“Not complaining, just wanted to speak to you.”
Sighing, Connor took the stack of dollar bills he had been counting and put them in the safe.
“Tell him to come in, then.”
Joe left the room, and moments later a young man, maybe a bit older than Connor himself, came into the room. He looked nervous, and strangely familiar.
“How can I help you?” Connor stood up behind the desk.
“Are you Connor Dean?” the man asked.
Connor’s eyes widened as it occurred to him that this guy might have been sent to kill him. He was always watchful, ever mindful, of someone from back home who might be tracking him, and so far his luck had held.
“Who wants to know?” he asked roughly, taking a step back as the young man came up to the desk.
“My name’s Ben. I think you might be my cousin.”
It was the last thing that Connor had expected, and he sat back down with a jolt.
“Cousin?”
“Yes.” Ben nodded eagerly. “My dad’s David, he had a brother called Billy Dean. Is that your dad? Just a while ago he received a call from a lady named Mary, telling us that you were here and the reason why. Mary’s your mom, right?”
“Yes, yes, she is.” Connor grinned at the realisation that he now had his own family in New York. He stood up and shook Ben’s outstretched hand. “God, it’s good to meet you. Really, it is.”
“Hey, man, you too!” Ben shook his hand with enthusiasm. “You gotta meet the rest of the family! They’ll be thrilled that I found you.”
“What about tonight? It’s my birthday, and I’m having a meal with some friends at Le Cirque. Could you join us?”
“Sure, man. I’ll see how many I can get together. We’ll meet you there,” Ben replied.
“About eight o’clock,” Connor said. “And thanks for looking me up, Ben. You don’t know what this means to me.”
In her bedroom, Bronwyn stared in dismay at the array of clothes spread out on her bed. She had nothing suitable for dinner, nothing at all, and until now she hadn’t realised how long it had been since she had got dressed up. In Crossmaglen she had been dressed to kill almost every night of the week, but there had been no need for that in New York. If she wasn’t working, she was at home, with Connor, and there was no need for short skirts and high heels. Her panic grew as she realised that she didn’t even have anything to wear for the christening tomorrow. Oh well, that meant up early for a trip to the mall. Thank God the shops here were open all weekend. That little crisis solved, Bronwyn turned her attention back to what to wear for tonight, sorting through the garments on the bed. Eventually she came up with a relatively smart pair of white trousers, with a matching white fitted suit jacket. She held it up and couldn’t even remember buying it. Never mind, it would do. Now, just to find something to wear underneath. Putting the suit aside, she pulled open her drawers and flung yet more clothes onto the bed. Eventually she came up with a simple black vest and pulled it on. Her only pair of heels, strapless shoes with killer heels, and her outfit was complete. She stared critically in the mirror and raised an eyebrow. For an outfit thrown together, it wasn’t bad.
Ten minutes later she came out of her room, just as Connor was coming through the door.
“Hey, you’ll never guess—” He stopped abruptly when he saw her.
“What?” she asked anxiously. “Do I look stupid? I bloody knew it, Connor, I’ve nothing to wear!”
He shook his head and smiled.
“Its fine, you look…lovely,” he said. “But, guess who I met today?”
Her eyes widened. “Someone famous?” she asked in awe.
“No, better than that!” he laughed. “I met my cousin, Ben.”
“I didn’t know you had a cousin here!” she exclaimed.
“Neither did I! Come with me while I get ready, and I’ll tell you all about it.”
She sat on his bed and listened while he told her about Ben’s visit. She was delighted for him. It had been so very sad that Connor was here alone. At least she had some connection to her family through Cally. Now Connor had found a whole new family of his own. She checked out her reflection in the mirror, wanting to look her best to meet them all.
