“Kind of a heavy responsibility.”

“It’s an honor,” she said with a smile. “Were you not baptized ever, Grayson?”

“I have no idea. Probably not.” He moved his shoulders, then cocked a brow at her pensive frown. “What now? Worried I’ll burn in hell because nobody sprinkled water over my head?”

“No.” Uncomfortable, she looked away again. “And the water’s only a symbol, of cleansing away original sin.”

“How original is it?”

She looked back at him, shook her head. “You don’t want me explaining catechism and such, and I’m not trying to convert you. Still, I know Maggie and Rogan would like you at the service.”

“Sure, I’ll go. Be interesting. How’s the kid anyway?”

“She says Liam’s growing like a weed.” Brianna concentrated on what her hands were doing and tried not to let her heart ache too much. “I told her about Mr. Smythe-White—I mean Mr. Carstairs.”

“And?”

“She laughed till I thought she’d burst. She thought Rogan might take the matter a bit less lightly, but we both agreed it was so like Da to tumble into a mess like this. It’s a bit like having him back for a time. “Brie,’ he might say, “if you don’t risk something, you don’t win something.’ And I’m to tell you she was impressed with your cleverness in tracking Mr. Carstairs down, and would you like the job we’ve hired that detective for.”

“No luck on that?”

“Actually, there was something.” She sat back again, laid her hands on her thighs. “Someone, one of Amanda Dougherty’s cousins, I think, thought she might have gone north in New York, into the mountains. It seems she’d been there before and was fond of the area. The detective, he’s taking a trip there, to, oh, that place where Rip van Winkle fell asleep.”

“The Catskills?”

“Aye, that’s it. So, with luck, he’ll find something there.”

Gray picked up a garden stake himself, eyeing it down the length, wondering absently how successful a murder weapon it might be. “What’ll you do if you discover you’ve got a half brother or sister?”

“Well, I think I would write to Miss Dougherty first.” She’d already thought it through, carefully. “I don’t want to hurt anyone. But from the tone of her letters to Da, I think she’d be a woman who might be glad to know that she, and her child, are welcome.”

“And they would be,” he mused, setting the stake aside again. “This, what—twenty-six-, twenty-seven-year-old stranger would be welcome.”

“Of course.” She tilted her head, surprised he would question it. “He or she would have Da’s blood, wouldn’t they? As Maggie and I do. He wouldn’t want us to turn our back on family.”

“But he—” Gray broke off, shrugged.

“You’re thinking he did,” Brianna said mildly. “I don’t know if that’s the way of it. We’ll never know, I suppose, what he did when he learned of it. But turn his back, no, it wouldn’t have been in him. He kept her letters, and knowing him, I think he would have grieved for the child he would never be able to see.”

Her gaze wandered, followed the flitting path of a speckled butterfly. “He was a dreamer, Grayson, but he was first and always a family man. He gave up a great deal to keep this family whole. More than I’d ever guessed until I read those letters.”

“I’m not criticizing him.” He thought of the grave, and the flowers Brianna had planted over it. “I just hate to see you troubled.”

“I’ll be less troubled when we find out what we can.”

“And your mother, Brianna? How do you think she’s going to react if this all comes out?”

Her eyes cooled, and her chin took on a stubborn tilt. “I’ll deal with that when and if I have to. She’ll have to accept what is. For once in her life, she’ll have to accept it.”

“You’re still angry with her,” he observed. “About Rory.”

“Rory’s over and done. And has been.”

He took her hands before she could reach for her stakes. And waited patiently.

“All right, I’m angry. For what she did then, for the way she spoke to you, and maybe most of all for the way she made what I feel for you seem wicked. I’m not good at being angry. It makes my stomach hurt.”

“Then I hope you’re not going to be angry with me,” he said as he heard the sound of a car approaching.

“Why would I?”

Saying nothing, he rose, drawing her to her feet. Together they watched the car pull up, stop. Lottie leaned out with a hearty wave before she and Maeve alighted.

“I called Lottie,” Gray murmured, squeezing Brianna’s hand when it tensed in his. “Sort of invited them over for a visit.”

“I don’t want another argument with guests in the house.” Brianna’s voice had chilled. “You shouldn’t have done this, Grayson. I’d have gone to see her tomorrow and had words in her home instead of mine.”

“Brie, your garden’s a picture,” Lottie called out as they approached. “And what a lovely day you have for it.” In her motherly way she embraced Brianna and kissed her cheek. “Did you have a fine time in New York City?”

“I did, yes.”

“Living the high life,” Maeve said with a snort. “And leaving decency behind.”

“Oh, Maeve, leave be.” Lottie gave an impatient wave. “I want to hear about New York City.”

“Come in and have some tea then,” Brianna invited. “I’ve brought you back some souvenirs.”

“Oh, what a sweetheart you are. Souvenirs, Maeve, from America.” She beamed at Gray as they walked to the house. “And your movie, Grayson? Was it grand?”

“It was.” He tucked her hand through his arm, gave it a pat. “And after I had to compete with Tom Cruise for Brianna’s attention.”

“No! You don’t say?” Lottie’s voice squeaked and her eyes all but fell out in astonishment. “Did you hear that, Maeve? Brianna met Tom Cruise.”

“I don’t pay mind to movie actors,” Maeve grumbled, desperately impressed. “It’s all wild living and divorces with them.”