The Summer Garden. Sherryl Woods

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       She saw that she’d hit the mark by the tightening of her mother’s lips. Surprisingly, Moira felt bad about it, which proved just how much her attitude toward her mum had changed now that she’d finally put some distance between them. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have accused you of such a thing.”

       Kiera sighed. “It’s never wrong to speak the truth,” she said, sounding weary. “I suppose I am a wee bit jealous that you have this chance and I don’t.” She held Moira’s gaze. “But my concern for you is genuine. I don’t want you to go over there with high expectations about what will happen when you and Luke are reunited. Men like Luke move on at a whim.”

       “The way Dad did?” Moira said, understanding with unexpected clarity exactly where the concern came from—her mother’s own experience.

       “Yes, as your father did,” Kiera said, her usual bitterness giving way to what almost sounded like sorrow.

       Moira hesitated then asked the question she’d never dared to utter before. “Was it me? Was I too much for him?”

       Kiera looked startled. “Is that what you think?” she asked in dismay. “That your father left because of you?”

       “It’s what I’ve always believed,” Moira admitted. The timing of his departure could hardly allow for any other conclusion.

       “Oh, my darling girl, it had nothing to do with you,” Kiera said at once. “It was all of it—the pressure of me wanting more and more for our children, a job he hated, needing to come home at night rather than spending his time and money in a pub. He wasn’t meant to be a family man. He liked things easy. In truth, the only surprise wasn’t that he left, but that it took him so long.”

       Moira felt an odd sense of relief at that, but then thought about what her mum had actually revealed. She couldn’t help wondering if the same mind-set applied to Luke. It was hardly the first time such a thought had crossed her mind.

       “Does Luke remind you of Dad?” she asked. “Is that really why you’re so worried about my going over there?”

       To her dismay, her mother nodded. “I see some similarities, yes. And hearing that’s he’s opening a pub?” She shook her head. “It brings back too many memories of the pull such places had for your father.”

       “Was Dad a drinker, then?” Moira asked.

       Her mother nodded. “He had a problem. I didn’t see it when we met, because all our friends liked to have a pint or two and enjoy the music on a Friday or Saturday night. It was only later, after we were married, that he spent more and more time with his mates and came home reeling. I can’t tell you how often we argued about it. Ask your brothers. They’re old enough to remember some of it, I’m sure, though we’ve never spoken of it.”

       “And isn’t that our way?” Moira said with a touch of bitterness. “To never speak of the things that matter? How many years did it take before you even acknowledged we had grandparents living in Dublin? It was only when your mother became ill and Grandfather came looking for you that we discovered we had family.”

       Kiera sighed heavily. “You’re right again,” she conceded. “I’m sorry.”

       Moira found herself apologizing as well. “But Luke’s not like Dad in that way—a drinker, I mean,” she said earnestly. “I know he’s not. In all that time we spent together and in so many different pubs, he rarely had anything to drink. He was totally focused on his research. It wasn’t about the drinking, not at all.”

       “He wouldn’t be the first man to open a pub so he’d have a ready excuse for being around alcohol,” Kiera said.

       Though Moira understood that it was Kiera’s own experiences that had shaped her opinion, Moira still found it worrisome. She believed her defense of Luke and seized on Peter McDonough to prove it. “I’ve never seen Peter lift even a pint of ale during the course of an evening,” she said. “How long has he owned that pub? Twenty years? Even longer?”

       “Peter’s a paragon, he is,” Kiera said wryly. “Your grandfather has told me that often enough.”

       Moira couldn’t hide her shock at the innuendo. “Grandfather has been encouraging something between you and Peter? For how long?”

       “Since I was in my teens,” Kiera admitted. “He was cited as the epitome of respectability, which I stupidly ignored in my pursuit of rebellion. Now that my marriage is over, his name is dropped into the conversation every chance your grandfather can find. Didn’t you notice how many times it was suggested we drop in at McDonough’s over the holidays?”

       Moira tried to imagine a romance between her mother and Peter. Surprisingly, she could see it, though she wasn’t sure she could explain just why. Maybe it had to do with Peter’s easygoing nature, his willingness to meet people as they were and enjoy their company. Had he spent more time than usual hovering over the family when they’d made those holiday stops? Had the extra attention been about more than respect for her grandfather? As Luke had done with Moira, Peter had certainly been able to ignore Kiera’s stubborn testiness and find ways to coax her into laughter. He’d even gotten her onto the dance floor a time or two, fighting off her reluctance with teasing determination.

       “Peter’s been very kind to me,” she said, testing to see her mother’s reaction.

       Kiera frowned. “In what way?”

       Moira explained about the photos. “Maybe you could come by while I’m at work tonight and see them for yourself.”

       “Peter says they’re good?” Kiera asked.

       Moira nodded. “And the proof seems to be that people have been showing an interest in hiring me. I’ve already had one job, and more are lined up for my return from this trip with Grandfather. Enough that I might not have to wait tables for too much longer.”

       “Then why on earth would you pick now to leave town?” Kiera asked, looking more animated and approving than usual. “Shouldn’t you stay right here and make the most of this opportunity? You’ve been talking about photography for years. I thought nothing would ever come of it.”

       “I honestly didn’t know how to make anything happen,” Moira said. “But Peter did. And he says this trip won’t harm anything. He’ll keep track of any potential bookings for me. Please, Mum, come by and take a look.”

       “Of course I will,” she said.

       Moira nodded. It would give her the chance to see if there were any sparks there between her mum and Peter, sparks that could be fanned a bit.

       Kiera gave her a knowing look. “Don’t be getting any ideas,” she warned. “This is about looking at your pictures and only that.”

       “I understand,” Moira replied dutifully.

       “I don’t need you joining your grandfather in meddling in my life.”

       “I wouldn’t dream of it,” Moira said.

       But the truth was, she thought maybe her mum was protesting just a little too much. Surely, after all these years of being a struggling single mother, Kiera wasn’t totally immune to the possibility of love.

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