A Chesapeake Shores Christmas by Sherryl Woods

with this family. Megan noted that even though Nell expected her sons to get along, she’d been careful to keep them well separated. It was easy enough to do, given the size of the crowd.
    They had all barely settled down and Mick was about to say grace, when the doorbell rang. Megan’s spirits immediately rose, even though the likelihood of Connor ringing the doorbell, rather than walking in, was slight.
    “I’ll get it,” she said, then hurried into the foyer.
    She opened the front door still half expecting to find Connor, but instead she found a pretty young woman with blond hair, sad eyes and an infant in her arms. Wrapped in a blue blanket and wearing a warm blue jacket, the baby looked to be at least six months old, possibly older, and, to Megan’s shock, there was no mistaking the coal-black hair and striking blue eyes of the child as anything other than an O’Brien’s.
    She opened the door wider and stepped aside, determined to be gracious despite her shock and confusion. “Come in. Please. It’s far too chilly for the baby to be outside.”
    The young woman shook her head. “I can’t stay,” she said, then held the bundled-up baby out toward Megan.
    Instinctively, Megan took the boy into her arms, cradling him against her chest. He squirmed in protest, but quieted as she rubbed his back.
    “I don’t understand,” she said, her gaze on the woman’s face. “Why are you here?”
    “Because of the baby. He needs his father,” she said, already taking a step back.
    It was every bit as bad as Megan had feared. “Don’t you want to come in and talk about this?”
    “No.” She cast a look of longing at the baby. “His name’s Mick,” she said, leaving Megan’s breath lodged in her throat. “Michael Devlin O’Brien, actually.”
    His name was Mick? How could that possibly be? Megan’s thoughts reeled.
    The solemn little boy in Megan’s arms stirred at the mention of his name and reached for his mother, but she was already at the bottom of the steps.
    She swallowed hard, and her eyes shimmered with tears. “Tell his father I love him, but I can’t do this alone.”
    Megan gasped, even though she’d been anticipating something like that from the moment she’d laid eyes on the child.
    The woman gave her a pleading look. “Please take care of my son. Someday tell him that his mom loved him enough to let him go.”
    Before Megan could utter a single word, the woman turned and ran off into the night. A moment later, still standing there in shock, Megan heard a car start, then saw headlights wind down the long driveway to the coastal road.
    She stared down at the now-whimpering child, her heart aching for too many reasons to count. Worst of all, it seemed she didn’t know her soon-to-be-husband, ex-husband, whatever, half as well as she’d thought she did.

7
    M ick took one look at Megan’s ashen face and the infant in her arms and bolted from his chair. He went to her side, but she turned away from him. It was clear she was furious with him for some reason. Mick couldn’t make any sense of it, not her attitude and definitely not the sudden appearance of this baby.
    “What the devil?” he demanded, even as the child started crying in earnest.
    Though she was clearly as perplexed as he was, Abby stood and calmly took the boy from her mother, then scowled at Mick. “Lower your voice, Dad. You’re scaring him.”
    Apparently sensing that things were about to get wildly out of hand, Jess quickly came around the table to Abby’s side. Like the rest of them, she seemed unable to tear her gaze away from the baby who seemed so obviously to be an O’Brien.
    “Why don’t I take him?” Jess offered. “There’s bound to be something I can mash up for him to eat, while you all sort this out. Do we have any baby bottles, Gram?”
    “I think there are two or three left from when Davy was a baby,” Nell said distractedly, her gaze riveted on the child in Jess’s arms. “They should be in the