The meal was at Le Cirque, a restaurant on Madison Avenue where Sam had managed to acquire a table. As they walked in together, heads turned to look at Bronwyn. Connor noticed and was proud to be seen with her. He spotted Cally and Sam, and led Bronwyn over to their table. About fifteen minutes later, the door of the restaurant opened and Connor squeezed Bronwyn’s hand as he saw Ben come into the room. Ben wasn’t alone; behind him trailed two women, two men and a young boy. Connor stood up and waved to Ben, and his family came over to the table.
“Everyone, this is Connor.”
Connor was besieged by the sudden onset of attention that they all gave him, shaking the hands of the two men and returning the women’s hugs warmly.
After they sat down and Ben had introduced everyone, Connor took a moment to study his new family.
There was Jean—Ben’s mother—his aunt. She truly looked Irish, with her red hair and friendly green eyes. Her daughter, his cousin, Madeleine, was the same age as Connor. One of the two men was David, Connor’s uncle, Billy’s older brother. The other man, silent and carefully studying Connor, was Ray, David’s father. Connor was overwhelmed by the thought that not long ago he had thought that his life was forever ruined, and now here he was, in an exclusive restaurant in New York, on his birthday, sitting across the table from his grandfather.
“Who’s this little lad?” he asked.
“This is William,” Jean spoke up. “Billy, we call him. He’s my youngest, and my last!”
“You named him for my dad,” stated Connor and smiled at Jean. “Mum would be happy to hear that.”
The meal was enjoyable, and they laughed at Connor as he made a mental note of some of the dishes to take back to Mayfair. After dessert, Sam and Cally handed Connor his gift and he took it eagerly. It was a flat package, and underneath the wrapping was an envelope. He ripped it open and held up the single piece of paper it contained. It seemed to be some sort of legal document, and he looked to Sam for an explanation.
“It’s shares, shares in your name, for I.B.M. Trust me, Connor, this is really going to take off.”
“Shares?” Bronwyn looked bemused.
“It’s a portfolio,” Sam explained. “You need to check these and, man, you just watch them rise. When they hit the roof, which they will, you cash in them sons of bitches and make a mint!” Sam,
who played the stock market regularly, was excited and Cally put her head in her hands, shaking her head.
“That’s so bloody boring!” she said. “Luckily, I got you something else.”
She handed over a wrapped gift and Connor put the shares aside to open Cally’s present. He pulled out a package, which was a very expensive aftershave; one that Bronwyn knew was his favourite.
“Thank you, both of you,” he said and kissed Cally on the cheek. Bronwyn put a small package on the table. He picked it up and unwrapped it slowly. It was a red box, and he smiled at Bronwyn before opening it. When he pulled off the lid his heart almost stopped in his chest. Nestled in the red velvet surround, was a bracelet. It was white gold, and so near to identical to the one that Rosina had given him on Christmas day, that he paled noticeably. The original one, Rosina’s, had been left in Ireland in his haste to get away, and Bronwyn had never even known about its existence. He lifted it out and examined it. He saw markings on the inside and he asked Bronwyn what they were.
“It’s Arabic. That’s your name, there. That means ‘friend’, and that’s my name. See?” She pointed it out and sat back, waiting for his reaction.
“It’s beautiful. I love it,” he said, slipping it on his wrist. “Thank you.”
He leaned over, kissed her on her cheek, and sat back to admire his gift. It was beautiful, and he did love it; it reminded him of both Rosina and Bronwyn, and she wou
ld never know how much he would treasure it.
There were also gifts from Jean, David, Ray, Ben and little William, and Connor was touched.
“This really has been the best birthday,” he said. “I’m so glad you’re all here to share it with me. It makes it easier, because it stops me dwelling on the people who aren’t here today.”
Bronwyn swallowed the lump in her throat as she thought of Rosina, and Mary and Alia, Barry and Danny too. She picked up her glass and rose to stand next to Connor.
“A toast,” she said. “To old friends, never forgotten, and new ones too.”
Without saying anything, they clinked their glasses together. Seconds later, the laughter and chatter resumed until they noticed that they were the only diners left, and the restaurant staff were waiting patiently to close up for the night.
