Dear Shannon,

I’m so terribly sorry about your mother’s death. You’ll be grieving still, and I doubt if any words I have will ease your heart. From the letters she wrote to my father, I know she was a loving and special woman, and I’m sorry I never had the chance to meet her, and tell her for myself.

You’ve met with Rogan’s man, Mr. Hobbs. From his report I understand that you were aware of the relationship between your mother and my father. I think this might cause you some hurt, and I’m sorry for it. I also think you may not appreciate hearing from me. But I had to write to you, at least once.

Your father, your mother’s husband, surely loved you very much. I don’t wish to interfere with those emotions or those memories, which I’m sure are precious to you. I wish only to offer you a chance to know this other part of your family, and your heritage. My father was not a simple man, but he was a good one, and never did he forget your mother. I found her letters to him long after his death, still wrapped in the ribbon he’d tied around them.

I’d like to share him with you, or if that isn’t what you want, to offer you a chance to see the Ireland where you were conceived. If you could find it in your heart, I would very much like you to come and stay with me and mine awhile. If nothing else, the countryside here is a good place for easing grief.

You owe me nothing, Shannon. And perhaps you think I owe you nothing as well. But if you loved your mother, as I did my father, you know we owe them. Perhaps by becoming friends, if not sisters, we’ll have given them back something of what they gave up for us.

The invitation is open. If ever you wish to come, you’ll be welcome.

Yours truly,
Brianna

Shannon read it twice. Then, when she had tossed it aside, picked it up and read it again. Was the woman really so simple, so unselfish, so willing to open heart and home?

She didn’t want Brianna’s heart, or her home, Shannon told herself.

And yet. And yet . . . Was she going to deny even to herself that she’d been considering just this? A trip to Ireland. A look into the past. She toyed with the idea of going over without contacting any of the Concannons.

Because she was afraid? she wondered. Yes, maybe, because she was afraid. But also because she didn’t want any pressure, any questions, any demands.

The woman who had written the letter had promised none of those. And had offered a great deal more.

Maybe I’ll take her up on it, Shannon thought.

And maybe I won’t.

Chapter
Four

“I don’t know why you’re fussing so much,” Maggie complained. “You’d think you were preparing for royalty.”