Where the Streets have no Name

by Taylor, Danielle

  The lass shivered in his arms. Too soon indeed the kiss ended. And he released her. He’d always release her. He’d no sooner stand in her way than he’d hurt another human being who didn’t damned well earn it.

  I kissed him.

  She’d actually done it.

  What possessed her?

  Amelia stared in Daniel’s eyes and in them, she saw a myriad of emotions. Most of them she couldn’t read. But she noted the ever present sadness there, lingering in the fringes. Was he upset? She hadn’t meant to bother him.

  First to turn away, Daniel walked back to her grandfather’s urn. He lifted it with care and headed back to the car. Their beach walk ended as soon as it began.

  Taking his cue, Amelia hopped back to the rental. Daniel returned and offered his assistance; a strong arm hooked under her arms, holding her to his body as they walked. She studied him on the trip. The expression on his face solidified her thought that he kissed her to stop her from crying and that’s all.

  She wanted to be mad at him but given his past, she couldn’t find it in her.

  Daniel drove south along the coast with a wistful look in his eye. As many times as she tried to talk to him, she stopped herself. He probably didn’t mean it, the kiss. He did return the kiss – she still felt his arms around her, holding her close…

  Stop thinking about it!

  “Are you hungry?”

  Amelia stiffened. He hadn’t heard her stomach growling…had he?

  “I’m pretty hungry myself. I just need to stop at a bank–”

  “No.” She shook her head. “No. I asked you to come along with me here, Daniel, so I’m paying for lunches and dinners and breakfasts and…and snacks. And drinks,” she added.

  “Is that so?” Daniel quirked a brow. “Right then. Where should we go?”

  “What do you feel like? I could go for beef again. Maybe big greasy burgers and fries with lots of salt.”

  “Jaysus.” Daniel shoved a hand through his blue-black locks. “You sure you’re a beautiful lass? ‘Cause you sound like a lad to me.”

  The absurdity of his words made Amelia laugh. Her. Beautiful. Right. The guy was on something. Or he was kissing her ass. Pushing that thought aside, she said, “First place you see with burgers, we’re going.”

  “Doubt we’ll come across anything taking the scenic route. Want me to get onto the main roads then?”

  “Sure.” Amelia kept her eyes glued out the window.

  If she didn’t look at him, she had a slight chance of keeping him off her mind.

  Thirty minutes after the moment she brought up burgers, they still hadn’t passed anywhere serving them. Amelia’s stomach was almost eating itself from the inside out.

  “Right lass, it’s not burgers, but how about we get us a nice bit of fish and some chips on the side?”

  “Oh god that sounds like heaven,” Amelia answered.

  “Grand. There’s a place up ahead.”

  “You’re familiar with the area?”

  Daniel shook his head. “I saw a sign a few minutes back.

  “Oh.”

  Unbearable silence filled the car; until Daniel parked across the road from a small store with a bright blue sign. A fisherman sat in his boat, his bucket full of fish and another on his line. Amelia couldn’t read the words though. She’d never learned Irish.

  “So, fish n’ chips then?” Daniel asked.

  Nodding, Amelia reached into her wallet and took out a few euro notes. “If they have hot chocolate can you get me one? If not, just a soda is fine. Lemon-lime or regular cola. And get yourself whatever you want, too.”

  Daniel smiled then and the sun came up in her chest, bursting rays of warmth radiating to the furthest reaches of her body. “If they’ve got a fried chocolate bar, will you try that?”

  “Fried chocolate? That sounds so gross!” Amelia scrunched up her nose. “And hell yes, I’ll try one!”

  “You’re mad, you are,” he said, laughing. “I’ll be back.”

  Daniel checked for cars and then ran across the street, ducking into the store. Amelia wanted to know more about him but she also didn’t want to push. She knew the bare bones. The prison sentencing, the loss of his family. But she wanted to know his likes and dislikes. His favourite time of day, what seasons he preferred. What he wanted to do with his life now.

