Ryan seized on that as if he’d been presented with a lifeline. “You’re absolutely right,” he told Letitia. For the first time, he had a purely practical reason for conducting a search for his family—one he could embrace without risking his heart.
Letitia looked troubled by his reaction. “That shouldn’t be the only reason you go looking for them,” she cautioned, as if she’d read his mind.
“I know,” he acknowledged, but it was reason enough. A nice, safe reason. He stood up and bent down to kiss her cheek. “Thank you.”
“I didn’t do a thing,” she said.
Ryan grinned at her. “Accept my thanks graciously,” he chided.
Letitia laughed. “It’s good to see a man who’s not too old to learn a thing or two. Now, get on out of here and take care of business. And remember—I expect an invitation to the wedding.”
He hesitated at the suggestion. “I never said anything about a wedding.”
“The day will come,” she said confidently. “Unless you’re a fool, and I’ve seen nothing to suggest that.”
“Thanks, I think. I’ll try to see Lamar before he leaves the hospital, but in case I don’t, make sure I know how to find you.”
“You can count on that. Like I told you, you’re family now,” she said, giving his hand a squeeze. “And I never lose track of family, not for long, anyway.”
Ryan left the shelter feeling blessed. Only a few short weeks ago he’d been satisfied with a handful of friends and a ton of acquaintances. Now he seemed to be collecting families who were determined to draw him in. Maybe if his own family rejected him for a second time, it wouldn’t be quite so painful.
Now that the decision to find his biological family had been made, Ryan was anxious to get started. Unfortunately, he had no idea where to begin. He had no clue how to conduct a search for people missing for so many years. Hiring a private eye seemed like the best option, but the prospect of sharing the story with a stranger was painful. Turning to Jack Reilly once again made it easier.
To Ryan’s surprise, telling the whole sad tale to Jack turned out to hurt less than it had when he’d told it to Maggie, or even to Letitia. Jack was a professional. He was used to listening without comment, and he’d probably heard far more sordid tales than the one Ryan had to tell. Throughout the conversation, the investigator was completely matter-of-fact, taking notes and asking questions about facts and places, not about emotions.
When Jack had everything he needed, Ryan said, “One last thing—don’t say anything about this to Maggie, okay?”
“You’re the client,” Jack said readily. “Anything you tell me is strictly confidential.”
Ryan was relieved. He didn’t want her to know until he had something solid to report. Besides, there was still the very real chance that even once he’d found his parents or siblings, he wouldn’t be able to confront them. Why get Maggie’s hopes up, only to back out?
“How long is this likely to take?” he asked Jack.
“Hard to say. The trail’s been cold for a long time. Since you were all fairly young when you went into foster care, it’s possible that the youngest boys were adopted. Their names could have been changed. If that happened and the records are sealed, it’ll take a miracle to find them.”
“And my parents?”
“Easier, I’d say, depending on where they ran off to. I’ll have a better idea once I’ve run a few simple checks on credit reports, that kind of thing. As soon as I know anything, I’ll let you know.” He studied Ryan curiously. “It’s been a lot of years. Is there some reason you’re in a rush all of a sudden?”
“I’m not in a rush,” Ryan said. “Not exactly.”
But until he’d found these missing pieces to the past, he couldn’t begin to think about the future with Maggie that he’d begun to yearn for.
Chapter Thirteen
Something was up with Ryan. He was edgy and distracted, and he seemed to be spending a lot of time huddled in a booth with Jack Reilly. Whenever Maggie approached, they both fell silent. It was getting on her nerves.
She was behind the bar taking inventory, something Ryan had grudgingly allowed her to do, when he came back after one of those secret talks. She saw the evident frustration in his eyes and decided to confront him.
“Okay, that’s it,” she said, putting down the legal pad and pen she’d been using to take notes. She scowled at him. “What is going on?”
Ryan stared at her blankly. It was a pretty good act. Even she could admit that. He looked as if he had no idea at all what she was talking about.
“You and Jack,” she said, to clarify things. “What’s up with all the whispering?”
“It’s about a case he’s working on.”
“Why can he talk to you about it?” she asked, not buying it for a minute, “yet the two of you clam up whenever I come around.”
“It’s nothing for you to worry about,” Ryan said dismissively, picking up the legal pad and scanning her notes. “How’s our supply of Irish whisky?”
Maggie frowned at the deliberate evasiveness. “We have an entire case, which you should know, since you ordered it day before yesterday.”
He gave her a sheepish grin. “So I did.” He stepped closer. “Must be you. You have a way of making me forget everything except my name.” He tucked a finger under her chin and kissed her thoroughly. “Now that’s something I’ve been waiting to do ever since you walked through the door tonight.”
Her gaze narrowed at the touch of blarney in his voice. “Ryan Devaney, you’re keeping something from me,” she accused. “And you’re being patronizing about it, as well. Just so you know, I don’t like it.”
“Is that so?” he asked, still not taking her nearly seriously enough. “I thought you were a woman who was fond of secrets.”
“I’m a woman
