter.

  Within minutes, seawater rushed through the dug- out and around the moat. Heather giggled, delighted. She found twigs and bits of shells to decorate their creation.

  Claire sat back on her heels, heedless of the cold wind and damp sand. Heather’s cheeks were flushed with color and her eyes shone.

  She looked at her mother and laughed out loud. Then her lips quivered. “I’m cold,” she said.

  Claire brushed off her feet, tied her shoes and stood. “Let’s find somewhere to eat. What would you like?”

  “Spaghetti and chips,” the child said, without thinking. “It’s my favorite.”

  “Spaghetti and chips, it is,” said Claire as she helped Heather with her socks and shoes. “Where shall we go for good spaghetti?”

  Heather held out her hand. “I’ll show you.”

  Together they walked down the darkening streets into town. Heather pointed out a cozy restaurant with checked cloths and candles on the tables. Claire ordered salad and wine for herself, chips and pasta for Heather. Then she looked around. It was crowded for a weeknight, nearly every table filled and a large group took up the center of the room. She recognized several of the women from her school days. One of them glanced in her direction. Claire smiled at her but the woman looked away, commenting to the man beside her. He waited a decent interval and then turned around to look. This time Claire didn’t smile.

  Self-conscious, she sipped her wine and listened to Heather chatter about her friends and school. They’re only people, she reminded herself. Don’t let them bother you. This is enough: freedom, your child, all of life ahead. The self-talk helped. She’d learned it in prison. Thinking positive thoughts was a survival technique. It turned one’s mind in the right direction. Claire knew it wouldn’t be easy making her way in Banburren. She’d come for Heather, to know her daughter, and to see if there was the possibility of a life with Tom. The last was still up in the air.

  Tom was angry with her, but his anger would fade in time. She would give him a chance to think about what he truly wanted. If he wanted her back, she would make a go of it. She owed him. She’d wronged him.

  With a sense of relief, she watched Heather eat her ice cream. Finally, after seven years, she had a plan. Tom and Heather came first. There was something to be said for keeping a family together, for belonging to something. She was tired of having no one care whether or not she came home at night. But if that wasn’t to be, then she would make a new life for herself with people who hadn’t known the old Claire Whelan.

  Eighteen

  Tom released Lexi from her leash, pulled the ball from his jacket pocket, and threw it in a wide arc across the field. Immediately the dog streaked after it, the white and gold of her coat blurring into the long green grass. Like a homing pigeon, she bounded toward her prize, picked it up in her mouth and strutted proudly back to her master, dropping it at his feet.

  He rubbed her head. “Good girl. You’re a grand lass, Lexi. Shall we try it again?”

  The dog whimpered. Tom picked up the ball and threw it, watching as the setter raced across the grass, sniffed it out and brought it back to him. Lexi was a champion, her limbs strong and healthy, her coat gleaming and her teeth in remarkable shape for a nine-year-old dog. In the beginning she had been Claire’s pet and protector, never leaving her side, emitting a menacing growl whenever anyone questionable came too near. Then Claire was gone. For a long time Tom had worked to win the loyal animal over. It wasn’t until Heather’s second birthday, nearly three years after Claire had left, that Lexi had capitulated. Tom still remembered the night Lexi nudged the door to the study open and stretched out at his feet. He’d felt triumphant that day, as if something of much greater importance had occurred than the acceptance of a four-legged animal. For Tom it was a sign that life would go on, that he would find contentment with his child and his dog, no matter that his wife would never return. Now that Claire was back Tom took a good deal of pleasure in knowing that Lexi still preferred him

  Not that the dog mattered to Claire. He had no clear idea of what did matter to her. Her sudden reappearance in his life had unsettled him, angered him. It was damn awkward, Kellie and Claire together in the same house. Claire was still his wife and yet he felt disloyal to Kellie. It was as if the last few weeks with Kellie had never happened. They’d fallen back into habits begun when she’d first come to Banburren. He knew they needed to talk but he was afraid they would come together and speak of inconsequential things until finally their time was over and they would leave each other with nothing resolved, more frustrated than ever. His mother was right. He should have ended his marriage long ago. But he hadn’t and he was paying a price. The trouble was he had no assurances for Kellie. He didn’t know how long Claire would be staying and there was Heather to think of. She had attached herself to her mother and Tom couldn’t refuse Claire’s reasonable request to know her daughter.

  Meanwhile Kellie was silent, completely uncommunicative no matter how he tried to draw her out. She attended to the business of the bed-and- breakfast—cooking, washing linens, booking guests, but there was no joy in her step, no smile on her lips. Claire behaved as if the entire charade was completely normal while Heather was around. Later she disappeared into the sitting room and fell asleep on the floor in front of the telly after Heather had gone to bed. Tom spent as much time as possible away from home on ridiculous errands. The only one unaffected was Heather and she seemed quite comfortable with the new situation. Tom marveled at the resiliency of children, both grateful for and envious of their ability to adjust. Why did Claire have to come home and spoil everything? The thought came to him unbidden. Immediately he was ashamed. Where else would she go?

