Intentions - SF9

by Meagher, Susan X

  As she ran along, she realized that she was feeling quite unsettled at the thought of her father marrying her aunt without her or any of her brothers in attendance. She knew that was small-minded, and that it wasn't for a lack of desire on her father and Maeve's part. Nonetheless, she hated to know that they were now married, and that only the European side of the family had been able to share in their joy.

  She was so lost in her thoughts that it wasn't until after the first mile she realized that the stinging pain was lessening significantly, but then she realized that was only because her face and hands were now mostly numb. She compulsively shook her head to clear the icy water from her stinging eyes, but the motion did little good. She motored along more by instinct and feel than vision, but as she continued she felt herself slide deeper into an infrequently achieved trance. It wasn't actually a trance, but she didn't have a better name for it. Strangely, she found it easiest to enter when the distractions around her grew too strong. As her concentration deepened, she felt easy and light and completely disconnected from the mundane concerns of the world. She just let herself become her stride and her breathing and the mass of dark hair that slapped against her back with each step. She just was…As simple as it sounded, that was the reality-she just was.

  The rain no longer stung…the cold no longer bit her skin…the wind did not whip her hair into her eyes…every bit of the experience became her, so there were no more distractions. As she glided along, her mood lightened until she became absolutely euphoric. The miles flew by as she traversed streets she had never consciously seen before. Everything looked new and fresh and unique. The earth actually seemed to shift under her feet, but she felt her body adjust seamlessly to the change. The muscles in her thighs seemed to grow as new demands were made on them, but her perfectly tuned body accepted the burden without complaint. Her lungs worked harder and harder to supply blood to her extremities, but again all systems cooperated to keep the machine functioning flawlessly. She turned a corner and gazed down at the cloud choked city and…DOWN?!

  She jerked to an abrupt halt as the trance was shattered. My God! Where am I? Her mind tried to accept the fact that she was high above the city, probably high up in the Berkeley hills. But she had no idea exactly where she was, and even less of an idea how to get home. Glancing at her watch, she saw that it was nearly eight o'clock. Shit! I've been out for two hours! Jamie's going to be frantic!

  Since it had taken two hours to get where she was, it was obviously going to take longer than that to get home, now that her broken trance allowed her body to recognize that it was thoroughly exhausted. Shoving her hands into the pockets of her thin nylon windbreaker, she extracted nothing but lint. Shit! How can I go out running without I.D. or change? That's ridiculously irresponsible of me!

  She tried to stop her self-recriminations to logic out a solution to her problem. First thing is to find someone who can tell me how to get out of this neighborhood, she mused. She started to run again, wincing at the stiffness that was beginning to settle in her over-stressed thighs. Oh boy! she mused. I've really done it this time. Jamie's gonna have my hide!

  She struggled along for about a quarter mile before she spotted a man doing some light stretching on his covered front porch. Ahh, a fellow masochist, she thought happily. She dashed up to him and asked, "Pardon me, but I've gotten a bit lost. Can you steer me out of the neighborhood?"

  "Uh, sure," he said hesitantly. "Where'd you come from?"

  "I live a few blocks from Claremont and Ashby," she informed him.

  He blinked at her for a second, not quite able to believe her, but seeing no reason for her to lie. "You ran up here?"

  "Yeah," she replied a little sheepishly as the water cascaded down her face. "I was in a zone."

  "That was some zone," he laughed as he shook his head. "My wife gives me a hard time about running two miles in this weather. She should count her blessings!"

  "Yeah, I'm gonna get my butt kicked if I ever get home," she said with a chuckle.

  "Come on in and use the phone," he offered. "Somebody's got to be worried about you," he said with an appreciative glance down her long, lean body.

  She was about to say no, having caught the slight leer, but his curious wife came to the door and said, "Tim? Who are you talking to?" She leaned her head out and snagged a glance at Ryan, then another back at her husband.

  "Oh, Honey," he said. "This woman's a little lost. Can she come in and call her…husband?" this last remark was directed at Ryan, but she just smiled at him.

