We Are the Brennans

by Tracey Lange

  “Have Molly’s nightmares really stopped?” he asked.

  She nodded. “It’s been almost three weeks.”

  His little girl was so worried about the adults around her it had affected her sleep. She reminded him sometimes of Sunday, the way she wanted to take care of everybody. But it wasn’t healthy.

  He reached across and took Theresa’s hands. “I understand why you left.”

  Her eyes drilled into his. “You shouldn’t have kept me in the dark about the money problems. You end up feeling like you’re in it alone, but it’s your own fault. You got to give trust to get it, Denny.”

  “I know I’m not alone.” He shrugged. “I don’t know why I act like I am.”

  “’Cause you’re a thickheaded Irishman and your mother made you think you could walk on water.” But she laid a Theresa grin on him and a big piece of his unsettled world fell back into place.

  * * *

  “Son, I need to talk to you.”

  Denny turned from his bathroom mirror to see his dad standing in the doorway. He’d done a good job of avoiding his father the last few days, because whenever he saw him a rush of angry questions wanted to pour forth: How could you betray Mom like that, betray all of us? Do you realize what you opened us up to? Did Mom know what you were doing?

  His father had dressed up for the grand opening, navy-and-green sweater-vest over a blue button-down.

  “What do you need, Dad?” Denny moved past him into his room to finish getting dressed. He and Kale had spent the day prepping the new place. They were scheduled to open the doors at five o’clock and word was out. A large crowd was expected, thanks to several announcements on the local radio and TV stations advertising food and drink specials, and live music later that night. They’d left an enthused crew at the restaurant, putting on final touches, so they could both run home and clean up. He wanted to get back. Theresa and Molly were meeting him there, driving separately because he’d be working late. He would finally have his family back home in three days, after he was certain Billy Walsh was gone.

  His dad shut the bedroom door. “I want to know what’s going on.”

  “What do you mean?” He pulled his shirt on and started buttoning. “Can we talk about this later? You remember Clare’s coming to pick you, Shane, and Sunday up in about an hour, right?”

  “This can’t wait. Are you in some kind of trouble?”

  “Nope, everything’s good.” He moved to the mirror, running fingers through his damp hair. This night had been a long time coming and was essential to getting on safe financial ground again. For the first time in months he was hopeful it would all get back on track.

  “I know you’re all keeping things from me, Denny.”

  Apples must not fall far. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He was surprised to feel his dad’s grip on his upper arm, pulling him around to face him.

  “I heard you talking to your lawyer last week. You owe someone a lot of money.”

  Denny pulled his arm away. God, he was eavesdropping now? “You don’t need to worry about it.”

  His dad crossed his arms and pulled himself up to his full height, which was Denny’s height. “I went to the bank today to see about a loan on the house. Come to find out one’s already been taken out. In my name.”

  Shit. Denny scraped a hand down his face. “We’re going to have to talk about this later on—”

  “God damn it.” His dad’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t put me off.”

  Denny tried to take a step back. But he was boxed in by the wall behind him.

  “You had no right,” his dad said. “I took care of this family for thirty-five years, never missed a day of work, put food on the table, saw to it you all had what you needed.”

  The words were close to coming out—Really? Is that all you were doing?

  “Then I find out you’ve been lying to me,” his father said. “You put this family at risk. I want to know who you owe money to. Tell me right now.”

  You put this family at risk. That was rich. Denny clamped his mouth shut.

  But then he thought about the two people that had been most hurt by his dad’s selfishness and his secrets. Denny thought about his mother and his sister, and his blood began to boil.

  “I borrowed the money from Billy Walsh.”

  His father’s whole face twitched. “Who?”

  “Billy Walsh. You remember that family, don’t you, Dad?”

  “Yes…” His face started to sag, his arms slid down to his sides. “I remember that family.”

  “I thought you would. His father was on your crew, right?”

  “Yes, but … I thought the Walsh boy went back to Ireland, years ago.”

  “He came back. He’s living with family in Katonah.”

  His dad held up a finger. “He means you harm, Denny. No doubt about it.”

  Denny offered a harsh chuckle. “Yeah, well, you’re a little late with that. But hey, you were right about one thing. The problem at the new place, it wasn’t old pipes.” He gave it a moment, let his father put it together.

  “Walsh caused that damage? And then lent you money?”

  “He was after Brennan’s. And he almost got it.” Denny leaned his face close to his father’s. “Now why do you think he’d want to do that to us?”

  His father blinked several times, his lips moving like he was reaching for words.

  “No idea?” Denny asked. “No clue why Billy Walsh would want to hurt your family?” That was as far as he was planning to go. All he wanted was some recognition of the pain his dad had caused them all. Just an inkling that he felt some responsibility for the wreckage he’d brought to their door.

