The sound of teeth grinding came over the phone before he spoke again. “I’ve never liked you, Alanna. You’re showing your tinker roots with this little move. Does your new husband know about your past?”
She didn’t answer. He would sense the lie if she gave it. “This is useless, Thomas. I’ll be ringing off now.”
“Wait, you can’t do this! We want to see our grandson.”
“You can come here and see him anytime.” The thought of not seeing the green hills and valleys of her homeland brought a lump to her throat, but she had to protect her baby. Liam would expect her to protect their child. Though Thomas’s political power was lessened by her marriage, she didn’t trust him.
“Cheers, Thomas.” She closed her phone. It rang again a few moments later, and she turned it off.
Thwarting Thomas should have felt good, but his dismay left her with a hollow sensation. She didn’t like hurting people, but what else could she be doing? Thomas’s power reached across every facet of Irish life.
But she’d disarmed him in one blow and in a way he hadn’t expected. All thanks to Barry’s generosity. Her heart warmed at the thought of all her new husband had done for her. What a great bloke.
After showering and dressing, she walked past Barry’s empty bedroom and descended the stairs with her fiddle in her hand. The place was needing a woman’s touch. The first thing on her agenda would be to wash the streaky windows and sweep the front porch, make it more welcoming.
She heard no movement in the kitchen or living room. Through the kitchen window, she saw Grady working in the yard. His dyed orange mohawk was garish in the sunlight. She’d meant to ask Barry why he hadn’t mentioned his brother to her. Where was Barry? The mansion felt empty.
She carried her fiddle case to the front porch. The early May morning already shimmered with humidity laced with the promise of heat. She saw no sign of Barry, and the Mercedes no longer sat in the driveway. She laid down her case and decided to go for a walk in the cool of the morning.
Dew still hung in pristine droplets from the flowers blooming along the flagstone path that wound through the garden. With grass on one side and flowers on the other, she wandered through the expansive acreage. The birds sang out from the shelter of the live oaks and cypress she passed. Even in the bright daylight, the water was a sluggish black. Murky and unappealing. She made sure not to get too close.
The wind freshened, and she smelled the marsh. Its salty scent drew her out to the waving sea grass, past the lagoon and camellia garden, until the house was in the distance. She should have put some shoes on. Her bare feet were wet with dew. The sound of the ocean grew louder, but she would need a flat-bottomed boat to get out to the waves past this marsh.
Disappointed, she stopped and let her gaze sweep the horizon. Was that a pier? She drew nearer and saw that a rickety structure ran out over the marsh to the waves. Watching where she put her bare feet, she walked to the pier.
Some of the boards were missing, and it didn’t look safe, but she tested it with one foot.
“I wouldn’t try it if I were you, not in your condition,” a voice said to her right.
Alanna peered into the shadows of a large cypress tree and saw a black woman seated on a quilt. “Cheers,” she said, moving closer to the woman, who looked to be weaving a basket.
The woman had one of those ageless faces, the dark skin smooth and unblemished. She wore her white braids wrapped around her head like a coronet. White shorts revealed long shapely legs, and the red tank top revealed muscular arms. Sandals lay discarded on the quilt.
She put down her basket and patted the space beside her on the quilt. “Rest, little one. I’m Hattie Bellamy.” She held out a slim hand, sinewy with muscle.
“Alanna Co—, um, Kavanagh.”
Hattie smiled. “Caught him, did you?”
“Not exactly.” Alanna sank onto the soft quilt and studied the basket. “It’s quite lovely.”
Hattie picked it up. “I’ve done better. Your man lets me grow sweet grass out by the lagoon. I picked this a few days ago and dried it, but I think it needs to dry a bit more.”
“I love this one,” Alanna said. “Such a beautiful shape, like a boat. What will you be using it for?”
“I don’t know yet. Its purpose will come to me.” Hattie studied Alanna’s face. “You’re a little bit lost, aren’t you?”
“Yes,” Alanna admitted, not willing yet to say more though she’d warmed instantly to the woman.
“Irish, I hear.” The woman picked up her basket and began to weave the grass into it again.
Alanna found watching her most soothing. “Guilty, I am. Irish through and through. Have you lived here long?”
“Born here.” Hattie squinted through the trees. “You can just see my tiny place through the trees.”
“You live on Kavanagh property?” Alanna was sure Barry’s property went clear to state land.