  "Uhh, sure," the man's wife said hesitantly as she gazed at the water dripping off every inch of the leggy brunette.

  "Actually," Ryan offered, "would you mind making a call for me? I don't want to drip all over your house."

  "Sure, I'd be happy to," she smiled. She dashed back in the house and grabbed a pad and pencil. "What's the number?"

  Ryan gave her the particulars and waited as the woman darted back in. She cooled her already icy heels for a few minutes chatting with the man, who introduced himself as Tim Meyers. By the time his wife returned he knew a substantial amount about Ryan, but she had learned nothing about him. Must be a lawyer, she mused. Rosemary, as Tim had identified her in her absence, returned with a smirk on her face and a much warmer attitude. "Jamie says to tell you not to move a muscle," she laughed. "You're in deep trouble, Ryan."

  "I thought maybe she'd go easier on me if I had you call," she laughed as Tim looked at her curiously, trying to figure out how he had missed the fact that she was a lesbian.

  "Well, she told me that if you tried to leave, I should hurl something at the back of your head to stop you," she explained with a smirk. "Does that sound like she's going to go easy on you?"

  "At least I didn't ask you to call my father," Ryan remarked. "He reacts much worse, since he long ago had his fill of bailing me out of trouble!"

  "I won't, Jamie," the thoroughly contrite woman said from her spot on the kitchen chair as her lover towered over her.

  "And you promise to never leave the house without money or a calling card on you?"

  "I won't, Jamie," she promised.

  "But you know that I still have to punish you, right?"

  "Um…I guess I do…what are you going to do to me?" she asked warily.

  "I'm going to take you shopping," she said defiantly as she slid onto Ryan's nice, dry, sweat pants-covered lap.

  An hour later they emerged from the Patagonia store with a foul-weather running outfit. At Jamie's insistence, Ryan had purchased a lightweight shell that was completely waterproof and windproof and had the added benefit of being very quiet, since she maintained that she could not tolerate the "swoosh swoosh" sound that most nylon garments made. It was a bright gold color that they labeled "butternut," but Ryan failed to notice the similarity between the color and the squash. She also carried a pair of windshield tights that were a cross between snug-fitting nylon tights and rain pants. They only came in black, but Jamie preferred that anyway since the dark color made her lover's legs look even more long and lean. When Ryan's attention was diverted, Jamie slipped a pair of windshield gloves in with the purchases to keep her partner's hands warm on those chilly mornings they were sure to have more of. As they neared the checkout counter, Jamie spied the last necessity-a bright gold waterproof nylon baseball cap. She tried it on her partner, pronounced it "cute" and added it to the pile, shaking it at Ryan as she ordered, "Wear this one with the bill in front for a change, Buffy. I want to keep the water from your pretty blue eyes."

  "Did we really need this stuff?" Ryan complained. "I've been running in the rain for a very long time, and I've never suffered because of it."

  "How did you feel when you first hit the street this morning?" she asked patiently.

  "Mmm, miserable?"

  "Um-hmm," Jamie replied. "And what part of you thinks that is necessary?"

  "Um…the Spartan part?" she offered.

  "That's right, Precious," she said fondly. "But running
in this muck is plenty Spartan. You don't have to compound that by being drenched to the skin, goofball."

  "Hmm, not many people could use 'Precious' and 'goofball' in the same breath," Ryan mused. "You're very talented."

  "Thank you," she said graciously. "I get lots of practice with you since I so often feel like kissing you and kicking you in the butt simultaneously!"

  They stopped by the house to drop off their purchases before they left for their usual Sunday at the O'Flahertys. "Hey, Honey?" Jamie asked as she bent down to write a note to Mia. "Are these Jordan's keys?"

  "Yep," Ryan said, taking a look at the set. She looked at Jamie as a smile broke out across her face. "Think our little friend took the plunge last night?"

  "Mia said she was going to try to push her a little. Maybe she finally fell."

