Page 109 of Honorable Sins

Enoch is already in Santa Fe, settling into Sagewind before classes begin. Esther went with him and will stay while he adjusts to the academy and Brogan and Hope prepare for their move. At twenty-two, with her university degree finished, she could have chosen any number of futures.

She chose to be there for her brother.

She's closer to Fiona than she is to me, which considering our age difference and life circumstances makes sense. She and Róise will be Fiona's bridesmaids. I'll be my sister's matron of honor.

That's one wedding I look forward to with no misgivings.

A few yards from Brogan, our nephew, Eoghan sits beneath an oak tree with the sketchbook Mick gave him after he arrived in New York balanced on one knee.

Apparently taking my husband's, "Use it," for the order it was, his pencil moves quickly over the page, his attention fixed on the children running across the lawn.

He looks up when Cormac shouts, studies him for a few seconds and returns to the drawing.

Adam once believed art would make his son weak. Because of me, Mick believes it will keep him human.

"Attention everybody," my father's voice booms out over the crowd of the Shaughnessy Mob family.

I look over to see him standing with a megaphone in his hand. Of course.

"Listen up," he adds through the sound amplifier with a smidge more authority in his tone.

Conversations quiet in uneven waves as people turn toward my father. Children are called back to blankets. Fitz and Sadie climb onto the dock, dripping water as they grab towels.

Mick sits up beside me.

His hand leaves my ankle only long enough for him to get to his feet. Then he holds one out to me.

I take it.

Brogan waits until he has everyone's attention. Hope stands beside him now, close enough that their arms touch.

"I've got a few announcements that give me great joy to make."

Whatever talking was still happening ceases.

He puts down the megaphone and beckons to Fiona and Zoey, who join him. Something my sister would have found horrifyingly stressful to do six years ago.

Now, she's smiling and I can't help smiling with her.

"My daughter Fiona is getting married." Our father puts his arm around Fiona's shoulder, his naturally booming voice carrying across the lawn.

If his Irish brogue is pronounced despite him never having lived in the country of his mother's birth, I'm not saying a word.

He smiles warmly at Fiona's fiancée. "I'm delighted and proud to welcome Zoey into our family."

Fiona's grin is as incandescent as it was the day she told they were getting married. Our father's approval means more to her than it does to me and I'm glad he's giving it without reservation.

I'd have to do something drastic if he didn't, but then I'd have to beat Mick to it, I think.

My father's expression softens perceptibly as he looks at Fiona and Zoey.

There was a time when he would have treated my sister's marriage as a strategic announcement. An alliance to be weighed for advantage and risk.

Today, he looks like an Irish father whose youngest daughter has found someone he trusts to love her.

"My cup runneth over." The words thicken at the edges.

Fiona's eyes fill.