  But there was defiance in his father’s pale eyes as he crossed his arms again. “You’ve no right to judge me. I was a good husband, and a good father. My conscience is clean.”

  “You sure about that, Dad?” Denny stepped around him and grabbed his jacket from the bed. “Because I’m not the only one he went after. He hurt someone else in this family, a lot worse than me.”

  His dad’s eyebrows pinched together.

  “Five years ago,” Denny said. “Right before she left town.”

  The puzzled wrinkle in his dad’s forehead cleared and his jaw went slack. Any defiance was gone from his expression. There was only dreadful understanding now.

  Denny turned and walked out of the room, leaving his father standing there alone. Looking far older than he’d ever seemed before.

  * * *

  He was rattled on the drive to Mamaroneck after that conversation. He hadn’t intended to get into all that, but his dad had forced it. Just once Denny wanted him to know—really know—that he wasn’t fooling anyone, that the very people he had always professed to take care of knew better. And he felt like he’d achieved a small measure of justice for his mother.

  He hadn’t allowed himself to think much about her since finding out she knew what happened to Sunday. Difficult as his mother had been, they’d had a special connection. She was his biggest fan, always, but she had lied to him for years. Between his mother’s deception and his father’s adultery, he wasn’t sure how well he’d ever really known them.

  But this weekend would be a turning point for his family. Everyone would be at the opening tonight, except for Jackie, who was heading up operations at the home location. He was coming back on permanently now that his probation officer had given the all clear, and he’d started to look for an apartment. Sunday was applying to master’s programs in the area, and she had assured Molly she could move to the upstairs bedroom by her fifth birthday in two months as promised, which meant Sunday was also looking for her own place. He’d been seeing glimpses of the sister he remembered from years ago. Lighter of heart, more optimistic, like she was healing, shedding some of that mental deadweight.

  They all just had to make it to Monday, until they were certain Billy Walsh was gone. Kale was bringing the money to Michael the following day, and then Michael would b
e meeting with Billy’s lawyer. By Monday morning, he was supposed to leave town.

  Seeing a boisterous crowd waiting to get in the front doors of the brand-new Brennan’s lightened his mood, brought on a rush of pride and excitement. When he entered the back door the place was buzzing with last-minute prep. Yelling in the kitchen, tossing of ice in bins, clinking of weighty silverware being wrapped in linen napkins. A sense of calm took over as he made his way toward the front doors. He knew in his heart the night would be a success, as would the future of this place. It felt good to let everything else go for a while and concentrate on work.

  Kale was up front, meeting with the young hostess—this place was large enough to warrant one. He stepped away and met Denny by the front doors. “Ready for this?”

  “Yeah. You?”

  They looked around at waitstaff running to and fro, the raised bar and cocktail area that dominated the center of the restaurant, empty tables and booths, and the crowd outside that would soon fill them. “This was your vision,” Kale said. “You did this.”

  “Yeah, well, I almost didn’t.”

  “It’s all going to work out.”

  Denny was grateful; Kale could have said a lot more. He’d had every right to walk away from their partnership, wash his hands of the whole mess, but he didn’t. As always, he had Denny’s back.

  The music was turned on—they were kicking it off by streaming Irish Pub Radio—and everyone headed to their stations.

  Denny leaned forward to make sure he was heard. “I’m sorry I lied to you, man.”

  Kale’s eyebrows went up. “Wait.” He reached into his back pocket and held up his cell phone. “Could you repeat that into the camera, please?”

  “Shut the fuck up and unlock the doors.”

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Kale

  “Could you repeat that into the camera, please?”

  They laughed, which made a small dent in the tension that had wedged between them for months. Maybe it would be possible to get back to a normal place with Denny. Or at least a new normal place.

  The crowd was nonstop from the moment they opened the doors. Tables filled and the bar became standing room only. Vivienne, her mother, and Luke stopped by early on. Kale took them on a tour, carrying Luke on his shoulders, and introduced them to some of the staff, but other than that he was slammed with a long dinner rush. They couldn’t have asked for a livelier grand opening. The atmosphere hummed with rowdy conversation and loud laughter, sounds of people out to eat and drink on a Friday night. They hit a stride by five thirty that didn’t begin to lull for almost three hours.

  The Brennans came in around six and commandeered a corner table. They all showed up, including Clare. Shane hated crowds and sat with his back to the room, close to Sunday. Mickey seemed preoccupied, staring into his beer and saying little. Theresa and Molly were in good spirits though, and they stood by Denny with pride while he took them around and showed them off.

  Kale gravitated to his typical station in the back, fielding waitstaff questions, traying up plates, troubleshooting software issues. Denny worked the floor, helped deliver food and drinks while chatting up customers, shining in his natural element as host with lots of jokes and glad-handing. This was why they were a good team, the division of labor, complementing strengths. It was invigorating to be in sync again, exchanging glances and hand signals, their own sign language developed over the years.

