Also by Cindy Brandner
Exit Unicorns (Book 1 - Exit Unicorns Series)
Mermaid in a Bowl of Tears (Book 2 - Exit Unicorns Series)
Flights of Angels (Book 3 - Exit Unicorns Series)
Cindy Brandner
Mermaid in a Bowl of Tears
Starry Night Press
Copyright © 2007 Cindy Brandner
The use of any part of this publication, reproduced, transmitted in any form or by any means electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, or stored in a retrieval system without the prior written consent of the author is an infringement of the copyright law.
Cover design by Stevie Blaue
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.
Published in Canada by
Starry Night Press
Rev. 09/16/2012
For my own Patrick,
without whom there would be no words.
Acknowledgements
A book this size requires the efforts and expertise of far more than one person and I am deeply indebted to the following.
My patient and supportive family- my daughters who never complain about takeout because mom forgot to cook yet again! My wonderful husband who puts up with all sorts of artistic moaning and whinging and supports me one hundred and fifty percent.
The ladies and gent of Shamrocks and Stones, my online social club- you all are the best and I thank you for all the laughter, tears, encouragement and fun that we have together on a daily basis. Peggy Busby who runs the place with a firm hand and a kind heart- thanks for the world’s only bottling of ‘Connemara Mist’ – I’m saving it for a truly special occasion.
Michelle Moore for giving me what is surely one of the most beautiful websites on the internet- you are an amazingly talented lady Michelle. Do go check out her work- www.exitunicorns.com. Thank you also for all the lovely designs for the mugs, mousepads, t-shirts etc for all the ‘Exit Unicorns’ paraphenalia that is out there.
Shannon Curtis- aka ‘Jamie’s girl’- my gratitude for your beautiful Chapter Charms that honour the spirit of both ‘Exit Unicorns’ and ‘Mermaid in a Bowl of Tears’.
Lee Ramsey for her endless well of patience with the job of editing such a large manuscript, Carla Murphy for her clear eye for what works and what does not- you bring the spirit of Newfoundland to all you do and it’s a lovely thing woman. Jane Hill for double checking all those Boston scenes and for making certain that my hooker sounded suitably low class. Tim Crowley for his expertise in all things Boston.
My circle of ‘first readers’- Fran Bach for reading the whole thing in a few days and for loving every page of it. Dorine ‘Dreen’ Lamarche- honey you are the world’s worst critic and for that I just loves ya. Elaine Pontious- you are my Anam Cara woman and I thank you for all the hyacinth. Mahri Newton for all the inspirational pics of our Col- keep ‘em comin’. Noelle Delieto- part of my Irish posse, with you at my back I cannot go wrong in this world. Sallie Blumenauer for reminding me every now again that the words alone are, indeed, worth it. Tracy Goode- you have the world’s best heart girl.
Mick O’Neill for showing me a side of Republican Belfast that few outsiders are ever allowed to see. It was an amazing day and I will be forever grateful.
Bobbie Thornton and Rhonda Rawling for being my friends for oh so long now and always encouraging me on this journey of mine.
My parents Marvin and Wanda Brandner for teaching me to follow my dreams no matter how long and bumpy the road.
My grandmother Violet Brandner who loved words as much as I do. I miss you Grandma, and I thank you for always being so proud of me.
Last but never least- I thank the readers for all your letters, gifts, cards and mostly for loving these characters of mine and taking them into your lives and hearts as friends. I know the wait was long for many of you and I thank you for your patience. I hope when you turn the last page you will feel it was well worth the wait.
Until next time,
Rath Dé ort
Cindy
www.exitunicorns.com
[email protected]
Table of Contents
Praise for Exit Unicorns
Praise for Mermaid in a Bowl of Tears
Praise for Flights of Angels
Acknowledgements
Part One - If This is Love...
Part Two - A Little Irish Homestead
Part Three - Nothing Sacred
Part Four - When the Dark Night Seems Endless...