  That last one was definitely off limits. She couldn’t ask him. What would she do if their roles were reversed? She didn’t know. The one thing she was capable of now, she was doing. Being a friend to him.

  He returned with their food and Amelia devoured her fish first. Fried to crispy perfection. She’d need to work all this off once her knee healed but for now she planned on enjoying every bite.

  Daniel passed her a large container with a small plastic fork. “Chips with curry sauce. You’ll love it. I know you will.”

  Looking inside at the bright yellow sauce covering thick-cut French fries, Amelia held back a shudder. “I’ll have to take your word for it.”

  He laughed and pushed a forkful of the concoction in his mouth, groaning when it touched his tongue. “Give it a try.”

  She pushed the plastic tines into a fry with a negligible amount of sauce on it, then brought the morsel to her lips, hesitant to open them and let the thing in. Fast food in general usually tasted so disgustingly delicious she had a hard time turning it down, but the fluorescent yellow sauce did nothing for her gastronomic desires.

  “Go on then. Tuck in, love. If you don’t eat them, I think I just might.”

  “Back off,” she warned, teasingly, using her fork as a weapon. “Get your own French fries.”

  Daniel gasped in feigned horror. “Eh, no, you can’t go ‘round calling chips ‘French fries.’ There’s a difference. See how thick they are? Like someone’s stuck the potato in a wood chipper, aye?”

  “I thought it was just a British thing, like how you call chips crisps.”

  “When I as a lad, my Da explained to me that French fries are thin and crispy all over. Chips are thick and…” He brought another forkful to his lips “…lovely and…” The fork vanished and when it came out, it was empty “…sho gufd.”

  “What is it with men and talking with their mouths full?” Amelia laughed and Daniel rolled his eyes.

  “Would you just try it already?”

  “Fine, fine!” Amelia took a breath and shoved the fry in her mouth before she chickened out.

  And holy crap…chips with curry sauce tasted like nothing she’d ever eaten. Amelia stabbed a few chips at once and pulled them from the fork, chewing slow, enjoying the flavour.

  “Ha, ha, ha, I told you they were good!”

  Rolling her eyes, Amelia elbowed Daniel, then continued shovelling fries in like his threat to steal them was real.

  They finished their meals in silence, staring through the windshield. Amelia had to admit, even the fried chocolate bar was good. All this fried food though and no vegetables meant that when she reached her final destination, she’d need to spend a few weeks getting back into the swing of healthy eating and exercise. At the end of the day though, she was only human. A lapse here and there didn’t make her any less than who she was.

  Clouds overhead quickly moved from a threat of rain to full storm, raining fat drops on the pavement. Each drop thundered and splashed. Visibility was so terrible she could barely see a foot in front of the headlights.

  “We should find somewhere around here to stay for the night,” Daniel suggested, collecting the remains of their lunch and replacing them in the bag. “Don’t want to be driving through this, especially not on the coastal roads.”

  “I agree,” she said, squinting through the rain, scanning the signs along the street. “I can’t see a single thing in this mess.”

  Daniel took the bag and placed a hand on the door. “I’ll throw this in the bin and hop back inside the chippy, and ask if they know of a place.”

  He opened the door and took off in the rain without giving h
er a chance to respond.

  Rain soaked through every layer of his clothing, right down on the padding inside his new shoes. Standing under the awning, Daniel shook his head, sending droplets flying out in all directions. He didn’t want to go inside the shop a second time, but he wouldn’t risk Amelia’s safety.

  He hadn’t driven in years, and the only reason he got his license renewed was due to a new law passed giving inmates who had their driver’s licenses before entering the prison system a renewed license for when they came out. They gave him some spiel about jobs and rights, but he hadn’t paid much attention. They never gave him reason to be grateful and he wasn’t about to break down and thank the bastards when they presented him with the brand new licence.

  Daniel gave himself a mental shake. Time to man up and ask for the nearest bed and breakfast or inn. He pulled the door open and stepped inside. The small group of customers he’d seen when he came in previously were gone now. Just a few people remained, and only one of them sat at a small Formica table eating a large serving of chips and scampi.

