The Devaney Brothers: Michael and Patrick: Michael's Discovery

He wasn’t sure he could explain it. He loved his foster family. The Havilceks had been great parents to him. And he couldn’t have been any closer to the girls if they had been his real big sisters. But when Ryan and Sean had turned up, he’d felt almost disloyal to the Havilceks, as if having feelings for his biological brothers was some sort of betrayal of all his foster family had done for him. He was still wrestling with how to handle keeping all of them in their rightful place in his life, a life that had changed dramatically since he’d last seen them.

“I’ll call them,” he told Kelly, “once things are a little more settled.”

“You mean after you’re back on your feet? Don’t you want them to see you when you’re not a hundred percent? Do you think they’d care about that?” she demanded indignantly.

He found the suggestion that he was acting out of misplaced pride vaguely insulting. “No, of course not. It’s not about that at all.”

“What then?”

He regarded her with a wry expression. “You know, Kelly, maybe there’s something we ought to get straight. You’re here to help me walk again. Leave the rest of my life to me.”

“I would, if you weren’t so obviously dead set on wasting it,” she shot back. “But that’s okay. I’ll drop it for now.”

“For good,” he countered.

She flashed him a brilliant smile. “Sorry. I can’t promise that.”

Before he could threaten to fire her if she insisted on meddling in things that were none of her concern, she was out the door. The lock clicked softly into place, just as he’d requested.

Michael should have felt relieved to have her gone, relieved to be alone with hours stretching out ahead of him to do whatever struck his fancy, at least given the limits of his mobility.

Instead, all he felt was regret.

3

If Michael had been anticipating a lonely, boring day to himself after Kelly’s departure, he should have known better. Despite his admonition to Ryan that he was to be no one’s project, his brothers and sisters-in-law were apparently determined that he not have a single minute to himself to sit and brood. In fact, by the end of the day he wouldn’t have been surprised to discover a schedule of their assigned comings and goings posted outside his door.

Maggie was first on the scene, with Caitlyn in tow. His niece came in dragging a purple suitcase on wheels, which he discovered was filled with her favorite picture books and a doll that was apparently capable of saying all the words Caitlyn had yet to master. She shoved the doll in his arms, then climbed up beside him on the sofa, put a book in his lap and regarded him expectantly.

“She wants you to read to her,” Maggie said, as if that hadn’t been perfectly obvious, even to a novice uncle like him.

Michael studied the thick board book with its brightly colored pictures, started to flip it open to the first page, only to have Caitlyn very firmly turn it back to the cover and point emphatically. He gathered he was supposed to begin with the title.

“The Runaway Bunny,” he began.

Caitlyn nodded happily, then snuggled closer.

Michael glanced in Maggie’s direction, caught her satisfied smile and gave in to the inevitable. He discovered that reading to a one-year-old might not involve complex plots, but it had its own rewards. Caitlyn was a very appreciative audience, clapping her little hands together with enthusiasm and giggling merrily.

Even so, after five books, he was more than ready for a break. He uttered a sigh of relief when Maggie announced that lunch was ready. He prayed it would be accompanied by a good stiff drink, but since he hadn’t found a drop of liquor in his cabinets after Maggie had stocked them, he wasn’t holding out much hope.

“Shall I bring lunch in there?” she asked.

“Nope. I’ll come to the kitchen,” he responded. He glanced at Caitlyn. “How about it? Want to hitch a ride with Uncle Mike?”

She nodded happily and held out her arms.

“Whoa, sweet pea. Let me get settled first.” He struggled into the wheelchair, then lifted her to his lap and wheeled into the kitchen, where Maggie was pointedly ignoring the fact that it had taken a much longer time for them to get there than it would have taken for her to bring the lunch into the living room to him and Caitlyn.

“How did your first therapy session go?” she asked as she served the thick sandwiches and potato salad she’d prepared.

“Why am I not surprised that you knew it was this morning?” he inquired dryly. “And why am I stunned that it took you this long to get around to asking about it?”

Maggie gave him an irrepressible smile. “I’m learning restraint.”

Michael laughed. “How’s it going?”

“Pretty well today, apparently.” Her expression sobered. “So, how did it go? You didn’t scare Kelly off, did you? She seemed like a nice young woman when she came by the pub to pick up a key to this place from Ryan.”

“About that,” he began, intending to explain that his key wasn’t to be handed out at random to anyone who asked or professed a need for a copy.

Maggie held up a silencing hand. “I know. I told Ryan he should have consulted with you first, but he was afraid she’d show up for the consultation and you wouldn’t let her in. He figured the key would assure that you’d see her at least once.” She met his gaze. “You can always ask her to give it back. Did you?”

“No,” he admitted, not entirely sure why he hadn’t. Maybe it was best not to examine his reasons.

Maggie seemed to be struggling with a grin. “I see. Then things have gone okay with Kelly?”

He was not about to admit that Kelly had actually left today before he was ready for her to go. Maggie would clearly make way too much of that, though whether she’d deduce it was enthusiasm for therapy or for the therapist was a toss-up.

“She’ll be back day after tomorrow,” he conceded grudgingly, and let it go at that.

“Terrific.”

He studied his sister-in-law intently. “So, Maggie, who has the afternoon shift?”

She regarded him blankly. “Excuse me?”

“Is Sean coming by to take over when you take the peanut here home for her nap? Or maybe his wife? Then, again, Deanna has already called in today, so maybe it’s Ryan’s turn.”

Color bloomed in Maggie’s cheeks.

Michael sighed. “I thought so. You all divvied up the assignment so I wouldn’t be alone for more than an hour or so at a time, didn’t you? I’m amazed nobody took the night shift, or is somebody that I don’t know about sitting in the hallway from midnight to seven in the morning?”

Maggie’s chin rose, eyes flashing. “Your brothers are concerned about you. It’s perfectly natural.”

“Where was that concern twenty years ago? Or even five years ago?” he demanded heatedly. “Hovering now won’t make up for all those years they didn’t do a damn thing to find me.”

Maggie regarded him in silence.

“No answer for that?” he pushed, even though he knew he was being totally unreasonable by taking years of pent-up anger out on her. “I didn’t think so.”

Before he could wheel himself away from the table, Maggie rested her hand on his. “They were hurt, too, you know.”

“Not by me, dammit!”

“No, of course not. But you were all kids,” she reminded him with gentle censure. “None of you could have been expected to fight the system to find your way back to the others.”

“We’ve all been adults for a long time now,” he retorted.