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“She was beautiful when she was young,” Niall said. His green eyes lingered on my face as if he were trying to find some trace of her beauty in her granddaughter.

“I guess,” I said uncertainly. You don’t think about your grandmother in terms of beauty, at least in the normal way of things.

“I saw her after Fintan made her pregnant,” Niall said. “She was lovely. Her husband had told her he could not give her children. He’d had mumps at the wrong time. That’s a disease, isn’t it?” I nodded. “She met Fintan one day when she was beating a rug out on the clothesline, in back of the house where you now live. He asked her for a drink of water. He was smitten on the spot. She wanted children so badly, and he promised her he could give them to her.”

“You said fairies and people weren’t usually fertile when they crossbreed.”

“But Fintan was only half fairy. And he already knew that he was able to give a woman a child.” Niall’s mouth quirked. “The first woman he loved died in childbirth, but your grandmother and her son were more fortunate, and then two years later she was able to carry Fintan’s daughter to completion.”

“He raped her,” I said, almost hoping it was so. My grandmother had been the most true-blue woman I’d ever met. I couldn’t picture her cheating anyone out of anything, particularly since she’d promised in front of God to be faithful to my grandfather.

“No, he did not. She wanted children, though she didn’t want to be unfaithful to her husband. Fintan didn’t care about the feelings of others, and he wanted her desperately,” Niall said. “But he was never violent. He would not have raped her. However, my son could talk a woman into anything, even into something against her moral judgment. . . . And if she was very beautiful, so was he.”

I tried to see the woman she must have been, in the grandmother I’d known. And I just couldn’t.

“What was your father like, my grandson?” Niall asked.

“He was a handsome guy,” I said. “He was a hard worker. He was a good dad.”

Niall smiled slightly. “How did your mother feel about him?”

That question cut sharply into my warm memories of my father. “She, ah, she was really devoted to him.” Maybe at the expense of her children.

“She was obsessed?” Niall’s voice was not judgmental but certain, as if he knew my answer.

“Real possessive,” I admitted. “Though I was only seven when they died, even I could see that. I guess I thought it was normal. She really wanted to give him all her attention. Sometimes Jason and I were in the way. And she was really jealous, I remember.” I tried to look amused, as if my mother being so jealous of my father was a charming quirk.

“It was the fairy in him that made her hold on so strongly,” Niall said. “It takes some humans that way. She saw the supernatural in him, and it enthralled her. Tell me, was she a good mother?”

“She tried hard,” I whispered.

She had tried. My mother had known how to be a good mother theoretically. She knew how a good mother acted toward her children. She’d made herself go through all the motions. But all her true love had been saved for my father, who’d been bemused by the intensity of her passion. I could see that now, as an adult. As a child, I’d been confused and hurt.

The red-haired Were brought our salad and set it down in front of us. He wanted to ask us if we needed anything else, but he was too scared. He’d picked up on the atmosphere at the table.

“Why did you decide now to come meet me?” I asked. “How long have you known about me?” I put my napkin in my lap and sat there holding the fork. I should take a bite. Wasting was not part of the way I’d been raised. By my grandmother. Who’d had sex with a half fairy (who’d wandered into the yard like a stray dog). Enough sex over enough time to produce two children.

“I’ve known about your family for the past sixty years, give or take. But my son Fintan forbade me seeing any of you.” He carefully put a bit of tomato into his mouth, held it there, thought about it, chewed it. He ate the way I would if I was visiting an Indian or Nicaraguan