Straight Up

by Deirdre Martin

  “I thought we were going somewhere a little more informal,” she said to Alec under her breath as they were seated.

  “I wanted to surprise you,” Alec replied. “You're worth splashing out for.”

  Aislinn smiled weakly.

  Christ, he was boring as sin. She was starting to understand why Alec hadn't a wife by now, the way his brothers did: no woman could deal with someone so endlessly tedious. On and on he went about his prize ewe and the pros and cons of electric fencing. At least she could join in this talk, but who wanted to jaw on about work all night? Still, it kept them from talking about personal things, and she was glad of that.

  Aislinn could see he was affronted when she insisted on splitting the check, but she didn't care; she didn't want to owe him anything. Which reminded her: she was going to write a check as soon as she got home for half the cost of the Dublin trip and give it to that jackass, Liam O'Brien. If he didn't want to cash it, that was his business. But she didn't want to be indebted to that one for anything, either.

  Driving back to Ballycraig. Alec was still yakking away, forcing Aislinn to stifle several yawns. She couldn't wait to get home and go out for a late-night walk with Deenie in blessed silence. Finally, after what felt like an eternity in hell, he drove up her pitted drive, pulling right up to the front door.

  “Well,” he said as a sense of expectancy filled the car. Shite, thought Aislinn. Time to make my good-byes and get out of here.

  She turned to him, smiling graciously. “Thank you for a lovely night. Alec. The food was delicious.”

  “As was the company.”

  Aislinn went to get out of the car, but Alec touched her shoulder. “Can't a fella get a nightcap or a cup of tea to finish off the night?” He chuckled.

  “Normally I would,” Aislinn fibbed, “but I'm really knackered. You know what it's like, getting up that early in the morning. . .”

  “I do,” he conceded. “But maybe we could just sit here a minute or two and keep talking before we call it a night?”

  Aislinn felt guilty. “All right.”

  Silence.

  “What do you want to talk about?” she asked.

  “Oh, anything,” Alec said casually, putting a hand on her knee.

  Aislinn firmly removed it. “I know what we can talk about.”

  “What's that?” asked Alec, now trying to put his arm around her, the clueless twit. Aislinn leaned out of range.

  “Let's talk about how we're friends, and nothing more.”

  “It doesn't have to be that way,” Alec murmured, trying for what Aislinn thought was a smoldering look. Either that or dinner was repeating on him.

  “But it is.” Aislinn struggled to find the right words. “Look, I think you're a lovely man,” she said sincerely. Boring as a tick, but lovely. “But I'm not looking for any romance in my life right now.”

  “But -”

  “No buts. I've no interest.”

  Alec's shoulders slumped. “It's the Yank, isn't it?”

  “What?”

  Alec sighed forlornly. “He told me at the farmers' market that you were still in love with him, and I'd be wasting my time if I tried to get something going with you.”

  “Oh, he said that, did he?”

  “He did.”

  “Well I'm here to tell you, it's nothing to do with that bighead.”

  “Then what?” Alec asked, looking pitiful.

  “It's me, all right?” She was trying to keep her exasperation in check. They could go round and round on this issue forever. “I'm content on my own.” She searched his face. “You understand that, right?”

  Alec nodded sadly. “Yes. But if you ever -”

  “Don't go down that road, Alec, please. It makes me very uncomfortable.”

  “I'm sorry, Aislinn.” He ran his hands nervously along the sides of the steering wheel. “This talk we just had... my trying to... isn't going to affect our friendship, is it?”

  “As long as I don't catch you giving me moony calf eyes, we'll be fine,” she half joked.

  Alec looked relieved. “I won't. I promise.”

  “Then we're square, so.”

  Aislinn opened the car door. “I'll see you at the market on Wednesday?” always."

  Night, then.

  “Night.”