Part Five - An Aran Idyll
Part Six - History’s Prisoners
Part Seven - The End of Ordinary Life
Part Eight - How Fragile is the Heart
Part One - If This is Love...
Chapter One - Conversations With a Gull
Chapter Two - True Love
Chapter Three - Agent Gus
Chapter Four - Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas
Chapter Five - Judas Kiss
Chapter Six - Priest and Friend
Chapter Seven - Devil’s Deal
Chapter Eight - The Whale Road
Chapter Nine - The Nature of Love
Chapter Ten - Mermaid in a Bowl of Tears
Chapter Eleven - Tales From the Fourth Dimension
Chapter Twelve - Emma
Chapter Thirteen - After Camelot
Chapter Fourteen - In the Blink of an Eye
Chapter Fifteen - Caught in the Crosshairs
Chapter Sixteen - All the Way Home
Chapter Seventeen - Into the Mystic
Part Two - A Little Irish Homestead
Chapter Eighteen - Scotsman’s Lament
Chapter Nineteen - Home Again, Home Again
Chapter Twenty - Kirkpatrick’s Folly
Chapter Twenty-one - Deuces Wild
Chapter Twenty-two - The Boys of Summer
Chapter Twenty-three - The Travellers
Chapter Twenty-four - Nine Tenths of the Law
Chapter Twenty-five - Hollow of Flowers
Chapter Twenty-six - The Boy
Chapter Twenty-seven - When the Evening Falls
Chapter Twenty-eight - Lucky You, Lucky Me
Chapter Twenty-nine - Paddy’s Lament
Chapter Thirty - A Little Irish Homestead
Chapter Thirty-one - ... And Everywhere that Mary Went
Chapter Thirty-two - The Tears of Saint Lawrence
Part Three - Nothing Sacred
Chapter Thirty-three - With Extreme Prejudice
Chapter Thirty-four - And Justice For None
Chapter Thirty-five - Pat
Chapter Thirty-six - The Devil and Mr. Jones
Chapter Thirty-seven - Zorba and Company
Chapter Thirty-eight - The Maidstone
Chapter Thirty-nine - The Music Room
Chapter Forty - Nothing Sacred
Chapter Forty-one - Traveller’s Prayer
Chapter Forty-two - In the Watches of the Night
Chapter Forty-three - History Lessons
Chapter Forty-four - An Examination of Conscience
Part Four - When the Dark Night Seems Endless...
Chapter Forty-five - Letter from Beyond
Chapter Forty-six - Truth and Consequences
Chapter Forty-seven - All Hallowtide
Chapter Forty-eight - If I Were a Blackbird
Chapter Forty-nine - Midnight Secrets
Chapter Fifty - Fire, Flee
t and Candlelight
Chapter Fifty-one - The White Doe
Chapter Fifty-two - Visiting Day
Chapter Fifty-three - Phouka
Chapter Fifty-four - Christmas on Board
Chapter Fifty-five - Moth to a Flame
Part Five - An Aran Idyll
Chapter Fifty-six - The Fabulous Five
Chapter Fifty-seven - I Will Lead You Home
Chapter Fifty-eight - The Morning After
Chapter Fifty-nine - Nuala
Chapter Sixty - All That You Can’t Leave Behind
Part Six - History’s Prisoners
Chapter Sixty-one - Butcher’s Dozen
Chapter Sixty-two - No Place for Love or Dream at All...
Chapter Sixty-three - Brick Walls and Broken Doors
Chapter Sixty-four - Beyond Borders
Chapter Sixty-five - Neither Friend nor Enemy
Chapter Sixty-six - Happy to Be Alive
Chapter Sixty-seven - The Brotherhood of the Ring
Chapter Sixty-eight - Childhood Ghosts
Chapter Sixty-nine - What Remains...
