by Sara Forbes
I rush out of the room to intercept them.
When I yank open the door, I take in the man in a rust blazer, white shirt, and gray pants. Chiseled haircut, thick forehead, beady eyes. He’s one of those gorilla types you see in the gym. A city boy. The man who’s caused Shannon so much hassle and misery. I should sink my fist in his face right now and be done with it.
One look at Shannon’s face and my heart almost shuts down. Her eyes glitter with despair. Her mouth is drawn tight as if she’s never learned to smile. The color has drained from her cheeks. She's hunched. She’s barely recognizable in this goon’s shadow.
My body heats up in indignation. How dare he show up here?
“Shannon,” I say. “I see you brought a guest along.”
“Yes, Danny,” she says in a stilted voice. “Danny, Brett. Brett, Danny,” Then she stands there her arms hanging limply by her sides.
“Well, come in,” I say, falling back on thirty-one years of manners.
As she passes me our fingers touch lightly—she makes sure of it. But I don’t know what to think. Am I about to have the heart ripped out of me? Did they spend the night together?
No…it can’t be. Brett’s just orchestrated this to make it look like that. I hope that’s the case anyway.
“Go into the front sitting room,” I tell them and I hear that my voice isn’t far from a snarl. That sitting room is as far away as you can get from the kitchen where Lorcan and Mother are. This could get nasty.
“Naw, I reckon I’ll just stand right here,” Brett says, folding his arms and leaning back against the wall, tossing me an arrogant smile. “I’m not staying long. I just wanted to take the measure of you, see what kind of situation Shannon’s landed herself in here. So, you’re the Duke of Munster? Did I get that right?”
I straighten to my full height. I have maybe an inch over him, but he’s bulkier than I am. Still, I’d say he’s slow on his feet, not much of a street fighter if it ever came to blows. I could definitely take him down.
“You got that right,” I say.
I close the kitchen door softly and stand with my back to it.
“Are you a real duke or did you just buy that title online?” Brett asks, planting himself in the middle of the floor.
“Yes,” I reply.
He doesn’t seem interested in my answer anyway. “So, what’s the deal? She’s your servant, and you get to bang her on the side? He nods at Shannon who’s standing with her back to the wall, hands behind her back. She raises her fingers to her face when he says this.
“Something like that,” I say. “But sometimes I get to play at being her servant, too.”
He doesn’t appreciate my joke. His face reddens in blotches, nostrils flaring.
“Ugh. Some kind of aristocratic kink? I should have known. Well, now that I’m here,” he turns to Shannon. “You don’t have to demean yourself anymore. I can give you the money you need. Because that’s why you come here—the money, isn’t it? You were telling me it was good.”
She shoots me a despairing look which I intercept stonily. She needs to have her own comebacks, I can’t do it for her. But she stays silent.
I clear my throat pointedly, but she ignores me.
“I think Shannon might have something to say about that,” I say.
There’s a complicated frown crossing her forehead and her mouth isn’t opening to say the things I’m expecting, which involve a lot of swearing and an unconditional telling to his total ass-wipe where to go. No, nothing’s coming out. She’s like a bunny caught in headlights. What the hell?
“Shannon?” I say, more forcefully.
She shakes her head, lets out a labored sigh, as if this is some kind of decision she has to ponder.
Finally, she speaks. “Danny, Brett wants me to go back to Ireland. Maybe I should take a few days off, if you can spare me, a-and I can discuss the situation with Brett.”
I blink at her.
Brett’s smirking. “Good call. I hope it won’t inconvenience you, Duke?”
“It might. It might inconvenience me very much.”
I’m treading across the room to her.
“Danny…don’t,” she pleads.
“He already did,” I say, my gaze back on Brett. I have to be ready in case he tries anything.
Brett has rolled up his sleeves up and is eyeing me carefully.
“This is between me and him,” she whispers.
I tug her into me with a protective arm over her shoulder. “Listen, Brett, I don’t know what you think you’re doing coming here. You’re not welcome. Now, please leave the premises, or I’ll be forced to call the police.”
