Once Burned

by Alexa Land

  “I should be there with you,” he said gently.

  “I wish you were, but that meeting is important. Besides, I have a lot of experience dealing with Dad’s hot-and-cold approach to parenting. It leaves me a bit shell-shocked and forever insecure, but I wouldn’t even know how to react if he just started being nice to me all the time.”

  “You’re more important, and I’m sorry you’re dealing with that by yourself.”

  “It’s alright.”

  We both shifted around so we were curled up on our sides, and I grinned a little and touched my phone’s screen as I said, “It’s just like when you were in Barcelona.”

  “I didn’t think we’d be back to video chatting so soon.”

  “Me neither. As much as I wish you were here with me, this feels nice, almost nostalgic.”

  “It does, actually,” he said. “Though I’d gladly trade nostalgia for getting to curl up in your arms tonight.”

  There was sadness in his eyes, and I asked, “Are you okay?”

  “Yeah. I just have a lot on my mind.”

  “Anything you want to talk about?”

  He shook his head. “Thanks for asking, though.”

  We watched each other through our screens, and I traced the curve of his full lower lip. Finally, I said, “I should get some rest. This jet lag is really throwing me for a loop. I’ll talk to you in a few hours, okay?”

  He nodded and said, “Sweet dreams.” When we disconnected, I pulled the blanket over my shoulder and sighed quietly.

  It wasn’t unusual for Ignacio to seem upset, sometimes right in the middle of tender moments like the one we’d just shared. I wondered what haunted him. But it felt wrong to try to push him to open up, so I could only hope he’d talk to me when he was ready.

  Chapter Ten

  I double-checked the slip of paper in my hand, and then I asked the cab driver, “Are you sure this is it? Maybe there’s another street with the same name on the north end of Dublin.”

  “This is the one and only.”

  I paid my fare and got out of the taxi, and then I stood on the sidewalk for a few moments and stared at the flawless, red brick Georgian mansion in front of me. When my dad gave me Caroline’s address, he hadn’t bothered mentioning the fact that she’d struck it rich. She and her brother Jack had grown up down the street from my father in a run-down tenement. This was light years from that humble beginning.

  I jogged up the brick steps and used a heavy brass knocker, which was centered on the glossy, black front door. I was pretty sure whoever answered was going to tell me I had the wrong address. But then the door swung open, and Jack O’Dowd exclaimed, “Cameron! What are you doing here?”

  He was different than I remembered him. He looked older, obviously, with his thinning gray hair and gaunt frame, but the biggest difference was the way he dressed and carried himself. In his tailored three-piece suit, he looked like a millionaire.

  I cleared my throat and said, “Hello, sir. I’ve come to speak to Caroline on my father’s behalf.”

  “Did Declan ask you to come all the way from America to plead his case for him?”

  “Not just that. Um, is this Caroline’s house?” When Jack nodded, I said, “I have to ask. Did she win the lottery or something?”

  “Her late husband was a surgeon from a prominent family. Sadly, he passed about two years ago. He was a good man, and he left my sister quite comfortable.”

  Well, that explained it. “Is Caroline in? I just need five minutes of her time.”

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Cameron. She’s been quite upset. I think it’s best to—”

  “Jackie? Who’s at the door?”

  His sister appeared beside him. Caroline was wearing a pristine, white wool coat over a pale gray blouse and matching, wide-legged trousers, and she held a pair of gray kidskin gloves in her slender hand. She was, in a word, elegant. I tried to imagine her and my father as a couple and failed miserably.

  She took a good look at me, and then she said, “Cameron Doyle? Is that you?”

  “Yes ma’am. You look like you’re on your way out, but I was hoping to speak with you. As I was telling your brother, I only need five minutes.”

  Jack said, “I told him that wasn’t a good idea.”

  Caroline stepped outside and told her brother, “He’s come all this way, Jackie. It won’t hurt to hear what he has to say, and our driver’s not here yet anyway. Could you be a dear and fetch my handbag? I believe I left it in the kitchen.” He frowned at that, but then he nodded and disappeared into the dimly lit interior.

