Chapter 7
Deanna Lane sat in the doctor’s office at the University of Virginia campus health center, her nails biting into the palms of her hands. She’d been feeling lousy for over a week. Her energy level, which usually kept her going from dawn till midnight, had fallen to a new low. She could barely force herself to crawl out of bed in the morning.
With finals coming up in another week and the semester due to end, she normally would have waited to see her family doctor back home in Richmond, but she was afraid whatever she’d caught would play havoc with her ability to study and keep her grades up. Her roommate had noticed her pale complexion and lack of energy and asked point-blank if she was pregnant, but that wasn’t even remotely possible. She was dating, but not seriously enough for there to be any chance of that.
In her premed courses, she’d learned just enough to be terrified that she might have some sort of blood disorder or cancer. That was the danger of all those courses, she’d been told. They could make even the healthiest student susceptible to hypochondria. Before they knew it, they’d start imagining they had a dozen fatal illnesses by the time the semester ended. Surely that’s all this was, her imagination working overtime. Mononucleosis would be a much more logical explanation. A light case of an energy-sapping flu even more likely.
When Dr. Robbins, who was not only one of the physicians, but a professor and Deanna’s adviser and mentor, came into the room her expression gave away nothing.
“Well,” Deanna prodded. “What’s the verdict? What do the blood tests show?”
“That you’re perfectly healthy,” the doctor said, giving her a reassuring smile. “Deanna, your blood work is absolutely normal in every respect.”
The reply should have reassured her, but Deanna wanted answers. She needed solutions, not a pep talk. “Should we be doing other tests of some kind?”
“I honestly don’t feel they’re necessary right now.”
“Then why am I feeling so crummy?” She mentally flipped the pages of various textbooks. When nothing obvious jumped out at her, she seized on her psychology course. “Am I depressed?”
Dr. Robbins fought a smile. “Do you think you’re depressed?”
“No, but there must be some explanation. You looked for mono, right?”
“You’re a college student. Of course I did,” she replied patiently, “though we haven’t seen many cases on campus this year.”
“Help me out here. I need to figure out what’s going on and fix it,” she said in the goal-oriented way that had driven her all her life.
“Okay,” Dr. Robbins said. “While I can’t find anything specific in your test results to go on, my educated hunch is that you’re staying up way too late studying, panicking a bit over finals in your premed classes and already thinking ahead to that summer job you’re planning to take back home working for your stepfather.”
That all made perfect sense, but Deanna wasn’t entirely convinced. “This isn’t all in my head, Dr. Robbins. It can’t be.”
“Oh, the symptoms are real enough,” she said. “But trust me, they’ll go away once you get some rest and put your exams behind you. One of these days you’ll grasp the significance of the mind-body connection. I believe it’s possible to make yourself sick and to make yourself well,” she said, then added, “though an educated diagnostician and physician certainly can play an important role.”
She leveled a somber look into Deanna’s eyes. “There’s another thing that might be at work here, something we’ve talked about before. Perhaps you need to admit to your stepfather that you really don’t want to work in his construction business, not only for this summer, but definitely not forever. I know that decision you made has been weighing on you.”
Deanna winced, almost regretting that she’d confided in this woman she’d come to trust. “It’s not that I don’t want to work with him,” she insisted. “It’s just that...” Her voice trailed off.
“It’s just that your heart is in medicine. Don’t you think he’ll understand that, especially given how much time the two of you spent in hospitals when your mother was ill? From everything you’ve told me, he’s a reasonable man. And you are taking premed courses.”
“Of course he’s reasonable,” Deanna responded defensively. She hesitated before admitting, “But I haven’t exactly mentioned the courses I’m taking.”
Dr. Robbins was clearly startled. “Why on earth not?”
“It’s just that he’s been a little lost since my mom died last year,” Deanna explained, wondering if perhaps she hadn’t been making excuses just to keep from disappointing him. “When I came back to school last fall, he asked what I needed for tuition and room and board and then he wrote the check. I didn’t want to upset him by telling him I was changing my major from business to premed.”
“I’ll bet he’d be more upset if he found out you’re going along with this job for the summer just to please him and giving up the chance to volunteer at Johns Hopkins Hospital, which is what you really want to do. You told me that money for school isn’t the issue, and volunteering will give you all sorts of practical experience. My alma mater is eager to have you there.”
“I know you’re right,” Deanna conceded, sighing heavily. “But I dread having that conversation with him. He’s really looking forward to my being home for the summer. It’s just the two of us now.”
