by Monica James
The problem with Nolen is that he can’t be trusted, religion aside. He lied because he knew if he told us the truth, there was no way he would work for the Kellys. He should have found a job doing something else because now, he’s going to find out what happens to liars firsthand.
“I understand that, but we’ve got nothin’ to do with the Doyles. Please, lad, let me go. Yer a good—” Before he can finish, I whack his cheek with the Bible once again.
He moans, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth.
“Why’d ya have to lie?” I question, tossing the Bible at Nolen. “Pick it up. I want ya to read me yer favorite passage.”
“Wh-what?” he stutters, eyes wide.
“Read to me,” I repeat, grabbing an aul’ wooden chair and sitting on it backward.
Nolen cops on that I’m serious and opens the Bible, unable to turn the pages because his hands are trembling so badly. He licks his finger and slowly peruses through the passages until he stops. He raises his eyes and meets mine.
“For You have armed me with strength for the battle; You have subdued under me those who rose up against me. You have also given me the necks of my enemies, so that I destroyed those who hate me.”
With a slanted smirk, I clap slowly. “Ye wee fucker. Ya think yer funny then?”
By reading this passage, he’s pretty much telling me to go fuck myself.
“Yer gonna kill me, anyway. I may as well go down fightin’,” he replies, closing the Bible and extending it out to me. “Will ya give this to my wife?”
I respect Nolen for accepting his fate, instead of groveling like a wee pussy. But that doesn’t change what I’m about to do.
Coming to a stand, I look down at the man whose life I’m about to end. I think about how my actions will impact the lives of his family and friends. I think about Orla and how when I see her next, I’ll know something that she never will.
I’ll know that I killed her father.
“Make the right choice, Puck. Yer ma—”
The moment Nolen attempts to use my ma as collateral, something inside me snaps. He didn’t know her. He has no right to speak her name. With a roundhouse kick, I connect with Nolen’s temple. He collapses onto the hard ground.
“Don’t you dare speak her name!” I exclaim, lifting Nolen up by the lapels of his shirt.
I headbutt him, but don’t let go. His head snaps back with an awful crack, and his body goes limp. He doesn’t put up a fight as I toss his arse into the chair. He flops forward, his chin drooping to his chest. He’s pathetic.
“Fight me!” I demand, yanking his head back by his snarled hair.
“Naw,” he breathlessly replies, looking up at me, refusing to cower. “Ya wanna kill me, go on then. I’m not givin’ ya an excuse to justify yer actions.”
His refusal angers me and I punch him in the face, breaking his nose.
Blood splatters onto the ground, but it doesn’t give me the satisfaction it should. I punch him in the ribs, a pained oof escaping him, yet he still doesn’t fight back.
I’ve had no issues with violence in the past, so why is this time different? It’s then I realize it’s because the others, they deserved it. Nolen is a traitor and a liar, aye, but does that warrant his death?
As he helplessly slumps in the chair, bloody and struggling to breathe, I know the answer is no.
With a roar, I fist my hair and begin to pace. I need to get out of my head and remember what Nolen is. Not all Catholics are in cahoots with the Doyles, but Nolen is involved in illegal dealings, which means he isn’t a Catholic minding his business.
If I let him live and he is with the Doyles, it’ll be on me. I’ll be seen as the pussy who choked.
“I know ye don’t wanna hear it,” he pants, shifting as he clutches his side. “But yer a good lad. No matter what yer da says. I see yer ma in ya.”
Coming to a sudden stop, I turn my cheek slowly. “What did ya say?”
Nolen doesn’t wipe away the blood I spilled. He lets me see what I’ve done and what I plan to do. “I knew yer ma,” he reveals, leaving me awful shocked. “Cara was so parful. Ya were the love of her life. She’d do anythin’ to protect ya.”
“Yer aul’ arse,” I snarl, barely holding back the urge to cut out his tongue for spewing forth such lies.
But Nolen doesn’t waver. “Believe whatcha want, but it’s true.”