  She said, “Forgive my manners, Cameron. I’d invite you in, but my car will be here at any moment, and I’m expected at a luncheon.”

  “It’s fine,” I said. “Thanks for taking the time to speak with me.”

  She tilted her head and studied me closely. “You look so much like your mother. How is she?”

  “She’s doing well, thanks for asking. Her husband retired recently, and they’ve become obsessed with taking cruises. They’ll be on a ship in the Bahamas over Christmas.”

  Her smile seemed genuine, and she said, “That sounds lovely. Please give her my regards.” Caroline brushed a tendril of blonde hair back from her wide-set gray eyes. It had escaped from her tidy bun with the help of the breeze that was also tugging at the flaps of my tan trench coat.

  I told her I’d relay the message, and then I said, “I think you know why I’m here, ma’am.”

  The smile faded, and she said, “I do, and I wish Declan hadn’t dragged you into this.”

  “He didn’t set that fire. I’m sure of it. He had no motivation for burning it down, since the pub was both underinsured and profitable. Besides, he loved that place. You must know that.”

  “He did.”

  “My father is the victim in all of this. I understand why he’d be a suspect, given his past, but he’s innocent. If he wasn’t, I wouldn’t be standing here right now, asking you to give him a chance.”

  A black town car pulled to the curb, and she sighed and said, “It’s over between your dad and me, Cameron.”

  “Why would you say that?”

  “My first reaction was to assume the worst about him. Even knowing what that place meant to Declan, I still thought he’d set the fire to collect the insurance, as part of some get-rich-quick scheme. It was so easy to believe he could revert back to his old ways,” she said. “By the time the police let him go and I realized he must be innocent, the damage had already been done. The way I reacted showed me I really didn’t trust him, and I can’t be with a man I don’t trust.”

  “He loves you, Caroline. If you still have feelings for him too, then that’s all that matters. Please don’t let one mistake ruin the future the two of you were building.”

  She said, “We didn’t have a future. Your father and I are very different people, and this was just supposed to be for fun.”

  “Yeah, well, he fell in love with you anyway,” I muttered.

  “We both got in over our heads. Before this business with the fire, I’ll admit I also began to lose sight of what Declan and I were doing together. But as I said, our relationship was only meant to be a pleasant diversion, nothing more.”

  “You need to talk to him. You owe him that.”

  “I know, but it’s going to devastate him, so I’ve been avoiding it. Maybe you could tell him what I told you. That way, he’ll listen without becoming overly emotional.” She paused as I frowned at her, and after a moment, she said, “I never meant to hurt him, Cameron. Please believe me.”

  “Seems the outcome was the same, regardless of your intent.”

  Jack appeared beside us, dressed in a tailored wool overcoat and a fedora. He pulled the door shut and checked to be sure it was locked, then handed his sister a gray clutch as he said, “The purse was upstairs, in your dressing room. Now we really must go, Caroline. The car’s here.”

  She said, “It was good to see you, Cameron. You’ve grow
n into such a handsome young man. I doubt you remember, but when you were in preschool, I used to babysit you so your parents could go dancing.”

  Caroline took her brother’s arm, and they walked down the wide, brick stairs together. Jack held the door for her, and then, as he circled around the back of the car, he glanced at me with what seemed to be a look of hostility. I had no idea what that was about.

  After the car disappeared down the wide boulevard, I sat on the top step and pulled up the collar of my overcoat against the wind. I felt deflated. My poor dad was going to be crushed, and apparently I had to be the one to ruin his life, since Caroline didn’t have the guts to be honest with him.

  Something else was gnawing at me, too. I found myself wishing I could remember a time in my life when my parents went dancing. I couldn’t even imagine it. There must have been some happy years, early on, but all I remembered were the later ones with the arguments that tore my world apart.