  She gave a friendly wave as he backed his truck down the long drive and went on his way. Well, that was awkward, but at least I nipped it in the bud. As for Liam, her first impulse was to collar him and tell him to keep his nose out of her business, but then a thought struck her: He wanted a reaction from her. It was a way to get her to interact with him. Well, she wasn't going to give it to him. Let him sit there and torture himself as he wondered what she might be getting up to with Alec Fry. In fact, she was going to stay away from the Oak for a while, so he'd have no opportunity to see her at all unless he dragged his sorry arse to the farmers' market again. She went inside, feeling quite pleased with herself. For the first time since the split, she felt like she was in the driver's seat.

  *****

  Eleven days. That's how long it had been since Aislinn had been in the pub. Eleven days of Liam's imagination running wild, picturing her laughing with Alec Fry, making out with Alec Fry, making love with Alex Fry. Imagining her saying: God. you've been right undermy nose all along! I know it's early days yet, but I think I'm falling in love with you. Obviously she was staying away from the pub for a reason, and the reason had to be Alec Fry.

  Naturally, it had affected his mood considerably. The last thing he wanted to do was chat or make small talk, but it was part of his job. It didn't help that Teague remarked on Aislinn's absence.

  “Seems to me she can't stand the sight of you,” he said more than once. “I'd not be surprised if she waits till you're back in America to start coming in here again, though maybe that Mob fella who's been sniffing around here might wind up killing you first.” Jack saw the fury in Liam's eyes and told him if he lost his temper and hit Teague, he'd have to fire him. The threat of no income at all was the only thing standing between his fist and Teague's face.

  In addition to his bleak, tortured imagination, Liam had to deal with constantly looking over his shoulder, worried that one day he'd be walking down the street and some man would walk up to him, say, “This is from Whitey,” and blow his head off.

  He told Quinn about the guy; Quinn in turn had talked to the Major, since he'd been the one who had recommended Liam hightail it here in the first place. The Major told Quinn he doubted Whitey's reach extended to Ireland, but that Liam should be careful. Great, thought Liam grimly. I tore myself away from my family for nothing.

  He was so deep in his thoughts he startled when Jack tapped him on the shoulder, pointing to the far end of the bar at Ned Sykes. Ballycraig's sole mechanic. “He's asked you twice for a bottle of Harp, Liam.”

  “Sorry.” Liam hustled to get the Harp and handed it to Ned, who was seventy if he was a day. “It's on me,” he told him.

  “Ah, no need,” said Ned. “We all know you've a broken heart and you might be gunned down in the street at any minute. Anyone in your situation would be distracted.”

  “For feck's sake, Ned!” Jack said sharply. “That's a terrible thing to say to him!”

  Ned looked sheepish. “Sorry.”

  “Thanks,” Liam muttered. He moved to the other end of the bar, where Bettina was gazing at him sympathetically.

  “How many days has it been, love?”

  “Eleven,” Liam said glumly.

  “It's possible she's just been dead busy at the farm what with Padraig starting to go doolally and all.”

  “I think she probably just can't stand the sight of ya,” said Teague.

  “Button it, you,” Bettina warned.

  Liam moved to the small alcove to the left of the bar, where some supplies were stored, motioning for Bettina to follow him.

  “What's up?” Bettina asked.

  “She went on a date with Alec Fry about two weeks ag
o.”

  "Alec Fry!” Bettina exclaimed loudly.

  “Jesus, will you keep your voice down?” Liam peered behind him to see if anyone had heard Bettina's none too subtle exclamation. Thankfully, it looked like no one had.

  “Do you think she's going out with him?” Liam asked bleakly.

  "Alec Fry? Are you mad? He's a nice enough man, but dear Christ, he's as boring as a sack of spuds. I'd be shocked if she was spending time with him. Shocked. Not only that, but if she was dating Alec Fry, don't you think she'd be in here parading it under your nose?

  “I didn't know.”

  “Well, I would if it were me. Do you want my expert opinion?”

  “Obviously.”

  “I think she's keeping her distance because she wants to drive you mad with worry, thinking she's off with Alec Fry.”

  “Well, it's working.”

  “She'll be back in eventually. This is her local, after all. If you're worried, why don't you try to get the scoop from her high-and-mighty sister?”

