Straight Up

by Deirdre Martin

  “How are you today, Alec?”

  “Well. Yourself?”

  “Very well.”

  “Hello, Padraig,” Alec said with a sly wink at Aislinn.

  Padraig nodded curtly. “Alec.” He stood, making a point of turning his back to him as he addressed Aislinn. “I need to stretch my legs a bit.”

  “Go on. Bring me a scone or something on your way back.”

  Padraig nodded, throwing Alec a dirty look as he walked away.

  “Well, he showed me.” Alec chuckled.

  “Ah, you know how he is. He's convinced you're after his job.”

  “I am.”

  Aislinn gawped at him. “What?”

  “Here's the thing: I need part-time work. Our farm is not near as big as yours, and as you know, there are five of us working it. We're falling over each other. There's not enough for me to do, and it's driving me mad. So I thought maybe you could take me on part-time. You and I both know that Padraig is slowing down a bit, and he's not as -”

  “I know,” Aislinn cut in. She took a deep breath, exhaling heavily. “I'm sorry. It's just hard for me to talk about Padraig sometimes.” She drummed her fingers restlessly on the table in front of her. “You've put me on the spot here, Alec.” I know, he replied, looking apologetic. I should have rung you.

  “I'm not a great one for the phone.” Aislinn confessed.

  Alec looked amused. Yeah, I noticed that when you rang from Dub to check in: on and off as fast as you could.

  That was because I couldn't wait to get back to Lian,, thought Aislinn. feeling a painful twist in her chest. Some days, it felt like all that happened a million years ago: on other days, it was as if it had happened just yesterday. Either way, every little detail remained vivid in her mind... and excruciatingly painful.

  Aislinn forced a smile. “Guilty as charged.” She took another sip of coffee. “Let me think about this a bit, will you?” Of course.

  “Thanks.”

  Alec turned to go, then pivoted back to her. “Maybe we could grab a bite sometime, talk about farming and other things?”

  “That sounds grand,” Aislinn lied, as she tried to cover her shock. Alec Fry, asking her out? Why now? Suspicion flashed in her mind: He wants to woo me and many me, and then my farm will be his. Christ, she was getting as paranoid as Padraig. Still, it was odd. They'd known each other for donkey's years, and he'd never so much as asked her for the time of day. Then again, maybe he just wanted to be friends. She'd think about it. But not right now.

  *****

  Aislinn woke the next morning in a decent mood, attributing it to her success the day before at the farmers' market. Though she had arrived home exhausted, she'd sold every fleece, making a tidy sum. If things kept on this way, she'd definitely attend the next livestock auction in Omeath and buy two or three new ewes with an eye toward breeding them.

  Dawn was just beginning to break when she joined Padraig in the smaller of the outbuildings beside the barn, the sky a lovely muted pink above the horizon. Spring was her favorite time of the year. But this year, like last, the pleasure she took in the turning of the seasons was gone, stolen by heartbreak and betrayal. She wondered if she'd ever enjoy anything again. She heard her mother's voice in her head: Time heals all wounds. My arse, Aislinn thought.

  “Morning,” she said to Padraig, handing him his thermos.

  Padraig was silent, his expression sour.

  “What's the matter?” Aislinn asked, stifling a yawn. No matter what her mood, it was still hard sometimes to drag herself out of bed at this hour. “Didn't you sleep well?”

  Padraig glared at her. “Oh, I slept well enough, my girl. But I don't know if that will be the case from now on.”

  Aislinn sighed. “Look. I'm in no mood for guessing games at this hour. Tell me what's giving you such a nervo.”

  Padraig marched over to one of the workbenches and with a dramatic flourish picked up a brand-new, state-of-the-art variable-speed clipper for shearing sheep. “Think I can't do my job anymore, eh?” he accused, walking back to shake the clipper in Aislinn's face. “Think I need one of these fancy clippers or else I'll bollix things up?”

  “Calm down.” Aislinn grabbed the clipper from him, turning it over in her hands. “Where did you get this?”

  Padraig narrowed his eyes accusingly. “You know where.”

