“Uncle Pat, did I hurt ye?” Conor asked, his wee face worried but the grey slowly fading from his eyes.
“No, laddie, but I will say this, ye’ve yer father’s fists on ye. He was a fighter, ye know. He boxed in his teens an’ all the boys around were frightened of havin’ to take him on, because they knew they would lose.”
“Really?”
“Aye, really.”
“Did ye ever fight with him?”
“No, we got along well, yer daddy an’ me. Now an’ again he’d get frustrated with me because I’d follow him somewhere I wasn’t meant to be. I never told our da’, so for the most part he put up with his little brother trailin’ him around.”
“I miss him, Uncle Pat. I miss my daddy.” Conor’s lower lip was trembling ever so slightly and Pat kneeled down and put his arms out to the boy. Conor ran forward and threw his arms around Pat’s neck. Pat hugged him close, knowing Conor needed reassurance from a man in his life right now. He held him as the little boy sobbed, and felt his heart break a bit with each cry from his nephew’s throat.
“Oh, laddie, I miss him, too.”
“I love you, Uncle Pat,” he said, still sniffling but having loosened his grip a little on Pat’s neck.
Pat pulled back so that he could look Conor in the eyes. The boy needed to know that he meant every word of what he was about to say. “I love you too, Conor. Ye know no matter what happens or where ye live, I will always be yer uncle. I’m yer daddy’s brother an’ that means I’ll do for ye whatever he isn’t here to do. But ye need to stop bein’ angry at yer mammy for somethin’ she can’t fix for ye. I know ye don’t like Noah, but ye’re goin’ to have to give him a chance. If ye want to talk about it, or ye feel so angry ye need to hit somethin’ again, then ye call me an’ I’ll come get ye and we’ll deal with it together, all right?”
Conor nodded. “All right.”
He held him for a bit longer. His wee nephew was having to grow up faster than he would have liked but with all that had happened to Pamela in the last few years it couldn’t be helped. There was only so much from which she could shield her children. It was her desire to protect them that had led, he believed, to her agreeing to marry Noah. He was only afraid that she was bartering part of her soul to the devil she knew rather than risking the devil she did not. It stuck in his craw to speak kindly of Noah to Conor, but if the lad was going to be living with the man, it would be best if they started out on good footing. There was no way to explain to someone so young why his mother might choose to marry for reasons which had nothing to do with love. He would just have to be here for his brother’s children in the years ahead, come what may.
“Uncle Pat?” Conor was looking up at him, as they began the walk back.
“Aye?” Pat steeled himself for one of those unanswerable questions children this age were wont to ask.
“Can we get ice cream now?”
Chapter Seventy-nine
The Infinite Ache
August 1978
THE MORNING OF THE WEDDING dawned fair and bright. Pamela was up to see the sun rise, spilling rose-gold over the hedgerows and painting the blackberry brambles and roses a glowing pink. There was a little breeze, and no sign of rain on the horizon at all. Pat and Kate would have a lovely day for their wedding. She stood by the octagonal window on the staircase, which had become both a confessional and a comfort over these last three years. Conor and Isabelle were still asleep and the house was hushed and peaceful around her.
She spoke softly to the morning, its rosy hue staining the window. “Patrick and Kate are getting married today and they’re going to have a baby. You’d be so pleased and proud if you were here.” It had become habit of late—this, stopping to have a chat with him by the window, letting him know the day’s events, as if somehow the octagon was a magical bit of glass where neither time nor space held sway. She realized, especially on days like today, that she had kept some part of Casey locked away in a vault in her heart, where his disappearance had been the stuff of fairy tales, and he might reappear again if only she could remember the magic spell to release him from his banishment. She was just a woman, though, and did not have words of magic at her disposal. But even if it was only a bit of glass, she could not bring herself to tell him that she, too, was getting married again, and that she, too, was having a baby.