Chapter Seventy - Cara
Part Seven - The End of Ordinary Life
Chapter Seventy-one - Just Another Day in Paradise
Chapter Seventy-two - Hard Man
Chapter Seventy-three - Misses Robinson
Chapter Seventy-four - God and Green Apples
Chapter Seventy-five - On the Craic
Chapter Seventy-six - The Stardust Sea
Part Eight - How Fragile is the Heart
Chapter Seventy-seven - The Lost Boy
Chapter Seventy-eight - Englishman
Chapter Seventy-nine - Blood Brothers
Chapter Eighty - The Butcher’s Bill
Chapter Eighty-one - In Sunlight or in Shadow
Chapter Eighty-two - Requiem
Chapter Eighty-three - Brother’s Keeper
Chapter Eighty-four - How Lonely People Make a Life
Chapter Eighty-five - Here in the Dark
Chapter Eighty-six - The Tenth Commandment
Chapter Eighty-seven - Good Night Moon
Epilogue
Part One
If This is Love...
Chapter One
Conversations With a Gull
WHAT’LL YE HAVE?” The bartender, clothed like an impeccably starched penguin, looked as though he’d rather be anywhere than stuck behind the bar at a three hundred dollar a plate political fundraiser. Casey Riordan, bowtie and top stud of his crisp white shirt undone, knew the feeling all too well.
“Have ye got any Connemara Mist?” Casey asked, as he sat on one of the highly cushioned brass stools next to the bar.
“Aye, ten year malt, sixteen year reserve, an’ the special blend.”
“Give me a double of the single malt,” Casey said, rummaging in his tuxedo jacket for a cigarette before remembering his wife had rather pointedly removed them, saying they ruined the line of his suit. He sighed audibly, and the bartender set a pack of cigarettes in front of him.
“Thanks,” Casey said gratefully, tapping one out and sliding the pack back.
“Take a couple,” the bartender said, “ye’ll need the fortification.”
“Look that thrilled to be here, do I?” Casey asked.
“About as thrilled as I feel, an’ I’m gettin’ paid,” the man replied, setting a generous tumbler of whiskey on the polished wood of the bar.
Casey picked the glass up, sniffed appreciatively, and took a sip. It slid gold and warm down his throat, leaving tendrils of fire in its wake.
“What bit of Belfast are ye from?” the bartender asked, opening a split of champagne and setting it in a silver bucket of dry ice.
“The Ardoyne,” Casey said, and swallowed the remainder of his drink, closing his eyes around the taste, feeling the welcome heat in his belly. “An’ yerself?”
“Donegal, little village up near Malinhead, population of about eighty an’ that includes the sheep,” the bartender replied with a wistful smile. “How long have ye been over?”
“A few months,” Casey said. “How about yerself?”
“Three years.”
“Do ye get homesick?”
“Sometimes,” the man shrugged, “though when I was home I couldn’t wait to get over here an’ now that I’m here I wonder what the rush was. How ‘bout yerself, longin’ for the old sod?”
“Aye,” Casey looked down into his empty glass, “at times.”
“The land of milk an’ honey not all ye expected?”
“Not entirely, but then I suppose home would not seem the same to me now either.”
The bartender set the bottle of malt whiskey in front of him. “Have another—it’s on the house, least I can do for a fellow countryman.”
“Thanks, man.”
The bartender whisked a rag over the spotless gleam of the bar. “I went back home the once, an’ it was as if I belonged neither here nor there. I’ve a foot in both worlds but I’m not standin’ firm in either, if ye’ll know what I’m sayin’.”
“Aye, I’ll know,” Casey agreed, “yer a man without a country.”
Just then, a voice at his left elbow said, “Cognac. Hennessey if you’ve got it.”
“Boring crowd,” drawled the voice, and Casey knew without turning his head what he would find—floppy blond hair, long thin-bladed nose, ice blue eyes and a jaded, world-weary expression. He poured himself another two fingers of whiskey and stared straight ahead at the vast array of bottles lining the mirrored wall of the bar.
