by Elin Peer
When River showed me hers, I raised my brow. “Wow, you’re reading The Land of Painted Caves? That’s a big book for a ten-year old.”
River squared her shoulders. “I’m a good reader.”
“You must be. I was a lot older before I read that one.” I looked to the door, but with no sign of Charles, I figured I could get some intel. “How do you like living here?”
Nathan’s fingers played with the pages in his book. “It’s okay. I miss Liverpool sometimes.”
“You were five when you moved here. How can you remember anything from back then?” Atlas looked skeptical and Lumi followed suit:
“You remember all the fairytales your mom told you, but she romanticized it.”
Ignoring them, I validated the boy. “I’ve never been to Liverpool, what’s it like?”
“It’s amazing. There’s a harbor and my dad used to take me to this football field and we’d play together. He was a soldier and in top shape. I’ve seen pictures of him showing off his abs.”
“Where’s your dad now?”
Nathan’s face fell and he kept playing with the book. “He died on a mission.”
“I’m so sorry to hear that.” I reached over and placed my hand on top of his.
“What about the rest of you. Do you like living here?”
“Yes, but I wish I had my own room,” Atlas said.
“Me too.” Nathan wrinkled his nose up. “I don’t like sharing with a girl.”
From the pout on River’s face, I could guess she was the one he shared a room with.
“What’s wrong with sharing a room with a girl?” I asked him.
He shrugged, unwilling to clarify, but River was more forthcoming.
“I used to share one with my mom, but then she went to study yoga in India and she couldn’t bring me with her.”
“Your mom is studying yoga in India?” I knew it was a lie. Eileen had told me how River’s mom, Julie, had been kicked out while River had been allowed to stay. “How long will she be gone for?”
“I’m not sure. She’s been gone for a few months now.”
More like eight or nine, I thought, but I didn’t say that out loud.
“Can’t you ask her when she’s coming back then?”
“We can’t talk on the phone because of the bad connection.”
“Oh, okay. What about you, Lumi? Do you have your own room?”
“No, I sleep with my mom.”
“And where is your father?”
She stiffened a little. “All I know about him is that he’s white and that my mother resented him for not marrying her when he learned that she was pregnant with his child. She’s from a traditional Indian family so marriage was a big thing until Father made her realize that marriage is institutionalized suppression of women. Anyway, she was lucky that Father took her in and helped her become successful on her own.”
“Father, is that Conor?”
“Yes.”
“We are all his children,” River said, repeating what O’Brien had said not so long ago.
“Can I ask a question?”
“They nodded.
“How come none of you speaks with an Irish accent?”
“We can if we want to.” Maximum changed into an accent as Irish as his mother’s. “But Da says it’s better if we speak a more polished English. It makes us sound more cultivated.”
River spoke Irish too. “Nathan an’ I sometimes speak Irish when it’s just the two of us at night. I love it because it reminds me of my ma. She has a thick brogue but I always loved the way she speaks.”
“Maybe you can teach me one day. I find it so charming.”
“Aye, I can!” River guaranteed. “Try saying something in Irish.”
I imitated an accent in a few sentences and it was so bad that it made the girl bend over with laughter.
“Ye’re rubbish at it.”
River and I were good at laughing together and even the others smiled at my willingness to embarrass myself.
I could hear voices approaching and hurried to cover my tracks in case Conor would drill them about what questions I’d had asked. “All right, but when I wanted to know if you liked it here, I didn’t mean in this house, I meant in Dublin and Howth. I’m a tourist, so I’m curious to know what it’s like living here.”
“Howth is quiet in the winter but in the summer, we have a lot of visitors.” To my surprise, Lumi was the one who began entertaining me with details as Conor and Charles came back in to the room.
“There’s a castle not far from the main road, and the lighthouse is pretty. If you want to visit a café, I recommend the one just by the train station.”
“Thank you, I’ll check it out.”
When Charles and Conor came up to us, I was disturbed by the withdrawn expression on Charles’ face. Walking over to stand next to him, I muttered, “Are you okay?”
He didn’t have a chance to answer before Conor turned his attention on me. “I understand you’re an anthropologist. Maybe you could teach a lesson to the children about what it is you do and how anthropology works.”
“Sure.” I smiled, but on the inside, I was tapping my foot wanting Charles to tell me what the hell had happened to him. His energy, which had been so light, playful, and loving this morning, was sad and fearful now.
“Can I see your room?” I tugged at his hand.
“Uh-huh.” He didn’t take my hand but walked out the door and I followed.
His room was on the fourth floor. The air was stuffy, so he opened a window. “This used to be the attic, but two years ago it was renovated and the roof was raised to allow six additional rooms up here.”
“Charles, what’s wrong?” I sat down on the bed and patted the spot next to me.
“Nothing.” He kept by the window and didn’t look at me.
“You know how you told me that you have a hard time picking up on people’s emotions. Well, I’m the opposite. I sense the smallest changes in people’s mood and right now, your body language is screaming to me that something’s wrong.”