  “No, I don't know where,” Aislinn answered through gritted teeth. “Show me.”

  Padraig pointed at a plain cardboard box atop the battered old worktable in the corner. Aislinn went to inspect the box, rooting around inside. That's when she came upon a small white envelope that Padraig had missed. She was tempted to just leave it there, but curiosity got the better of her. She pulled it out.

  “What's that?” Padraig asked.

  “It's for me.”

  She opened it. Inside was a card Liam had obviously made himself on his computer, featuring the picture of the two of them in the Christ Church Cathedral garden in Dublin, the picture they'd politely asked a man to take of them with Liam's camera. Inside was written, “Look how happy we were. I love you. Please forgive me. Liam.”

  Aislinn stared at the picture as a lump formed in her throat. They were happy that day; anyone looking at the picture could see how mad they were about each other. Or rather, how mad she was about him and how good an actor he was. She made herself stop looking at it and put the shears - which had to cost at least two hundred euros - back in the box. She noticed it hadn't been sent through the post. Liam must have come up here to the house and left it.

  Oh, she'd kill Nora for this, truly she would. Letting him come onto the property when she'd explicitly told him she didn't want him here. She tucked the card into the pocket of her jacket.

  “Well? What's the big mystery?” Padraig wanted to know.

  “The clippers were a present for me.”

  “A present? From who?” He narrowed his eyes suspiciously. “One of those Fry lads, isn't it? Trying to butter you up, get you to fire me.”

  “Everything's not always about you, you know!” Aislinn snapped. “As it so happens, they're a gift from Liam.”

  Padraig looked befuddled. “Liam?”

  “Yes, Liam.”

  “Whatever for?”

  Aislinn hesitated. “It's his way of, you know, trying to win me back.”

  Padraig hooted with laugher. “Oh, he's a real romantic, that one.” His expression darkened. “I hope you're not going to take him back. Not after the treacherous thing he did. Worse than Connor if you -”

  “Leave it out, will you, please?” Aislinn snapped.

  “Sorry.” Padraig eyed the box. “Well, now that we've got them, I guess we might as well use them,” he murmured.

  “In your dreams.”

  “You can't let a gorgeous piece of equipment like that go to waste!”

  “I thought they were too fancy for your taste.”

  “I'd be willing to try them out,” Padraig replied nonchalantly. “On a trial basis, of course.”

  Aislinn shook her head, more with affection than disbelief. “You're some piece of work, you know that? Fine, we'll keep them. Now, let's get to work.”

  Clippers. What was next? A bloody vacuum cleaner? Well, it didn't matter; it wasn't going to work. She was going to go into town later to tell Liam that if he trespassed again, she'd call the garda. But first, she was going to give her sister a piece of her mind at lunch for letting him set foot on the property in the first place.

  *****

  Aislinn waited until Padraig had finished his lunch and was back outside before bringing up the subject of Liam to Nora.

  “So,” Aislinn began casually, carrying the lunch plates over to the sink, “let's talk about Liam.”

  Nora's eyes sparked with hope. “What about him?”

  “What do you mean, 'What about him?' You know what.”

  Nora's face was a blank. “Aislinn, I have no idea what you're taking about.”

  Aislinn frowne
d. “You let him come up here and leave a present for me in the small outbuilding! Why didn't you tell him to take his bloody box and just piss off?”

  "I had no idea he came up here!”

  Aislinn could tell Nora wasn't lying.

  “He's not going to give up, Aislinn.”

  “More fool him,” said Aislinn, sudsing the plates.

  “What did he give you this time?” Nora asked curiously.

  “Clippers.”

  There was a stunned silence.

  “Clippers?”

  “To trim the flock.”

  More silence. “Actually, I think that's kind of cute,” Nora said eventually.

  Aislinn turned away from the sink to face her. Mix? '

  “You can't accuse him of not knowing who you are,” Nora pointed out.

  “He made the safe choice,” Aislinn countered dismissively.

  Nora looked highly amused. "You do realize that you wouldn't be getting all worked up about this if you didn't care about him, right?

