The Ties That Bind. Ginna Gray

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СКАЧАТЬ turned to see the woman Seamus had called Maria peeking nervously from around a forsythia at the corner of the house.

      “I must speak with you, por favor. Es muy importante.”

      The brothers exchanged a brief look and moved down the porch to the woman’s hiding place.

      “Yes?”

      Clutching a flat cardboard box to her breasts, Maria glanced around nervously. “You wish to know about Señorita Colleen, sí? Sus madre?”

      “Yes,” J.T. replied. “Do you know where she is?”

      A stricken expression flashed over the woman’s face. “I…” She shook her head, then cast a quick look over her shoulder and thrust the shirt-size box into Zach’s hands. “You take this, señor. La señorita sent it to me over thirty years ago.”

      “What is it?”

      “Her diario. How you say…journal. Also a photograph that I hid from Señor Rafferty so he would not burn it. Señorita Colleen, she beg me not to tell her padre I have the journal.”

      Matt snorted. “She probably knew he’d destroy it, like he did the rest of her stuff.”

      Maria nodded. “Sí, it is so. La señorita, she want me to keep the diario safe and give it to her muchachos if you ever come here. I am an old woman. I begin to think you will not come while I still live.”

      A door slammed at the back of the house and Seamus bellowed, “Dammit, Maria! Where the hell are you?”

      She jumped guiltily. “I must go.” Grasping Zach’s arm, she urged, “Por favor. Read the diario. All your questions, they will be answered.”

      “To save time, I think we should read it out loud,” Zach suggested when he and his brothers entered Matt’s motel room a short while later.

      “Good idea.” J.T. stretched out on one of the double beds and laced his fingers together behind his head. “Why don’t you start?”

      Matt sat on the edge of the other bed, and Zach settled into one of the room’s two chairs. Almost reverently, he lifted the cover off the box and found himself staring at a photograph of a young girl of about eighteen.

      She was more striking than beautiful—a female version of the face he saw in the mirror each day—the same blond hair and green eyes, the same thin, straight nose, sharp cheekbones and strong jaw. Her mouth was a bit fuller and softer than his own, but the shape was identical.

      It was eerie, looking at that face. The short hairs on Zach’s nape and forearms stood on end. No wonder the waitress at Hodie’s had been so shocked. And why Seamus had known instantly who they were.

      While his brothers studied the photograph, Zach lifted the diary out of the box. The cheap vinyl cover was cracked and split and the pages felt brittle, the edges brown with age.

      He looked at Matt and J.T. and cocked one eyebrow. “You ready?” An edgy awareness that they were about to uncover their past pulsed in the air.

      “Yeah, we’re ready,” J.T. said, and Matt nodded agreement.

      Zach cleared his throat and turned to the first entry.

      “‘September 21st. I’m so scared. I’m on my way to Houston, but I don’t know what I’ll do if my mother’s aunt Clara won’t take me in. She’s elderly, and I barely know her, but other than Daddy she’s my only living relative. She never had children of her own, and when she came to the ranch for a visit a few years ago she was kind to me and urged me to come stay with her for as long as I liked. I just pray the invitation will still be open after I tell her about my condition.

      “‘September 22nd. Heaven help me, I’m too late. I arrived at Aunt Clara’s this afternoon and found her house full of people. They had just come from her funeral.

      “‘I got hysterical, and I must have fainted. A while ago I woke up and found myself lying on a bed in my aunt’s guest room. A lady was here with me. She introduced herself as Dr. Chloe Nesbitt and said she had been my aunt’s doctor and friend. Then she asked if I was pregnant.

      “‘When I finally bawled out my story, Dr. Nesbitt was very kind. She said she would talk to Aunt Clara’s pastor about my situation. In the meantime, she was sure that I could stay here, at least until the estate is settled. She told me to get some rest and not to worry.

      “‘How can I not worry? My darling Mike is dead, Daddy has tossed me out, I’m alone in a strange town where I know no one, I have no job, no money, no training other than ranch work and I’m expecting a child in five months! What am I going to do?

      “‘September 23rd. I can’t believe it! Just when things look hopeless, a miracle has happened. Dr. Nesbitt returned this morning with Reverend Clayton and my aunt’s attorney, Mr. Lloyd Thomas. Mr. Thomas said that as my aunt’s only kin, I will inherit her entire estate! It isn’t a great fortune—a modest savings and this small house, is all—but it’s a roof over my head, and if I’m careful, the money will see me through until the baby is born and I can get a job. Bless you, Aunt Clara.’”

      For the next hour Zach read from the diary. It told of Colleen’s struggle to make the money last, her fear of living alone for the first time in her life, of being in a strange place, her shock and joy when she found out she was expecting triplets, and her worries over how she could support herself and three babies. Underlying it all was a desperate loneliness that colored every word and wrung Zach’s heart.

      Reverend Clayton and Dr. Nesbitt figured prominently in the entries over the next few months. The doctor saw Colleen through her pregnancy, and the reverend and others in his congregation took a special interest in her, offering spiritual guidance and practical assistance and advice.

      “‘January 24th. Reverend Clayton is urging me to put my babies up for adoption as soon as they’re born. He thinks that would be best—for them, and for me. Perhaps he’s right. I don’t know. But, God help me, I can’t. I just can’t. I love them so much already. Every time I feel them move, my heart overflows. I cannot bear to give them up, to have them whisked away from me the second they are born and never get to see their sweet faces, never get to hold them. No. No, I can’t give them up. I love them. And they are all I have left of Mike.’”

      Zach’s throat grew so tight he had difficulty forming the words. He thrust the diary into Matt’s hands. “Here. It’s your turn,” he said in a gruff voice.

      Matt swung his legs up onto the bed and leaned back against a mound of pillows and continued.

      “‘February 7th. I’m the mother of three beautiful, healthy boys! They arrived yesterday, two weeks early, but Dr. Nesbitt says they are all doing fine. I have named them Matthew Ryan, Zachariah Aiden and Jedediah Tiernan.’”

      “Jedediah Tiernan!” Matt hooted. “No wonder you go by J.T.”

      “Stuff it, Dolan.”

      “Do you two mind? Could we just get on with this?”

      “Okay, okay.” Picking up where he left off, Matt continued.

      “‘February 9th. Reverend Clayton came by during visiting hours. He offered me a job working in the church’s СКАЧАТЬ