by Henry, Jane
But she’s tight against me, her feelings walled up inside. She’s warring within, and I don’t know how to break through her hurt and anger to make things right again. I open my mouth to speak again, when the pounding of footsteps outside the door makes both of us leap to our feet. Something’s wrong. Caitlin holds my hand and we face the door, as it opens. Cormac’s on the other side, his face pale beneath his whiskers.
“Keenan,” he says, in a choked voice. “It’s Nolan.”
Chapter Twenty
Caitlin
My heartbeat hammers at the sound of Cormac’s voice.
It’s Nolan.
Even as my heart still aches with the sting of betrayal, and my body still aches from the pain of the stern punishment he inflicted, I squeeze Keenan’s hand. It feels as if we’re frozen in time, waiting for Cormac to finish what he’s come to tell us.
“What is it, brother?” Keenan asks, his bright green eyes clouded with worry.
“He was found a short while ago.”
“Where?”
“At the school. Bless him, Lachlan found him and called me. I called Sebastian.”
Though I can tell Keenan is angry, as he always is whenever anyone mentions Nolan and his drinking, there’s a brightness in his eyes and tightness in his voice that tells me he’s concerned.
I don’t care I don’t care I don’t care.
I’ve made a mistake falling for this family. I can’t let myself get pulled any further in.
But when Cormac continues, I can’t help myself.
“The nurse at the school said it was acute intoxication. Alcohol poisoning. Confusion, vomiting. He had a fucking seizure.”
“Christ.”
“Can’t rouse him, Keenan. Skin’s all blue and pale, and he’s shaking.”
They’re leaving the room, and Keenan’s got his phone out. “You called Sebastian?”
“Sebastian’s on his way. But fuck it, Keenan, we’ve got to admit him. ’Tis out of Sebastian’s control, this is.”
I cover my mouth with my hand.
“Have you told dad?” Keenan asks. His eyes flash at Cormac, but I know by now that what looks like fury is really fear.
“Aye,” Cormac says.
“But not mam?”
“Hell no.”
Keenan’s lips thin. “Fucking keep it that way.”
He turns to me. “You’ll go to our room,” he says. “You’re not to come out again without my permission.” He signals for a guard. I want to slap his face all over again, I’m that angry with him.
“So I’m your prisoner again, am I?” I say, but when he turns to me, the look on his face makes me close my mouth.
Leaning down toward me, he drops his voice to a whisper and cups my sore, throbbing backside. “Aye,” he says. “The Martins could be at large, and for all we know they could’ve had something to do with this. You’re not safe until we’re wed, and I can’t wed you ’til I see to my brother’s wellbeing. I know you’re angry. I know we haven’t resolved this. But for Christ’s sake, Caitlin, use common sense.”
I close my eyes, mortified that he’s dressing me down and squeezing my backside in front of Cormac. This is what it means to be wed to a man like him, and his highhanded ways will only intensify as he assumes the throne as Chief.
“You will go to our room,” he repeats.
Cormac clears his throat. We both look at him.
“Mam’ll want to speak with her, Keenan,” he says sheepishly, as if he knows he’s intruding on a private moment, and it embarrasses him to do so.
Keenan curses. “Aye.”
“Perhaps let the lass go only with mam? Keep her under the watch of the guard?”
Keenan’s jaw clenches, and his eyes narrow. “Bloody hell,” he curses, then, “Fine. But only with my mother, and you’ll have your phone with you the entire time.”
I nod. I’m still angry with him, but this much I can do for my own safety.
And then he’s gone. I’m in the room, pacing, wishing there was something I could do to ease the ache from punishment and the ache in my heart. I’m worried about Nolan, and I can’t even speak to Maeve about it, for they’re not going to tell her.
I pace the room, trying to sort through the thoughts and feelings that flutter through my head like a flock of birds.
Do I still have a say in this?
Does he really have my best interest in mind?
Do I have what it takes to a be a woman of The Clan?
My husband expects obedience and will demand it from me. Can I acquiesce to a man like Keenan?
