“Valerie,” he says to me in his Irish brogue, so much hope and longing on his brow.
All he had to do was say my name and I was his again.
My chin trembles and I burst into tears.
He pulls me into his big arms, wrapping them around me, holding me tight, so tight.
I sob into his coat, breathing in the smell of him, feeling my heart lift and lift and lift, right up into the sky, soaring away like a bird.
“I am so sorry,” he whispers, pressing his lips into the top of my head and now I hear him crying too. “I am so, so sorry.”
I hug him tighter, afraid that this is a dream that I can wake up from at any second, afraid that he’s not really here at all.
So I stand there holding him and he holds me and the rest of the world does its thing whenever the two of us are together.
It just dissolves.
Until it’s just us.
Eventually, though, the world comes into focus and I realize we’ve been hugging in the corner of this coffee shop in Philly and I’m not even sure how that’s actually possible, that he’s here.
I pull back and peer up at him, not letting go.
He gazes down at me through his long, wet lashes, tears at the corner of his eyes.
“Are you really here?” I ask.
“I am.”
“How?”
“I’ve come back for ye, Valerie,” he says, his voice a low murmur. He pauses. “If you’ll have me back.”
He’s come back for me.
“What changed?”
He gives me a small smile and brushes a strand of hair behind my ear. “Everything changed. Every single thing. I realized how horrible I’d been. Made the biggest mistake of my life by telling you to leave. And I understand if you want nothing to do with me. I won’t blame ye, not even a little. But … if I could somehow convince you to hold my heart again, it would mean the world, darlin’.”
“I’ve had your heart this whole time,” I tell him. “I held it with my own. I just didn’t know for how long. If I’d ever see you again …”
He winces. “I did an awful thing. I said things I didn’t mean. And I really didn’t mean them, you must understand that. I won’t blame my condition because it sounds like an excuse and I’m tired of excuses. I’ll own up to it. I’ll own it full so that I never make a mistake like that again.”
“It’s okay.”
“It isn’t. It isn’t okay what I did.” He shakes his heading, looking pained. “You don’t do that to someone ye love, especially not to you. You’re so special, my darlin’, ye don’t even understand. I think I already loved you the moment I first saw ye, even if it took me a bit to catch on.”
He pauses. “But that love … well, that love became infinite when you saw the darkest parts of me, like that sky above Shambles at night. Remember how deep and fathomless that was? Dark and cold. And instead of running away, you ran toward me. You threw yourself into my darkness and you showed me the stars that I never knew were there. You were never afraid of what was in me, you wanted to see it all, you wanted to be there for me in every way that you could.”
Another tear rolls down my cheek and he puts his hand against my face, wiping the tear away with the gentle caress of his thumb. “And that’s when the fear hit me,” he says. “That I could lose you, lose this, forever. I was so afraid that I pretty much cut off my nose to spite my face. I thought that maybe you wanted to leave, I thought maybe you would eventually. I was so bloody selfish, as I usually am, and I wanted to save myself. But it didn’t save me at all. You’re the only one who can do that. Without you, I’m drowning in that darkness, darlin’.”
I know Padraig means what he says. I know it because I know him. And I know the man in that hospital, that scared lonely boy who was scarred from loss, I know that wasn’t him. I just didn’t know when the real Padraig would ever come around. There was a chance I could have lost him to that darkness, just like he said.
And yet though he says I’m the one that saved him, he’s here, now. He’s the one standing in front of me.
“You’re the one who saved yourself,” I tell him softly. “And don’t you ever forget that. You’re so much stronger than you know, Padraig. You have that darkness within you, but we all do. You’re already one step ahead of the game by battling it, by refusing to let it win.” I take his hand and place it on my heart. “You’ve won. And you’ve won me.”
A shaky smile comes across his lips. “You’ll have me back?”
“I never even left.”
That smile breaks into a grin. He leans down and kisses me. He kisses me like it’s our first kiss and our last kiss all at once. It’s a kiss that makes my toes curl in my boots and my stomach do belly flops. It’s a kiss that makes someone in the coffee shop mutter, “Jeez, get a room.”
We break apart and we laugh, dizzy and intoxicated by each other.
“Want to go for a walk?” Padraig asks me, gesturing to the door. “I’ve never been to Philly before. Maybe you could be my tour guide. We could get lunch. I’m fucking starving.”
“I’d love that,” I tell him as he grabs my hand. “But I’m supposed to meet my sisters here … I’m guessing you already knew that.”
“They’re not coming until tomorrow,” he says, holding out my coat for me as I slip it on.
“So how did all of this happen?”
“Well, after my nan beat me with the wooden spoon, I got to thinking that I needed to go to ye. I needed to find ye and bring ye back and if you didn’t want to come back, then I’d stay with you and if you didn’t want that either well, at least I was fighting for it.”
“The fighting Irish,” I say as he leads me out of the coffee shop and we start walking down the street, heading toward the Liberty Bell.
“That’s the stuff. Anyway, I had your sisters’ numbers in case of an emergency so I contacted Angie because she seemed like the sensible one—”
“This is true.”
“And then she called me back and yelled at me for an hour, so I quickly regretted sending that text.”
