“Being used to one way of life doesn’t mean you can’t change gears, if the reward’s big enough.” He glanced toward the kitchen window. “It depends on what you want, and how much you want it.”

“That’s what I haven’t decided. I’m floundering, Gray. I’m not used to that. I’ve always known what step to take next, and was confident, maybe overconfident, about what I was made of.”

Thoughtful, she brushed her fingers over the bright purple face of a pansy. “Maybe it was because it was only my parents and me—no other family—that I always felt able to stand on my own, do exactly what I wanted. I never made really close attachments as a kid because we moved around so much. It made me easy with strangers, and comfortable in new places and situations, but I never felt any real connection with anyone but my parents. By the time we settled in Columbus, I’d set my goals and focused on reaching them step by careful step. Now, within a year, I’ve lost my parents, learned that my life wasn’t what I thought it was. Suddenly I’m swimming in family I never knew I had. I don’t know how I feel about them, or myself.”

She looked up again, managed a small smile. “Wow. That was a lot, wasn’t it?”

“It usually helps to sound the feelings out.” Gently he tugged on her hair. “Seems to me if someone’s good at going step by step, she’d be able to shift and keep doing just that in another direction. You only have to be alone when you want to be alone. It took me a long time to learn that.” He kissed her, made her smile. “Shannon, me darling, relax and enjoy the ride.”

Chapter
Thirteen

In the morning she chose to paint in the garden, putting the final touches on the watercolor of Brianna. From the house came the buzz of activity as a family from County Mayo gathered themselves up to leave the inn for the next leg of their trip south.

She could smell the hot-cross buns Brianna had made for breakfast and the roses that had burst into bloom in their climb up the trellace.

Nibbling on her knuckle, Shannon stepped back to examine the completed canvas.

“Well, that’s lovely.” With Liam in tow, Maggie stepped across the lawn behind her. “Of course, she makes an easy subject, does Brianna.” She bent down and kissed Liam on the nose. “Your aunt Brie has your buns, darling. Go get them.”

When he scrambled off, slamming the kitchen door behind him, Maggie frowned over the painting. “Rogan’s right then,” she decided. “It’s rare that he’s not, which is a trial to me. He took your painting of the stones into the gallery before I had a chance to see.”

“And you wanted to check it out for yourself.”

“Your sketch of Liam was more than good,” Maggie conceded. “But one charcoal isn’t enough to judge. I can tell you now he’ll want this, and he’ll badger you until you agree.”