  “You’ve returned then, have you? Problems with the order?” the older man behind the counter asked.

  “No,” Daniel said. “No problem at all.” Make small talk. Don’t give him a reason to think he recognises you. “Everything was lovely. My…friend, she gives her compliments. She’s never had chips and curry sauce, or the dessert, and raved about them both.”

  “Oh?” The man smiled. “Well, good then.”

  “Aye.” Daniel shifted his weight. “Erm, I was wondering if you knew of a place we could stay for the night. Don’t want to be driving in this downpour. Is there a B&B about? Or something similar?”

  “Eh…” The man rubbed his chin with thick, sausage-like fingers, aiming dark eyes to the ceiling. “I dunno if the pub’s still got letting rooms or not. Moira!” he yelled over his shoulder.

  “Aye?”

  “Fella here’s lookin’ for a room for the night!”

  Heavy footsteps slammed. Annoyed grumbling followed. An overly large woman ambled into view. If not for the stringy hair and her weight, he’d guess her to be close to his thirty-two, but she looked so much older.

  “Who’s wantin’ a place?” she wheezed, dabbing her brow with a greying scrap of cloth.

  The man indicated Daniel with his chin. “Lad here and his girl. Don’t want to be drivin’ through this mess.” He motioned out the front window.

  “Well there’s the one little cottage down the end of the street…” She sighed. Annoyance oozed from the woman’s pores. She eyed Daniel with distaste at first. Then a flash of something crossed her cold, dark eyes.

  Recognition.

  “Eh! It’s that baby killer!” She shoved a fat finger through the air. “You’re not stayin’ anywhere in my town, you hear me? We’ll have you run out!”

  “Baby killer? Moira, what are you on about?”

  Daniel was already backing up to the door. Snakes of fear slithered around him. His hands fumbled for the door, hoping to make a hasty exit.

  “The one that bombed that café fifteen years ago, Da!” Moira shouted, jabbing her finger in the air still. Hatred seethed from her words. She worked up a sweat ambling towards him.

  “You?” The man snarled. “You dare come in my shop?”

  The man who was sitting at the table now stood blocking the door. The same hate-filled glare Daniel saw on everyone who recognised him was on this man’s face too.

  “I-I…I don’t want any trouble,” Daniel said, hands held up in surrender.

  “Bloody bastard,” Moira spat from behind him.

  Daniel swore he’d never do it, but he hadn’t a choice in the matter. He needed to get out of here and back to Amelia. The man at the door was shorter by a full head, and Daniel had at least two stone (about twenty-eight pounds) over the man, mostly muscle. He wasn’t a violent person, but this situation called for a little self-defence.

  Pain radiated through the back of his head. Someone struck him!

  Daniel winced, turning, and saw Moira holding a bain marie pan, swinging her thick, wobbly arms back to strike again. He wasted no time. Facing the door again, he shoved the other man out of his way and pushed the door open, running across the street without checking for cars. One swerved and nearly hit him, but carried on with a few curses called out the window after him.

  He didn’t stop until he got into Amelia’s car, and even then, he switched the engine on and sped away from the scene, paying no mind to his seatbelt or the cracking pain shooting through his skull.

  Amelia was saying something. Asking questions no doubt. But he had to get further away. All he needed now was for one of them in the shop to ring up the Gardaí and send them after him.

  Since he returned from the take-out place, running like a maniac was hot on his heels and driving like he had to escape the scene of a crime, Daniel barely spoke two words to her. The difference between needing space and hiding things had been clear to her for many years, and right now, Daniel was hiding something.

  But what?

  They couldn’t find anywhere in the little town they stopped at for lunch. The rain fell too hard and Daniel wouldn’t answer her when she asked if they’d given him some options. They were lucky to come across this little caravan park, as Daniel called it, with fully stocked caravans to stay in for the night.

  Daniel bought a few frozen pizzas from the little on-site store, bread and peanut butter and honey for breakfast, and some snacks for later. They settled in for the night, the sound of lashing rain battering the roof.

