Irish Secrets Read Online Free PDF Page A

truth, if only because it would be a relief to talk through some of the frustrating experiences of her day.
    "I didn't go into the park," she said. "I caught the bus to Salthill. I was trying to find out more about my family history."
    Ryan frowned. "In Salthill? I thought your family came from County Tipperary."
    "I don't really know anything about the family. All I know is that my mom was born in Ballykane, and was adopted by my grandparents in 1960."
    His eyebrows shot up. "Adopted?"
    From his change of expression, she guessed the cogs in his mind had clicked into place, and went on, "Yes, she was born at the mother and baby home in Ballykane."
    He nodded. "I believe hundreds, if not thousands, of babies were born there in the 50s and 60s."
    "And many of them were adopted by American couples, but I couldn't get any information from the Sisters of Calvary." Briefly she told him about her encounters with the nuns, and ended with a small sigh. "Josie, the secretary at the Adoption Agency, warned me they probably wouldn't tell me anything. That's where I went this morning before I stepped out in front of your car, by the way."
    "In that case, it's not surprising you looked the wrong way. Your mind was obviously on other things. What else did she tell you?"
    "She agreed my mom was born at the home when I showed her the adoption certificate. It's dated about three weeks after her first birthday. It seems there was a law prohibiting the export of illegitimate babies under one, but the nuns sent them to America as soon as possible after that."
    "Less mouths to feed."
    Kara grunted. "It was all about money, wasn't it? Josie said it was illegal to charge fees for the adoptions, but the nuns could still solicit expenses or donations, and my grandfather – my mom's adoptive father – made donations for over fifty years." She finished her chowder, pushed the bowl to one side, and shook her head. "I don't know what to do next. It'll probably be months before one of the Agency case workers contacts me because they receive so many applications, and the nuns won't divulge any information, even if they still have the records."
    "Have you tried checking the civil registration records for your mother's birth?"
    "I only know her adoptive name, Linda Jane Howard, but she wouldn't originally have been registered with that name, would she?"
    Ryan studied her for a moment. "How serious are you about finding out about all this, Kara?"
    A small quiver ran through her as his blue eyes met hers. "I'd love to find out more. After all, my mom might have several half-siblings or cousins here in Ireland, but—" She paused and moistened her lips. "I'll be honest with you. She doesn't know I'm looking for her mother."
    "Why not?"
    "It's kind of complicated. I didn't even know she was adopted until last fall when my grandfather died. While we were clearing out all his stuff, I found a large manila envelope with some letters from the Reverend Mother at the Ballykane Convent, an adoption certificate, and a bank book. Mom admitted she knew she was adopted, but said it happened over fifty years ago, so it was irrelevant now."
    "Has she ever tried to find her birth mother?"
    "She said she'd heard it was impossible to find out anything about adopted babies from Ireland but, once I knew I was coming to Ireland, I decided to try to find her mother, so I could surprise her." She gave a short laugh. "I guess it was naïve of me to think I could walk into some record office, or even the convent, and find out everything I needed to know."
    Ryan nodded slowly. "She was right about it being difficult to trace either the children or their mothers. Not completely impossible because every so often there's a story in the press about a child finding its mother, or vice versa, but for every successful search, there must be hundreds who never find the parent or child they're looking for."
    "It's perhaps as well I didn't tell my mom about my intentions. Far from being able to