  Aislinn turned back to the sink. All morning long, a storm had been brewing inside her. Should she give Liam a second chance? Or would she be an idiot to open herself up again to someone who had no compunction about playing such a cruel trick on another human being, not to mention someone who might hightail it back to the States at the drop of a hat? She was so inside her own head that Padraig had to remind her when to give Deenie the proper command to drive the sheep down a steep bank to an ungrazed pasture.

  “He's wasting his time,” Aislinn muttered.

  “Suit yourself. What are you going to do with the clippers?”

  “Padraig wants them, even though I do most of the shearing.”

  The way dad always did," Nora said quietly.

  "Yes.

  "I miss them

  “ Aislinn stilled. ”So do I.

  “Listen, I wanted to talk to you about something,” Nora said carefully.

  “What's that?”

  “I spent the morning going through Mum and Da's things.”

  Aislinn slowly put down the sponge in her hand and turned back around to face her sister. “You did what?”

  “It's time. Aislinn. I know you: you'd never get around to it.”

  “You had no right, Nora. You should have told me, and we could have done it together.”

  Nora ignored her. “I've put together some bags for the Salvation Army.”

  “Then un-put them together. If you're after giving Dad's clothes away, I want Padraig to have first crack at them.”

  “Oh. I didn't even think of that.”

  “Of course you didn't.”

  Nora glowered at her. “I was trying to help.”

  You want to help? Leave things as they are. This is my home, Nora. Mine."

  “It's half mine,” said Nora, staring Aislinn down.

  You know what? You're right. So from now on, how about we split the monthly expenses round here right down the middle. Sound fair?"

  Nora's mouth twitched.

  “And maybe I can teach you about the flock as well. I mean, they're half yours, too, right?”

  Nora frowned. “I'm working on my article, Aislinn. And I have no interest.”

  “But the flock is where the money comes from to pay the household expenses, Nora,” Aislinn replied sweetly. “It's only right that you know how to run the house, too.”

  “Point taken,” Nora mumbled.

  “Good.” Aislinn took a step toward her sister. "Because if you say one more time that this farm is half yours after not giving a tinker's damn about it for ten years, then I will send you packing back to London so fast you won't know what hit you, so help me God I will.

  Nora opened her mouth to say something, then clearly thought better of it. “Fine,” she said in a clipped voice.

  “Glad we agree. I meant what I said about Padraig having first crack at Dad's clothes. And if you put Dad's wellies in one of the bags, then take them out and return them to the mudroom, please,” Aislinn said coldly. “They might not mean anything to you, but they have great sentimental value to me.”

  “I'd like his walking stick, if you don't mind. For Donald.”

  “I gave it to Padraig when Da died.”

  Nora frowned. “I thought you might have.”

  “Why would Donald want a walking stick, anyway?”

  “For when we take walks here,” Nora said defensively. “I told you: he enjoys it.”

  Oh. Right. His sudden interest in walking the property. Well, it's Padraig's now, so I suppose you'll have to find something else of Dad's to give to him."

  Aislinn bit down on her tongue to keep herself from yelling, Do you think I'm blind? Or stupid? Or both? Do you think I haven't figured out yet what you 're planning? God, the gall of it Every time she began to feel close to Nora, Nora would up and do something that would remind Aislinn of how self-absorbed and insensitive she could sometimes be. Was it possible to love and hate someone at the same time? Because that's what she was beginning to feel toward her sister.

  “I best get back to work,” Aislinn announced briskly

  “Me, too,” said Nora, who couldn't quite look at her. “Need anything in town?”

  “No, I'm fine.”

  “See you later, then.”

  She pulled on her boots, grabbed her barn jacket, and headed out the mudroom door. Between Padraig, Nora, and Liam, she'd be lucky if her sanity remained intact. Thank God for Deenie, she thought. Deenie and work. At least those two things were constant.

  Clippers. She shook her head, and headed out for the north meadow.