“And why haven’t ya mentioned this until now?” I ask, watching for any signs of deceit. Nolen did lie to us for years about his religion. What’s stopping him from lying right now to save his arse?
But what he does next catches me by surprise.
He laughs loudly.
“You away in the head?” My question just has him laughing harder.
Blood mixes with tears as he confesses, “For years, I’ve kept this secret, but no more. Yer not an eejit, lad, even though yer da treats ya like one.”
“What secret?” I ask between clenched teeth.
When Nolen just continues to laugh, appearing to have lost the plot, I angrily spring forward and slap his cheek. “Yer a fierce cunt, so ya are. I’m about to slit yer throat and yer laughin’. What’s the matter with ya?”
His laughter is soon replaced with nothing but tears. “Get a move on then!” he shouts, but we’re not done until he explains himself.
“Answer my question!” I demand, yanking him forward so we’re pressed nose to nose.
“I tell ye and then what?” Nolen has realized that he just may have an advantage that could save his life.
Shoving him back into the chair, I stand tall. “That depends on what ya tell me,” I warn because he isn’t in control. I am.
“I’ll tell ye what it is, but yer to promise to let me go.”
“Will I, yea?” I state, because that’s something I can’t do. But a small bothersome voice reasons that this is a compromise I’m willing to make.
If he has information which could prove to be useful to me, then I have to agree. I could just kill him afterward, but I don’t work that way. If I give him my word, then I plan on sticking to it. And I would have saved Orla the heartache of not knowing what happened to her da.
A voice I’ve not heard in so long tackles me from out of nowhere. “I’m so proud of ya, my wee son.”
Ma?
It can’t be. It must be wishful thinking, or my mind playing tricks because if my ma were to speak to me, those aren’t the words she’d say. I’ve hurt more people than I’ve loved, which is nothing to be proud of. But I can’t help it. This is who I am. I don’t know how else to be.
“All right then,” I utter, watching as a wave of relief washes over Nolen. “I give ya my word. But if yer lyin’ to me, I promise ya…ya won’t like the consequences.”
Nolen nods eagerly, understanding the seriousness of my words.
“Thank ye, Puck,” he wheezes, adjusting his position to get comfortable. “I’m sorry I lied to ya. But I had to protect my family.”
“Enough,” I snap, not interested in having a deep and meaningful conversation. “Start talkin’.”
Nolen takes three deep breaths, wiping away the blood from his broken nose. “Yer whole life, he’s been lyin’ to ya.”
“Who has?” I fold my arms across my chest, watching Nolen closely. “And lyin’ about what?”
I don’t know why, but my stomach suddenly sinks. I have this overwhelming feeling that whatever Nolen is about to reveal is going to change everything forever.
He sits tall, meeting my eyes, and I see it. He knows what happened to my ma. “Yer da—”
But his confession will never be heard because in its place is a thunderous bang.
I reach for my gun in the small of my back and spin around frantically, locked and loaded on whoever just shot Nolen dead. Who I see in the dim lighting leaves me shook.
“Uncle Sean?” I exclaim, shocked but also ragin’. He just shot the answers I’ve been searching for, for sixteen years, right between the eyes.
With a flop, Nolen’s neck droops backward, and I hear a drip…drip…drip of blood onto the cold ground.
“Why d’ya do that?” I bellow, furious at him. “Do ya realize what y’ve done?”
“Aye, cub, I’m savin’ yer life,” he counters, lowering his gun.
I, however, can’t do the same. My gun is aimed at him as I attempt to process what’s just happened.
“He was no threat!” I shout, shaking my head. “He had information I needed.”
“And ya believe him?” Uncle Sean reprimands, walking into the room. “I taught ya better than this. A desperate man will say anythin’ to live. Ye know this!”
“How’d ya know?” I yell, waving my gun in emphasis.
Uncle Sean isn’t scared that he currently has a firearm pointed at him. He continues walking toward me.
“Because Nolen Ryan is a liar. That’s the reason he’s here. That’s the reason you were supposed to kill him. But ye were gonna let him go.” His disappointment in the decision I made is evident.