  Ryan shot a worried glance upstairs and said, "I hope it went well for them. I don't want Jordan to get hurt."

  "Mia really likes her. This isn't just a conquest for her. I'm certain of that."

  "I hope so," Ryan mused. "I really hope so."

  "The plane won't land any sooner, Ryan, no matter how many times you pace in front of that window."

  Ryan looked at her partner with a sheepish grin, slightly embarrassed to be caught. "Okay, so I'm a little anxious," she admitted as she turned her attention back to the dim, gray skies over San Francisco. "Oh, that might be them," she said excitedly as she pointed to a plane making a wide turn toward the gate.

  Just as she spoke the flight was announced, and Jamie watched with amusement as her lover's anxiety turned to elation. She ran over to the gate and began to fidget as she craned her neck around, trying to observe every bit of activity occurring beyond the heavy double doors that opened and closed repeatedly with airport personnel. Finally the doors were fully opened and the first passengers began to file through. Jamie was a few feet behind her lover, but it was patently obvious when Ryan spied her father coming down the passageway. Her face broke into a smile so luminous that tears immediately came to Jamie's eyes. Luckily, Ryan's arms were quite long, and they allowed her to snake one arm around both Martin and Maeve. She wasn't very verbal tonight, but neither of the newlyweds could have any doubt that they had been missed. She kissed both of them again and again, and Jamie finally decided that she needed to butt in or she would never get to greet them.

  "Welcome home," she said as she lifted Ryan's arm from Maeve's back and slid into the group hug.

  "It's good to be home," Martin responded heartily as he stood at his full height and stretched a bit. "It's no wonder Ireland seems so different," he added with a chuckle. "It's damned far! I thought we'd never get off that plane."

  "Well, you're home now," Ryan assured him "I'll go pull the car up to the arrival area. I'll be waiting when you've collected your bags."

  Fifteen minutes later they were headed home. "I'll bet you're starved," Ryan observed. "Conor's in charge of Sunday dinner. Would you rather stop at McDonald's?"

  "Well, our bodies believe it's two a.m.," Martin reminded them. "The boy could make a bowl of porridge and a piece of toast and I'd be happy."

  "That sounds good to me too," Maeve agreed.

  "So…um…where will you…should I drop your bags at our house, or …" Ryan knew she was fumbling, but she had no idea of where the happy couple was going to live until their house was ready.

  "It doesn't matter, Dear," Maeve said. "Kevin can come get me after we have a bite."

  Jamie cut to the heart of the issue when she asked bluntly, "Aren't you going to sleep together? You're newlyweds, for goodness sake!"

  Martin laughed at her impudence and revealed, "There's a little more to it than that, girls. We didn't talk about this on the phone, but we aren't actually, technically married."

  "What?" Ryan barked out as she her head swiveled around so quickly that the car nearly swerved out of the lane.

  "The problem was," Maeve explained, "that we didn't have the required three weeks to post the banns of marriage. Father tried his best, but the bishop would not allow an exemption from the rule, especially since we had both been married before."

  "What's a ban of marriage?" Jamie asked, now thoroughly confused.

  "It's one of the church's requirements to guard against bigamy and the like," Maeve explained. "They post the upcoming marriage for three weeks to allow anyone who has knowledge about a prior marriage to come forward. It's one area where the church encourages gossip!"

  "So, what kind of married are you?" Ryan asked, thoroughly confused.

  "Father married us in the church building, but he could only certify a civil marriage, so we're still not married in the eyes of the Church. But only Moira knew that. I wanted Mam and Daddy to think they'd finally witnessed the real thing."

  "And knowing you two, you don't consider yourselves married at all," Ryan guessed.

  "You're right on that one, Ryan," Maeve answered. "So the good news is that our January service is not just for show. It's the real deal!"

  "But the bad news is…" Ryan smirked, turning and shooting a glance at her father.

  "Your mind is focused on the desires of the flesh as usual," he chided her as he gave her a playful tap on the back of her head.