Brett laughs. “Oh, I don’t think you’ll do that.”
“What now?”
I’m getting tired of him.
He grins slyly. “I wouldn’t think you’re too friendly with the local law enforcement folks.”
Actually, I am. But he doesn’t need to know about my links with the local police and the efforts I put into patching our relationship up.
“Thought so,” he says triumphantly. “You don’t want any trouble do you, Moore? Not after what you did. Tell you what, I’ll give you a moment to say your soppy goodbyes, Shannon, and I’ll be out in the car.”
He struts out the door like he owns the place.
I stare after him. When we’re alone, I turn to her. “That’s Brett?”
She nods dolefully.
“What’s wrong with him? How can he even think to come here, march into my house and say such things?”
She shrugs. “He does what he likes. Always has.”
“But why are you letting him? What are you afraid of? Stand up to the bastard! Don’t make me fight him.”
Her head dips. “There’s no point fighting him. Not here, not like this.”
“Or not ever?” I growl. “You’re scared of him.”
“Danny,” Shannon’s voice becomes stern. “I’m going back with Brett. Back home. I have to anyway.”
I can’t seem to get enough oxygen into my lungs. “When did you decide this? No, you can’t do it this way.”
She shakes her head. “I do have to do it this way, Danny, don’t you understand? Don’t get involved.”
“But I am involved. And I can help you to get rid of him.”
“Let me do it my way, please. I know him best. I don’t want a fight on my hands. Look at you—you’re trembling with rage. You know where that can lead.” Tears glisten in her eyes. “I’m begging you, just stay out of it.”
The air leaves my lungs. She’s scared, genuinely scared. Not of him, but of me. Of what she thinks I’m capable of. And it’s true, I’m ready to kill.
“Shannon—"
She marches past me to the front door. Stopping her by force isn’t going to change her mind, but I follow her because I can’t just leave it like this.
When she opens the door, Brett is standing there waiting. He comes back in, uninvited.
Shannon retreats closer to me, and I tug her into my side like I’m never going to let her go. Let him see it.
Brett’s eyes narrow to slits.
The kitchen door behind us opens. Lorcan totters out stuffing a pancake into his mouth.
“Look who we have here,” Brett says, looking down at Lorcan, a nasty smile slowly stretching on his face. “Hey there, kid.”
Lorcan looks up at him in surprise at being directly addressed by an adult. “Uhm?”
Brett nods his head in my direction. “See him? That man there killed your father.”
There is complete and utter silence.
My skin goes hot all over and then cold. Then the room starts spinning. Shannon lets out a cry and digs her nails into my arm. I feel the pressure but no pain. All eyes are rooted on me, but I only see Lorcan’s green eyes fill with wonder…then a sort of confused pain. He drops his pancake on the floor, looking around for his mother who’s not here. His bottom lip quivers.
I watch in horror as his world is s
hattered. His whole future is being redefined from this point on. What Cliona and I had kept so carefully from him for six years, is now out there. It can’t be taken back.
Finally, my limbs work again. I lurch toward the little boy, hunkering down to his eye level. “Oh, Lorcan. Listen, Lorcan…” I pull him into my arms and embrace him tightly.
I jerk my head up and meet Brett’s gaze. “Get out!” I growl. “Get out this minute, or by God, I will make you.” I feel unhinged, a blackness taking over all my senses—I’m ready to kill him.
Brett moves. He bolts toward the door. He’s got a head start and he’s out before I can catch him.
Arms grab at my back, pulling me back. I whirl around. It’s Shannon. It’s also my mother, both women clutching at me with the same horrified expression.
“What has he done?” I say, focusing on Shannon. “Why did you bring him here?”
Her eyes fill with pain. “Oh, Danny….I couldn’t stop him.”
“Did you even try?” I growl. “Just go with him, Shannon. Please. Leave us.”