  “Hmm.” It was a thought, though he hated relying on Nora for everything. He was kicking himself for not running out and getting Aislinn something romantic the day after Nora had come in to the pub.

  “C'mere.” Bettina led Liam back out to the bar.

  “Listen up, everyone!” Bettina bellowed. The entire Oak fell quiet. “We all know about the bet and how it broke Aislinn McCafferty's heart. And we all know we're partially to blame for wounding the poor creature because we were in on it. Now, Liam here wants her back. So I think we should all put our heads together and think of ways to help him. If the whole town pleads his case, she'll have to give in eventually. So hop to it.”

  Heads nodded, then everyone went back to their business.

  “There you go,” Bettina said to Liam, looking pleased with herself. “Alec Fry or no, with the whole town singing your praises, she'd have to have a heart of stone to resist.”

  “Thanks,” Liam said, striving to sound grateful. He appreciated the gesture, but it worried him. Who knew what the hell some of them would come up with? Then again, beggars can't be choosers, and at this point, he was willing to get on his knees and beg her to take him back. Maybe Bettina was right; maybe with all of Ballycraig rooting him on, she'd let down her guard and let him back in. He'd just have to wait and see.

  *****

  Another fence to mend, another day on her knees in the grass with pliers and wires. Aislinn couldn't believe she'd missed this one. Then she remembered: this was one of the fences she'd sent Padraig out to mend. Obviously he'd forgotten, or else his mind had bumped along to something else.

  It had been twelve days since she'd crossed the doorstep of the Royal Oak. She wondered: was it juvenile of her to derive pleasure imagining Liam picturing her with Alec Fry? Because she certainly was deriving pleasure from it, even though she was also depriving herself of her usual whiskey at the pub. She'd never admit it, but she even missed trading insults with the Trinity. She missed Jack's smiling face, the turf fire, and the music. She even missed the cacophony of voices of all those bastards who'd betrayed her. Clearly she was going soft.

  Fence mended, she rose, wiping the dirt on her hands off on her jeans and turning up the collar of her barn jacket against a slightly chilly spring breeze. She'd trusted Padraig to take the flock across the road to the uppermost northern meadow. Though it was long passed, he was still all broody about missing the sheep dog trials. She could see him practicing his commands up on the hill with Deenie, who loved it. She made a mental note to make sure she entered them next year.

  She was about to check the next length of fence when she caught sight of a man walking up the drive. She squinted; it was no one she recognized. Assuming it was someone who'd come to buy some wool, she hurried down to the barn.

  “Hello,” she said cheerfully. “I'm Aislinn McCafferty.”

  She paused, waiting for the man to tell her his name, but he didn't. Odd. He was a twiglet, so thin it looked like a good wind would blow him right over. Unsmiling, too, with a bony face.

  “Are you here for some wool?” Aislinn continued pleasantly.

  “Actually, I'm not. I was wondering: do you know if there's someone named Liam O'Brien, lives in Ballycraig?”

  Aislinn's heart began to pound. 'The name isn't familiar, no." Her mind flashed to all the whispered excitement around Liam's arrival when he first arrived in town. On the lam.

  The man looked perplexed. “Are you sure? I heard he might work at the pub.”

  “Have you checked there?”

  The man frowned. “They say they've never heard of him.”

  “Well, there's your answer, then.”

  “Not quite. I've been told otherwise.”

  “Then someone must be having you on. There's no Liam O'Brien around here that I know of. By the way, why are you asking?” Curious.

  “Because -?”

  “I'm not at liberty to say.”

  “I see.” Aislinn tucked her ponytail up under her baseball cap. “Well, sorry I couldn't be of more help to you.”

  The man nodded curtly and started back down the drive to where his car sat idling. Please. God. don't let him go across the road and question Padraig. Aislinn thought desperately. The old man was so guileless he'd tell everything. She held her breath, not releasing it until the man drove away. As soon as he was out of sight, she ran across the road and up the steep hill.

  “Padraig,” she said breathlessly as she reached the old man, who had just successfully commanded Deenie to drive the herd into a shedding ring.

  “Come to check on me, have you?” he asked sardonically.

