“Yeah,” he agreed. His head lowered, and I heard him murmur, “Buaileann mo chroí duit, Mo ghrá.”
I couldn’t help smiling because our da used to say the very same thing to Ma. Roughly translated, my brother just told his wife in Irish that she was his love and his heart beat for her.
Couldn’t blame him.
Maeve was the best thing that had ever happened to his grumpy ass. The grace and understanding she’d shown him while dealing with this latest drama was all the confirmation I’d ever need that his wife was something special and he was a very lucky man.
I just hoped that one day I could get the same thing.
—————
The Health and Human Servicesoffice in Scottsbluff was a large, ugly, brown, one-story building just one street away from the North Platte River. We pulled into the parking lot just after four and immediately made our way into the building. After introducing ourselves at the reception desk, we were told to take a seat on some chairs that lined the opposite wall.
Maeve sat between me and my brother, cool, calm, and collected.
Callum was freaking the hell out. His eyes darted everywhere, his knee bounced, and he jumped at every noise.
“Calm down, husband,” Maeve told him quietly, placing her hand on his knee, which he was frantically bouncing up and down.
“I just need to see this little girl,” he replied quietly. “Surely I’d know if she were mine? I’d feel it, wouldn’t I?”
Maeve patted Callum’s leg. “Callum, you need to calm down. Let’s just wait and speak to the experts. We can do a paternity test and take it from there.”
I heard a door slam in the distance, and then the sound of heels tapping on the tiled floor became louder. Taking a breathto center myself, I looked up to see a woman walking toward us from a long corridor.
She came straight over and asked, “Callum O’Shea?”
My brother stood, pulling Maeve with him before extending his arm toward the social worker. “Good to meet you.”
I got to my feet and stood in line, waiting to introduce myself.
The woman took his fingers in hers. “Thanks for coming so quickly. I’m Tia Brown,” she announced. “I’ve been assigned Imogen’s case.”
“Imogen?” he asked, obviously in a total daze.
Maeve gave Cal a nudge, and he dropped his hand. “I’m Maeve O’Shea, Callum’s wife.” She took Tia’s fingers in hers and asked, “How’s the little girl—Imogen—doing?”
“She’s doing great. Imogen is in foster care with one of the nurses who treated her mother. The paramedics brought them in together, and we were called in from there.”
“What happened?” I asked, waiting for Maeve to drop the woman’s hand before I took it. “I’m Donovan O’Shea, Callum’s brother.”
“Tia,” she replied, shaking my hand, then her eyes lifted to mine, and she did a double-take. “Sorry... you are?”
“Cal’s brother,” I repeated. “You left a message on my phone, and I passed it on to him to call you.”
Her eyes darted between me and Callum, her expression turning to one of confusion. “Maybe we should go to my office, and I can explain more. It’s this way.”
She turned and walked back down the corridor, pausing briefly to wait for us to fall into step behind her. “Thank you for coming so quickly, especially when I know how all this must have come as quite the shock. Unfortunately, time is of the essence. Imogen’s foster carer has a family emergency, and she has to go to Kansas to care for a relative who’s had a fall, so we’dlike to get some answers and hopefully get Imogen settled before then, or else we’ll have to find more emergency foster care.”
“How long have we got?” Maeve asked.
“Three days,” Tia answered.
“Wow,” Maeve murmured.
We approached a door where Tia typed in a code. It buzzed, and she pushed it open, ushering us through. “It’s the second door on the left. Go in and take a seat.”
We filed into a small office, containing a large desk, and settled into three chairs already placed opposite.