“No, no, not like this,” she pleads. “I didn’t know he’d do this. Please let me make this right.”
“You can’t,” I say, glancing at Lorcan’s stricken face. “I need to be with Lorcan now. And Cliona—she’s upstairs, luckily. She and I need to figure this out, together. I mean...you’ve clearly made your decision about going home anyway, so what the hell is left for me to say?”
She drops her gaze. “Don’t do this.” Her voice is unsure, like a small girl’s and it irritates the hell out of me.
“Go!” I demand.
She follows after Brett and I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t happy to see her go.
29
SHANNON
“How could you do that?” I yell at Brett once we’re far enough away from the house. “That was low, mean, despicable. He’s just a child! Six years old.”
Brett’s face is a blank. “Better he hears it now than later. I did them a favor.”
“It wasn’t your choice to make! Christ, who do you think you are?”
“Come on,” he says, nodding at his BMW. “Stop with the dramatics and get in.”
“You must be joking. I’m not going with you, I’m walking to Nuala’s. Don’t try and stop me!”
Rage burns inside me with a white-hot ferocity. Whatever hold this moron had over me is gone. I can’t believe I let him into my life for so long.
As though he reads something new in my face, he averts his gaze. “Suit yourself.”
He’s never backed down before. And now, as I watch him, he shrinks before me. He’s not this insurmountable presence, he’s just a man. I have as much right as he does to be on this planet and he can boss me around as much as he likes, but I don’t have to accept it. And I never will accept his BS again, for as long as I live.
Pity it took a disaster to make me see it.
He drives off.
Good riddance.
With heavy feet and a numbness in the space that used to be my brain, I plod down the driveway. I don’t know where to go. I don’t want to go to Nuala’s because Brett will show up there eventually.
Instead of making the turn onto Nuala’s road, I keep walking and walking, out past the outskirts of Ballytirrel, onto an unfamiliar road. As long as my feet are moving, I’m not thinking so much. So far, it’s working.
I have to stop to let sheep cross. The farmer comes last, and he waves at me. I wave back half-heartedly. So not in the mood.
Then I keep going. The wind bites into my face and I stuff my hands into my pockets to keep them warm.
My time here is over. The way Danny looked at me, like he couldn’t bear the sight of me. And who can blame him? I totally messed up.
I never got to explain that Brett intercepted me on my way to work. Or that I didn’t plan to come with him to the house. Danny probably thought we’d gotten back together. But even if I could explain that all away, I can’t undo the damage of Brett’s big mouth and the fact that ultimately, it’s my fault that Brett was standing in Danny’s house in the first place. Brett is the baggage I didn’t dispose of before getting involved with someone new.
All my fault.
I can only hope that Danny and Cliona can find a way to soothe Lorcan and re-phrase the story in a way that Lorcan can understand. But the poor boy will have questions that are going to be almost impossible to answer.
I have to deal with Brett on home territory. He’s done enough damage here.
And then I never want to date another man again.
I thought I was so clever coming here to solve my problems but there’s no security anywhere. Even places that look secure are built on crumbling foundations.
My legs are tired all of a sudden and I realize why—I’ve been tramping steadily uphill for well over a mile. I’m on the crest of a hill, looking down into the valley where Ballytirrel is nestled.
The sun comes out from behind the clouds. I see the tiny yellow dot of Nuala’s house, then the steep hill beside it with the Moore Mansion perched on top, all alone. Over to the other side, copses of oak trees lead down to the shimmering lake where the pretty castle of the Callaghans rises up from the water. Two great families staring at each other across the valley. The picture tells the story.
It’s impossibly beautiful. My throat feels tight and my eyes are watering, not just from the wind.
“I’m going to miss you, Ballytirrel,” I say softly.
I turn and wander back down the way I came. If I’m going to get online, I can’t be in Nuala’s house. And there’s no question of me going back to the Moores.
I go to Sean’s shop. It’s a busy time.
“I need your internet,” I tell him when he’s finished dealing the last of the customers.
