by J Haney
31 Onóra
Looks can be deceiving; this is something I learned very early. Just because something may look as it hadn’t been touched doesn’t mean anything. Rónán held bags as I popped false bottoms, tops, sides, you name it, and I hid it there. The family safe he was able to get held, my babies. Guns, knives, slingshots. One could say I had my own set of toys. I couldn’t bring any of it with me as my name is on most of it.
We got back to Rónán’s with the documents, and now I’m sitting on the couch trying to get comfortable. I can only lean to my right side as my left is still fucked.
“Can I have your pillow?” I ask Rónán who is beside me as we’re going through all the papers.
“Of course.” He pulls the pillow out from behind himself. “All of this, it’s like a who’s who of who’s got the cash. I mean names, account numbers. Your old man was trusted with all of this?” Rónán asks incredulously.
I fix the pillow finally getting comfortable. “Yeah, and you could ask me anything about any of it. I could tell you word for word and number for number.”
“Do you realize the amount of money you have in your hands right there? Mrs. Cazalet?”
“It’s the dummy account for one Guerrino Scarpitti, and in this account, there’s three-point four million, and that’s just one of six of his accounts. Next?”
“Do you realize that with a little elbow grease and a few wigs we could clean them out? Bankrupt them right out of business. No money means no means to pay for goons. No goons mean no one looking for ya.”
“That account is nothing. You should see ours. Besides I know, we could do what you’re saying, but that makes us no better than them you know that, right?”
“No, we’re better. We won’t murder, traffic women or sell poison to kids for it. We’ll be like Robin Hood. See we clear out only the dummy accounts, so they aren’t desolate, just insanely crippled and no longer trusted by the big bosses overseas. This will keep them from being players anymore.” He stands as the hamster wheel turns. “That takes care of the Italian’s. Then we take and transfer some of the accounts to yer Uncle to buy yer freedom. We like our gold, which is to yer advantage. That takes care of the Irish, leaving us to disappear here.” He points to a sheet of paper I don’t recall.
“What’s that?” I say, holding my hand out.
“It’s the deed to a horse sanctuary out in some little town in Arizona. Over fifty acres of land. Looks to still be running too. Everything is filled out except the name of ownership. But it has a note.”
I snatch the letter from his hand.
Onóra,
Baby, I’m sorry for whatever has led to your reading this. I’m to assume I’m gone. I hope that is not the case and I’m actually standing over you as you read this in a white dress, trying not to muss your make up. Maybe you met a nice boy; maybe you decided to marry Vincenzo. I don’t know. I can only hope you are happy. If I am gone and you are alone, I hope it is not for long. I hope Finn is safe too. That you are together in this. This deed, I bought the property for Fireguard your stallion we took when you were sixteen. I couldn’t put him down I knew it would break your heart, so when I told you he went to live out his days on a ranch, you see. Daddy didn’t lie. This place is for you, for your family and no one knows about it. Have Rory help you, if need be, but rest assured no one will ever find you here. It’s out of the families reaches. Protected by other nations as it were.
Go, live, and be happy. Have children and know that every day of your life, you and Finn made me proud.
I love you.
Daddy
Before I even reach the bottom, my tears are hitting the page. He’s taking care of us from the grave. I set the page beside me as I start to wipe my face. I’ve always heard of ugly crying; I’ve just never done it till now. Rónán wraps his arms around me from my right side. I swallow as I see Finn coming into the living room.
“Is she okay? Has she completely gone mental?” Finn asks, and I just cry harder.
“She’s gonna be okay; she just needs this right now.” Rónán says, pulling me further into himself. “How about ya go and put the kettle on and turn the coffee pot on while yer at it? Please, then I’ll make some scones that we can have with raspberry jam and fresh whipped cream okay?”
“If you say so.” Finn says in that whatever tone.
“We’d have met again anyway. Rory was supposed to set Finn and me up.” I drop my head to his chest; it hurts a little but not bad. His hand runs through my hair in a soothing rhythm.