She touched the window, pressing her palm to the warmth of the rising sun washing through it and closed her eyes for a moment, as if she could reach Casey through it, and have that big hand grasp hers and reassure her that all would be well. She opened her eyes and turned away from the window; it was time to get ready.
The wedding was at one o’clock, and by eleven that morning, Conor was washed and pressed into his new suit. He looked like a little man in the navy suit, straight-backed and assured even if the expression on his face was that of a choking goose.
“Come here, sweetheart,” she said to him and he walked over to her, his fingers still plucking at his collar. She knelt down in front of him and undid his top button, rearranging his small blue tie neatly over it.
“Is that better?”
“Aye,” Conor said, nerves in evidence. His uncle had asked him to be the ring bearer, and Conor was anxious about doing his duty with the gravity required by the ceremony. She smoothed his hair back, it was still damp from the bath, but his curls were already fighting to escape the careful combing she had given them.
Isabelle, on the other hand, was perfectly happy in her tiny pink dress, with a circlet of pink roses nestled in her abundant curls. She looked like a perfect wild wee fairy. She was going to scatter the same pink rose petals down the aisle in front of her Auntie Kate. Pamela hoped she could resist skipping or dancing in the church. Isabelle was a child of exuberant temperament. She glanced at herself in the little mirror in the boot room. She was pale but the soft pink Kate had chosen for her wedding party, which consisted solely of Pamela and Isabelle, put a soft flush in her cheeks. Her hair was up, tidied away as best as she could manage, though wayward curls had already escaped the two dozen pins she’d fastened them with and were spiraling up around her face and neck.
Noah had offered to pick her up, but she had demurred and said his main priority was to get Kate to the church on time and she would meet them there. Pat would ride with Jamie, and then he and Kate would have Noah’s car afterwards. So it was that she and Conor and a much excited Isabelle drove up to Father Jim’s simple church in the beaten Citroën, which chuffed everywhere like a smoker on its last wheeze but got them there in due time.
Noah must have heard the sound of her car, for he stepped out of the church just as she pulled up. He looked handsome in a dark grey suit and crisp white shirt. He opened the car door for her and then stepped back to help Isabelle out of the rear seat. Isabelle took Noah’s hand without hesitation, tumbling out in a welter of pink frills and falling rose petals, held firmly by Noah’s hand. Isabelle did not share Conor’s reservations about Noah, though she still asked after Jamie what seemed like fifty times a day, to Pamela’s beleaguered ears.
Noah looked up from Isabelle to Pamela and smiled. “Ye’re beautiful, even more so than usual, an’ that’s sayin’ somethin’,” he said. The look that accompanied his words made her nervous and she flushed hotly, color flaming up from her neckline to sting her cheeks and hairline. He offered her his arm and she took it, raising an eyebrow at Conor’s scowl and giving her other hand to Isabelle.
Kate was waiting in the tiny room provided for the bride, her bouquet set to one side. She had gone with a simple arrangement of violets tied with dark green ribbon. She looked up nervously as Pamela came in, her hands clenched together.
“He is here, isn’t he?” she asked.
“Of course he’s here,” Pamela said, laughing. “I’m going to go see him for a minute, and then it will be time.”
She went and put her arms around Kate carefully not wanting to wrinkle the lovely silk gown she wore. “Oh Kate, you look absolutely
exquisite.” The compliment was not an exaggeration, for Kate did look exquisite. Her dress was simple; the veil an antique which she had wisely left in its original state. The dress brought out the purity of her beauty. Her chestnut hair was pulled up in a simple knot, and her remarkable gentian eyes were alight with joy.
“You look beautiful too,” Kate said. “I know because my brother hasn’t taken his eyes off ye since the two of ye came in.”
“Now, how can you know that?” she asked, feeling strangely nervous.
“Pamela, there are more ways to see than just with the eyes, ye know that well enough.”
Noah’s gaze wasn’t the only thing making her nervous just now for the thought of being in the same building with Noah and Jamie, was giving her a nasty case of butterflies. She would have to trust that both men cared enough for Patrick and Kate to rein in their hostility toward one another. That dubious faith hadn’t prevented a nervous rash from breaking out on the back of her neck, however.