“It’s not like that,” I reply, but when looking at the situation in black and white, that’s exactly what it is.
“Naw? Ya weren’t gonna let him go then?”
Silence.
Uncle Sean stands in front of me and grips my wrist, placing the muzzle against his chest. “Ya wanna kill me? Yer own flesh and blood? Go on then.”
My grip on the gun falters and my arm grows slack. “Course not.”
Uncle Sean sighs and lets me go, and I replace the gun at the small of my back. “Ach, I knew ya weren’t ready for this. Yer dad is so fucking stubborn! That’s why I’m here, just in case.”
I shouldn’t be angry with Uncle Sean because he’s right. A desperate man will say anything to save his own arse. But I can’t forget the look in Nolen’s eyes. He was telling the truth.
“Yer not ready.”
“Don’t tell me what I am.” I’m affronted he thinks so little of me. “I had it under control.”
“From where I was standin’, it certainly didn’t look that way. He’d tell ya what ya wanted to hear and ye’d let him go, only for him to see yer clemency as a weakness. The Kellys can’t be weak, cub. If this got out…ya know what it would mean for us?”
Nodding firmly, I accept him reprimanding me because as always, he only has my best interests at heart.
“Good, lad. I’m sorry yer angry with me, but I’d rather ya be mad at me than dead, which is what would happen if yer da found out ya let a traitor go free.”
“He said he knew Ma,” I confess, her voice long gone from the violence which took her life.
Uncle Sean’s face turns nostalgic. “Everyone knew her, Punky,” he shares, which is news to me. “She was an angel.”
“Then why does no one talk about her? It’s like she never existed. But she did, Uncle Sean. She was my ma, yer sister-in-law. I’m sick of the lies and the secrecy. I want to know what happened to her.”
“Ack, lad, let it go,” he says, shaking his head.
“Naw. I will not,” I stubbornly argue. “How can ya ask that of me? Ya know what happened to her. Ya know Dad is a fucking pussy and won’t confront the Doyles once and for all.”
“Y’ll just have to get over it, Punky. There’s no other way.”
“But I’m not like him. I can’t forget her. I won’t. The Doyles can’t get away with this.”
Uncle Sean’s nostalgia fades and is replaced with annoyance. “And what’s that supposed to mean?”
This is the first time I’ve spoken those words aloud to him. I’ve made it clear that I’m disgusted with my dad’s inaction, but I’ve never hinted I’m about to change that.
“Answer me, lad.”
“I hate this secrecy,” I reveal angrily. “I don’t even know who my ma’s family are. Why not?”
“’Cause they’re not worth knowin’,” he bitterly spits, but I’ve heard it all before. “That’s the truth, so it is.”
“How about ya let me decide that. I’m not a wee chile anymore.”
“I don’t care how aul’ y’are, y’ll always be my cub.”
I appreciate his concern, but he can’t protect me forever.
“I’ll never forgive myself for what happened with ya. I should have done more,” he says with regret, running his hands through his dark brown hair.
“What more could ya have done? You didn’t know where we were.”
“Naw, I didn’t, and I’ll never forgive Cara for that. She was so stubborn. And that got her killed. She had no business being in Movil—”
He pauses, but it’s too late because I heard him—loud and clear. I never knew where the bungalow was…until now.
Moville.
That’s what Uncle Sean was going to say before he realized he shared more than he should. I can either continue to pump him for information, or I can pretend it never happened.
I decide on the latter…for now.
“That didn’t get her killed; the Doyles did that,” I correct because I won’t stand by and allow her to be blamed for something that wasn’t her fault.
“Aye, those fuckers,” he spits with contempt, appearing thankful I didn’t probe.
“Why didn’t Dad fight for her?” I question for the hundredth time.
Uncle Sean’s cheeks billow as he weighs over his response like he always does. “Some things are better left alone, Punky. Please trust me. I’m doin’ this for yer own good.”