  "Gee, Da, I didn't expect you to emulate the way Jamie and I structured our relationship," Ryan teased. "We waited for almost three months before we had sex. You want to go for the record?"

  "That's enough out of you, Siobhan," he warned.

  "My mother always said that nothing created good character like a little self-control," Maeve joked.

  "Yeah, she's all about self-control," Ryan said as a grim look passed over her face.

  Jamie turned slightly and caught an astonishingly similar look on Martin's face, but Maeve didn't seem to notice.

  "When I was in high school, Mam gave me the lecture about self-control," the older woman related with a chuckle. "I was so terribly naïve that I truly did not know what she was talking about! All she managed to do was frighten me terribly and make me fear the boys at school. Poor Charlie really had his work cut out with the likes of me," she laughed, referring to her first husband.

  "Yes, it was quite the shock when we boys got to San Francisco in the 60's," Martin related. "Ireland was still very backwater then, very provincial and proper. To be thrown over here during the beginnings of the hippie movement was quite the experience!"

  "So did you avail yourself of all of the free love, Da?" Ryan asked with an impish look.

  "I most certainly did not!" he insisted, a bit miffed that his daughter would even entertain such a notion. "Unlike some people I know, I was brought up with a good, healthy fear of any such behavior! The fires of hell seemed like a terrible price to pay for a fleeting pleasure!" He playfully reached into the front seat and slapped his grinning daughter on the shoulder.

  Ryan's face grew serious as she turned slightly and said, "Thank you for not putting that fear in us, Da. You never made us afraid of suffering eternal damnation for expressing our sexuality."

  "Well," he said thoughtfully, with a smile struggling to get out, "I certainly hope I wasn't wrong on that point. Because if I was, you'll be stuck down in the lowest rungs of hell, Siobhan."

  "Yeah, but at least I'll have Conor to keep me company," she admitted with a big smile. "And the girls down there will be hot…in every way!"

  Jamie called the house from her cell and asked Conor to cook up some oatmeal for the jet-lagged travelers. By the time they reached the house, Brendan and Kevin had joined the group to welcome the new couple home. Both Martin and Maeve were very appreciative of the welcome, their happiness supplanting their exhaustion.

  Despite their fatigue, the pair managed to relate most of the details of their trip. The boys were also shocked to hear that they were not married according to church law, but after enduring some good-natured teasing, the nearly-newlyweds continued with their stories. "And which one of you little sprites was responsible for bringing a photographer all the way up from
Galway?" Martin asked as he cast a stern gaze on the two women.

  "Not me," Ryan said honestly. "I have no knowledge."

  "I couldn't let you get married without pictures," Jamie explained quickly. "Did he do a good job?"

  "He seemed a little confused," Martin admitted with a chuckle. "I don't think he'd ever been that far out of the city. But once he got used to the scale of things, he did a fine job."

  "How did you arrange for that?" Ryan asked, slightly amazed.

  "You can find anything on the Internet if you look hard enough," Jamie admitted.

  "We truly appreciated it," Maeve said sincerely. "Everyone was so generous," she enthused. "Moira acted like she'd won the Sweepstakes this year. She even bought my dress!"

  "So, how many people attended?" Ryan asked quickly, trying to steer the conversation away from money.

  "Oh my, the church was nigh onto bursting," she laughed. "I'm not sure how many came, but we have the guest books here. We can count them up later."

  "Did any of your family come up, Da?" Brendan asked.

  "I was quite surprised, but several carloads came up from Kerry," he said proudly.

  "Do you have many relatives still in Ireland, Martin?" Jamie asked.

  "Oh, yes. One of the blessings of coming from a large family, Jamie. My father was one of seven, and my mother was the eldest of nine," he related. "Naturally, I've still got a few uncles and aunts there, and my first and second cousins are legion!"

  "Now, what's the name of your town?" Jamie asked Maeve.

  "If people know Ireland, we say we're from near Ballina-that's the big town. Our little village is Killala, and you have to be familiar with County Mayo to have even heard of it."