  It was impossible to forget that feeling of dread when one of their fights began to escalate. I’d hurry to one of my hiding places, hug my knees to my chest, and try so hard to tune out the horrible things they said to each other. Our neighbors in the apartment next door would bang on the wall and yell at them to shut up. I was mortified, because I knew they could hear every word. When we were in public, we could smile and pretend we were a normal, happy family. But those neighbors knew the truth.

  I took a deep breath and scrubbed my hands over my face. It always felt strange and a little overwhelming whenever I returned to Ireland. The memories inevitably came flooding back, whether I wanted them to or not. They weren’t all bad, but the negative ones tended to push their way to the forefront.

  It was a reminder that this country and city were a part of me, no matter how long I stayed away. They always would be, for better or worse. I glanced up at the steel-gray sky, then looked around at the posh neighborhood. This wasn’t my Dublin. I was a Northsider, born and raised. My hometown was way across the River Liffey, and it was made up of working-class people who lived out their days in unassuming apartments with paper-thin walls.

  Jack and Caroline had forgotten where they came from. They probably thought my father wasn’t good enough for them anymore, with his rap sheet and his tenth grade education. Caroline has used the fire as an excuse to back out of a relationship that had gotten more serious than she’d intended, and now she didn’t even have the decency to tell him it was over.

  That really fucking pissed me off. My father wasn’t a bad man, and he deserved better. He’d made mistakes, plenty of them, but he kept trying to improve himself. He’d left behind a life of crime and made his dream of being a pub owner come true. I wanted to find whoever had tried to burn his dream to the ground and kick their ass.

  I got up and walked to the nearest intersection, where I hailed a cab. After giving the driver an address, I tried to call Ignacio, but it went straight to voice mail. Eventually, the taxi dropped me off at my father’s pub.

  Dad had rented a dumpster and was pushing a wheelbarrow full of charred rubble out the back door. An open window held a box fan, in an effort to try to clear away the lingering smell of smoke. When I came up to him, my dad pushed back his baseball cap and asked, “Did you see her?”

  “Yeah. I’m sorry, Dad. I tried my best, but it didn’t go well.”

  “I’m obviously not just going to give up, especially since she and I haven’t even talked this out yet. But I have to admit, I’m starting to think maybe I’m just a lovesick old fool.” His shoulders drooped, and he said, “Anyone can see someone like her doesn’t belong with someone like me.”

  “No she doesn’t,” I said, “because you’re way too good for her.”

  “Very funny.”

  “I mean it. She and Jack forgot where they came from, so to hell with them. Now come on, we’ve got work to do. We can’t leave the hardworking men and women of this neighborhood with no place to raise a pint.”

  “We?”

  “That’s right, you and me. We’re going to do the clean-up, and after that, we’re hiring some professionals to rebuild it properly.”

  He said, “I’m a bit tapped out right now, I gotta be honest with you. I spent all my money on a diamond engagement ring for Caroline, which I was going to give to her on Christmas. Between that and the fact that the insurance company isn’t paying me a dime, we’ll need to build it ourselves.”

  I smiled at him as I took off my overcoat. “It’s a damn good thing your son went off and got himself a job as a copper, because now he can help cover the cost of rebuilding this place.”

  “I appreciate the offer, Cam, but we can just go the DIY route.”

  “Oh no we can’t. I’m shite with a hammer, just like my father before me.” He chuckled at that, and as I took off my suit jacket and rolled back my sleeves, I said, “Come on, let’s get to work.”

  “Don’t you want to change first? You’re going to ruin your nice clothes.”

  “They don’t matter, Dad.”

  He came up to me and pulled off his leather work gloves, which he handed over as he said, “Thank you, son.”

  “Any time. Keep the gloves, though. I can do without.”

  “No you can’t,” he said as he headed back into the building. “Your hands are as smooth as a wee babe’s lily white arse. It’s that cushy desk job of yours. Let me know if doing real work gets to be too much, and I’ll run and fetch you a skinny decaf latte.”

  “Oh, you mean real work like sitting in your pub all day, auld man? Let me know if it gets to be too much for you, and I’ll run and fetch you a hemorrhoid pillow and a pint of Guinness.”

