A banshee?
He swore, determined not to touch her. He’d trusted her—and she returned the favor by coming up with a bunch of Irish claptrap.
He revved the motor far too hard and jerked the car back onto the road. He didn’t say another word as they drove back to the house.
When they arrived, there were cars lining the driveway.
The Irish mourning process had begun.
Caer found it difficult to concentrate. The house was full of people, and this first night following Bridey’s death was long and draining. At eleven, despite the continuing crowd of visitors, she decided that she had to act like a nurse and make sure Sean got to sleep.
She firmly insisted that he go to bed. As she gave him his medications, he told her, “You know, Caer, I could handle these on my own.”
“You hired me through the end of the year, and I’m going to earn my salary.” She smiled to take the sting out of the words.
“You’re a very special young lady,” he told her. “Hell of a thing. I’m starting to worry about you. Another man was killed today. A stranger, but he died in my employ. I’m thinking I should send you back to Ireland.”
“I wouldn’t go.”
“And why am I not surprised to hear that?”
At last he was in bed. Kat had spent most of the day resting, though she had finally come down for a while to accept condolences, then returned to bed. She was young, and she felt the loss keenly. But she was going to be all right.
As long as her father was all right.
With Sean in bed, Caer curled up in her own room to read more of Eddie’s poems. By themselves, they were just silly, but then she began to put them in a semblance of logical order. “Me, me, me,” led to “clever boy, I’ve found the joy,” and they went on from there.
“The clue is left, the clue is right, follow the North Star tonight.”
And then, “I dream, therefore I am. Careful, must not be a sacrificial lamb.”
She set the sheets of paper down on the bed, cursing Michael for not staying to help. Then again, not even Michael had all the answers. People had that whole “free will” thing going on, and he never tampered with the rules that applied to his place in the grand scheme of things.
Men had choices, and choices meant chances.
She herself had done well that night, she thought, helping with the guests. Amanda had come down, but she had only swanned around regally, the lady of the manor. She loathed Marni, but that hadn’t stopped her from letting the other woman take over the hospitality arrangements while Clara stayed in her own small house, mourning privately, while Kat had been a zombie.
Caer hadn’t given herself much time to think, much less to feel.
And she was glad. She didn’t like feeling. It was far too painful.
Now she prayed for sleep. Flesh and blood were so weak. Without sleep, she couldn’t function, and when she was awake, she hurt.
Sleep. At last it came.
The next day, Aidan and Jeremy arrived.
Aidan was alone, because his wife, Kendall, couldn’t leave the community theater that they ran on the plantation so quickly, not to mention that traveling with an infant took preparation.
Jeremy came with Rowenna, his new wife, and the two of them were settled on the second floor, while Aidan took an attic room. Clara was happy to have all three Flynn boys to fuss over, Sean was grateful for the show of support, and Zach was pleased that he would be able to talk over the situation with them.
Rowenna and Kat seemed to hit it off right away. She told Kat that she needed to pick up a few things and actually convinced Kat to go out shopping with her. Since Sean was closeted in his office, Zach decided it would be a good time to bring his brothers up to speed, not to mention go over the information they both had for him.
“Where do we start?” Jeremy asked.