She slipped into Father Jim’s office which was where the grooms waited for their turn at the altar. Pat was just putting his suit jacket on. She realized suddenly what a handsome man he had become, certain in himself, no longer Casey’s little brother or the boy she had met in a history class some years ago. Her throat was tight with tears and she wished that Casey was here to adjust Pat’s tie and impart marital wisdom to him. She wished Brian Riordan was still alive to see the fine man his youngest son had become.
Pat smiled at her, the lovely smile that lit up his whole face. If he had any nerves today they were well hidden. Pat had long been a man of certainties, he had understood for a time now that Kate was the woman with whom he was meant to spend his life.
She adjusted his tie, which was slightly askew, he wasn’t any fonder of collars and ties than his brother and nephew were. “Wait until you see your bride, she looks so lovely.”
“I can’t believe the woman finally agreed to marry me,” he said. “I feel a wee bit superstitious about bein’ this happy.”
“It will all be well, Patrick. She was meant for you and you for her. I knew it the first time I saw the two of you together—remember when you brought her down to the cottage in Kerry that summer?”
“Of course I remember.” They were silent for a moment for they were thinking of the man who had been there but was not here, and without whom this day could not be quite complete.
“I just wanted to tell you that I wish every joy for the two of you. I’m so happy for you, Patrick and I know Casey would be, too. I wish he was here, you deserve to have your family with you.”
Pat reached down and squeezed her hand. “I do have family here today. You an’ the children are my family.”
Jamie came in then. He had his head down as he adjusted his cuffs and didn’t see her at once.
“Father Jim says five minutes, Patrick. Are you ready?”
He was clad in a beautifully-cut suit and his hair was freshly trimmed and gleaming in the sunlight that fell through the office window. He looked up, and halted in his tracks like a hand had come up and hit him in the chest. Being Jamie he quickly recovered, but he had never been able to dissemble swiftly enough to disguise himself from her. She had seen the look of naked pain in his eyes for a flash second and knew the echo of it was there in her own eyes. She put her hand behind her back not wanting him to see her ring. He had to be told about her engagement, and yet she had not found the courage to do it yet.
“Pamela,” he said, grace coming to the fore as it always did with him. He was never less than a gentleman, except, she thought, in bed. And then flushed, knowing how easily the man read her mind.
“Jamie, it’s good to see you,” she said, because, despite feeling as if someone had punched her just from the mere sight of the man, it was good to see him. Like drinking a long draught of cold water after walking for days without.
“Likewise,” he said, and smiled. It didn’t reach his eyes, though, and the dreadful constraint rose between them like a cloud of sand, cloying and hard to breathe.
“I need to get back to Kate,” she said, heart thumping miserably in her chest. She felt a sudden deflation of spirits and turned before Pat or Jamie could see the tears that sprang to her eyes. Pregnancy always made her feel as fragile as Chinese porcelain, and right now she felt as if she were hovering at a great height and the slightest gesture would cause her to fall and shatter into a thousand pieces.
The two men were quiet behind her. Pat touched her shoulder and the feel of that big hand shored her up a little.
“I’ll see you both at the altar,” she said gaily and went out the door. She stopped in the tiny vestibule, took a deep breath, wiped her eyes and sallied forth with a smile for Kate and Noah.
The ceremony was beautiful and also long, as Catholic ceremonies were wont to be but lovely because of the two people making their vows to one another. Pamela’s heart lightened just watching them, as they each said the words that would bear them through this life together and into the one beyond. She could not help but think of her own wedding day, and how intimate it had been. She had been nervous until Casey had taken her hands in his own and smiled down at her and she had known the adventure they were about to embark upon was the most right thing in the world. Pat and Kate would have their own story, but she remembered well how it felt to set out on a life together, knowing you were no longer alone and had someone that loved you at your side and whom you loved in return.