  “Touché.” We were both grinning as I followed my father into the pub.

  *****

  My dad and I held our heads up proudly as we paraded through the lobby of my hotel that evening. We were as soot-covered as a pair of chimney sweeps, and both of us were carrying two six-packs of beer. I stuck mine under my arm and produced my room key and ID with a flourish when one of the hotel employees dared to approach and ask if he could help us (which obviously was code for ‘clearly you don’t belong here, so get out’).

  “As a matter of fact, you can,” I told him. “We’re going to need about five buckets of ice to chill all of these beer bottles. I’m in the Heritage Suite. Please be quick about it, because as you can see, my father and I have been working hard all day, and now we have some drinking to do.”

  The clerk looked mortified as he hurried off to do what I asked, and my dad said, “You know what? I could get used to this posh Southsider lifestyle.”

  When we reached the suite, Dad and I took turns in the shower, and he borrowed a pair of sweats and a T-shirt. They were snug on him, but he didn’t seem to mind. He completed his ensemble with a white, fluffy robe, which had the hotel’s insignia embroidered on the pocket, and asked me if I thought anyone would notice if he nicked it.

  We sprawled out on the pair of sage green couches in the living room, and as we drank, my dad ranted about his favorite football team. He took their lack of winning as a personal insult. When we were on our third beer, someone knocked on the door, and my father said, “I hope it’s another of the hotel employees, trying to make nice again for calling us out.” The clerk who’d questioned us had brought up not only the five buckets of ice I’d requested, but a sixth containing a complimentary bottle of champagne to apologize for ‘inconveniencing’ us.

  When I opened the door, Ignacio tackled me in an embrace. I burst out laughing and yelled, “Oh my God, what are you doing here?”

  “Surprising you, obviously!” He kissed me passionately as we stumbled into the hotel room, then sort of fell over each other onto the carpet. Ignacio climbed on top of me, grabbed my ass through my cotton shorts, and ground his cock against mine as he pushed his tongue into my mouth.

  My father called, “Does your sugar daddy know about this guy?”

  I’d actually forgotten he was in the room for a moment. Ignacio froz
e in mid-grope and looked up at my dad with wide eyes, and I grinned and said, “Declan Doyle, meet my boyfriend, Ignacio Mondelvano. Ignacio, this is my father. Most people call him Doc. I have no idea why.”

  “It’s because I wield a cricket bat with a surgeon’s precision. Nice to meet you, Ignacio. Would you like some champagne?”

  As Ignacio and I got up, I asked my dad, “When was the last time you played cricket?”

  “In 1984. I was so legendary that the nickname stuck.”

  “You know, I’d be pretty feckin’ terrified of a surgeon with a cricket bat,” I said, while Ignacio crossed the room and sheepishly shook hands with my dad.

  We sat on the couch opposite my father, and I held Ignacio’s hand in both of mine as I said, “I’m so happy to see you! I have to ask though, what happened to the meeting on Wednesday?”

  “I called and told her I was needed in Dublin, so we’d have to reschedule it for sometime after the first of the year.”

  “You were so excited about getting your work into that museum.”

  “I know. But if they want my paintings now, they’ll want them in January too, right?”

  My father said, “You’re not what I expected.” He studied Ignacio head to toe, from his shoulder-length hair and short beard to his faded jeans and T-shirt, which he’d paired as usual with a worn leather jacket and scuffed cowboy boots. “When I heard you were footing the bill for this posh hotel, I pictured an uptight guy in a suit. You know, someone like Cam.”

  I chuckled at that, and Ignacio said, “Nice hotels are definitely an indulgence, but I believe in treating myself, and treating my boyfriend, of course. I was raised by a single mom, and she worked a second job as a maid in a hotel much like this one. She’d always say, ‘That’s when you know you made it, when you can afford someplace with room service and a mint on your pillow.’ I guess it became my way of enjoying and acknowledging my success. I just wish she’d lived long enough for me to treat her to a nice hotel with room service.”