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“It’s time.”
Logan opened his front door and a tall, slim, woman stood there. Draped from head to toe in fur, a few blond wisps of hair sticking out from her hat, she looked frozen. She removed her sunglasses and Shane stepped back shocked.
Her eyes were shadowed. Her pallor grey. Lips no longer red, but pale pink pressed tight as she gazed up at the two men, and when she spoke her voice was raspy, nothing like the musical, easiness of years ago.
“Logan, I’m sorry to bother you. I tried the carriage house but,” her voice trailed off as she took a moment and glanced at Shane. “You weren’t there so I thought I would take a chance…”
“Hello Celia.” It had been years since Shane had laid eyes on his father’s wife. He had a hard time referring to her as step-mother, mainly because the woman was barely ten years older than him. Though, from the looks of her, time hadn’t been exactly kind. She
looked like hell.
With his father’s money he thought for sure she’d be one of those women whose best friend was a plastic surgeon.
“I need to talk to you, Shane.” She sounded almost desperate and for the first time a tingling of something uncomfortable hit him in the gut—a warning that things weren’t right.
He was all about facing his past, but there were still some things that needed time and space. His father James was one of them. His wife Celia was another. And their daughter, the sister he hadn’t seen in over five years was definitely another.
Shane could deal with the anger, the mistrust and pain. It was the guilt he wasn’t so sure about. And when he thought of little Eden, guilt was the one emotion he felt. No, that was wrong. There was also shame.
“Shane?” she said hopefully.
Damn, he wasn’t keen on having a chat with Celia Gallagher, but from the looks of her she wasn’t going anywhere until he did. Shane grabbed his jacket from the coat rack near the door and shrugged into it.
“This way,” he said tersely, before nodding goodbye to Logan.
Outside the sun was warm on his face. The temperature was hovering around the freezing mark and the white stuff at his feet was heavy, packing snow. It was a perfect day really, one that should find most local kids out playing in the snow.
It’s what he used to do. How many hours had passed with him, Logan, and a few other boys building snow forts and planning wars that went well into the night? His father would end up outside with them, in the middle of fierce battle, giving as good as he got. And his mother…she always called them in for hot chocolate.
Funny. He hadn’t thought of thought of that in years.
Tense, Shane led Celia to the carriage house and inside his workroom. With the large harvest table gone, there was plenty of open space and the two of them stood there, facing each other warily.
He decided to get to the point. “What do you want, Celia?”
She shivered and ran her hands along her arms as she took another step inside, her pale lips still tight and the lines around her eyes much more pronounced than he’d first noticed.
“I want to invite you to come for dinner Wednesday evening. We’re still settling in or tonight would be fine but…”
Shock held Shane’s tongue.
“That is, if you don’t already have plans,” she said haltingly.
“Dinner,” he said carefully. What the hell was she up to? “Did you run this by James?”
For a few moments she didn’t anything. “He wants to reconnect with you, Shane.”
“I don’t know what fantasy world you’re living in, so why don’t we cut the bull and you can tell me what it is that you really want?”
Her bottom lip trembled and damn it, if Shane didn’t feel like an asshole. When her eyes filled up with shiny tears, the asshole meter went into overdrive and he took a step forward.
“Look, Celia. I appreciate the gesture, but I don’t think—”
But the words were halted as she slowly dragged her fur hat from her head. The wisps of blond he’d seen poking from the edge of her hat were few and far between. The woman was almost bald, with only patches of fuzz here and there. With her gaunt cheeks and sickly pallor she looked just like…
Jesus Christ, but she looked like his mother.
Celia’s wiped her eyes with the back of her hand and stared up at him, her frail body shivering as she held her hat between her fingers. “I need this, Shane. I need this for James and for,” her voice broke and he took a step forward but halted when she shook her head and exhaled. “I need this for Eden.”