“Shall we call it a night? Big day tomorrow,” said Sam as he called for the bill.
“Don’t remind me. I’ve yet to buy something to wear,” groaned Bronwyn.
Outside, Sam, Cally, Bronwyn and Connor said goodbye to the Deans, with promises to meet up with them very soon.
Then the four of them shared a taxi, Cally and Sam dropping them off on their way back to Manhattan. When Connor and Bronwyn got in, she flopped down on the couch.
“Coffee?” Connor called from the kitchen.
“Not for me. I should go to bed, seeing as I’ve got to be clothes shopping in the morning.”
He came out into the room, holding two mugs, and she weakened.
“Oh, go on then.”
With the coffee, they sat and caught up on each other’s news of the past week and talked about Connor’s new found family. When Bronwyn looked at the clock and saw it was past two in the morning, she squealed.
“Christ, look at the time! If I don’t get up in the morning I’ll blame you, Connor Dean!”
He laughed and stood up as she made her way to her room. He waited until she was at her doorway and called her name.
“Bronwyn!”
She turned around.
“Thanks for this.” He held his hand up in the air, and she smiled and nodded.
“Goodnight.”
The next morning, Bronwyn was out of the house before eight o’clock. The christening was at two, which left her five hours to buy something suitable to wear, and one hour to get ready. Plenty of time.
She took the subway into the heart of the city and wandered up and down the streets. Several times she passed Fifth Avenue, and when the time neared 11:30, she pulled out her credit card and looked at it. Fifth Avenue shopping was something that she couldn’t afford, and her credit card was strictly for emergencies only. But as she looked once more at the time and thought of her unsuitable wardrobe back home, she put the card in her purse and turned into Fifth Avenue. If this wasn’t an emergency, she didn’t know what was. As she walked past the first store, Saks, a mannequin in the window caught her eye. The dress on the model was gorgeous. It was more than gorgeous; it was perfect. Before she could talk herself out of it, she went inside and asked the assistant who pounced on her if she could try it on.
Minutes later, in the changing room, she looked at her reflection and smoothed down the dress. It was a chiffon material, floor length with shoestring straps, and white in colour. It was almost fit for a bride except it was trimmed in silver, and as she admired the cut, she found herself wondering if Connor would like it.
“It’s lovely, ma’am. It fits like it was made for you.” Bronwyn let the assistant fawn over her and said she would take it.
It was four hundred dollars, more than anything she had ever paid for something to wear, but time was tight and she had to get home. On impulse, she added a small matte silver handbag and a pair of white high heels to her purchase and signed the six hundred dollar bill.
Hurrying home, she ran through the door. When she saw Connor, sitting on the window ledge, all dressed and ready to go, she ran past him into her room.
“Sorry...sorry, gimme ten minutes!” she called behind her, and Connor grinned to himself. He was impressed when only twenty minutes later she came out of her room. He turned to look at her and stopped short. It had been so long since she had dressed up that the transformation shocked him. He thought that she had looked wonderful last night—almost daily he thought to himself how beautiful she was—but this, this was something else. The dress, which looked very expensive, skimmed over every curve and looked like it had been tailor made. Her jet-black hair was pinned up, with tendrils falling around her face.
“You’re stunning,” he said. Then he smiled and held out his arm.
“Shall we?”
She took his arm and smiled back at him.
“Let’s go.”
The service was emotional, mostly because Bronwyn knew Cally was thinking that her family should be here to witness her daughter’s christening. Her own thoughts turned to the loved ones that she had lost; Barry, of whom there was still no news, Danny, and Rosina. As she looked around the church at Cally and Sam’s friends and family, she realised that this was the way it should be. There were all sorts under the church roof this hot summer’s day; Catholics, Protestants, Christians, Cally’s neighbours who were Hindi, and Sam’s funky black friend, Titus. All different races and religions, but they all had one thing in common; they all shared a love for Sam, Cally,
and Bella. It was at that moment Bronwyn knew she had done the right thing in leaving Crossmaglen, to come to a land where everyone was free and accepted for what or who they were. When the service was over and photographs had been taken, Connor made his way over to Bronwyn.