Have I made a grave mistake?
I have no answers.
No answers.
But what happened just now… I’m not sure if I’ve got it in me to be the woman he wants, the woman he expects, the woman he needs. And I make up my mind. I can’t go along with this. I have to leave. Somehow, I have to get away from the guard he’s got watching me like a prisoner, take some food and money, and find my way. Leave this place, and never look back. For once I marry, there will be no escape.
I sit by the window, a book in hand, but I’ve read the same paragraph three times over. I can’t focus, but I can’t leave the room either. He told me I could see his mother, though. I lift my phone and frown at it.
I’m ashamed to admit, I don’t quite remember how to use it. How do I call her again?
But before I can remember, a knock comes at the door, and I rise to my feet.
“Yes?” I ask.
“It’s Maeve, lass. May I come in?”
I put the phone down and rush to the door, so eager to see her I’m slightly embarrassed. I want to tell her everything that happened, what I’m trying to sort, that I’m worried about Nolan. I want her to hug me and ease my worry. But I hold myself together and usher her into the room.
“Caitlin, y’alright, lass?” she asks, stepping into the room. She looks as beautiful as ever, in a lovely emerald green dress that clings to her curves. Her hair’s swept up in a graceful up-do, and though she’s stunning and graceful, her eyes look so tired, I wonder if she’s ill. She’s got shiny, glossy books in her hand.
“I’m alright,” I tell her. “Are you?” I reach for her hand and squeeze.
She sighs, comes into the room, and shuts the door behind her. Looking about the room, she shakes her head.
“Not in here,” she says. “I’m too restless to sit. Walk with me in the garden?”
I look out the window. It’s warm and sunny.
“Keenan says we’re to have the guard with us,” I tell her.
“Yes, of course.” She makes a quick call on her phone, and I take note, trying to remember how to do this when I need to. They’re right outside the door, so soon we’re surrounded by Keenan’s small army. I recognize Boner and Tully, and a few others who accompanied us to the church.
“Thank you, boys,” Maeve says. “We’re only going to the garden.”
She takes my hand, and we walk downstairs like that, hand in hand, like friends.
“What are the books you have?” I ask her.
“Oh, they’re magazines!” she says. “Bridal magazines. We’ve no time to order anything, but we can get some ideas about your hair and such.” She smiles at me and squeezes the hand she holds. “I’ve never had a daughter, you know,” but her eyes are troubled. We reach the door, and she releases my hand and hands me one of the magazines.
“Have a look, will you?”
“Oooh,” I say, when I see the beautiful, elegant bride on the cover. Her hair’s swept up gracefully, tendrils of curls on either side, the loops of chestnut curls dotted with pearls. Her dress dips so low in the front it hits her naval, her full breasts barely contained. Tufts of fabric and lace and pearls make up the gathered skirt, and she wears shoes that look as if they came from Cinderella herself.
But though Maeve seems interested, she’s distant, and I fear she’s troubled.
“Maeve,” I ask her, as we reach the garden, and I fol
low her lead in sitting on one of the benches beneath the swags of greenery.
“Mmm?”
“You seem worried. Is something upsetting you?” I ask. I hate that I know about Nolan.
Sighing, she turns to face me. “They try to shield us, sometimes, Caitlin,” she says. “But a mother knows. You’ll know yourself, some day.”
“Know what?”
She looks over my shoulder, and her brows knit together. “Everything, lass. What they do. Why they do it. Who they bury, and why.” She turns back to me. “And most of the time, I allow them to shield me. I let them think I don’t know. It’s better that way. But I made a mistake with Nolan.”
She knows then, at least partly.
“How so?” I want to learn from this beautiful, brave woman. I want her to teach me.
“I protected him. Too much, you see. And it did more harm than good.” I wait, for I know intuitively she isn’t finished. “When the boys were young, their father took them under his wing. They were taught respect and obedience, and off they went to St. Albert’s, where they learned so much more. But when it came to Nolan…” her voice trails off.