  “No need to check on you. You've got it all under control.”

  “It can't be lunchtime already.”

  “It's not. I need to talk to you about something that's not related to the farm.”

  Padraig rested his chin on the top of his staff. “What would that be?”

  “Has anyone come sniffing around here, asking you questions about Liam?”

  “Not that I can remember.”

  “You're sure about that?”

  “I'm not an eejit, you know!” Padraig barked.

  No, but you do forget things sometimes!“ Aislinn shot back without thinking. Feclc ”I'm sorry. I know you wouldn't forget something like that."

  “Oh, ta very much for the compliment,” Padraig sniffed. He put two fingers in his mouth, gave three short whistles, and Deenie came scampering to his side. “Why is someone asking about the Yank? Is this to do with his troubles in America?”

  “I'm not sure yet. Just promise me something, will you?”

  “What's that?”

  "If anyone does ask y

  u, tell them you've never heard of Liam.“ She made a mental note to tell Nora the same thing. Padraig clucked his tongue. ”Still sweet on hint It breaks my heart."

  “I'm not sweet on him,” Aislinn said tartly. "I just hate to think of anyone seriously hurting him. I mean, no man deserves that, not even a low-down dog like Liam.

  “True. Well, if anyone comes nosing around asking questions, I promise to keep the old lips zipped up tight.”

  “Good man.” Aislinn tilted her head in the direction of the farm. “I'm going back over to see if anything else needs fixing.”

  “We should be thinking about cutting some hay soon.”

  “I know. I know.” Aislinn sighed. “One thing at a time.”

  “Off with you, then.”

  “See you at lunch.”

  She walked slowly across the road, filled with a short-lived sense of relief. She decided that out of basic human decency, she'd make a quick visit to the pub tonight to let Liam know that someone was snooping around asking questions about him. As she'd told Padraig, even the likes of Liam didn't deserve what this mystery man might do to him if he was somehow connected to what happened in America. She yanked the thought from her mind and went back to work.

  Straight Up

  Chapter Twenty-seven


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

  "Aislinn! Good to see you!”

  Aislinn acknowledged Old Jack's over-cheery greeting with a small smile as she entered the pub. As usual, the Oak was packed, and she had to wade through a small sea of people. All of whom she knew, as she made her way up to the bar. The musicians, not one of them a day under sixty-five, looked to be getting ready to play. Saturday night in Ballycraig, the same old routine for decades. There was comfort in that, usual?" Jack asked. It was just him and Bettina behind the bar. Yes, please.

  She tapped her foot impatiently on the footrail as she waited for her shot, noticing out of the corner of her eye that Fergus was grinning at her like all idiot.

  “What are you flashing your gums at, Fergus Purcell?' she asked, pleased to be needling him. missed you round here.” Give over.

  “Well, a certain someone has missed you,” David put in, wiggling his eyebrows. “Even pining, I'd say.”

  Aislinn frowned. “Right.” She discreetly scoured the pub for Liam. wondering where he was. Sick? Hiding from the nosy bastard tracking his whereabouts? The latter thought made her nervous.

  She returned her gaze to the bar to find Bettina looking at her, a wry smile on her face. “Looking for someone in particular, are we?”

  Aislinn picked up her shot glass. “Not in particular, no,” she said coolly.

  “He's in the basement,” said Bettina with a wink. “I'll go get him.”

  Before Aislinn could protest, she was bustling off. God, did no one have lives of their own to tend to here?

  She took a drink of whiskey, remembering the first time she'd ever tried some, stealing a sip from her father's glass when she was fourteen. Jameson, it was, and she thought it the most vile-tasting thing on earth. “An acquired taste,” her father told her when she was old enough to drink legally. She worshipped him so much she decided to emulate him, and gradually, she did acquire an appreciation for it. She silently toasted him in her head: Miss you. Dad. She was missing him a lot lately, what with Padraig getting a bit soft. But she knew what her father would do, and she was doing the same: keeping an eye on the faithful old soul while letting him continue doing the work he loved for as long as humanly possible.