  He couldn’t come up with a clear solution. Everything he thought of came with obvious difficulties. He needed time to sort it out.

  Lexi looked up at him with soulful eyes. Tom ruffled the hair on her head. Lexi was a constant, one of the few he could count on right now.

  The two women sat across from each other at the kitchen table. Claire drummed her fingers on the wood. This whole situation with Kellie was bloody awkward. She wanted nothing to do with the woman. She fumbled in her pocket. Where had she left her cigarettes? “What is it that you need to tell me?” she asked, annoyed.

  “I want you to understand why I’m here in Banburren.”

  “Go on,” Claire said, interested despite her resentment of the woman.

  “My brother Connor and his son were murdered,” Kellie began. “Connor was an Intelligence Agent. He worked for Scotland Yard. No one would tell me why someone wanted my brother dead.” Kellie’s voice shook. She cleared her throat. “They were simply going to sweep his murder under the carpet. That wasn’t acceptable to me. I found an invoice in Connor’s coat pocket with Tom’s name on it. I had nothing else to work with so I took a chance and came here. I found out that Dennis McGarrety was involved. I believe he ordered the murders.”

  She leaned forward. “My brother and my nephew, Danny, were my whole life. Surely you can understand that. I must find out why they were targeted. Tom doesn’t remember a specific incident in his past that would lead Connor to him. Do you?”

  Claire’s expression was flat, emotionless. “Tell me exactly what Dennis McGarrety said to you.”

  Kellie repeated her conversation with the brigade leader.

  “He specifically told you that Tom and Heather were in danger and that your brother was killed?”

  “Yes.”

  Claire frowned. The expressions that flitted across her face revealed her quick intelligence. “Dennis McGarrety may have gotten it wrong,” she said slowly. “He’s no longer in the mainstream. Murder isn’t popular with the rank and file. Nationalists are voting. They need patience, not violence.”

  Kellie nodded. It was odd, this communing with Claire. The woman was intelligent and articulate and marvelously patient with Heather. Kellie was both attracted to and repelled by her. In different circumstances, she might have been willing to strike up a friendship. Obviously, that was out of the question. One didn’t befriend a woman whose husband she’d slept with. “If I could bring an end to this—” She stopped. What would she do? Leave Banburren? Leave Tom to Claire? Every instinct screamed out against it.

  Claire pulled out a cigarette, struck a match and drew deeply. Smoke curled around her head. “Tom wasn’t involved. I hope you know that. He hasn’t the stomach for murder. He never did.”

  Kellie nodded, hating her for her intimate knowledge of her husband. “I know.”

  “Do you need specifics or will you be satisfied with general information?”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “Do you need a name?”

  “No,” Kellie said shortly. “I already know the who. I want to know why.”

  Claire’s eyes, wide and gray and very like her own, met hers. “I’d like to strike a bargain.”

  “What kind of bargain?”

  “Promise me you’ll leave if I give you the why.”

  Kellie stirred her cooling tea. “I thought you didn’t want Tom. Isn’t that the way it was before you were sent away?”

  Claire didn’t answer immediately, but when she did, it wasn’t the answer Kellie expected. “Seven years is long enough to shift priorities. What I want is this life, the normalcy of it. I want my child. Tom is a good man. I can make him happy.”

  Something was missing. Kellie pressed her. “Will you be happy?”

  Claire looked at her, brows lifted in astonishment mixed with a good portion of contempt. “How dare you ask me such a question, you with your job and your education, and a whole world to go back to? I don’t require happiness, Kellie Delaney. We aren’t put here to be happy. What I have will be enough.”

  “What if Tom doesn’t see it that way?”

  “I have a feeling he may be suffering from a conflict of interests.”

  “What conflict?”

  “My husband believes he’s in love with you,” Claire said bluntly.

  Kellie flushed but she refused to look away.

  Claire hesitated. “I know this is awkward, but it isn’t unusual. You needn’t be embarrassed. It’s only natural after the way the two of you have been living. Tom isn’t a womanizer. He would never go looking for anyone else. You were thrown at him, so to speak. I don’t blame either of you.”

  There was so much more to say, but Kellie’s mouth refused to work.

  “I know what you’re thinking,” Claire continued. “But don’t make more of it than there really is. You’re convenient and there’s our obvious resemblance.” She leaned forward. “But don’t make the mistake of thinking it’s enough. You told me why you came here. Your relationship began with a lie. You have no shared history, no memories, no family. Tom and I were children together. I don’t want to hurt you, Kellie. There’s no reason for it. But I don’t want you to harbor delusions, either. Tom, Heather and I will eventually work this out.”

  Kellie’s words were soft, but deliberate, as if she’d thought about the question for a long time. “Is that what you want, to work it out? Have you changed that much?”