  Amelia sat propped up on the converted table/bed, watching him stare blankly through the rain. What happened in there? Something happened. She knew it did. He was a different guy when he came back out.

  Oh no, had someone recognised him?

  Damn, she’d thought he’d be all right. Fifteen years was a long time and he didn’t look too much like his younger self. Unless an over-zealous reporter caught wind and snapped his picture recently. She decided to take his mind off everything by pestering him. It worked with her parents, she mused, grinning.

  “So…” She began, crossing her uninjured leg under the other, which she left straight “…what do you want to do tonight?”

  Daniel turned from his spot by the window wearing a vacant expression. Whatever happened, he wanted to hide it from her. “I dunno, lass. No telly. Pissing down with rain. Doesn’t give us many options, does it?”

  Was he nervous?

  Amelia grinned. If he was, she had only one thing for it. And maybe if he loosened up a little, she could get to know the man behind the gorgeous body and brooding mind.

  “Can you go in my suitcase and get something for me, please?”

  “Of course.” He pushed to his feet and began crossing the room.

  Long strides showcased his powerful thighs beneath soft denim. The grey t-shirt stretched over broad shoulders and thickly knotted muscle from his pecs down to his abs. Daniel’s arms flexed with each movement. He stopped at her suitcase and bent down to pull the zipper, giving her a perfect view of his ass.

  Her tongue stuck to the roof of her mouth. Eye lids drooped. And her pulse slammed hard and fast against her ribcage.

  “What are you wantin’ from in your case?”

  “Uh…” Amelia swallowed. He stole coherence from her using only his body, and he didn’t know he was doing it.

  “Jaysus, this is a bloody big bottle of whisky you’ve got in here!” He pulled it out, examining the label. “You’ve got to be feckin’ jokin’ lass.” Daniel spun on his heels, holding the bottle like he would a newborn baby. “There’s no way. You can’t…”

  A smirk played on her lips. “I like single malt. What can I say?”

  “Aye, but a thirty-four year old, rare production triple cask-aged single malt costing more than most people make in a month? No, two months!” He shook his head, disbelief clouding his eyes. “I’m frightened to ask how you came across this bottle, and what you in
tend to do with it.”

  “Drink it, silly!” Amelia held out her hand and Daniel slowly, reluctantly, passed the bottle to her. “It was a gift, and the instructions were clear: enjoy it with someone important. So grab those two glasses from the desk and take a seat next to me.”

  “You’ve gone mad. Me? Amelia, I can’t…can’t drink that. I’m not–”

  “You are important and you will drink it.” She put on her best ‘do as I say’ face. “Glasses, Daniel. Now.”

  Mumbling a few choice words, Daniel grabbed the two tumblers and joined her on the bed. She would have liked ice to go with it, but Poppa always said a good single malt needed to be served neat; in a glass, on its own, and savoured.

  After peeling off the wrapper covering the stopper top, Amelia pulled it open, then poured two measures in each glass. She handed one to Daniel and smiled, saying, “To new friends.”

  “And loved ones no longer with us,” Daniel said, touching his glass to hers.

  She glanced to the left where he’d set Poppa’s urn down when they came in from the rain. Daniel had told her to wait a minute and grabbed the urn, covering it with a clean, dry sweater. He’d run straight into the caravan returning a few minutes later for her. The man touched her with his sincerity and compassion time and time again.

  How could people think him capable of the horrendous crime they convicted him of?

  Her eyes filled with a fresh sluice of tears, threatening to spill over the banks with the force of Niagara Falls. Half due to the searing agony of losing the one person who seemed to understand her wholly; the other half of her wanted to weep for everything Daniel lost.

  Amelia hid behind her glass, drinking down the amber whiskey. Felt like someone poured gasoline down her throat and tossed a match in for good measure. She coughed and spluttered, unprepared for the sting.

  Daniel chuckled, sliding a hand behind her back. A few gentle but firm thumps later, she nodded her thanks.

  “Not used to it?”

  Amelia smiled an impish smile. “I might have lied when I said I’ve had whisky before.”