“And there it is,” the doctor said, a note of triumph unmistakable in her voice. “There’s the guilt that convinces me all the more that we’re dealing with anxiety. Believe me, I see this a lot. I’m certain it’s the primary reason you’re feeling so lousy right now.”
“I suppose,” Deanna conceded reluctantly. If it was the explanation, it came attached to a whole lot of emotional baggage she wasn’t ready to deal with.
The doctor leveled a hard look at her that had her squirming. She could guess what was coming.
“There’s one more subject you need to speak to your stepfather about,” Dr. Robbins reminded her. “We’ve discussed this before, too. You need to find out more about your family medical history. You know your mother’s, but you know nothing at all about your biological father’s. Your stepfather may have those answers or, at the very least, he may be able to tell you how to find them.”
It was, indeed, another conversation Deanna had been avoiding, another layer of that emotional baggage that kept piling up. “I feel as if asking him anything about my biological father will seem like a betrayal. Ash has been the only father I really remember.”
“You’re injecting emotion into it,” the doctor chided. “And there is some of that, to be sure, but Deanna, really, this is a medical necessity. You’ve had enough premed courses already to understand that. Genetics is a critical component of understanding what medical risks you might be facing. Will you promise to sit down with him and discuss it? Surely you must have other questions, too, especially since your mother never told you much about your father or what happened between them.”
“She left him,” Deanna said flatly. “That’s enough for me. She must have had her reasons.” Even as she spoke, though, she couldn’t help wondering if blind loyalty to her mother—and to Ash—hadn’t been misguided. She knew plenty of stepchildren and adoptees who craved information about their biological parents, and no one thought less of them for not being happy with the family they had. Had she been afraid of the answers she’d find? She had no idea.
“Well, I’m not going to force the issue. However, the medical questions could loom large one of these days. Think about that.”
Deanna nodded. She knew the doctor was right. And it wasn’t as if she hadn’t had questions of her own over the years about the man she barely remembered, but none had seemed urgent enough or important enough to upset her mother by asking. And Ashton Lane had been all the father she’d ever needed. Rocking the boat hadn’t been in her nature.
Dr. Robbins looked satisfied. “Okay, then. Let me know soon if you decide you want that chance to work at Johns Hopkins this summer. I’ll make the arrangements. As for the way you’re feeling these days, I recommend you put everything else on hold for at least twenty-four hours and get some sleep and something besides pizza and caffeine into your system. I think rest and good food will do wonders. I know you think you don’t dare take any time off right now, but your studying will be far more effective if you’re rested and relaxed. Stop by again in a couple of days if you’re not feeling better.”
“Thank you.” Amazingly, she felt better already as she left the office. Perhaps it was just being reassured that she didn’t have anything dire or maybe it was simply talking to someone who understood the dilemmas in her life.
That improvement in her outlook lasted for the rest of the afternoon, right until she looked at her caller ID and saw that her stepfather was calling. Then all of the panic washed over her again.
When Deanna answered the call, she forced a cheerful note into her voice. “How are you?”
“Super,” he said at once, his tone almost bright enough to fool her. “I was wondering if you might be able to get home this weekend. I know you must be stressed out over finals and that you’ll be home in a couple of weeks, but—”
Thinking of her conversation with Dr. Robbins, Deanna cut him off. “I’ll be there tomorrow.”
He seemed taken aback by her quick agreement. “Are you sure you can spare the time?”
“Absolutely. I’ll make the time.” Richmond was practically around the corner from Charlottesville. She could attend classes tomorrow and be home by dinnertime. Maybe she could kill two birds with one stone, get some of the rest she so desperately needed and get a few things off her chest, as well.
* * *
Deanna stared at the magazine clipping that her stepfather had handed her as they sat in their favorite restaurant on Friday night. It was a review in a regional publication about an Irish pub in Chesapeake Shores, Maryland, that was earning raves for its atmosphere and authentic cuisine. The chef was Bryan Laramie, a name she knew all too well, even if her other memories were blurry.
Tears gathered in her eyes as she read through the clipping again. Surely it wasn’t possible that her father had been this close by, just over a hundred miles away, for all these years.
“It can’t be the same person,” she said, but when she looked into Ashton Lane’s familiar brown eyes, she saw the truth. “How can this be? I thought he was in New York.”