“Say, can I just have the bottle as well? Good man,” he said, as the bartender, now expressionless and silent, placed the cognac at the man’s elbow. “Good turnout, though, and plenty of old money; Eliot should do well for himself tonight.” A long, slender hand, pale and refined, stuck itself in front of him and Casey sighed.
“Charles Reese-David, though everyone calls me Chip.”
“Of course they do,” Casey muttered, giving the hand the briefest of shakes and then, taking another swig of his drink, turned most reluctantly towards the voice that had already saturated the floor with its dropped r’s.
The man looked exactly as he’d predicted to himself—hopelessly overbred English, though his ancestors had likely come over with the Mayflower. Casey wondered if everyone on that particular boat had looked this way, bloodless and effete, yet somehow still managing to convey an innate superiority.
“You look familiar,” the man continued as Casey turned back to his drink. “Were you at Harvard? I was in Law there. Went to Choate as a boy, is that where I know you from?”
“Don’t think so,” Casey said with as much politeness as he could muster, hunting in his inside pocket for his wallet. The bartender shook his head at the bills and Casey returned the money to his pocket with a nod of thanks. He was just sliding off the stool when the man next to him let out a long, low whistle.
“Get an eyeful of that will you?”
Casey turned and saw the object of the man’s interest making her way across the floor of the ballroom. In a roomful of heirloom jewelry she wore only a pair of tiny ruby earrings and a plain silver band on her left hand. She stopped to have a word here, two there, smiling and charming the people who’d paid and paid well to get on the political express train of Eliot Reese-David.
“She’s my brother’s PR person if you can believe it. Bastard’s always been terrifically lucky with women. Even he couldn’t believe his luck, though, when Love Hagerty gave her to him for the campaign.”
“Gave her?” Casey said raising his eyebrows, his tone causing the bartender to look up warily from the case of Cristal he was unloading. Charles Reese-David, however, had no such instinct, and continued heedlessly on.
“Yes. She’s Love Hagerty’s piece on the side, apparently. She’s married to one of his thugs. Eliot’s had no luck with her at all. He’s hoping to change all that when he goes to Washington, though. Thinks maybe she’s afraid of Love Hagerty; i
n Washington she’ll be at a safe remove. Even that backroom-dealing Irish crook’s tentacles can’t stretch all the way there.”
“Mr. Hagerty’s a born an’ bred Bostonian, I believe,” Casey said lightly.
Chip snorted derisively. “There’s an old Beacon Hill saying about that—‘you can take the mick out of the bog, but you can’t take the—”
“Bog out of the mick,” Casey finished coldly.
“Heavens, is she coming this way?” Chip straightened up, shooting his cuffs and casting a surreptitious glance in the mirror over his shoulder. “Met her at Eliot’s office a few weeks ago. Apparently,” he smiled creamily, “I left an impression.”
“I don’t doubt that,” Casey said, his voice coming as close to friendliness as it had all night.
The object of Chip’s interest reached them a moment later, gave him a polite ‘hello’, and sliding her arms around Casey’s neck, tucked her face into the curve of his shoulder and said, “Casey, take me home will you?”
“Aye I’ll take ye home. Are ye all finished with yer business for the evenin’, then?” he asked, sparing a sideways glance for Chip, who was looking even more bloodless than he had a moment before.
“Mmhm,” she said sleepily, “Eliot can manage on his own, it’ll only be the stragglers left soon anyhow and I’m exhausted by this crowd.” She slid one hand inside his loosened collar and whispered silkily, “Take me home to bed.”
“Yer goin’ to cause a scandal woman, can I not take ye anywhere?” He said with mock sternness.
She whispered something else in his ear and he found to his consternation that he was blushing.
“Is that even legal in Massachusetts?” he asked. “Ye have to remember this place was settled by Puritans.”
Mermaid in a Bowl of Tears (Exit Unicorns Series Book 2) Page 1