His hands were folding and unfolding and he closed his eyes.
“A relationship is built on trust, so trust me, Charles. Tell me what’s bothering you.”
Charles rubbed his forehead and sank down on a chair in the corner of his small room. “I don’t know, maybe we’re rushing into things, Liv.”
My chest felt like I was wearing a bra two sizes too small. I’d been so sure that what we had meant something to Charles, but fifteen minutes alone with Conor and he was doubting everything. “What did Conor say to you?”
“I told you, it’s nothing.”
“Okay.” Feeling hurt from his change of mood, I got up and walked to the door.
“Where are you going?”
It took everything in me to remain calm and not beg him to come with me. “I’m just going to give you some space to think.”
“Liv.” His word hung in the air like a half-hearted protest, or maybe it was an apology.
I forced a small smile. “It’s probably healthy for us to get a chance to process everything that has happened since we met.”
Charles got up and raked his hand through his hair, his tics making him blink and wrinkle his nose up.
“Charles.” I moved close, got on my toes, and looked him deep in his eyes. “I don’t know what he said to you but it made you doubt yourself and us. You went from being loving to me one second to pulling back. I was scared something like this might happen because it’s happened to me before.”
His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat when he swallowed hard. “It has?”
“Yes. Last time it was a dominant mother who didn’t think anyone was good enough for her son, but the dynamics are the same. I don’t like that Conor has this kind of influence over you. I need a man who can think for himself.”
“I can think for myself.”
I allowed his words to hang in the air for a moment and then I took a step back. “Then remember h
ow you felt about us before he got into your head.”
Without a kiss goodbye or any more explanations, I walked away from him. It was hard not to turn around and look over my shoulder to see if he was still standing there.
I’d only reached the stairs when Charles came after me. “Let me walk you to the train station.”
“That’s not where I’m going.”
“No?”
“No. I’m headed to see Howth Castle. I’m a tourist, remember?”
“Do you want me to come?”
“No thanks. You just said that you worried we were rushing into things, so take some time alone.”
“But when are you leaving Dublin?”
We were outside before I answered him. “That all depends.”
“On what?”
I turned and walked backward, pointing from me to him and back. “On this. On us.”
Charles stood with pain written on his face, like he was torn about what to do. “Liv…” The way he said my name sounded like a plea for me to stay, or maybe I was hearing what I wanted to hear.
Overwhelmed with everything that had happened between us, I raised a hand and gave a last wave before walking away. Leaving Charles in the claws of O’Brien made me want to cry with frustration. Each step away from him was forced, as if I was moving against a powerful current in a river, using my whole body to push through. I had to trust that I’d planted a seed; my intuition told me that staying would have been disastrous.
CHAPTER 12
Sunday Dinner
Charles
Everyone was praising the moussaka, the homemade bread, and the Greek salad that the twins had made for us, but nothing tasted good to me and I had no appetite.
For the first time since I moved in to the Red Manor, I hadn’t wanted to come to Sunday dinner. My mind was in chaos from everything that had happened between Liv and me, and I’d rather be in my room to ruminate and make sense of it all.
Yesterday had been one of the best days of my life and I’d been on cloud nine when Liv and I defined our relationship as a committed one. With all the times Conor had told me that I could have anything I dreamed of, I’d been so darn proud to bring Liv to meet my new family and prove him right.
That’s why it was surprising and confusing that Conor had questioned her motives and cautioned me to take it slow. I knew that he was only looking out for me and that my family name, Robertson, could attract gold diggers, but Liv was nothing like that. To her, I was Charles McCann, and not once had I revealed that I was related to one of the richest men in the world.
When I told Conor that Liv had called my Tourette’s cute, he had scoffed and made a lot of convincing points. Each of them had felt like hard blows to my solar plexus and together they had provided a rude awakening from the dream world that I’d been in ever since I went out for lunch with Liv.
“We should drink a toast to Sara.” Conor raised his wine glass and glanced around the long table to meet all of our eyes. Thirty-four people lived here at the Red Manor, which was also the name of the mastermind group that Conor ran from here. I sat next to Atlas, who was one of my favorites. The boy was highly intelligent like his father but introverted like me. It would have been easy for him to gloat about having Conor O’Brien as a father, but he wasn’t like that. I understood the pressure of being related to someone people admired. My grandfather had built a business empire and was highly respected himself. Now Atlas and I were sitting shoulder to shoulder with our glasses raised, watching Conor praise Sara.
“Because of Sara’s generous donation, three new schools will be built in Africa to support education.”
We all smiled and cheered for Sara, who beamed at Conor’s kind words about her.
“The Red Manor Foundation is growing every year thanks to the success and good graces of all of you. It makes me extremely proud.”
“We couldn’t do it without you.” Sara gave him another of her adoring looks.
