“And then one year, when I was ten, I heard him and my mom talking. About Irish nationalism. About supporting the cause. About being young. And about Kilkarten. About ruining Kilkarten, and wishing he could take it back.
“Later on, after he died, I would ask my mom about it, and she’d just shake her head and say he didn’t like to talk about those years. And I just kept thinking...” He shook his head.
Good God. “And you thought he smuggled weapons in to the nationalists.”
“How else could he ruin the land? Why else would he leave Ireland and never come back?”
“Have you asked your mother? I mean, straight out said what you’re thinking.”
He just looked at me.
My overactive imagination raced across a hundred miles and thirty years. Because didn’t all those groups get their weapons from connections in other countries? I gaped at him. “No.”
He covered his eyes with one arm. “I don’t know.”
I sat up and tugged at his arm. “Come on. Your mom did not smuggle weapons into Ireland to support the nationalist movement. She said she met your dad in Boston.”
He allowed his arm to move. “What if she lied?”
I laughed slightly maniacally. “So you’re trying to protect, what, your sisters from the knowledge, and your mom from the repercussions if she was involved? There has to be a statute of limitations.” I shook my head. “No. No, this is just our imaginations running wild. This doesn’t happen in real life.”
“You’re searching for a lost city based on an ancient map and scribblings in manuscripts.”
Point taken.
“Let’s leave it now, okay? Now you know.”
“Mike... Why’d you tell me?”
“I don’t know. He shrugged. “Because I wanted you to know. Because telling you things—it makes them more bearable. It makes the weight go away.”
I leaned over and kissed him. His hand tangled in my hair as he pulled me down for a thorough exploration that sent longing spiraling through my body until I was weak and melting against him. His hands slid over my skin, blazing heat everywhere they touched.
I pulled away and leaned my forehead against his. Both of us breathed heavily. “Do you know what would really make the weight go away?”
“Mmm?” His thumb dragged against my lower lip. He leaned closer, but I pulled away.
“Talking to your mom.”
Chapter Fifteen
When we returned to the inn Mike headed straight for Kate’s room. I didn’t expect her to be there, but she was, sitting at her desk before her computer.
“Mom. Can I talk to you?”
Kate’s face swiveled back and forth between the two of us. “What’s going on?”
I touched Mike’s arm softly. “I can go.”
“No.” Instead, he shut the door. “I wanted to talk about Kilkarten.”
I had said almost the same thing to him, long ago.
“Of course.” She glanced at me curiously, and then back. “What about?’
He took a deep breath, his gaze flicking briefly at me. For some reason, I reached out and took his hand.
He squeezed it like a lifeline, and looked back at his mother. “When I was ten I heard you talking to Dad about Kilkarten. It was an—an unpleasant conversation. About him being involved with nationalists. About Kilkarten being used for that. So I wanted to know if you knew—or had any reason to think—that there are any weapons buried on the land.”
“What?” Her face paled until only the red stain on her lips stood out, a macabre representation of life and love. “Weapons? On Kilkarten? No!”
I could feel the change in Mike. He’d been braced for revelation, for confirmation, but never imagined his mother would stare at him like he’d spoken in tongues. “What?”
“Michael, there’s nothing buried there.”
“But—” He stared at me wildly. “But he was so upset. You were crying. He said he’d been part of a rebellious group and that Kilkarten had been sacrificed for it.”
“Michael. Oh, honey. That conversation was never about guns.” She stood and came around and hovered before him, like she wanted to embrace him or touch his face but wasn’t sure how. Then her eyes widened, and she looked back and forth between us. “Is that why you didn’t want the excavation to go through? Because you thought there was something buried there?”
He stared. “There’s no statute of limitations for treason.”
She sat back down—more of a collapse into her hair. “How long have you thought this? Why didn’t you ask me? Why didn’t you talk to me?”
“I was trying to protect you.”
“But, Mike. Oh, honey.” I could see the agony etched in each line of her face, and every line looked deeper today. “I am my own person. You cannot try to protect me. That’s not your role.” She shook her head. “You can’t just steamroll everyone else. It’s because you’ve always kept everything bottled up inside so much. I never taught you how to let it out.”
“What are you talking about?”
“After your father died. You just seemed like you were coping, and the girls and I were such a mess and it was too late that I realized you weren’t all right, that you never mourned—”
“Mom!” He jumped up, his hands fisting. “I am fine. I was fine.”
“No, you’re not.” She ran a manicured hand down the side of her face, over closed eyes.
He shook his head, hair flying everywhere. Bewilderment and anger and hurt fought for control of his features. “What, just because I tried to save our family?”
“Because you never let your family in. Why didn’t you talk to me about this? Or with Lauren?”
He sucked in a deep breath. “I don’t know.”
“Oh, honey.”
He stared at her, and then grabbed my hand. “Come on.”
I stumbled. “Where—”
Behind us, Kate’s worried voice piped up. “Michael, don’t leave—”
He didn’t turn. “Sorry, Mom. I need to think.”
We didn’t speak until we walked up the stairs, and he held open the door to his room and I hesitated. “I wasn’t sure if you wanted—Because I slept in my own room last night.”
His eyes widened, and then he nodded. “Right. Not a problem.” He walked through and let the door close behind him.
I stood there for half a second, and then banged on in. I might have imagined it, but I thought he looked at me with relief. I offered a hesitant smile. “So, on a positive note, no guns.”
He dropped onto the bed. “I’m such a fucking idiot.”
“What? No. You were a kid. You misheard a conversation. It happens.”
“My mom thinks I’m insane.”
I shrugged. “So does mine.”
He rolled an arm out. “Come lie down with me.”
I happily obliged, curling against his side on top of the floral quilt. But I didn’t stop with my listing. “Hey, I had an idea.”
“A brilliant one, no doubt.”
“I was going to hire someone to do a survey about substructures on Kilkarten. Why don’t we have someone come down and do one to see if they find any weapons? Just so you know for sure.”
Mike grinned at me. “And just in case you happen to see your lost city, right?”
I rolled my eyes. “Okay, look. That is not the primary purpose. But if there happens to not be any weapons, and there does happen to be, say, a quay, wouldn’t that all just be wonderful?”
He was silent a long, long moment. Then he sat up and spoke with absolute certainty. “All right. Get me the contract.”
It took a moment for his words to make sense. “The contract?”
“Consider it a second positive note.”