Public Secrets

to the cheers and screams rising on the open air.
She’d celebrated her birthday, her third birthday, in Hollywood. Everyone had come to eat the white cake with the little silver balls on top.
They had gotten into a plane almost every day. And every day it had scared her, but she’d been able to battle back the sickness. There had been a lot of people with them. Roadies her father called them. Which seemed silly since they were so often in the air, and not on any road at all.
She’d liked the hotels best, with room service and new beds almost every night. She’d liked looking out the window at new places and new people every morning.
With a yawn, she settled back with the dog snuggled under her arm.
When they went to a hotel again, Darren could go with them. Everyone would love him.
Watching the sleet made her sleepy. And she thought of Christmas. It had been the first she’d ever had with a stocking hanging from the mantel with her name on it. Under the tree they had decorated had been stacks and stacks of presents. Toys and games and dolls in pretty dresses. They’d all played Snakes and Ladders in the afternoon. Even Stevie. He’d pretended to cheat to make her laugh, then had taken her on a screaming piggyback ride through the house.
Afterward her father had carved a big Christmas goose. When gluttony had made her sleepy, she had curled up in front of the fire and had listened to the music.
It had been the best day of her life. The very best. Until this one. The sound of a car roused her. Pressing her face against the window again she peered out. With a screech, she leaped off the seat.

“Johnno! Johnno! They’re here.” She went flying down the hallway, her shoes clattering on the wood floor that had been painstakingly refinished and polished.
“Hold on.” Johnno stopped scribbling the lyrics that had been playing in his head to catch her on the run. “Who’s here?”
“My da and Bev and my baby.”
“Your baby, is it?” He tugged on her nose, then turned to Stevie who was experimenting with chords at the piano. “Shall we go welcome the newest McAvoy?”
“Be right along.”
“I’m coming.” P.M. stuffed the last of a tea cake into his mouth before he rose from the floor. “Wonder if they managed to get out of the hospital without being mobbed.”
“The precautions Pete took makes James Bond look like a piker. Two decoy limos, twenty burly guards, and the final escape in a florist truck.” With a laugh, he started down the hall with Emma in tow. “Fame makes beggars of us, Emma luv, and don’t you forget.”
She didn’t care about fame or beggars or anything else. She only wanted to see her brother. The moment the door opened, she pulled her sweaty hand from Johnno’s and shot down the hall.
“Let me see him,” she demanded.
Brian bent over, shifting the blanket from the bundle in his arms. For Emma, the first sight of her brother was love. Unconditional, all-encompassing. It was so much more than anything she’d expected.
He wasn’t a doll. Even as he slept she could see the gentle flutter of his dark lashes. His mouth was small and moist, his skin thin and delicately pale. He wore a little blue cap over his head, but her father had told her that he had hair as dark as Bev’s. His hand was curled in a fist, and she touched it, gently, with her fingertips. Warmth, and the faintest of movements.
Love burst through her like light.
“What do you think?” Brian asked her.
“Darren.” She said the name softly, savoring it. “He’s the most beautiful baby in the world.”
“Got that pretty McAvoy face,” Johnno murmured, feeling foolishly sentimental. “Nice job, Bev.”

“Thanks.” And she was glad it was done. None of the books she had read had prepared her for the exquisite, draining pain of childbirth. She was proud to have brought her son into the world naturally, though it had been touch and go during those last hours. Now she wanted nothing more than to settle down and be a mother.
“The doctor doesn’t want Bev on her feet much for the next few days,” Brian began. “Do you want to go up and rest?”
“The last thing I want is to get into another bed.”
“Come on in and sit then, and Uncle Johnno will fix you a nice cup.”
“Beautiful.”
“I’ll go up and put the baby down.” Brian grinned at the way P.M. stood back and gawked. “He doesn’t bite, old man. He doesn’t have teeth.”
P.M. grinned and stuffed his hands in his pockets. “Just