She looked down and smiled. After Conor had done his duty as ring bearer he had come to stand beside her, as if he instinctively knew his mother needed his solid reassurance. He had tucked his small hand in hers and left it there throughout the ceremony. Isabelle, too, had done her work as flower girl well, skipping up the aisle to the laughter of all assembled and shrieking ‘Jamezie!!’ in the excitement of seeing her favorite man after what she deemed an inexplicable absence of such a long duration. Jamie knelt down and swept her up and that was where she had stayed—in the crook of Jamie’s arm—for the length of the ceremony. Pamela had not even dared to look at Noah, but she could feel his gaze from where he sat in the front pew.
After, she signed the papers as a witness and then handed the pen to Jamie. It felt oddly intimate, the two of them bearing witness to a marriage, putting their signatures side-by-side and standing back together watching Pat and Kate sign. She could smell him—leather and lime and sandalwood and the comfort of these last three years, the scent which had told her she was secure for the moment, that she could relax her vigilance because Jamie would look after all of them. And he had, just as he had done from the moment she had first arrived in his house, unannounced, uninvited and welcomed just the same, all those years ago. Her throat was tight with tears, though thankfully no one would question it if she were to cry during a wedding ceremony.
There were pictures taken and then they all retired to the Emerald Pub as Gallagher’s wasn’t big enough. Pat and Kate had wanted the day kept simple; a few friends, their family, a nice meal and a cake. It was a lovely day, and she thought it was likely no one outside of her, Pat and Kate, could feel the tension which strung the air tighter than a freshly-tuned fiddle, between Jamie and Noah. Generally, Jamie could finesse any social situation to his advantage, or at least put everyone else at ease in the light of his charm and conversation. This particular situation seemed to be beyond him, though, and she felt as if she were walking a high wire each time the two men locked eyes across the room. They were, at least, smart enough to keep their distance from one another.
It was an effort of will not to gaze at Jamie, to just drink in his presence and ease, a little, the ache that sat below her breastbone. Contact was unavoidable, however, as they were both seated at the same table with Patrick and Kate, their chairs only feet apart.
They spoke, it seemed, of everything except that which mattered between the two of them.
At one point, unthinking, she had put her hand upon the table, resting it on the white linen. Jamie gla
nced down at it, and suddenly her ring felt horribly conspicuous, as if instead of the tasteful sapphire it was, it had become, through the alchemy of Jamie’s glance, enormous and gaudy. He looked away quickly, responding to a question of Patrick’s.
Dinner passed swiftly, and Jamie rose near the end to toast Patrick and Kate, in words so lovely that even Pat had a suspicious gleam in his eyes when he was done.
Noah came to sit with her when Jamie’s toast was done. It was, of course, his right as her fiancé and Kate’s brother but she felt her blood pressure go up a couple of notches as he settled in beside her, and she noted Jamie’s hand whitened with tension around his glass. It was his second glass of wine, of little note with most people, but Jamie was normally so abstemious that it surprised her. It didn’t bode well.
The tension was so palpable and overwhelming that it rendered her temporarily deaf. The chatter around her suddenly seemed as if it were occurring at a great distance, and she thought maybe she was going to faint. Such was her stress at sitting between these two men, that she found the idea of lapsing into a swoon quite attractive. Alas, she was not so fortunate and found to her horror, as her hearing returned to its normal level of function, the aforesaid two men were talking to each other. Coming into the conversation partway, she didn’t know how it had begun, but she could tell already it was headed down a pathway which was a well-stocked minefield.
“It’s the world we live in,” Noah was saying, “that’s just the fact of it.”
“It’s not a world I want my children growing up in,” Jamie replied coldly.
“Children? I didn’t realize ye had more than the one,” Noah said casually, like this was a normal conversation between two men at a social event.
“I think,” Jamie said with the drawl he only used when he was furious, “you’re very well aware that I will soon have two. For the both of them I would like us to find another answer to the age-old Irish question.”
In the Country of Shadows (Exit Unicorns Series Book 4) Page 89
