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“I didn’t look for her, never thought of her. I did nothing to put it right.”
“What are you doing now? Sitting here with me while your tea goes cold?”
“I don’t know. Christ Jesus, I don’t know. Because there’s nothing I can do.”
“She loved you. We didn’t hear from her much. I think he wouldn’t let her, and she only managed to sneak a few calls or letters off now and then. But she loved you, heart and soul. It’s right that you should grieve for her, but not that you should pay.”
She rose when the kettle sputtered. “She was my twin.”
“I know.”
“I’d be your aunt. You have two uncles, grandparents, any number of cousins if you’re interested.”
“I . . . it’s difficult to take it in.”
“I imagine it is. Aye, I imagine it is. You have her eyes,” she said quietly.
Baffled, he shook his head. “Hers were green. Her eyes were green, like yours. I saw her picture.”
“Not the color, but the shape.” She turned around. “The shape of your eyes is hers. And like mine, don’t you see?” She stepped to him, laid a hand over his. “It seems to me that the shape of something is important, more important than the color.”
When emotion stormed through him, Sinead did what came naturally. She drew his head to her breast, stroked his hair. “There now,” she murmured, holding her sister’s boy. “There now. She’d be glad you’ve come. She’d be happy you’re here, at last.”
Later, she took him out to where the edge of the yard met the first field. “We planted that for her.” She gestured to a tall, many-branched tree. “We made no grave for her. I knew she was gone, but it didn’t seem right to make a grave for her. So we planted a cherry tree. It blooms fine every spring. And when I see it bloom, it gives me some comfort.”
“It’s beautiful. It’s a beautiful place.”
“Your people are farmers, Roarke, generations back.” She smiled when he looked at her. “We held on to the land, no matter what. We’re stubborn, hotheaded, and we’ll work till we drop. You come from that.”
“I’ve spent years trying to shake off where I came from. Not looking back.”
“You can look back on this with pride. He couldn’t break you, could he? I bet he tried.”
“Maybe if he hadn’t tried so bloody hard I wouldn’t have gotten away. I wouldn’t have made myself. I’ll . . . I’ll plant a cherry tree back home for her.”
“There’s a good thought. You’re a married man, aren’t you, married to one of the New York garda.”
“She’s my miracle,” he told her. “My Eve.”
His tone stirred her. “No children though.”
“Not yet, no.”
“Well, there’s plenty of time for them yet. I’ve seen pictures of her, of course. I’ve kept tabs on you over the years. Couldn’t help myself. She looks strong. I suppose she’d have to be.”
“She is.”
“Bring her with you next time you come. But for now, we should get you settled in.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You don’t expect to get away so easy, do you? You’ll stay at least the night, meet the rest of your family. Give them a chance to meet you. It would mean a great deal to my parents, to my brothers,” she added before he could speak.
“Mrs. Lannigan.”
“That’s Aunt Sinead to you.”
He let out a half-laugh. “I’m out of my depth.”