I laugh. “So then I’m guessing you contacted Sandra.”
“Yea, she was less yelly over all. And she had this idea for you to come here and they would do a bait and switch. Said you probably wouldn’t want to see me if you knew.”
“But my mom this morning …”
“She knew too. I already spoke to her on the phone.”
I stop dead in my tracks. “You spoke to her on the phone??”
“I did. Seems like a nice lady. She talked to me for an hour, too.”
“And did she yell at you?”
“No, she just talked about herself and all the issues she’s working through. I’m not sure what went down over this last week but whatever it is, it sounds like progress.”
“Speaking of progress, how are you?” I ask him as we start walking again. Though his gait is even and steady (unlike mine), I’ve noticed his hands have a bit of a tremor to them and there’s this tic along his jaw, though that could be from stress or jetlag.
“I’m okay,” he admits. “I knew the flight would be rough but I got through it with a lot of melatonin. My vision is fine, like nothing happened, though I do get this blurriness at the corners when I’m tired. And I’m tired all the time. That’s the worst part. The fatigue.”
“Should we stop and rest?” I gesture to a park bench.
He shakes his head. “Nah. I feel better already. It’s probably because I’m with you. You’re the pulse of my heart, Valerie. A tonic to my soul.”
He stops and pulls me to the side of the sidewalk, placing his arms around my waist and pressing me again him. “You’re everything to me.”
And I’m happy. I’m just so fucking happy with this beautiful world of mine.
“Tell me you love me,” I whisper. “Tell me you love me, and I’ll tell you I love you more.”
“I love you, Valerie,” he says softly, his eyes pining me in place, making me
feel his words to my very soul, where they grow and grow, like flowers on a vine, wrapping around me, making me feel beautiful.
“And I love you more.”
* * *
Padraig ends up staying with us for a week.
Right here in my parents’ house.
Squeezed on my old twin bed.
It actually goes pretty amazing, considering everything that happened and how everyone’s relationship seems to be in the middle of being repaired. There was no awkwardness or strained conversations, no faking a smile.
My sisters were there for the weekend, like they promised. We did more of the fun touristy stuff together and even took the train to New York City for the day. Sandra did her best to bug him and be inappropriate, while Angie grilled him until it was almost a sport for her.
But in the end Sandra pulled me aside and said, “If you don’t keep him, I will.” And then Angie pulled me aside and told me she approved and he had groveled enough and if I didn’t head back to Shambles with him soon I was an idiot.
Well, I’m not an idiot.
Or an eejit, either.
The minute I saw Padraig in that coffee shop, I knew that I was going back with him. I had been so deeply hurt by what he did but I also understood why he did it. I know he wasn’t himself and I know it’s still going to be a rough road ahead of us at times, but as Padraig says, may the wind always be at our backs.
“Bye sweetie!” my mother says to me as they drop us off at the airport, bringing me into one last hug while Padraig brings my suitcases out of the car and to the curb. “Remember to call!” she yells in my ear.
“I hear Ireland is real pretty in the summer,” my dad says, hugging me next. “Might be a good time for a visit, wouldn’t you say?”
“You’re welcome anytime,” Padraig says, offering his hand to my dad when he’s done with me, but my dad brings him into a big bear hug which makes Padraig laugh.
I laugh too.
How can I not? How can I be anything but happy right now?
“Have a safe flight,” my mother says to me waving, as they get back into their car. I watch as they drive off, knowing that I will actually miss them this time. But it’s a good feeling to have, knowing you have family out there that loves you, even if it took a long time to come to that realization. Even if they can be shitty sometimes, that love is still there.
“Well, shall we?” Padraig asks. “A new adventure awaits.”
I grin and reach up to kiss him on the cheek. “You know I can’t say no to those.”
Hand in hand we walk through the airport, hearts full, heads high. We’ve got a flight to catch, heading across the Atlantic and back to Ireland.
Back to my life in Shambles.
Epilogue
PADRAIG
One Year and Four Months Later
“May your joys be as bright as the morning, and your sorrows merely shadows that fade in the sunlight of love,” the minister reads to us in his commanding voice that holds hostage the attention of the guests. “May you have enough happiness to keep you sweet, enough trials to keep you strong, enough sorrow to keep you human, enough hope to keep you happy, enough failure to keep you humble, enough success to keep you eager, enough friends to give you comfort, enough faith and courage in yourself to banish sadness, enough wealth to meet your needs, and one thing more,” He pauses, looking at me, then looking at Valerie. “Enough determination to make each day a more wonderful day than the one before.”
He looks out to the crowd. “May these two have a love that never ends, lots of money, and lots of friends.” He smiles back at us. “Health be yours, whatever you do, and may God send many blessings to you.”
Valerie squeezes my hands even harder than she’s been doing the whole time that we’ve been up here on the altar. I squeeze hers right back, glad that I have no tremors today except for the one in my heart.
It’s our wedding day.
Something I’ve been waiting for, pretty much from the moment I first laid eyes on her. I knew she was something special and I knew I’d be stupid if I let her go. Every night I thank God that she came up to me and took a chance, even if I was the eejit who turned her down, that she came to Ireland with nothing but hope in her heart and the resolve to say yes to new adventures.
