Mulligan Stew by Deb Stover

the albums, Riley still stood staring at the fire, and Bridget felt she knew their entire family history since moving into the cottage. Whatever happened before, when the Mulligans had lived in the castle, remained a mystery.
    After Riley's whispered plea, Fiona had also circled around the time and subject of Patrick Mulligan's death. Even so, Bridget could determine the approximate time of that tragedy, based on when the photos of him stopped. Riley must've been around ten and Culley seven or eight. How sad for little boys to grow up without a daddy.
    Listen to yourself . Wasn't she doing a decent job of raising a boy without a daddy?
    Jacob had warmed to Fiona and Maggie, and Bridget smiled. She wanted this for her son—the family life she'd really never really known. Pity his only uncle resented the boy's presence. An uncle could help fill the gap left by a daddy. Most uncles. Not this one.
    "Why don't you live in the castle?" Jacob asked hesitantly, earning a scowl from Riley and a moment of stunned silence from Fiona and Maggie. Jacob glanced nervously at his uncle and Bridget silently dared the man to snap at her son again in front of his momma.
    Fiona took Jacob's hand and gazed up into his eyes. "Bad things happened to the Mulligans when they lived there," she said. "Once they moved into this cottage and sealed the castle, the bad things stopped. Of course, that was long before any of us were born."
    "My... my daddy died," Jacob said as if testing the word on his lips. "That was bad."
    "Aye, very bad." A catch sounded in Fiona's voice and Bridget let her hand rest on her mother-in-law's shoulder. "But sometimes accidents happen, Jacob. The things the Mulligans suffered while livin' in Caisleán Dubh were constant and terrible. The castle was like... bad luck, I suppose. Is that makin' any sense?"
    Jacob appeared thoughtful, but finally nodded. A huge yawn split his face a moment later and Bridget laughed quietly. "I reckon this world traveler is ready for bed."
    The open fondness shining in Fiona's eyes when she looked back at her made Bridget warm and happy all over. She felt welcomed and wanted, and her heart swelled with affection for the older woman. "Thank you," she whispered, and Fiona smiled with a gentle nod.
    They understood each other. They'd both loved Culley—one as a momma and the other as a wife. And they both loved his son now. An invisible and sacred bond drew them together. Bridget had shared a similar bond with Granny—God rest her soul. Women needed this sense of family and belonging.
    "Come along, Jacob," Maggie said, rising. "I'll take you up to your room."
    Jacob bent down and placed a kiss on Fiona's cheek, much the same way he'd done his great-granny's back in Tennessee. "'Night, Mamó ," he said.
    "Good night, lad." Fiona patted her grandson's cheek.
    "I'll be up to tuck you in directly," Bridget said, earning a smile and a wave, even as the boy cast his uncle a wary glance. Maggie also seemed to sense her nephew's fear of Riley and, when her brother looked her way, the girl tossed her head as if daring him to comment. She took Jacob's hand and they headed toward the stairs.
    Riley's gaze returned to Bridget after his sister and Jacob were gone. He shook his head very slowly and arched one dark brow as if asking a question.
    Bridget stared intently into his blue, blue eyes. She wanted him to welcome her and to believe her as his momma and sister had. After all, he was Culley's brother. Her brother-in-law. Jacob's only uncle.
    Remembering what Mr. Larabee had said about Riley, she lifted her chin a notch, refusing to give an inch. The man had been rude to her, but he hadn't stated his suspicions or resentments outright. Until he did, she refused to confront him about them.
    When it came to stubborn pride, Riley Mulligan had met his match.
    * * *
    Bridget tucked the patchwork quilt around her son's narrow shoulders. They had the entire attic to themselves—a small alcove with a narrow bed for