“That’s where he was when your mother first left. I have no idea how he ended up in a small town on the Chesapeake Bay. I saw the article a couple of days ago, though, and checked it out. This is your biological father, Dee. Since he’s this close, I thought you needed to know. I knew I was taking a chance of upsetting you this close to finals, but I was afraid if I waited, I’d come up with a dozen reasons not to tell you at all. We’ve never really talked about your father, and a part of me wanted to keep it that way.” He searched her face. “Should I have waited?”
She shook her head. “No.” Confused, though, she lifted her gaze to his. “What should I do now?”
All of her life, Ash had been there to guide her decisions. It felt natural to turn to him now, but she could see the discomfort in his eyes.
“That’s not up to me,” he said gently. “What you do with this information is up to you.”
Deanna could barely make sense of any of it. Talk about timing. She’d gone for months at a time, even years, without a single thought of her biological father coming into her head, and now he seemed to be ever-present in her thoughts and in her conversations.
She studied Ash, wondering how he must be feeling about this. His expression gave away nothing. He’d spent his life running a small, but successful family construction business in Richmond, where he’d grown up. He and her mother had met when Deanna was still a toddler. She wasn’t entirely sure of the circumstances, though somehow he’d ended up giving her mother a job and then, a couple of years later, they’d moved in together. He’d adopted Deanna when she started school and wanted to know why they didn’t have the same last name. Her mom and Ash had never had children of their own, and Ash had doted on Deanna as if she were his flesh and blood. In so many ways she’d had an ideal, happy childhood.
“You know you’re the only father who matters to me, don’t you?” she asked him urgently. “Knowing that Bryan Laramie lives close by doesn’t change that.”
“You’ve been the best daughter any man could ask for,” he assured her. “But you must have questions. If you need to have them answered, now you know where to look. I’ll support whatever you want to do. I’ll go with you, if you want to see him and need me there. Whatever you want.”
That was Ash, Deanna thought. He’d been endlessly devoted during her mom’s battle with cancer, by her side in the hospital, providing round-the-clock care toward the end, never once complaining about the sacrifices he made to be with her. “This is where I belong,” he’d told Deanna when she’d asked about the impact his absence must be having on the business. “The company will get by.”
Now he was ready to put his own feelings aside to support her.
“I need to think about all this,” she told him, desperate for some time alone to sort through all the emotions raging through her. How could her father have been so close and never come looking for her? What sort of man did that? Not the kind she could imagine inviting into her life at this late date.
Perhaps, though, she should see Bryan Laramie at least once, get the answers about her medical history that Dr. Robbins had told her she should have, answers that might come into play even years from now in some medical crisis or another or when she was thinking of having children of her own. Perhaps that one contact would be enough. It wasn’t as if there’d been this huge void in her life all these years. Ash had filled that. He’d been there, strong and understanding and always ready with a bit of wisdom or a laugh.
No, this was strictly a practical decision, she told herself. And in the morning, she would explain all of that to her stepfather, along with how she was feeling about the job at his company and the allure of the chance to spend the summer at one of the country’s premier medical centers. Ironically, that job would put her in even closer proximity to Chesapeake Shores and her father. Maybe that was exactly the sign she’d been needing to guide the decision she’d dreaded making about her future.
“God works in mysterious ways,” her mother would often tell her when speaking of the day she’d met Ashton Lane. Now Deanna had her own example as proof of that.
* * *
Bryan had tossed restlessly all night long. Some of that could be blamed on Kiera and that new look she’d gotten a couple of weeks ago at the spa, a feminine look that had caught him off guard and made his breath hitch in a way he’d been avoiding for a long time now.
Over the years he’d dated any number of women, many of them attractive, but not a one had gotten to him as Kiera Malone did. That made her dangerous and made these dreams that stirred him in the night even more disturbing.
Better those dreams, though, than the ones that came after, the familiar ones that rarely changed. There were always a baby’s cries, the whispered words he couldn’t quite make out and, when he awakened, the same emptiness that he’d felt on that morning nearly two decades ago when he’d discovered his wife and baby had vanished without so much as a note of goodbye.
A morning run didn’t help. Nor did a cold, bracing shower, nor a pot of very strong coffee. Nothing helped. He felt the pain as sharply as he had on that first day when he’d realized that his wife and child were truly gone. And every single time he’d hit a dead end in his search for them, the pain had been his companion, the dreams the reason he fought sleep.
No matter how often he told himself to let it go, to end the hunt and move on with his life, he couldn’t quite put aside the way his daughter had giggled when he held her in the air, the way her smiles had moved him. He’d loved his wife with all his heart, but their baby girl had stolen his breath away.
