Free Mulligan Stew by Deb Stover Page B

water." She shook her head. "But he'll come around once he learns that Bridget Mulligan doesn't lie."
    "It isn't just you." Maggie rose, staring past Bridget. "When Da died, so did the happy, carefree lad who was Riley Mulligan."
    Shivering, Bridget followed her sister-in-law's gaze to the window and beyond. Morning sunlight shone above the ground-hugging fog outside, and a dark, intrusive spire jutted heavenward from the bowels of the smoke-like moisture.
    Caisleán Dubh .
    * * *
    Riley's belly button was making love to his backbone by the time he wiped his muddy boots and opened the back door. A plethora of heavenly scents drifted to his nostrils as he stepped into the kitchen's warmth and found Jacob sitting alone at the table.
    No one else was there, though someone had definitely started cooking. Judging from the wonderful aroma, Mum must've been up and about this morning. Saints knew Maggie couldn't have prepared anything like this.
    "Mornin', Uncle Riley," the lad said, looking up from his activity.
    "Good morning." Riley didn't want to encourage Jacob's penchant for addressing him improperly, nor could he bring himself to correct the lad. Sap. With a sigh, he washed his hands at the sink and glanced over at the stove. All the kettles and frying pans were covered. Something wonderful was baking in the oven as well—definitely not Maggie's soda bread.
    Praise the saints and the Almighty. Real food! He discreetly crossed himself for good measure, and poured tea before joining Jacob at the table. He glanced down at the lad's doodling and bit back a curse.
    "Like my picture?" Jacob asked, thrusting the paper under Riley's nose. "It's your castle."
    My castle... Resentment churned inside Riley, but he swallowed it. He squeezed his eyes closed for a moment, then forced himself to admire Jacob's drawing. " Caisleán Dubh ," he said, keeping his tone light. The curse wasn't the lad's fault, nor was his mother's subterfuge. "You've a good eye for detail, Jacob." Right down to the sinister look of the place.
    The lad's smile dominated his too small face, and his green eyes practically glowed beneath that pitiful scrap of praise. "Thank you, Uncle Riley." Jacob fidgeted, pride and eagerness practically flying out of him.
    If only there were some way to stop Jacob from calling him "Uncle." Each time Riley heard that title, it set his teeth on edge. Alas, he couldn't think of any way to stop the lad without hurting him. Another thought shot through Riley and he froze.
    Bridget must have lied to the lad as well. Otherwise, how could an innocent play his role so convincingly? The woman's deceit knew no bounds. Riley clenched his fists in his lap and drew a deep breath. What sort of woman would stoop to lying to her own child?
    His stomach churned and grumbled, jerking him back to more immediate, if less important, matters—his belly. He glanced back at the stove and sighed. Someone had turned all the flames to the lowest setting. "Where is everyone?"
    "Gettin' dressed," Jacob said, not looking up from his artwork. "They said to tell you we'll eat soon, and not to touch anything."
    Well, it couldn't be soon enough for Riley. A working man needed to keep up his strength, after all. He looked longingly at the stove again. "Don't touch anything, eh?" Aye, and didn't Mum know he'd be doing just that any minute now?
    "Ah, there you be," Mum said, hobbling into the room with her cane.
    Concern edged through Riley. He hated seeing Mum in pain. He hurried to her side and kissed her cheek, pulling out one chair for her and another for her foot. Her toe still appeared angry and swollen.
    "You shouldn't have been up and about cooking this morning," he scolded. "I could've done it myself."
    She smiled up at him and patted his forearm. "Don't you be worryin' yourself about that now. Our Maggie and Bridget wouldn't let me lift a finger. Would they, Jacob?"
    "Nope."
    Maggie and Bridget hurried into the room before Riley had a chance to gripe about