  Straight Up

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  ************************************************************************************************

  Christ, I hate this place. Liam thought to himself as he walked up Ballycraig's high street to the market. He was in a dark mood. Everything sucked, and anyone who tried to suggest otherwise was a moron. If he were back in New York, he could try to lose himself by hitting an afternoon matinee: but there was no movie theater in Ballycraig. He supposed he could browse the 'net, but he'd go nuts if he was cooped up inside.

  A light rain was falling. It was always goddamn raining here. He could take the bus into Moneygall. But what the hell would he do in Moneygall? Hit the mega market? No thanks.

  He entered Finnegan's, pulling his crumpled shopping list from the back pocket of his jeans. Beth Daly was there, sitting on a stool behind the counter with Grace, but Bettina, the third musketeer, was nowhere in sight. As soon as they spotted him, they motioned him over, their eyes sharp with worry.

  “What's up?”

  “There was a fella in here about an hour ago asking after you,” Grace said in a voice a little above a whisper, even though there was no one in the shop but the three of them.

  Liam tensed. “Asking what?”

  “Did we know someone named Liam O'Brien, and if so, where did he work and live, and how long has he been here.”

  Fuck. “What did you tell him?”

  “Not a thing.” said Beth proudly. “We all know you're on the lam.”

  “He must be after you,” Grace said, sounding slightly excited. “Tracked you down.”

  This is my life, Liam wanted to tell her, not some goddamn thriller.

  “What did he look like?”

  Grace scrunched up her nose. “I can't really recall. I was too nervous.”

  “Was he big? With a scar across his cheek?”

  “Yes,” said Beth.

  “No,” said Grace, looking at her friend disdainfully. “The one thing I'm quite sure of was that he didn't have a scar.”

  “Maybe it was the way the sun was shining in on his face,” Beth mumbled.

  Liam pinched the bridge of his nose. Did the guy have a scar or not? Was he a bear of a man like Bettina said or not? Why couldn't you ever get a simple, straightforward answer from anyone in this goddamn town?

  Calm down, he told himself. You 'rejust flipping out be
cause Whitey has found you. though how is a mystery. He had to call Quinn and ask if he'd heard anything, and have Quinn talk to the Major. He'd been under the impression he'd be safe as long he stayed here. Obviously he was wrong.

  “Don't worry about it,” he told the two older women.

  They looked at him dubiously, then went back to gossiping.

  Liam strolled the narrow aisles, throwing items into his basket: fruit, a few frozen dinners, coffee, brown bread, butter.

  “Look, if this guy comes snooping around again, make sure you tell me,” Liam told Grace and Beth when he paid for his groceries

  “Of course we will,” said Grace, as if it were self-evident. “No one here would ever let anything happen to you.”

  “Thank you,” said Liam, kissing her powdery cheek. Beth looked put out, so he kissed hers, too. Grace's words helped buoy his mood a bit.

  That is, until he walked out into the street and saw Aislinn walking toward him.

  He watched her for a moment, her braid flying behind her, her stride purposeful. She seemed lost in thought until she spotted him; then a thundercloud overtook her beautiful face.

  “Just the man I wanted to see,” she said in a voice tinged with sarcasm.

  “Of course I am,” said Liam with a charming smile. “What woman doesn't want to see the man she loves?”

  “Feeling a bit delusional today, are we?” Aislinn replied tartly. “Listen: I need to get a few things in Finnegan's, and then you and I are going to have a little chat. Don't you move.”

  “Come to my flat when you're done. I'm not going to stand out here on the rainy sidewalk like your obedient little puppy dog.”

  “Well, well.” Aislinn looked somewhat impressed. “Look who's bossy now.”

  “Fight fire with fire is what I always say.”

  “Is it now? I could have sworn your motto was, 'I don't care who I hurt.”

  Liam ignored the dig, knowing that not responding would drive her nuts. “See you in a few,” he said, walking away.

  Their exchange left him feeling somewhat exhilarated. They'd started their “relationship” sparring verbally; he took it as a good sign they were sparring again. Of course, it was entirely possible he was pathetically grasping at straws. But he'd take what he could get.