Page 24 of Valley of Dreams

“I’m invited?” He wasn’t entirely certain what he hoped the answer would be.

“More than invited,” Tavish said, “you’re expected.”

“By who?”

“Everyone,” they answered in unison.

Begor. “Any hope of sitting in the shadows unnoticed?”

Tavish, still rocking little Matthew, narrowed his gaze at Patrick. “You used to be the first to jump at any chance for socializing. The promise of company is the whole reason you stayed in New York.”

Though Patrick knew his family believed that that had been his motivation, it still surprised him to hear Tavish say it. All the O’Connors must’ve thought he was the most callous, shallow person on earth.

“I’ve been living in the wilds of Canada. I’ve spent more time with horses than people. And horses are terrible dancers.”

Cecily grinned and turned in the general direction of her husband. “He has the O’Connor sense of humor.”

“Growing up, he was the most comical of us all.”

“No.” Patrick shook his head. “That was you.”

“I was always desperate to make everyone laugh,” Tavish said. “You were genuinely funny.”

That had once been true. “I’ve not beenthatPatrick in more than a decade.”

Cecily was facing him again. “Is that why you’ve returned home, to find yourself?”

She could have knocked him over with a feather at that unexpected, astute observation.

“Scary how she does that, isn’t it?” Tavish said. “Nothing escapes Cece’s notice.”

Heaven help him if that proved true.

* * *

Every inch of groundin front of Da and Ma’s house was filled with people, tables and food, musicians, chairs. These weeklycéilís, it seemed, were no small thing. Patrick took one deep breath after another as he inched into the middle of the chaos. He knew he couldn’t get out of his obligation to attend, so he was going to make the best of it.

A quick glance at the table of victuals didn’t reveal a single bottle of whiskey. He felt certain the punch bowl contained only fruit juice. With so many little ones wandering about, they’d not have risked anything stronger in easy reach. He wouldn’t be tempted to stray from his fragile sobriety. Now he needed only find the endurance to be around his family for an evening.

He loved them. He truly did. But the years between them were harder to bridge than even they likely realized. If he’d been stronger, he would have stayed away indefinitely. It would have been better for all of them. But he was here now, and he had to find a way to make this work. It was his last hope.

His strategy to keep mostly unseen quickly fell to bits. The very first person he ran into was Biddy. Considering his one brief encounter with Ian, he hadn’t the first idea how he’d be received by his brother’s wife.

“How are you, then, Biddy?”

“Grand. How is your lip, then?”

He rubbed at it, hidden beneath his whiskers. “It no longer hurts when I talk. But if knowing I’m not suffering would disappoint Ian, you can tell him m’face won’t ever recover.”

Biddy looked out over the crowd, eyes darting about and her posture stiff. “I’m needing a minute of your time.”

“Of course.” He’d do anything at all for Biddy. She’d held a special place in his heart from the moment she’d arrived at their New York flat and smiled at his brother as if he were a veritable knight on a white steed.

She stepped aside, and he followed, putting a little distance between them and the partygoers. “Ian’s still spitting fire over you, Patrick.”

He scratched at his beard. “Can’t say I blame him. I should’ve warned the family I was coming.”

She shook her head. “If you think that’s what’s aching him, you don’t know your brother very well.”

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