“Why in God’s good name are you looking at apartments?” Dee asked, her brows lifted high and the corners of her mouth turned down low.
Seamus glanced from one woman to the other, then opened the pantry and pulled out a box of cookies. “Hey, Shea, while you’re waiting for dinner, how about a snack?” He held the box up between them. Shea quieted down, eyeing the box.
“Cookies before dinner, Seamus?” Dee sighed. “Really?”
He ignored her, wiggling his eyebrows at Shea and motioning for her to follow him out of the room. “Come on, let’s let your sister and Grandma Dee talk while we spoil our appetite.”
Sugar, of course. Fiona mentally kicked herself for not thinking of that. Despite her need for routine, Shea’s love of sugar had definitely increased, thanks to the sweet tooth all Kavanagh men shared. Shea and Seamus could often be found sitting on the deck, eating cookies, while he told her long stories of his life as he grew up, during what he fondly remembered as the good old days. Shea absolutely loved it, always having questions to ask and wanting to know more. So, still hiccupping slightly from her outburst, she slid off her chair and eagerly followed him out of the room.
As soon as Fiona and Dee were alone, the older woman wasted no time. “Fiona, you can’t move out now with everything going on. That little girl will fall apart in an entirely new way. First, one of her main supporters up and leaves, for jail, nonetheless, and then you want to uproot her from her new home, too?”
Fiona bowed her head, exhaling slowly. “We can’t stay here, Dee. You’ve been so sweet having us these last two weeks, but don’t you think that’s long enough for us to be taking up your time?”
Dee shrugged. “It’s my time. I can give away as much of it as I want. If you’re serious, let me ask you this—do you have first and last month’s rent for a new place? Plus, a security deposit?”
“Um…” Fiona faltered, the answer was definitely no. On all accounts.
“And what about Shea. How will she handle two full moves in less than two weeks? Can she do that?” Dee’s questions might have sounded harsh to anyone else, but Fiona had learned over the last few weeks that Dee was a straight shooter. She gave advice, unsolicited, and didn’t apologize for it.
“Probably not,” Fiona admitted.
Dee gave her a supportive smile. “Then it’s settled. You’ll stay here.”
“Are you sure?” Fiona cringed, guilt swelling in her stomach. “I don’t want to impose on you any more than I already have. But I could use a little more time to save up.”
“Our Lord God says to protect the little babies, and that’s what I’m doing. Shea can’t handle another move right now, and I care about that girl too much to let her world be upended again, especially after my own son is responsible for the most recent disaster.”
Dee was right—Shea couldn’t handle this. She couldn’t be continually moved around, she needed stability. Fiona might not like having to accept even more help from the ever-giving Kavanaghs, but she had no choice.
—
“Fiona, he’s going to keep calling and asking for you,” Casey told her, pouring herself a glass of orange juice.
“I know, I know. I just have no idea what I’m supposed to say,” Fiona said, sipping coffee from a large mug and leaning over the breakfast bar in the Kavanagh kitchen, where all the women had gathered the following Sunday morning. Fiona couldn’t believe it had been only a week since Kieran had gone back to prison, because it felt like years were slowly dragging by with every night she went to bed without his holding her. The judge had officially given him only thirty days, but not seeing him for another three weeks seemed intolerable.
“I get it,” Clare said as she poured a banana-nut mixture into muffin tins one at a time. “I wouldn’t talk to Rory if he were in prison. Make him suffer for a month—give him a reason not to go back—then forgive him when he gets home.”
“I’m not trying to make him suffer,” Fiona said with a frown, taking another sip of her coffee.
Casey put the jug of orange juice back in the fridge, then picked up her glass. “Maybe not, but he’s suffering all the same. He just wants a chance to explain.” She took a sip.
“I’m not sure there’s anything to explain.” Fiona tried to keep the tears from welling in her eyes. “It’s not like there was some heroic reason why he chose for weeks not to tell me about his past.”
“We don’t know the whole situation,” Nora interjected, trying to play middle field. Sitting next to Fiona, she had her own cup of coffee and was eating a small bowl of blueberries.