Nothing but Trouble_ A Kevin Kerney Novel - Michael Mcgarrity [66]
The thought of having another child had been on her mind lately, and with her biological clock ticking it would be best to do it within the next year or two. She’d planned to raise the subject with Kerney after his retirement, but maybe she wouldn’t have to wait that long if the Spalding affair blew up in her face. Still, she found no comfort in the notion that her career might end before she achieved her professional goals.
“You’re very quiet this morning,” Kerney said, as he searched her face with his extraordinarily blue eyes. “Are the wheels turning?”
Sara sighed and smiled. “I’m having a hard time getting motivated for the day ahead. Have you thought about who can watch over Patrick?”
Kerney shook his head. “I’ll take him to work with me and call around to day-care and preschool centers. Can you tell me where you’re going?”
Sara reached out and squeezed Kerney’s hand. “Don’t worry, I won’t be in a war zone or anywhere near one.”
She put her coffee cup in the sink, got her luggage from the bedroom, and went to check on Patrick. He was just waking as she knelt at the side of his bed and told him once again that he’d be staying with Daddy for a while.
Sounding a tiny bit anxious, Patrick asked how long she’d be away. Sara spread her fingers wide and asked him to count with her to fourteen.
“That’s a lot,” Patrick said when they’d finished, looking none too happy.
Sara rubbed his head and kissed his cheek. “The time will go fast and before you know it, I’ll be home. Daddy’s making pancakes for you. If you stop acting like such a sleepyhead, you can go see the horses after breakfast.”
Patrick’s worried look vanished as he hopped out of bed and made a beeline for the kitchen.
Minutes later Sara drove away in the golden early-morning sunlight. In the canyon a small antelope herd browsed on sage near a shallow arroyo. A motionless buck, clearly identifiable by his lyre-shaped horns, watched as she drew near and then bounded away in alarm, causing the herd to bolt up a narrow draw. The sight of the animals in full flight, white rumps flashing above their long slender legs, was lovely to behold.
She headed for the highway with childhood memories of growing up on a Montana sheep ranch dancing in her head, thinking how wonderful it would be to raise her son in the country, never again live thousands of miles away from Kerney, and have a somewhat normal life.
By the time she reached the highway she was quarreling with herself. Should she keep to the path she’d chosen so many years ago? Or was it time to explore new possibilities, no matter what happened in Ireland? The questions remained unanswered long after her flight had passed over the mountains east of Albuquerque.
During her layover in Chicago, Sara called Kerney at his office for an update on how the child-care arrangements for Patrick were going.
“So far I’ve talked to five preschool directors,” Kerney replied, “and they don’t have any openings. I may have to settle for finding a sitter.”
“Don’t give up that easily,” Sara said. “What’s Patrick doing?”
“When he’s not using my office as a playpen, he’s busy charming my office staff. Right now one of the secretaries is reading Pablito the Pony to him.”
Sara laughed. “It sounds like you have everything under control.”
“Barely.”
“Don’t grumble, Kerney. You can do this. E-mail me tonight.”
Sara worked and catnapped on the flight to Dublin. Fitzmaurice, the Garda detective, had faxed her some preliminary information on the house Paquette had bought with Spalding’s funds. It was a protected structure, the Irish term for a building with historic significance, and as such could not be altered without permission by a local government planning commission. The house was located in a suburb of Dublin known as Dún Laoghaire. Fitzmaurice had thoughtfully circled the name of the town and scratched