When I first came here, I’d been desperate for her to look at me like that, but my interest in Sara had faded once I understood that she didn’t feel attracted to me, and that she was already in a sexual relationship with Conor. Now, I was comparing Sara to Liv and finding her too polished and eager to please. Liv was nothing like that. She was authentic and unapologetic.
“Your wisdom, support, and guidance means everything to us.”
While Sara showered Conor with words of affirmation, I thought back to yesterday when Liv had confided in me that her lover’s hand on her throat turned her on. The intimacy and trust she had showed me had been so fucking sexy.
After dinner, we were gathering in the living room for our session of the day. The room was full of sofas and chairs and we all took a seat directing our attention upon Conor, who stood in front of the cozy fireplace.
“Today’s topic is how to withstand critics. Many of you have felt the pressure from family and friends who don’t understand what we’re doing here at the mastermind group. Can you name some of the reasons people are critical?” Conor looked relaxed as he stood in front of us.
Hands flew up and he selected Lumi, who was eager to answer.
“People are jealous and wish they had access to something like this themselves.”
“That’s right, but is that our problem?” Conor asked her.
“No, it’s your right to only work with those you see great potential in.”
Conor nodded and pointed to me. “What other reasons are there for people to be critical?”
I cleared my throat. “They could be controlling.”
“Can you give us an example?”
“Maybe your family had fixed plans for your future and the moment you break away, and it doesn’t fit their agenda, they get critical of your choices.”
“Yes.” Conor gave me a sad nod. “We’ve seen this over and over. That’s why I only extend invitations to people I believe are strong enough to withstand the outside pressure. Because let’s face it, sometimes, it’s not jealousy or the need to control that drives criticism. Often it’s a friend or family member who is genuinely concerned and listening to horrible gossip that isn’t true. They get confused and make accusations. Remember the times angry and confused people have accused us of being a cult.”
People around me laughed and River repeated the joke I’d heard a number of times over the five months I’d been here. “People need to learn the difference between being cultivated and being part of a cult.”
Conor spoke again, “But what about what Charles just said? Are we obligated to follow the path that our family has laid out for us?”
I loved it when he referred to something I’d said as if my words were important.
“Our destiny is our own and it’s our obligation to make the most of it.” Conor swung his hand to the twins. “Some are drawn to inspire others by stepping into the bright spotlight and sharing their gift.” His body turned to me. “While others prefer to stay out of the spotlight and work on serving justice to victims of international crime syndicates.”
I had told him that was my dream one time when he’d pushed me to define my goals in life, but the truth was that I wasn’t sure what I wanted work-wise. I enjoyed teaching much more than I would have thought possible, but there were also days when I missed Solver Industries.
If only my grandfather hadn’t closed his mind to what I was doing in Ireland. He had made accusations of Conor being a fraud without having even met the man. It was so typical of my grandfather to dismiss something without taking a second look. He was used to making quick decisions all day long, and decades of people sucking up to him had given him a sad God complex, where he thought everyone was interested in his opinion, and ready to follow his directives. Well, I wasn’t! I could think for myself and I’d stand by my friends here in Ireland.
“How do we deal with the critics?” Conor gave us time to think.
My way of dealing with my grandfather had been to cut him off. I hadn’t called or emailed him in mon
ths. At first it had made me feel empowered that I was out from under his constant pressure, but at that moment, with my being already sad and confused about Liv, a new thought entered my mind. I had accused my grandfather of not caring about me, but… thoughts were running through my mind so fast that I couldn’t pinpoint what bothered me. Conor and the others kept discussing ways to set boundaries, cutting off people, and taking control of one’s life, but my mind was searching to understand the gnawing feeling inside me that I was missing something. And then it came to me. I’d felt loved when Ciara called to check up on me this morning. I’d even told Liv that it was a sign of how amazing the group was. So why was it that when my grandfather left call after call, I ignored them and took it as him badgering me? The last time I’d spoken to him, he’d been angry with me for getting involved with the group. He had called it a sect and told me I was naïve. I rubbed my forehead as if I could massage clarity into my thoughts. My grandfather was my closest relative and even though we disagreed, I might regret cutting him off. Could I accuse him of not caring about me while at the same time ignoring his attempts to connect? I sighed with a heavy heart and promised myself that one of these days, I’d give him a call and see if we could somehow have a conversation without fighting.
After the initial discussion, we were asked to divide into study groups where we’d do role-playing to practice cutting off people who didn’t support our lifestyle.
“You might feel that you owe your family and friends to listen.” Conor’s gaze landed on me. “You might even think you’re in love, but trust me when I say that no physical pleasure can beat the prize of mental clarity that comes with being in charge of your own destiny.”
“I’m sorry, but I’m going to have to skip this part. I don’t feel good,” I told Conor.
With a worried expression he placed a hand on my shoulder and pulled me to a corner. “You’re upset about Liv.” As always, he could read my mind. “I get it, but think about what I said. Is it possible that you projected your ideas of a girlfriend on to her? You don’t know her, Charles.”
