Quinn and his uncle exchanged matching expressions. “Ah, no, we thought it best to wait and surprise her.”
Deirdre fumed. “I don’t really think so. Maybe she’d get less pissed off if you mention it first.”
“I doubt it, love,” Quinn said. “I want ye to come with me to meet her, though. I need the moral support.”
She folded her arms and glared. “I’ll go but don’t expect me to like it. Is Neal coming?”
Eileen’s husband, Neal, was as kind and even tempered as his wife was mercurial. She liked Neal and he’d be ready to diffuse any difficult situation. “Aye, of course, and the three kids, too. You remember Sorcha, I suppose?”
Sorcha had been an adorable preschooler when Deirdre last saw the child. “Yes. And the baby, what’s his name? Brendan?”
“Aye, that’s right. There’s a new baby as well, another girl named Nuala. She’s not quite two.”
As much as she and Eileen had circled one another like rival cats ready to fight, Deirdre had adored the children. As a lonely only child, she’d craved siblings and had to make do with cousins. She’d longed for her dad to marry again, but he hadn’t. Deirdre loved babies and harbored a secret wish she’d have some of her own, someday. The prospect of seeing the kids tempered her irritation about meeting Eileen. “I bet they’re precious,” she said.
“Aye, since they take after me, ye know they are,” Quinn returned and they all laughed. Deirdre caught his arm and kissed him, slow and sweet. He pulled her into his embrace and gave it back, hotter and harder until Des whacked him on the back.
“Jaysus, lad, not in front of the payin’ customers.” Des snorted. “Besides, ye’ve got to fetch yer sister soon.”
“Aren’t ye goin’ too?”
His uncle shook his head. “Someone’s got to mind the pub, Quinn Sullivan, and it might as well be me.”
Although the flight wasn’t scheduled to arrive until seven, Quinn suggested they leave around four. Deirdre protested, but he explained his reasoning. “We’ll fight the traffic there ‘cause it’s rush hour already,” he said. “Then we have to park, slog through the terminal and then wait. I’ve done this before, ye know, and just before the holiday, it’ll be a mad house.”
The always busy airport teemed with people, coming and going. Deirdre stuck close to Quinn, wary they’d get separated in the crowds. He navigated a path to a waiting area outside security. They found an empty bench and sat. “Now we wait,” Quinn told her, raising his voice so she could hear over the din.
“Good thing we went to the supermarket this morning,” Deirdre muttered. They’d bought a huge turkey, a ham, and a goose because Irish bred Quinn said he preferred it. Deirdre had filled the cart with the makings for old-fashioned cornbread dressing, pumpkin pie, and green bean bake. She added the other items absent from Desmond’s otherwise well-stocked kitchen where they would cook the feast, she and Uncle Des. “We wouldn’t have time tonight. Will Eileen’s’s family want supper?”
“They’ll be jet lagged and want their tea,” Quinn said. “I thought we’d take them back to the pub and they can order from the menu if they want, then we’ll drop them at the hotel.”
Deirdre added the hours until she would be alone with Quinn, able to slip out of her shoes and be comfortable with a long suffering sigh. She’d risen early to do the shopping, helped Des with prep before the noon rush, and obsessed about Eileen’s visit until her head ached. A lack of sleep worrying over how the visit would go added to her fatigue. She rubbed her forehead with two fingers and willed the pain to stop.
Quinn noticed. “Do ye have a headache?” When she nodded, he clicked his tongue at her in an almost parental way. “Do ye need something for it? There’s a shop not far where I can get what ye need.”
She shook her head. “I’ve got some acetaminophen in my purse, but I could use a cold drink to wash it down.”
When he returned with the soft drink, she took three tablets and pressed the cold plastic bottle against her head. “Thank you.”
He nodded. “Ye should’ve said something. I can take you back to the flat if you want. Is it a bad one?”
“No, it’s not yet.” Quinn remembered, then, she sometimes suffered terrible tension headaches, almost as severe as migraines in their intensity. His familiarity comforted her in a warm blanket sort of fashion. “I’m just tired and a bit nervous.”
“Don’t let my sister upset you so,” Quinn said. “Would ye want to rest your head on my shoulder a bit? I see on the board the flight’s been delayed so ‘twill be awhile yet.”
