“Sure. It’s not going to be published until next summer, but I’ll send you a copy.”
Marco opened the door before the knock. “I was just coming over to see if you were ready. And, girl, are you ever! That dress is snatched. Minga, you look fierce!”
“That’s a compliment,” Breen explained.
“And so I took it. You are fierce as well, Marco.”
“Look here, Bollocks, we got ourselves two gorgeous women. I got two arms, ladies.”
He cocked them both out.
Music piped and poured from the balcony above the banquet hall. Candles blazed in tall iron stands and from iron wheels hung by chains from the soaring ceiling. Their light added a sheen to the long tables and benches arranged on either side of the room to face another at its head. Behind it, the dragon banner flew over a huge roaring fire.
Voices echoed, bouncing off the wide-planked floors, off the walls where colorful tapestries hung between arched windows of leaded glass.
People milled about or gathered in groups. Some already sat, drinking wine or ale while they talked.
“Ah, I see some I know are waiting to see you again.”
Minga led the way to a table where three men and three women talked, nearly all at once and with elaborate gestures.
One of the men, older than the other two, glanced over. And his eyes fixed on Breen’s face.
She thought she’d seen him sitting with the council at the Judgment, but there’d been so many people.
He rose, a tall man with hair the color of roasted chestnuts, a warrior’s braid tucked behind his ear, a trim beard.
A fist squeezed Breen’s heart as he looked at her. He hadn’t had the beard before, but she knew him. She recognized him as one of the three with her father in the photograph taken when they’d played in a pub in Doolin. On the other side.
As he watched her come, he laid a hand on the shoulder of the woman who sat beside him and waved her hand in the air as she talked to the others.
Still talking, she glanced up, then over. Breen saw her eyes fill as she scrambled to her feet. And not stopping there, rushed over to fold Breen into a hug.
“Ah, sweet Mother of all, here she is. There’s the girl.” She drew back, tears sliding out of eyes of soft, dreamy green. “Would you look at her, Flynn, a woman grown, and so lovely! Have you forgotten me, darling? Well, that’s no matter, no matter at all, for I’ve not forgotten you.”
“You’re …Morena’s mother. You’re …” It was all swimming up to the surface of her memory. “You’re Sinead, and you used to make us sugar biscuits shaped like flowers.”
“That’s right, that’s right, so I did. And you liked the cornflowers best of all.”
“I— Morena said to tell you she’d come visit soon.”
“I hope she will, as we miss her, but we know she’s no liking for the Capital.” She brushed a tear from Breen’s cheek. “Would you look at the two of us. Why, we’ll have splotchy faces if we don’t stop. Isn’t she a sight to see, Flynn?”
“She is, aye, she’s all of that. And how are you then, little red rabbit?”
With a half laugh, half sob, she went into his arms. “You called me that because I was always running, and you’d sneak us all gumdrops when our mothers weren’t looking.”
“And here, after all these years, she’s telling on me.”
“I have a picture of you with my father and Keegan’s and another— Brian—taken in a pub in Doolin.”
“So my mother’s told me. Those were days, fine days indeed.” He cupped her face in his big hands to kiss her. “Your da was my brother in all but blood, and as dear a friend as ever I’ve had.”
“I know. I’m sorry, this is Marco, as dear a friend as I’ve ever had.”
“And sure we’ve heard all about Marco.” Sinead pulled him into a hug. “And I see Finola had the right of it as usual. Handsome as they come. Come, come, meet the family. You may not remember my boys, Breen, and you’ve never met their wives. Here’s our Seamus, named for Flynn’s da, and our Phelin, named for my own, and—”
“I set the frogs on you,” Breen said to Phelin. “You— Morena and I were having a tea party in the garden, and you made it rain on us, and we were so mad. I called the frogs and toads, and they chased you away.”
“Wouldn’t she remember that of all things?” A near carbon copy of his father from the photo, he laughed as he hugged Breen. “And here’s my wife, Noreen.”
“Don’t get up,” Breen said to the pretty and very pregnant woman with a crown of sunny braids. “It’s nice to meet you.”
“And you, and I hope for more stories on my man’s disreputable youth.”
“It’s coming back to me. I remember you,” she said to Seamus. “You had a cat named Maeve, and she had a litter of kittens. You promised me one when they were weaned. But …we left before they were.”
“We kept one, and named her for you, and a fierce mouser she was. A thousand welcomes.”
He had his mother’s eyes, his father’s build, and bent to kiss her. “And here’s my Maura.”
“We named our youngest for your father,” she told Breen. “He was a great man, and a good one. My parents both fought beside him. I train others to fight beside our taoiseach.”
Bold green eyes gleamed against her dark skin. A warrior’s braid fell beyond Maura’s shoulder while she wore the rest of her hair short and sleek.
“He’d thank you for the honor, and wish bright blessings on your son.”
“I know you have much to say to each other,” Minga said. “But I see the taoiseach has come, and I need to take Breen and Marco to the table, or we’ll all starve.”
“I’ll come back,” Breen promised, and took Sinead’s hands. “I didn’t know how much I missed you until now.”
“My sweet girl.” Sinead moved in for another hug, murmured in Breen’s ear, “I loved you like my own, and do still.”
“I know. I’ll come back.”
“And well done,” Minga said as she led Breen and Marco away. “What you said to Maura was just the right thing. And you lifted Sinead’s heart.”
So many more had come in since she’d stopped by that table, Breen saw. So many more voices. And she hadn’t noticed because the memories had all come so fast and strong. And with them the feelings.
She’d loved them, loved them all, as only a child could love. Absolutely and purely.
She cried for them when she’d gone away.
Now there was Keegan standing with his mother at the head table. Him in black with a dull silver waistcoat, Tarryn in a dress of white flowers over blue.
“You’ll sit on Keegan’s left,” Minga told Breen, “and Marco beside you. Don’t sit until he does. There’ll be a goblet of wine, but don’t lift it until after he speaks.”
“Okay.” Nerves jittered straight up from her toes. “Am I supposed to say something? Please say no!”
“Only if you wish. Tonight is for welcome and joy.”
“I haven’t seen Brian,” Marco began.
“He’ll come soon, I’m sure, and as Keegan thought you would wish it, he sits beside you tonight.”
She led them around the table to their places, then took hers on Tarryn’s other side. A man with dark blond hair and quiet blue eyes stood on Minga’s other side, and took Minga’s hand to kiss it.
Og, Breen thought, who’d traveled to a world of gold sands and blue seas to find love.
“These are your people,” Keegan whispered to Breen. “You’ve no reason to fear them.”
“I don’t.” Exactly, she thought.
He waited a moment as the voices turned to mutters, and the mutters died away.