Kellie poured her second cup of tea without milk when Tom walked through the door. He held up the carton. “Sorry I was so long in coming back. I ran into Maggie at the store.”

  “Claire left,” said Kellie tonelessly. “You just missed her.”

  “I never miss Claire,” replied Tom. He opened the carton and poured milk into her teacup. “Did she tell you she’s leaving Banburren?”

  “Yes.”

  Tom nodded. “It’s for the best. She should have done so years ago. Staying here, marrying me, that was her mistake.”

  Mean-spirited as it was, Kellie took comfort in hearing him criticize Claire. “It sounds as if her entire life has been a mistake,” she prompted.

  “So far,” Tom agreed, “but she’s thirty-three years old. Plenty of time to rectify it, to earn her degree, do whatever she wants with it, even marry again and have more children.”

  “Where does that leave Heather?”

  “With me, thank God.” He pulled her out of her chair and held on to her hands. “And with you, if you’re willing.”

  “I’m willing.”

  “You’re sure?” His eyes, blue and serious, were very close. “No more doubts about my loyalties?”

  “Not a one.”

  “Tell me you love me.”

  She kissed one corner of his mouth and then the other. “I love you.”

  “How much?”

  “Desperately.”

  “Completely?”

  “Unreservedly.”

  Kellie closed her eyes and met his kiss. Life, she thought, had a way of working out after all.

  Susan Whelan, not accustomed to knocking on the door of her son’s home, walked into the kitchen and came upon an intimate scene she would rather not have observed. She turned around abruptly. “I’m so sorry,” she gasped. “I didn’t know—I wasn’t—”

  “It’s all right, Mam,” Tom assured her, unembarrassed. “Kellie said yes. We’re getting married.”

  “Thank God,” said his mother, her hand still over her eyes. “I think I’ll be leaving now.”

  “That would be best,” agreed her son, “and lock the door behind you.”

 

 

  Jeanette Baker, The Delaney Woman

 

 

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