That was another problem. I could hardly expect Teo to continue protecting me when I’d used him so pitilessly last night.
I was finding it hard to breathe.
No one was around; the house was too large to go wandering around in without fearing I might walk in on some happy couple without knowing. I stood and stared at the locked and bolted front door until it occurred to me that the back door into the garden must be on this first floor also. And so I went looking for it, through room after room of beautiful furniture, Irish memorabilia, books, vases, knickknacks, and the more formal rooms for dining, the enormous kitchen where staff were preparing for what looked like a buffet breakfast—but there I saw I was closer, for the kitchen looked out over the back garden.
I found the door leading off from a small hallway next to the kitchen and I burst out into the backyard, leaning over to put my hands on my knees and breathe in the fresh morning air deeply through my nose.
“Hello, Aidan,” said a startled voice, and I looked up to see Tara Donovan curled up in a basket chair to my left.
“Oh! Tara. Hello. You’re up early.”
“I’m always up early. I like to come out here and, well. Find a little inner peace before I have to start the day. I imagine you might feel the same.”
I nodded. “May I?”
“Please, take a seat.”
I chose the square two-seater sofa rather than one of the relaxing basket seats. It was chilly in the morning air, and Tara had pulled a soft comforter over herself as she lay back in the seat. I saw she had a book with her—a Bible, in fact.
She saw me looking at it and gave a faint smile. “I’m afraid I’m not much of a believer, but Róisín has recommended a few passages to me. I have some difficult decisions to make, so I thought a little spiritual guidance might help.”
“I’m sorry to hear they will be difficult,” I said.
She moved, crossing her legs to sit more upright, and closed the Bible. “It must be nice to simplyknowexactly what you have to do,” she said, almost wistfully. “To be sure and certain.”
“You mean—me?” I asked after a moment, and she nodded. “I’m not sure I’d ever describe myself as sure and certain.”
“But you know God has called you to the priesthood. Like Róisín; she tells me the call is unmistakable. She’ll be going back to her Order as soon as she can. As soon as I…well, as soon as the family is back on track,” Tara finished vaguely.
I was not entirely sure what she meant, and I was not entirely sure that my call had been as unmistakable as her sister’s. “It was a more…gradual process for me,” I said, looking across the garden. “Nothing so dramatic as the Road to Damascus, or a thunderbolt from the blue.”
“I’m happy Howie has you as a friend,” Tara commented, and I got the feeling she was changing the subject as she saw it may be a sore point for me.
It was very gracious of her.
“He’s been a good friend to me, and to the church where I work.”
Her eyebrows rose. “Howie’s…doing work for the Church? He hasn’t said anything to me about it. I’m surprised to hear it, honestly. He’s never been particularly religious. Or, indeed, charitably-minded.”
I felt defensive on Finch’s behalf. “Yes, he’s been working with me and our Committees to help the poor in our communities. When Celia D’Amato left, he took over where she left off.” I did not add, though I thought it,and perhaps if you’d kept in better touch with him, you’d be aware of that too. I knew that there were difficulties between Finch and Tara, and at times I even suspected what those difficulties may be, but I’d never pushed to know the truth. There was a part of me that thought I would not be able to hear it.
Tara looked down at the Bible in her lap. “You’re chastising me,” she said, with a twisted smile.
“I didn’t mean—“
“Oh, yes you did,” she said, and looked up, her eyes twinkling. “And perhaps I deserve it, too. But there are some things that can’t be brushed aside so easily.”
“The way your oldest sister, Maggie treated him…” I hesitated, feeling that I was coming too close to speaking things that I’d learned about Finch in confidence.
“Maggie was hateful,” she said robustly. “Evil. I willalwayslove Howie. He’s my brother, no question there.”
“Surely, then, that’s a basis for a stronger relationship between the two of you?”
Tara looked up at the tree above us, its bare branches beginning to sprout with green buds. “Our relationship will only get more complex as time passes. As I become what Ineedto become in order to move our family forward.”
With a sick feeling in my gut, I started to wonder if Tara Donovan meant her family, or herFamily. I didn’t know much about the Donovans, except what Finch had told me, and what I knew myself from growing up in Boston—and the things my father had said over the years about his brother Jim joining them. Neither sources of information were very complimentary about what the Donovan family had done in the past.
But then, it wasn’t as though the Morelli Family was made up of saints.