“I’d love to,” she said and did. Deirdre changed position and rested her head against him. Quinn tucked his arm around her and kept her close. She shut her eyes and although she didn’t sleep, the meds kicked in and by the time the boards displayed that the flight had arrived, her headache was almost gone.
To keep from becoming too uptight, Deirdre stood at Quinn’s side as they watched the travelers exit to meet their families or friends. As she watched people, she made up little stories about them, pretended she knew why they were en route and where they were headed. As the tide of passengers flowed toward them, she picked out Eileen, her auburn hair bright as a copper penny among the drab jackets and coats.
She nudged Quinn. “There’s your sister.”
“Aye, and the rest of them. See how much Sorcha’s grown.”
He pointed out the child. The little girl’s face lit with a beautiful smile and she dashed ahead, maneuvering through the people with the swift ease of an eel, into Quinn’s arms. He picked her up, kissed her cheek and held her high. “How’s my pretty lass?” he said.
“I’m tired,” Sorcha cried. “Who’s she?”
Brilliant blue eyes, so like Quinn’s, narrowed and glared at Deirdre. “Ah, I don’t suppose ye’d remember, mo mhuirnín, but it’s Deirdre.”
Deirdre riveted her attention on Eileen. Quinn’s sister moved through the crowds with a sure stride, an ancient Irish queen or pagan goddess in the flesh. Eileen grinned when she spotted her brother and made her way toward him, husband Neal trailing behind with their youngest in his arms. The little boy, Brendan, clutched his mother’s hand as Eileen towed him along. “Quinn, oh, dear Quinn, ‘tis grand to see ye again,” Eileen said. “Ye’re lookin’ very well indeed and I’m glad to see it. I hardly knew ye with a smile on your lips. Yer eyes are clear, not so puffy. Ye must not be drinking so much, then.”
Eileen’s blunt way of speaking hadn’t changed, Deirdre thought. She reached for Quinn’s free hand and grasped it. He curled his fingers around hers as he answered his sister. “Nay, I’m not and there’s a reason for that, Eileen.”
“Is there now? Did ye go to the AA after all, the way I suggested? Or did ye start going to daily Mass as you should?”
I can’t believe she hasn’t noticed me yet.
Quinn laughed. “No, neither one, though I might bend my knees in church for I believe in miracles now, Eileen.”
“Miracles, is it?” Quinn’s sister said with a toss of her head and a light laugh. “What class of miracles?”
Neal came to an abrupt halt behind Eileen when he caught sight of Deirdre. His eyes widened and he paled. “Jesus, Mary, and her husband Joseph,” he cried. “I don’t believe what I’m seeing. I know Christ himself could raise the dead, but I never expected to see such in my lifetime. Ye’re not a ghost, are ye?”
He addressed the last bit to Deirdre who shook her head. “Hello, Neal. No, I’m not a ghost.”
A banshee worthy screech erupted from Eileen’s lips as she turned her head. Her eyes swiveled from Quinn to Deirdre and back. “It isn’t, is it? It can’t be.”
“Aye, it’s Deirdre, alive and at my side,” Quinn said, his voice resonating with a quiet joy. “Be happy for me, sister.”
Eileen’s fair complexion turned crimson. “Ye ask me to be happy for ye? I stood with ye when ye buried her and yer heart with her. I’ve come this long way every year for a fecking Yank holiday
and every vacation when we could afford it. I’ve lit candles in church, prayed to the Virgin Mary every night, and worried meself near sick over ye these three years past. Jaysus Christ, I’ve wept for yer sake, brother of mine, often. I did it all for love of ye, Quinn, for the sake of yer bitch. Now she’s never dead at all, which I don’t begin to understand, and ye want me to be happy? I can’t, for right now I’d like to put me hands about her neck and choke the life out of her, I would. She hurt ye something terrible, and I don’t understand why ye’d have her back, not when she left ye without a word or a by your leave.”
As she spoke, her voice soared in volume until it echoed above the babble of the crowd. Travelers paused to stare and heads craned to see the source of the disturbance. Each terrible sentence she spat caused Deirdre to cringe. As Eileen spewed her hurt and rage, Quinn changed his stance until Deirdre stood more behind him than at his side. She leaned against his back and peered over his shoulder. “Would ye hush for the love of Christ?” he said. “Eileen, there’s much ye don’t understand. I love her as ye well know. I know now why she left and where’s she been, but naught matters but that she’s here, alive. Deirdre’s the reason why I’m myself again. Can ye not find it in yer heart to be happy for my sake and to try to treat her with kindness?”