“No one ever told me. But it would make sense. No matter how strong ya think ya think ya are, ya need someone to balance ya. I couldn’t be more appropriate.” He half chuckles. “You’d never know it, but my father’s name wasn’t Rónán. Rory gave me my other names.”
“If we’re going to disappear. I want what’s mine. I deserve it, Finn deserves it. If we’re going, we’re going with a bang.”
“What do ya have in mind?”
“Like you said, every Boss has a Boss.”
32 Rónán
Brilliant, clever, and sexy. I landed the doctor. I laugh to myself. She wants to travel to Limerick and Ostuni. She wants to plead her case to the real bosses of the families here. I start to go through Rory’s things to pull the passport materials, and I find a file marked Donnelly. I’m immediately confused as Donnelly was Rory’s given name and as such is my legal and honest name as of the day he adopted me. O’Shea was the name we use when dealing with the families to keep us safe. No one knows Rory or Rónán Donnelly, but the name carries clout. Rory was the first cousin to Dermot O’Sullivan, who now sits at the very head of the Irish families. Rory had a sister, but she died almost eleven years ago.
I open the file, and inside I see pictures of Noel, her father, and mother. These images are from before Nolan was born. The notes all take into account that the children were to be taken care of. That Rory stood godfather to them. These papers are all set up to convert their names from Russo to Donnelly. Making them the last living children of Mary Donnelley. The age would fit, and it states that Mary died in childbirth on the death certificate I’m holding in my hands. There are birth certificates, passport information, social security numbers, fingerprints. the file had been updated over the years. Why wasn’t this ever shown to me? As I reach the last page, I find something written in Rory’s hand. An Lámh Fhoisteanach Abú, which means The Steady Hand to Victory in Gaelic. It also happens to be on the O'Sullivan coat of arms. After it says, protect them.
I swallow, seems she isn’t the only one getting messages from the great beyond.
“Rónán,” Noel calls my name. “You still down here?” She’s getting closer. Do I hide this? Do I show her? Hiding things has caused so many issues. Best to be forward and honest. I mean I had no idea Rory had plans for me to help them. As she approaches me, she sees the look of worry on me, I’m sure.
I hold out my hand, the file in it, extended to her. “From Rory.”
She takes the files. “You know that’s a lot of stairs for someone that’s still healing.” She’s smiling, but she’s also hurting. I can see it in the way she moves.
“Then maybe ya should have gone further down the hall to the service elevator.” I chuckle. “I do own the whole building ya know?”
“Don’t start on me. Finn’s hungry. Do you want to go grab something or take work home?” I don’t answer her; rather, I let her go through the file more. I stand, and I watch. She’s still yammering until she isn't. “What the hell?” She gets a little further. “We’re to be your niece and nephew? How’s that supposed to work?”
“No, Rory’s Niece and Nephew. I’m adopted, no matter how ya slice it, we’d have only name in common. This helps you. If we say, Rory raised ya and Nolan. Er well Finn, these papers give ya back your names. When we get to Limerick the name will open a lot of doors.”
“I do miss my name. Noel is so common. So, we’ll have the same name. That’s not weird at all.” She cr
acks another smile. “How about that food. The kid is hungry.”
“Waffle House?” I smirk. “Then we can take this stuff home, and I can make better sense of it all.”
“No, you haven’t eaten a thing good for you in days. It’s been a lot of grease. It’s probably a good thing you made me leave the diner when you did. I changed your order a tad.”
“I thought ya might.” I take a chance and pull her into me. “Just proved ya still cared. Now, I’m gonna go an do something I've been needin’ to do for a while.”
“What’s that?” She pulls on my shirt with one hand as the other clings to the file.
“Kiss ya, hello.” I lick my lips as she bites hers, and down I go. My lips meet hers for a moment, and she hesitates, but then her fingers sprawl against my chest, and she gives in to me. It’s the greatest feeling in the world.
