Page 81 of The Way Back Home
Was he staying here? Or had he come to see her?
Her pulse skipped before evening out again. She could turn back and return later, after he was gone. That would be the easiest thing to do. But avoiding him wouldn’t change the truth, whatever that was.
Bear nudged her hip in encouragement. Teagan squared her shoulders and stepped inside the barn.
Martin looked up from the open stall, offering a kind smile. “Morning, Teagan. You’re looking better today.”
“Morning, and thanks,” she said with a slight nod before her eyes found Donal.
He stood just beyond the stall, one hand resting on the doorframe, the other holding a pair of expensive-looking leather gloves. Fine lines were visible at the corners of his eyes, and his glossy black hair was threaded with more silver than she’d originally thought. But those eyes were steady, and the same piercing blue she saw in the mirror every morning.
“Teagan,” he greeted, his Irish accent giving her name a slightly different pronunciation.
She stopped just inside the door, keeping distance between them. “Mr. O’Callaghan. I wasn’t expecting to see you. Are you staying here?”
“No. At a hotel.”
That made her feel a little better. She shifted her weight to take some of the pressure off her aching back. “Honestly, I thought you’d be gone by now. That’s more your style, right?”
His jaw flexed, but his tone was calm when he said, “I thought you might have questions.”
Well, he was right about that. So many questions, she didn’t know where to start. Or if she wanted to.
“Why don’t we take this inside, where it’s warm?” Martin suggested. “You can use my study. I’ll have Molly put on a fresh pot.”
After a pause, Teagan nodded. “All right.”
Inside, the study was all dark wood and quiet strength. She caught distant voices elsewhere in the house but didn’t encounter anyone on the way. That was fine with her, even if Noah’s presence might have made it easier.
She took the chair by the fireplace. Donal sat adjacent—near enough to be heard, far enough to give her space.
She wondered if this was as much of a shock to him as it was to her. Discovering he had a daughter after all these years probably hadn’t been on his Bingo card. How he felt about it—that was the question. Pleased? Pissed off? Poleaxed?
His calm, controlled expression gave nothing away.
They sat in uneasy silence until Martin brought in a tray of coffee, tea, and some of Mrs. Ziegler’s incredible breakfast pastries, then exited, closing the door behind him. Donal helped himself to tea while she poured herself a steaming mug of coffee. Neither one touched the pastries.
“Ask,” Donal commanded softly.
Teagan sat back, cradling the mug in her hands. “You said you didn’t know about me until yesterday. How is that possible?”
“An excellent question.” His gaze didn’t waver. “Your mother and I were together only a short while.”
“Long enough, apparently,” she muttered.
“I didn’t know she was pregnant when I was called back to Ireland. I would’ve taken her with me if I had.”
“Why didn’t you?”
“I wanted to, believe me.”
“But?” she prompted.
“I had to leave suddenly, and she had a life here.”
A tidy answer. Clean. Nothing in his tone rang false.
“Tell me something about her,” Teagan said.