Some of the color faded from Eileen’s cheeks, but her mouth remained in a flat, grim line. “Ah, Quinn, ye’re not thinkin’ man…”
His back tensed up, muscles rigid and Deirdre knew he’d lost his temper, too. One Sullivan angry was bad enough; two Sullivans in a temper would be terrible. “Enough,” he roared. “’Tis my business and Deirdre’s but none of yours. Ye either find the grace to be glad for my sake or ye can turn around and take yer arse back to Ireland!”
Neal frowned and the two older children lost their smiles. The youngest, Nuala, bawled, her face twisted into a horrible expression. On impulse, Deirdre stepped forward and plucked the toddler from Neal’s arms. “Hush, Nuala,” she said. “I know how you feel and I’d like to cry, too, but it won’t help.”
At the sound of her voice, the child hushed and stared at her, eyes round. Then Nuala wrapped her small arms around Deirdre’s neck and clung to her, possum style. Deirdre hugged her back, holding back tears with effort. Although she’d expected Eileen’s wrath, it didn’t make it any easier to deal with. The last thing I want is to cause trouble between Quinn and Eileen. She may not like me, but she loves him and he has affection for her, too.
Eileen went white to the lips at Quinn’s command. “Ye don’t mean it, do ye?” she said after a moment’s pause. “Seeing her alive is one hell of a shock, but I’ll try to make my peace with her if it’s what ye want. And I am glad, Quinn, truly I am. I can see with my eyes how changed ye are, for the better. For that, I’m grateful and I’d shake hands with the devil himself.”
Quinn sighed. “I don’t want ye to go, Eileen, but ye can’t put me between the two of ye. I don’t know what ye have against Deirdre, but ye’d best get rid of it. Let’s put it aside and have the holidays, eh?”
When Quinn opened his arms wide, his sister stepped within their circle and they hugged. Neal grinned and took his youngest daughter from Deirdre. “It’s high time someone spoke back to her,” he said with obvious approval. “I’m glad as glad can be that ye’re back. I’ll ask ye no questions—Quinn’s right, it’s yer business and his.”
“Thank you,” Deirdre said. Quinn and Eileen hugged, then burst into laughter. She grinned, glad. When Quinn pulled her into the embrace, she resisted for a moment, then yielded. For his sake, she’d make up with Eileen and maybe, fingers crossed, they could be friends. Or at least get along.
Their large group moved en masse, chattering and full of cheer, as they retrieved luggage and made their way out to the parking area. While everyone else watched for the bags, Deirdre excused herself to visit the nearest ladies room. On the way back, the overwhelming sensation of being watched crawled up her spine and she turned around, wary. Across the way among the crowds, a man stood apart, hands thrust into his pockets. He wore a tailored suit jacket, Brooks Brothers or Botany 500, she guessed and a bright blue satin tie. Although he resembled a male model on the cover of Gentlemen’s Quarterly, Deirdre recognized him. The hard, cruel eyes and narrow mouth hadn’t changed over the past three years. His face had haunted her nightmares for too long not to know it. Oh, Jesus, he’s the same man who threatened me outside the courthouse. Any hope he failed to recognize her ended when he winked, then stretched his lips in a wicked parody of a smile.
Her lungs ceased working and her throat tightened until she couldn’t draw a breath. Deirdre’s heart picked up pace and beat with a faster rhythm, pounding so hard she wondered if she might be suffering a heart attack. Her headache returned with force and her stomach rolled. She froze in place, unable to make her legs work. I think I’m having a panic attack. I’ve never had one but if I’m not, then I’m dying.
When she glanced back, the man had vanished. Deirdre forced her lungs to breathe and searched for Quinn. When she saw him, head tossed back with laughter, she almost cried. If she told him now, all the joy would be leached out of the celebration and replaced with fear. I’ll wait until Eileen goes home, then I’ll tell him.
Quinn saw her. He said something to his sister and made his way through the crowd to Deirdre. “Did ye get lost?”
She made a valiant effort to pull herself together and failed. Her hands trembled. “Uh, no,” she said.