“Yeah. Sit yourself there and you can get good reception. Is everything all right, love?”
“Yeah… No.”
I tell him the story.
My cousin flips the sign on the door to “closed” three hours early. He sits down beside me on the bench. “That’s rough. But it doesn’t mean you have to go. Not by a long shot. You’ve got me here, and Nuala. We’ll find you more friends. We’d find you a new job. You could even work here.”
I shake my head. “Thanks, Sean, but the visa runs out pretty soon anyway.”
“Get a new one.”
“It’s not that simple. I have to get back to Mom. I have a life at home.” While I’m saying it, I suddenly miss the simplicity of home. It’s not much, but it’s mine and I actually have some semblance of control in it. And of course, the company of Mom and Marci.
“Well, we’ll give you a decent send-off.”
“No send-off,” I say firmly. “I just want to go quietly, if you don’t mind. And I want to get out of here as quickly as possible—before Brett goes.” I look at my cousin. “Oh, Sean, I could have tried harder to stop Brett going near the house. Or warned Danny beforehand or something.”
“You couldn’t have known what was going to happen,” he says and pulls me in for a hug. It feels so good.
“I could’ve guessed,” I say, drawing back, wiping moisture from my eyes. “Well, I’m going to book my flight home now.”
Sean rises and goes to the counter and starts clearing various items off it and then polishes it, humming a tune to himself. Although we’re not talking, I’m glad of his company. I scan for cheapest one-ways to Houston or Dallas, find a good enough option, and book that.
“It’s done,” I announce. “I’m leaving tomorrow, from Dublin airport.”
Sean’s face falls. “So soon? Could you not have waited another day?”
“No. I have to get a head start on Brett."
“I understand.”
“But you’ll come and visit us in Texas someday, right?”
His face lights up. “Serious?”
“Course. Mom’d love to have you.” I’m speaking for her, but one look at this long-lost nephew of hers and she’s going to ador
e him.
“I might just do that.” His face goes thoughtful. “But first things first. Let’s get you home safely. I’ll see to it that he doesn’t stop you. You can hide out in my place tonight. Brett doesn’t know where I live and no-one’s going to tell him.”
“Thanks, Sean, you’re an angel. I might just do that.”
I leave Sean finishing cleaning his shop and head back to Nuala’s. She’s off visiting a friend. I’m actually glad she’s not in the house.
I clamber up the stairs and collapse on my bed, sobbing into my pillow. I don’t know how much time passes as I lie there staring at the cracks in the ceiling and the pattern of the curtains. I can't bring myself to pack my suitcase just yet.
Everything that was good in my relationship with Danny is ruined. Cliona probably hates me for causing her son’s innocence to be ruined. Just when I’d started to get fond of her.
If it was a mistake to leave, then I’d feel it by now, in my gut. But I feel nothing. Just an emptiness and a desire to be gone.
Danny probably thinks I’m Brett’s puppet. And that I told Brett about Owen. From a point of justice, I’d like to set him straight on that, but what’s the point?
Danny, Lorcan, and Cliona are a unit, and have always been a unit. Even if he’s not in love with her, the bonds of love hold them together. They need each other now, and I understand that. Lorcan’s been given the bad end of too many sticks. I don’t want to be the cause of more strife in his life.
It’s time to go.
30
DANNY
Shannon’s gone.
It feels like a year since she was here, but it’s only been a week. A rotten week since that moment when Lorcan’s wide, green eyes searched my face as if to say, “why is that man saying that bad thing about you?’”
My mother went and woke Cliona straight away after it happened. We ushered Lorcan into the playroom and told him the story of his father, Owen—everything from the fight to the accident, to the scene in the hospital.
We didn’t avoid the part about Cliona and I having previously been together nor about Owen stealing Cliona away, because Lorcan is bound to hear it from other people soon, and we’d rather he heard our version. Unless Lorcan can articulate what happened to himself, he’ll be the victim of whatever spin others put on it, and they won’t be as kind.