***
It’s been a few days, and I’ve gotten most of the papers in order. I’ve also booked the airfare and the places we’ll be staying. Let's face it we’re tourists tryin’ to take on two of the biggest crime syndicates in the world. I’ve been draining bank accounts, pushing everything to an offshore account. Right now we have almost fifty million. I love saying that. Fifty-Million dollars. A quarter of it we plan to disperse to charities and another quarter is being offered to the families to leave us be. The Irish won’t care where it came from, and the Italian’s will be too embarrassed to admit we took it. That’s if she even offers it up. I don’t know her actual plan, but I’m sure the truth has something to do with it.
Marcy came over at her request. They’ve been in the bathroom for quite some time, but I hear movement again. The door opens and out comes Noel, er, Onóra, I need to get used to calling her that out loud and not just when we well… Ya know, if we ever get back to that it will be nice to call her name good and proper.
Her hair is a beautiful chestnut with the slightest bit of honey running through it. With her molten chocolate eyes, I find it hard to breathe, just looking at her.
“W-wow.” I sputter.
“You like?” She does a slow little turn as to put on a show.
“I do.”
“It’s so much better than the blonde.” Marcy smiles. “Some of us just look better brown.”
“Tell me about it. I hated being a blonde! I’m so much better natural.”
“Well, my work here is done. Rónán don’t be such a stranger. The boys love you.” Marcy smiles, patting my chest. “Oh, Noel, your boy is welcome at our place anytime. He’s such a little cutie.” She waves and lets herself out.
“You know they say; blondes have more fun. But brunettes remember it the next day.” I walk over to Onóra, “So how does it feel to look in the mirror and see you staring back?”
“Like it’s really me again. Blonde was horrible on me. I felt… Like I had to act stupid because of it. Show off; you know what I mean?”
“Sounds about right. Question is, do I have a shot with Onóra Donnelly? Or was it only Noel that liked me?”
“I think everyone likes you, Rónán.”
“Is that an invitation?” I cozy up to her. “I miss ya kiss, and the way ya pull on my chest hair while you do it.”
“I wouldn't punch or push you away if you tried.”
My hand slips behind her back, and I give her hair, which has grown since we met a bit of a tug. This forces her head to set back and her mouth to open just enough for me to delve its depths. I back her to the couch then turn, pulling her down on top of me. This is the only way to do a makeout session right.
33 Onóra
Packing for an overseas trip is never easy. Especially going as me, Onóra. Not as a Russo nor as Antaine’s niece though they will know that way as soon as they see me and Finn both. I want my life back; this is the only way to get it. We’re going to the Italian’s first because they are the ones that plan to harm us. Irish? They want me to run the show. Little do any of them know Rónán and I have been running it for weeks now. They’ve pissed off the wrong woman. I’m no use to the Italian’s as I’ve been mussed up by an Irishman. They’d all lose their shit if they found out. Sucks for them then. I may have done something Rónán doesn’t know about. I wrote a letter to each family. Told them both to go screw real good. I may have gone into explicit detail on how they could fuck themselves. Yes, that includes Antaine.
Noel was nice and for the most part, quiet. Onóra? She’s loud and has no give a damn. My life was taken from me long ago. Now, I’m eighteen, and I’m taking it back and if people don’t like it they can go burning down in flames as Rónán would say.
I wish I could say I was back to being a hundred percent, but I’m not. We saw the gynecologist; with his advice, we decide to hold off on birth control. Of course, Rónán and I had this discussion as he’s the only one I plan to be having any kind of sexual activities with. Hell, we’re moving to Arizona together. He may not know it yet, but I’ve already starting looking at moving companies and possibly renting a U-Haul or two for ourselves. Plus if everything goes the way I’m expecting it to. I will have all of our stuff back. Money be damned. The auction was a farce any way to get me to come out of hiding. Well, here I am, and here I come. Fuck with me, and I’ll have to show you Karma.
I’ve got a family now even if it is just Finn, Rónán and I. Speaking of them someone is snapping their fingers at me. I give myself a good shake and see Rónán watching me. I smile at him taking his hand to help me out of the Uber.
