Chapter 39
Jack stood frozen in the shadows of the Glen Arms courtyard archway, his body rigid as Molly and Patrick sat facing each other across a small table, copper lantern light casting their profiles against the darkness.
The garden’s stone walls trapped their voices, carrying every word to where he stood.
Granddaughter.
The realization hit him like a physical blow, stealing his breath and rooting his feet to the flagstone path.
He’d come to collect Patrick at Brid’s request, the older woman insisting with unusual urgency that his great-uncle needed a lift home ‘right this minute’.
Now he understood her cryptic smile, her insistence that Jack enter through the garden side entrance rather than through the hotel.
Brid had orchestrated this – ensuring he would witness a truth that changed everything.
Now Jack watched his great-uncle reach for Molly with trembling fingers, the older man’s face transformed by wonder and grief intermingled.
‘Granddaughter,’ Patrick repeated, the word seeming to reshape the very air of the garden.
Jack’s mind raced, stumbling over this confusing revelation. Granddaughter? But that would mean …
A sudden wave of realization washed through him. That woman his great-uncle once talked about, who he had loved and lost half a century ago. The one who’d disappeared without explanation – she had been pregnant when she left Golden Valley.
Pregnant with Patrick’s child. And that child had given birth to Molly, apparently.
He pressed himself deeper into the shadows as Molly suddenly rose and disappeared into the hotel building while Patrick remained seated, his worn face visible in profile, moisture tracking unchecked down his cheeks.
Jack had never seen his great-uncle cry – not at funerals, not during the worst drought years, not even when they’d nearly lost the orchard to frost damage. The sight sent a jolt of discomfort through him, as if he were witnessing something too private for any eyes.
He should leave. This moment wasn’t meant for him. Yet his feet remained planted, unable to tear himself away from what was unfolding before him.
When Molly returned minutes later, she carried something in her hands – a small dark pouch that she placed carefully on the table between them.
‘This is why I came,’ she said simply.
No, Jack couldn’t leave. Not yet.