He frowned, eyes dark with concern. “What’s wrong? Is it yer head again?”
Deirdre latched onto the excuse as a lifeline. “Yes, my headache’s back and my head’s really pounding. I’m sorry, Quinn.”
“It’s not yer fault,” he said. “Come, woman, let’s get home. Ye look like ye need to be in bed.”
Once Quinn’s family had been loaded into the pub’s van, he helped Deirdre climb up beside him. She shivered from anxiety, not cold, but he noticed. “Are ye sure ye’re not coming down with something?”
“I’m not,” she said. “It’s just a headache.” The lie churned in her gut, hotter than a burning ember, too much like the lie she’d told him on the day of the trial. She’d kept the truth from Quinn then and they had both suffered for her mistake. I’ll tell him this time, after the holiday celebration. I don’t want to be the death’s head at the feast.
His eyes fastened on her, intent. “I’m troubled,” he said after a few moments. “I hate for ye to be sick, but it seems as if there’s more and ye’re not tellin’ me. Ye won’t lie to me again, will ye, acushla?”
If she didn’t tell the truth now, the potential for irreparable damage existed. Pain gripped her head in a tight vise and she decided to tell him. “I won’t. I wasn’t going to lie, just wait until after the holiday so it wouldn’t ruin things.”
“Fuck!” Quinn pounded the wheel with a fist. “Damn, Deirdre, I knew it! What happened?”
“Hush,” she said with a backward glance at Eileen’s brood. “On my way back from the restroom, I saw the same man, the one who threatened me before.”
“Ye’re certain?”
Deirdre nodded.
“Did he see ye?”
“He winked at me.” Saying it aloud threatened to unleash the terror and tears she’d held back. “Quinn, I’m scared to death. He knows I’m alive and god knows what he may do or who he’ll tell.”
“Don’t fret,” Quinn told her. “I’ll keep ye safe, I told ye so. Besides, the pub’s closed from tonight through Friday.”
Despite his calm tone, his knotted forehead indicated worry. “It’s after I’m concerned about.”
“We’ll handle it, one way or another. Do ye truly have a headache? Ye look sicker than a dog.”
“Yes, an awful one.”
“Then I’ll get ye home, ye can make your excuses, and I’ll put you to bed. I’ll stay with ye if you want, if it makes you feel safer.”
His promise calmed her a tiny bit. “Eileen won’t like it.”
“Damn what she likes! She’s my sister and I love her, but I love ye more,” Quinn said. “Hang on, love, and I’ll get ye home.”
Quinn rocketed through traffic with speed and no little skill. At County Tyrone, Deirdre lasted ten minutes before she made an exit. “I’m sorry,” she told Eileen’s family. “My head’s splitting and I don’t feel at all well. I think I’ll go to bed early so I’ll be fine in the morning to cook.”
Eileen nodded. Without any heat, she said, “I’m sorry for ye and I hope you’re better soon. If I had any hand in it, I apologize.”
“Thank you but I sometimes get these headaches,” Deirdre said. Quinn kissed her on the forehead and whispered in her ear.
“Go on up and I’ll be there in a flash, mo chroide.”
Deirdre didn’t quibble. She paused to watch as Quinn took Desmond aside. He’s telling him and that’s good. One more person to watch my back can’t hurt.
Then she mounted the back steps one at a time, heart heavy and body weary.
Chapter Nine
Deirdre wanted to burrow beneath the blankets on the bed and cry, but she didn’t. It hadn’t helped three years ago and it wouldn’t do any good now. She took a long, hot shower instead and donned an oversize flannel nightgown. When she stepped out of the bathroom, Quinn sat at the kitchen table with a glass and bottle of Jameson’s whiskey.
“How’s yer head?”
“The shower helped, a little.”
“Do ye want some tea?” As he spoke, he reached behind on the counter and put a steaming teapot on the table. “Des thought ye might so he brought it up. If not, there’s whiskey.”
She wrinkled her nose. “I’ll take a cup of tea, no whiskey. I don’t want to get drunk and you shouldn’t either.”
Quinn snorted. “I’ve no notion of drinking until I’m drunk, woman, but after this day, a drink or two won’t go amiss. Do ye want one sugar or two?”
“Two.” She watched as his capable fingers opened two packets of sugar in tandem, then dumped them into a cup. He poured tea over it and stirred.
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