“Who’s ready to go flying?”
“We have just one thing to take care of first.” Rónán says, still holding my hand. “I may have fudged our flight information slightly.”
“As long as you made sure we are in First Class, I don’t care what you did.”
“Good, because they only had honeymoon packages available this time of year.” He waggles his brows at me.
“So, we’re married? What of Finn? Are we to put him with the luggage?”
“I was thinking more like below deck with the puppies.” He snorts, giving Finn a wink. He’d get food and water that way.”
“Not funny guys. Though can you really get married? I think it’d be cool.”
“Not really there, yet.” I say, watching Rónán. We’re back on good terms but not really ready for marr- what the hell? Rónán is opening a box with rings inside. Stacked together are Gold rings each with a Claddagh, that is the hands holding the heart with the crown. The engagement ring has for the crown a three-carat white diamond. Then it’s flanked much like the wedding band by rows of smaller diamonds. His ring is the same, gold, Claddagh and diamonds.
“I pledge my friendship, loyalty, and love to ya.” Rónán says taking the rings out and slipping them on my trembling finger.
“You're serious? Are you sure? I'm just a kid. What if you find someone more your age?”
“Them seven years between us, they were just what it took for me to be ready for you. We fit, and when two people fit, they have to give it their all. I’m willing to, are ya?”
I'm nodding like a crazy fool. “Yes, Rónán. I'd always try for you.”
He kisses me, and Finn wraps his arms around us.
“Do I have to go below deck?”
Rónán laughs. “No, buddy we got the family addition. You will get all the free coke you want.” He ruffles Finn’s hair.
“Oh, good, I’m parched.”
“I love you both. Now, let's go get our life back and show who’s boss.”
***
Ostuni. A beautiful whitewashed town with a rich history is our first destination. When we arrive, I’ll have to send a note to the home of Giovani Carlucci, hoping that the Russo name holds enough clout to gain me an audience. This is all hinged on my name.
A seventeen-hour flight brought us to a shuttle that took us to an apartment in the city’s center. Rónán is super confident; I’ll say that. Our private little two-bedroom apartment got the honeymoon treatment. Fresh flowers in all the rooms, our bed covered in
rose petals and a bottle of wine already set to chill in a bucket with two glasses.
Finn and Rónán are checking everything out. I'm doing what I do best, pacing. The letter should be in Giovani's hand anytime. Here we are supposed to be honeymooners, and instead, I'm going through what I'm going to say to each family. I've got two messenger bags, one to carry with me for each family.
I look up as I feel arms wrap around me. “Hey, done looking?” I ask as I lay my head against Rónán’s chest.
“The view is perfect; ya can see the town and the vast olive trees that cover the countryside. Ya need to calm yerself. Said yerself, it could be a day or two before they get back to ya. Ya plan to pace the whole time?” He turns me to him, humming a tune to dance to. “Come on now; we’re in Italy, we’ve a romantic set up. Why not enjoy it a bit?”
“I'm trying, but I pace when I'm anxious you have to know this by now.” I say as he rocks us back and forth.
“Why don’t we wash the travel out of your hair and then you can put on one of those pretty summer dresses you packed. Then we can all go down into town. It’s Saturday, from my reading it says there’s an open market. If we’re gonna be here a few days we’re gonna need provisions, right?” He gives my neck a quick peck. “Come on it’ll take ya mind off things.”
“You’re right. Plus this is Finn’s first time in Italy and yours, right? So, let me show you the world I’ve grown up in.”
34 Rónán
The market square. Never have I felt more out of place. Nothing like being surrounded on all sides by what you were raised to think of as the enemy. Yet this is half my heritage too. I get the darkness of my hair and the slope of my nose from my biological father. Michello Rinaldi, what can I say about him? All I really know is that he was a soldier back in the seventies and eighties when the Italian’s still held strong sway in the New England territories. I also know that it was his love of women, cards, and booze that got him a bullet to the brain.