Little did I know just what an adventure we’d partake together. How much she’d turn my life upside down, banish the cobwebs of my soul, and bring light into my world. I didn’t know how much I would end up needing her. Not just in terms of my affliction, but in terms of my heart. I don’t even think mine was fully beating before she came into my life.
But now she’s here. Now she’s going to be my wife. And there’s nothing else I could ask for more.
Except for having my father here. My mother. My wee sister.
I miss them with every fibre of my being, wishing they were here with everyone, wishing they could share this joy. But even though that black hole inside me still exists and always will, I also know they’re here in spirit. After all, it’s an Irish wedding and that’s always kind of a magical thing.
This wedding, however, is pretty simple, even though there are a load of guests. It’s like the whole town showed up and there are rows of standing room only at the back.
There’s my nan and the Major in the front row, surrounded by various aunts and uncles and cousins. Yes, the Major is wearing a rather loud suit, clover green with faint yellow checks, but I think it brings some extra life to the event.
On the other side are Valerie’s parents and family, including her aunt with MS who looks like she’s doing amazingly well.
Beside me is my best man, Hemi, and then Alistair, looking quite fine in their tuxedos, albeit a little rough since they were up drinking through all hours of the night.
On the other side of Valerie are Sandra and Angie, who won’t stop sniffling into their tissues and dabbing their eyes.
The ceremony is in the walled garden at the back of the B&B, decorated beautifully and alive with June’s flowers.
Of course, I had to have the wedding in Shambles.
It’s where we live now.
I run the B&B while Valerie works on the book she’s writing.
The Major still lives with us. So does Nan, who insists on doing the cooking even though we’ve hired Roy, this young cook to help out with breakfasts for the guests. He’s a nice young guy but my nan keeps insisting on helping with everything. At first I thought she was stubborn (we bought a dryer for the place and she still hangs her washing outside to dry). But Valerie says it’s because my nan just likes to flirt and ogle him. She’s probably right about that. Whatever keeps her young.
The other good thing about Roy is that he’s kind of turned into my personal chef, which is something I’ve desperately needed, especially as I’m so busy all the time.
When Valerie moved to Shambles and we really started tackling the treatment for my MS, she kept on mentioning on how her aunt had improved on a certain diet. So we tried it here, basically low-fat, high intake of fruits and vegetables, cucumber or celery juice in the morning, lots of teas and hot water with lemon and a fuckload of supplements. Giving up booze and coffee too, which was the hardest, I think.
Now, Roy makes all my meals for me and ensures I stay on track.
I was a skeptic at first but I have to say, the pay-off has been incredible.
I’m not cured.
There is no cure for MS.
But my symptoms have stopped progressing. There was a while there when I bought a cane just to use on some days when I felt too weak but it’s rare that I ever use it. Maybe the end of last summer when the heat got to me and made things worse, but other than that, I’m completely able-bodied. I can even go for light jogs on cool mornings and I’ve never stopped lifting weights. I’m a lot leaner than I used to be but luckily my muscles are sticking around. We’ve transformed one of the large sheds out back into a gym and when I’m not working or with Valerie, that’s where I tend to spend a lot o
f my time.
I do miss the game, though. I think I always will. I mourn that on some days like I mourn the loss of my father. Rugby was always part of who I was, from the very beginning. Sometimes Hemi comes by and stays a few nights with us and then he’ll join me, Alistair and other locals in a pick-up game in the field. Major likes to be the ref and he’s actually good at it—probably because he doesn’t hear us if we argue with him over a play.
The loss of the game though brings other opportunities and I’m smart enough to know that I’m very, very lucky. I’ve become a spokesperson for MS here in Ireland and I help out with the organization when I can. I have endorsement deals still (except Porsche, they dropped me when they found out I can’t drive), and I’m honestly happy just living here in this house and running the day-to-day operations. It’s a humble living but it brings me a lot of joy to see guests happy (even if some leave one-star reviews because we served blood pudding for breakfast).
And then of course, there’s Valerie.
The pulse of my heart.
She’s standing before me in her wedding gown, a halter neck that shows off her gorgeous tits and creamy skin. Her dark red hair is piled high on her head and her freckles are numerous from the early summer sunshine. Even though she’s American, she looks the vision of an Irish beauty, a sprite or a fairy that troubadours sang songs about.
I’m getting choked up just looking at her, just holding her hand.
I want to be her husband more than anything.
I glance at the minister, wondering why this bloody ceremony is so long.
Let’s get on with it.
He gives me a knowing smile, as if he knows I’m getting impatient.
“May we have the rings,” the minister says.
That’s our cue.
I turn to Hemi who presents me a large, thick white glove. I slip it on and then look down the aisle to the end where one of my ex-teammates, Liam, is with Hooter McGavin on his arm.
I nod at Liam and hold out my gloved arm.
Hooter takes flight with a few majestic flaps of his wings, soaring down the middle of the aisle while all the guests stare up in amazement, gasping in delight as they frantically try to take pictures.
My Life in Shambles: A Novel Page 28