Not a day went by that he didn’t try to imagine what Deanna must look like now, where she might be, what direction her life had taken. When he thought of the woman who’d run away with her, his feelings were mixed. The part of him that had loved Melody and her wild spirit still ached at times, but then he remembered what she’d stolen from him—the future she’d stolen from the three of them—and he hated her for that.
Other people got over failed marriages, he told himself repeatedly. They recognized the mistakes they’d made and either fixed them or repeated them. He’d recognized his; he knew that on too many occasions he’d chosen work over his wife and child. Melody had repeatedly tried to make her point about that, but she hadn’t stuck around long enough for him to try to fix the problem. Instead, she’d tired of waiting. One day she’d simply packed up and left. Maybe there’d been someone else waiting for her, though he’d never had any reason to suspect her of cheating. More likely, she’d simply given up and done the one thing she could think of that would punish him for not putting their marriage first.
He might have forgiven that, but the lack of contact, the inability to even see his precious daughter from time to time, had filled him with rage at first. He’d gone to court once seeking help, but he’d found none. Instead, he’d met skepticism that his wife would take his child and flee if she hadn’t had good reason to do so. The implication that he might have abused her or their daughter was unmistakable. None of them had understood that a wife and mother might be immature enough to simply want retaliation. So he’d gone back to spending a fortune on private detectives.
Then, once the trail had gone cold in Baltimore, he’d abandoned hope, though he’d taken the job in the deli there on the very unlikely chance that one day they might cross paths. Of course, they never had. And inertia had kept him there for fifteen years.
When Luke had advertised for a chef for his new pub in Chesapeake Shores, Bryan had seized on the chance to make a fresh start. The change of scenery had, indeed, been good for him. He liked the quiet little town along the bay. He liked and respected the O’Briens. He had a garden behind his rented house. Working it in the early morning, his hands in the cool dirt, watching the herbs and vegetables grow and ripen, gave him a certain serenity. He’d found some peace here, at least during the day.
At night, though, that was another story. At night the dreams came back. He wondered if PTSD was a little like this, sneaky and devastating when it turned up to shatter calm. All he wanted these days was calm, the chance to be a little creative in the kitchen, to grow the restaurant’s fresh vegetables and herbs in his own garden, to enjoy a morning run or a glass of wine on his back deck from time to time. That’s it. He didn’t need anything else. Or anyone, he amended. Perhaps he was every bit as selfish and self-absorbed as Melody had once accused him of being.
Now, though, Kiera Malone had come along and made him wonder about the narrow life he’d chosen. If he were going to change his solitary ways, he most certainly wouldn’t choose a woman who annoyed the daylights out of him or one who was here only temporarily. What would be the point, then, in letting her into his life only to watch her fly off to Ireland? Better to keep his distance.
Satisfied with the stern talking-to he’d given himself, he drank one more cup of coffee for good measure, then headed to O’Brien’s, convinced that Kiera could do nothing at all to get under his skin today. He wouldn’t allow it.
Sadly, within the hour, the vow was broken and the pesky woman had managed to trip his temper and his lust just by walking into his kitchen with an Irish tune on her soft pink lips and a couple of “wee little suggestions” for his menu.
* * *
Kiera wasn’t sure what she’d done wrong, but at Bryan’s fierce scowl and command that she leave his kitchen, she backed through the door and headed for Luke’s office.
“I suppose now you’re going to complain about me to your son-in-law?” Bryan asked, following her.
Kiera whirled around. “I was going to do no such thing,” she said, standing toe-to-toe with the infuriating man. “If you and I have a problem, then we’ll work it out between us like the adults we’re meant to be, though right at the moment I’m not so sure your maturity rises to that level.”
Bryan’s cheeks flushed. “Kiera, I’m sorry. You’re right. I’m behaving like an idiot. I had a terrible night and I’m taking it out on you. Again. I swear I’ll stop doing this. I’ll bite my tongue off before I utter another sharp word.”
She regarded him with amusement. “I appreciate the commitment, but I’ve serious doubts about you being able to keep it. You’re not cut out for staying silent, any more than I am.”
He laughed, and it was a fine sight to see. It warmed her heart.
“You’re right about that,” he conceded, “but I can vow to try. Bring those suggestions of yours over to a table and let’s talk them through.”
She studied him and noted the weariness in his eyes, as well as the sincerity behind his apology. “Okay, then. Would you like a cup of coffee while we talk?”