“Why was he different?” I ask, keeping my voice gentle. She’s opening up to me, but I don’t want to push her too hard.
She drags her eyes away from the distant memories and looks back at me. When she answers, her voice cracks, and I’m startled to see her eyes are bright with tears. “He was the one that lived, lass.”
A chill runs down my spine, and a lump rises in my throat. I feel as if I’m going to cry. There’s a heartbreaking story there.
“The one that lived?”
She nods. “Come for another walk, love? Let’s leave the magazines here. We’ll return shortly.”
I stand, and the guards that held their distance flank our sides again.
She leads me back toward the house, but we don’t go inside. Instead, we take the pathway that leads us to the church.
“I’ve never shown this to the boys, though I’m sure they’re familiar.”
We walk quietly side by side, the wind rustling the leaves in the trees among the faintest call of goldfinch.
“Thank you for trusting me.”
I’m surprised when we walk past the church, rising high above us, the cold gray stones sturdy and unyielding. The cross at the very top glimmers with a hint of sunlight, and the stained-glass windows shine brightly against the backlight of sky.
Maeve opens a small gate, and I realize with a start she’s taking me to the graveyard.
Nolan’s the one that lived.
I’ve no superstitions about graveyards, and they don’t spook me. But I feel somber and reserved, looking at the stones with carved dates that hearken back centuries. There’s history in this graveyard. People have loved and lost, lived and died, and all that remains are their bones, buried beneath the soil, and the marker of tombstones at their graves. Some of the graves have flowers on them, still others greenery, but others have long since been forgotten.
She pauses at a cluster of three. When I read the dates, I close my eyes and swallow hard.
“These were the ones that died,” she whispers. “Three of them. Sweet, wee babies that never lived past their first month of life.”
“I’m sorry,” I whisper.
And she doesn’t explain away my apology or tell me it’s alright. She only nods, accepting the belated condolences and with a small nod, says, “Thank you.”
We stand in silence, but it isn’t awkward. It seems we need to keep a moment of silence for the little babies she’s buried. After a moment, she speaks again.
“They were born before Keenan,” she says. “Each was a girl. I cursed God for taking them from me and convinced myself that it was because my firstborn was meant to be a son.”
“I don’t blame you,” I say in sympathy. “I’d have felt the same.”
“It was senseless. By the time we had our third, we had the best care of every doctor we could summon, but it was no use. Hours after birth, she died like her sisters.”
I want to cry for the young woman she was, who experienced the tragedy of infant death. I want to cry for her husband, who bore the pain with her, and for her sons, who never met their sisters. “Then Keenan came. And Cormac. And I resigned myself to the fact that they were born to be leaders of The Clan. I allowed Seamus to take them from me, right after they were weaned.” Her voice drops, and she fingers the delicate chain at her neck. “But I lost two more after Cormac. And when I gave birth to Nolan, I nursed him at my breast until he was two years old. Seamus railed against me, fought me as hard as he could, but I’ll tell you something, Caitlin.”
She looks to me, her eyes earnest and stern. “There are times to obey your husband. To allow him the lead in your house, as it were. We’re old-fashioned people with old-fashioned notions, and Keenan will expect obedience from you.”
I tighten my lips before responding. “Don’t I know it.”
Her eyes twinkle, then sober again. “But it’s not always possible to do so flawlessly. There will be times when you’re convinced you’re right, of the merit of what you believe. There are times you’ll fight against him. And there are even times he may allow it.”
It’s almost uncanny how well-timed her words are. I can only nod.
“And when Nolan grew to be a toddler… that was my time. I’d given Seamus three sons. I’d withstood so much, taken what I could, upheld the code I was expected to. Lass, I’d even left my home to wed a man I’d never met, all for the good of The Clan.”
Her example is powerful. One that I’ll remember.
“How did you do it?”
“Leave?” she asks.
I nod. “We all have a purpose, Caitlin. And I knew in my heart my purpose was here. Among them. That I was to be the matriarch of the family.”