There’s no point arguing. I face this answer every single time.
“My own good leaves my head melted.”
“And what do ya plan on doin’ to change that?” Uncle Sean asks, his blue eyes narrowing.
“Nothin’,” I reply, not because I’m scared, but because I know Uncle Sean will stop me from pursuing this. I need to approach this carefully, not just with the Doyles, but with the Kellys, as well.
But he knows me better than I know myself at times. “If yer thinkin’ of doing somethin’ stupid, please don’t. I love ya like my own son. Ya know that?”
I don’t know why Uncle Sean never married. He’s not short of admirers. When I asked him why not, he said it was because he hadn’t found the right woman.
“Ach, yer such a big softie these days, aul’ lad,” I tease, wanting to change the subject because Uncle Sean is the only person who, if he dug deep enough, could unravel my plan. And I can’t have that happening.
No matter what he tells me, and no matter how many times he warns me to let it go, I will not. It only enforces what I need to do.
“Ack, yer a smart-arse. Away now, I’ll take care of this.”
I’m suddenly reminded there is a cooling corpse behind me.
Taking one last look at Nolen, I push aside the guilt at seeing his lifeless body slumped in a chair because I could have helped him. I’ll never know what he was going to share with me, but that’s the least of my worries when I think of Orla.
He’ll never share anything with her ever again.
Swallowing down my regret, I slap Uncle Sean on the back and make my way out the door. I don’t know what’s going to happen to Nolen, but I do know his body will never be found.
When I’m far enough away from Uncle Sean, I dig into my back pocket for my phone and call Rory.
“What’s the craic with Babydoll?” I ask when he answers.
“Ack, nothin’ excitin’. I’ll keep lookin’ and askin’ around.”
“Grand, I need ya to look into somethin’ else for me.”
“What is it then?”
Ensuring no one is within earshot, I reply, “Real estate. My ma’s bungalow is in Moville.”
Rory’s silence hints that he’s shook. This is one question which has baffled me for years, but now that I have the answer, it almost doesn’t feel real. I never knew her bungalow was located in the Republic.
I just assumed it was here in the North. But this changes everything.
“Are ye all right?” he asks with concern.
&
nbsp; “Aye, I’m fine. But I’d be even better if you can find me an address.” When the silence continues, I add, “Out with it, Rory.”
Rory isn’t one to sugarcoat anything, so his silence leaves me awful restless.
“Yer not gonna like it, but ya know who’d have all the answers?”
Digging into my pocket for my car keys, I reply, “Who’s that then?”
“Patrick Duffy.”
I freeze from unlocking my car, needing a minute. “Yer right, but how do I manage that? I can’t exactly ask him to show me what I need.”
When Rory sighs, I clue in that he wasn’t suggesting I ask Patrick.
“Oh, fuck,” I mutter under my breath. “I’m sorry, Rory, I know ya like Darcy, but I gotta—”
He doesn’t let me finish. “It would fit ya better if ya did this with Darcy. I understand that.”
Just because he understands, doesn’t mean he likes the idea, but this shows what a true mate he is.
“I promise no funny business. As soon as I get what I need, I’ll go. I’ll put in a good word for ya,” I add, wanting to do something for him.
But we both know it doesn’t matter how many words are said, Darcy isn’t interested in him.
“I’ll call ya if I find anythin’ on Babydoll.”
“Thanks. I really appreciate everythin’ youse are doing for me.”
“We’re family. Ya don’t have to thank me.”
I don’t know where I would be without these lads. They are more of a family to me than my own flesh and blood. We understand one another and what it means to be who we are. I would die for these boys and I know the feeling is mutual.
“I’ll talk to ya later.” Hanging up, I take a moment to process what I need to do.
Every part of my body is rebelling at the thought, but Rory is right. Patrick Duffy is my way in and I’m prepared to do what I must to get what I want; which is why I scroll through my contacts and stop on the letter D.
As I dial Darcy’s number, I peer into the starless sky—there’s no hope of ever making a wish and it coming true.