“Ready for the party?” he asked.
“You bet,” she replied.
The party was being held in the grounds of the local football ground, and a live band was performing in the marquee that had been erected.
“I’ve got an idea,” said Connor.
“What?”
“Let’s get drunk.” With that, he took her hand. Laughing, she followed him and the rest of the congregation a couple of blocks down the street to the party. They did get drunk, because it had been a long time since they had been able to take the night off and enjoy themselves. They sat back in a corner of the room, laughing, while they drained the complimentary bottles of wine and enjoyed the food that had been laid out. Bronwyn thought she was going to have a coronary from giggling so hard when Connor was dragged off by Sam’s aunt to dance. She watched him on the dance floor, thinking how good it was for him to let his hair down once in a while.
He may have changed quite a lot since their arrival in New York, she thought, but deep down he was still the same serious and sensitive Connor that she had fallen in love with. She sat bolt upright and felt a flush spread over her. Now, why had she thought that? That she was in love with Connor had never entered her head before, and it sobered her considerably. She caught sight of the two empty wine bottles and felt relief flood through her. It was the drink talking, that was all. A few coffees and she’d be back to her sane way of thinking. Suddenly Connor was at her side, flopping down into a chair and picking up his glass of wine.
“I’m having a nice time,” he said, beaming at her.
“I’m glad. You should take more time out to enjoy yourself. It suits you,” she replied. The lights dimmed and the band switched tempo. A song came on, As Time Goes By, and Connor abandoned his glass of wine, pulling her to her feet. He turned quite serious before he pulled her towards him.
“May I have this dance?”
She glanced around the room, where all of the other couples were moving around to the song, nodded, and let him lead her onto the floor.
He spun her around and she laughed as he pulled her back in to him. He put his arms around her and held her very close. Liking the feeling of being in his arms, she wrapped her arms around him and put her head on his shoulder. Halfway through the song, she was aware that the mood seemed to have changed between them; they were no longer just friends having a laugh, this was so
mething else. It was no one thing that made her feel this way, just the way he held her so tight, and how close his face was to hers. She closed her eyes, misery creeping up on her. Was this the way it was always going to be? Whenever she got close to him, wondering, wishing, thinking about what might have been, could have been…
He leaned away then, as if sensing her thoughts, and looked into her face. His eyes, so like hers, were dark and she swore she saw desire and longing in them. Was it real? Was it just wishful thinking, or maybe the wine that they had consumed? She leaned her head back on his shoulder, confused and perplexed.
“Bronwyn…” he whispered her name and she started, but didn’t move her head off his shoulder.
“What?” she asked.
When he didn’t answer she stopped moving and frowned at him. “Connor, what is it?”
He closed his eyes, paused and then forced out the words that he wanted to say.
“I’m in love with you.” His tone was serious, and his words made her heart lurch. She pulled back. He caught hold of her hands, preventing her from escaping and she looked up at him. He looked stunned, as if he couldn’t believe he had said those words, and her surprised expression matched his.
It was what she had wanted to hear for months, but she had buried her feelings so deep that she had not allowed herself to think about it. But still…she had to be sure.
“You’re drunk again,” she stated.
“But happy drunk this time,” he replied. “And right now, I feel quite sober.”
It wasn’t an answer; he sensed her apprehension and wondered what he could say to make her believe that his words were true. They had stopped moving, although by now the floor was so crowded that nobody took any notice of them.
“I want you all the time, everywhere, ever since I first met you; that never went away,” he said, searching her face for a response. “Say it’s all in my head, tell me you don’t feel the same, and I’ll never mention it again,” he squeezed her hands. “Do you feel the same?”
Freedom First, Peace Later Page 19