“I think I’ve probably had more than my share this morning, as it is.”
“Tea, then. I keep some chamomile here for occasions when I’m feeling restless and uneasy.”
“I’m not a big fan of tea, but perhaps I should give yours a try,” Bryan said.
“Ah, you’re more amenable already,” she said approvingly, busying herself with pouring boiling water over a tea bag she’d retrieved from her supply.
She put the cup on the table in front of him. “Would you be wanting to talk about whatever ruined your night’s rest?”
“Are you suggesting I’m in need of counseling? After the display I just put on, I shouldn’t be surprised.”
“Not counseling,” she corrected. “Perhaps just a friendly ear.”
Bryan studied her curiously. “Do you take in stray puppies that have nipped at you, too?”
Kiera chuckled at the comparison. “No, I’ve subjected a few people to my own quick temper from time to time. I’ve wanted forgiveness and understanding for that, so it’s only reasonable that I return the favor.”
“I appreciate the offer, but the story’s too long and dull for the time we have before the pub opens.” He beckoned to her. “Let’s see that list you stuffed in your pocket when I ran you out of the kitchen.”
She pulled the crumpled paper from her pocket and smoothed it out, then met his gaze with an earnest expression. “I’m not trying to tell you how to do your job. At least that’s not how it’s meant. It’s just that I’m a fresh pair of eyes and I’ve had years of working in a restaurant in Ireland, which gives me some level of competence.”
He smiled. “And you’re Irish,” he said. “I get it. I’ll try to be more open-minded, rather than taking offense.”
She looked skeptical. “Can you do that?”
“I can try.”
“Okay, then. I was thinking perhaps that the lunch menu could use a few hearty sandwiches. I’ve listed them on here. These would be found in countryside pubs all over Ireland. To be honest, I think they’re on the menu because they’re not only appealing to a farmer who might be going back into the fields, but because it takes a lot of ale to wash them down.”
Bryan chuckled at that. “An interesting observation,” he said as he scanned her suggestions, which seemed to rely heavily on thick bread, cheese, meats and tomatoes in season. “It would be like working in the deli again,” he muttered disparagingly.
Kiera frowned at his comment. “And there goes the open mind you promised.”
“Sorry. You’re right. Why do you think these might work, aside from selling extra ale, perhaps?”
“Because they’re a staple of an Irish pub, especially in the countryside. We want people who come here to have a truly Irish experience. One or two options like these on the menu give them a better picture of what they might find if they were to pull into a pub on the side of the road anywhere in Ireland. For anyone who’s traveled there, it will be a pleasant reminder.”
She sat quietly as Bryan seemed to weigh her argument. “Fine. We’ll try them as specials here and there and see how it goes.”
Kiera beamed at him. “You’re really going to take my suggestion?”
“As an experiment,” he cautioned.
“That’s good enough.” She leveled a steady look into his eyes. “Was it so difficult, then, giving me this tiny victory?”
Bryan laughed. “No, Kiera, it was almost painless.”
“Then perhaps we can try it again sometime,” she said. “I want to be on the same team with you, Bryan.”
An odd expression flitted across his face at that, and he almost knocked over his cup of tea in his rush to stand. “I need to get back to work.”
“You don’t want the rest of your tea?” she asked innocently, well aware that he’d stopped drinking it after the first cautious sip.
“You and I will find our way to peace, Kiera, but I doubt I’ll ever give that chamomile tea of yours another chance. It’s worse than medicine.”
“But even better for you,” she told him. “Sometimes it takes a bitter pill to cure what ails you.”
“I’ll take the ailment,” he said vehemently.
“You’ll let me know if things get bad enough that you change your mind,” she told him. “I won’t hold the shift in attitude against you.”
He shook his head at that, a smile tugging at his lips. “Good to know.”
And then he was gone.
A moment later, Luke came out of his office to join her. “Did you and Bryan work things out?”
“Nothing to work out,” she said.
“That’s not what the shouts from the kitchen earlier suggested.”
“I believe his day got off to a wobbly start. It was nothing to do with me.” She studied her son-in-law’s worried expression. “Don’t be fretting about this, Luke. Bryan and I will find a way to work together. Today was a good first step in that direction.”
“Thank you.”
“No need. I’ve had a good bit of experience dealing with obstinate men. One more will be no challenge.”
Though this one was showing signs of being far more complicated than those she’d dealt with in the past.