I sigh. I know what my heart tells me as well, though I don’t want to listen or heed the message. My marrying Keenan will bring peace between The Clans. It will secure my own safety as well as the boys at St. Albert’s. And joining the McCarthy family means more than that. So much more. Here, I’ll have friends. Brothers. A mother. And soon, little ones of my own.
Family.
“There have been times I’ve gone against Seamus. Times I came to be glad that I did. And times I wished I hadn’t. Sheltering Nolan as I did, I came to regret it.” She sighs. “I babied him. And he grew to be a good man, loyal and honest, but he lacks the self-control and discipline of his brothers. And it shows.” She looks away, back to the church, her gray eyes once more shining with tears. “I well know he’s taken to the drink, that he’s in a bad way. I know they’ll have to do what needs to be done to see to his wellbeing. But God, sometimes it hurts right here.” She makes a fist, pounds her fist at her heart, and closes her eyes. Tears leak from her closed eyes.
I can’t help myself. I reach for her and hug her. She hugs me back. It’s only a brief moment, but we understand each other in that moment. She knows the difficulty I face. I know the pain she holds. I can walk away from this, away from all I’ve ever had, and seek the great unknown on my own. Or I can stay, in solidarity with the people I’ve come to know and dare I say, love.
She wipes her eyes and takes a deep breath. “I could use a stiff drink,” she says with a laugh. “But we’ve got a wedding to plan. Thank you for sharing this with me.”
We leave the little graveyard, and I leave a piece of my heart behind me. At the edge of the graveyard, one of the men stiffens and curses, and signals to the other.
Boner looks to Tully and lifts his phone. “We lost the signal. Christ, we missed calls.” Boner signals to me and Maeve. “Go. Now. Something’s amiss, and we need to find out what.”
We walk quicker than we did before. Maeve’s eyes are drawn together, and she holds my hand tightly. “I shouldn’t have taken you there.”
“You didn’t mean anything by it. How were we to know they’d lose connection?”
“He wouldn’t wan
t me to take you off the grounds, not when so much is at stake.” She shakes her head. “God.”
“Maeve,” I begin, when shouts come up in front of us. Men are running, weapons are drawn. We still, both of us, waiting for direction, when a car comes toward us.
“It’s Seamus,” Maeve says.
Seamus rolls down the window when he approaches and speaks directly to Maeve. “Keenan and Cormac were taking Nolan to the doctor,” he says. “They were overtaken. Seems Nolan’s sickness was a decoy, likely orchestrated by our rivals. Retaliation for the death of the Martins at St. Albert’s.”
“Mother of God.”
“Cormac says that Keenan was taken into custody. Five masked men, and he couldn’t fight them off. He saw the Martin mark.”
The Martins. My blood relatives. They took Keenan?
“Where’d they take him?”
Seamus shakes his head. “No idea,” he says. “They shot Cormac.” Maeve gasps. “He’s alright, lass,” Seamus says, in a voice that’s so familiar to Keenan my heart aches a little. “He will be, anyway. Shot him in the leg. Told him to relay the message. Says we’ve got something of theirs, and they won’t let him go until they have it back.”
Maeve’s eyes go to mine, and we know. We know exactly what’s theirs.
Maeve grabs my hand and tugs me to her.
“Get her into lockdown,” Seamus orders his men. “Now.”
Chapter Twenty-One
Keenan
I open my eyes, blinking at the dim yellow light that hurts my head. I’m bound, somehow. Rope tied about my body, my mouth gagged. I hear voices all around me, none familiar. I try to remember what happened. What the bloody hell happened?
I try not to move. I’m lying on a bed, my eyes unfocused. I don’t want the people who’ve taken me to know I’ve woken.
I can’t tell where I am, or who I’m with. The voices aren’t familiar, nor are the dimly lit surroundings. I try to assess my situation. My head aches. I was struck somewhere. By the feel of my chest, I’ve broken ribs, and there’s something wet and crusty on my lips. I was beaten as well.