  Paul was in the weeds for a while, three deep at the bar, so Kale jumped in to help. When the crowd was under control again, he strolled through the restaurant, looking for potential problems, but so far, so good. He headed for the back, planning to check the night’s receipts thus far, but when he got to the office he found Sunday and Shane there. Sunday was working on her laptop at the desk while Shane watched a video on his phone.

  “What’re you guys still doing here?”

  “Denny asked me to check totals so far, which are a little above target,” she said. “But the others took off a while ago. Molly was falling asleep at the table, and Dad had Clare drive him home early. He wasn’t feeling well.”

  “I wanted to wait for Sunday,” Shane said. “But I’m tired.”

  “You guys want a ride home?” Kale asked.

  “Oh boy,” Shane said, shutting down his phone. “Yes.”

  “That’s okay,” Sunday said. “We’ll wait for Denny. You can’t leave.” She gestured to the noise coming from behind him.

  “The dinner rush is over and this place is a well-oiled machine.” He grabbed his jacket off the coatrack. “Denny’s got it under control. No one’s going to miss me.”

  Shane stood. “That sounds good to me. Come on, Sunday.” He was already halfway out the door. “Time to go home.”

  * * *

  It would have been a quiet car ride if not for Shane. Sunday offered him shotgun and sank into the back. Kale had the distinct feeling she was keeping her distance. Twice now he’d tried to ask her the singular question that was eating away at him, and twice she had dodged it.

  Shane told Kale the new Brennan’s was nice, but mostly talked about how good it was to see Theresa and Molly again. “Denny promised they would be home in three days,” he said several times. “Right, Sunday?”

  “That’s right.”

  As soon as they got to the house Shane said good night and headed straight up to his room.

  “I’m going to take a look around,” Kale said.

  “You don’t have to do that,” Sunday said. “My dad’s been home for a couple hours.”

  “Yeah, but he’s probably been asleep for a while.” So he did a walk-through, checking locks and darkened rooms, while she waited at the bottom of the stairs in the kitchen.

  “All clear,” he said.

  “Thanks for the ride. I think the new place is going to be a hit.” She started to head up the stairs.

  But he couldn’t let it go at that. “Sunday.”

  She stopped on the first step and her hand dropped from the railing.

  After a moment she about-faced and raised her eyes to his. “I know you want to understand why I left. Why I didn’t tell you what happened. But nothing I say will be enough. I won’t be able to give you a satisfactory explanation. I can’t even give myself one.”

  She’d had five years to come up with an answer.

  “That might sound like a cop-out,” she said. “But you have a beautiful family now, Kale. And dredging all this up … It’s just a bad idea.”

  She sounded tired and shaky. He felt unsteady himself. This was not a simple question and there was not a simple answer. Getting into all of it would be messy and involved. Not a conversation a married man should have with an old girlfriend.

  But Sunday was not just an old girlfriend.

  She took a deep breath and looked at him head-on. “Just know that none of it was your fault. I’m so sorry I hurt you the way I did.” He could hear naked remorse in her words, see it in her expression. “It’s the worst thing I have ever done.”

  He blinked back a sting in his eyes.

  “The rest doesn’t matter anymore,” she said. Then she sagged like she’d expended all her energy. “I’m going up. Good night.”

  He watched her climb the steps until her legs turned and moved out of sight at the top. She’d owned it, offered a heartfelt apology. Maybe that should be enough.

  Glancing out the kitchen window in the direction of his house a few blocks away, he thought about what to do next. There were several shoulds: ask if Denny wanted him back in Mamaroneck, check in with Jackie at the pub, go home to his family. That last one was the biggest should of all.

  The rest doesn’t matter anymore. The thing was, right then it very much mattered to him. He was stuck somewhere between their past and his present and didn’t know how to get unstuck without the answer to that question.

  He took the stairs two at a time. When he got to her room he didn’t knock for fear of waking Mickey down the hall. He just opened the door,
walked in, and shut it behind him.

  She was standing by her bed, kicking off her shoes.

  “I’m sorry,” he said. “But it matters to me. Make me understand why. Why you couldn’t tell me.”

  “Kale…” Her tone said it all. Let it go.

  “Just try, Sunday.”

  “I can’t!”

  “Yes, you can.” When she started to look away he leaned toward her to keep hold of her eyes. “You broke my heart. Don’t you think you owe me this much?”

  She brought her fingertips to her forehead. “I was scared.”

  “Of what?”

  “Of everything.”

  “Of me?”

  “No. Not exactly.”

  “What does that mean?”

  She started pacing the space between them, her hands in front of her like she was trying to get hold of the right words. “I couldn’t tell my family. My mom said my dad and Denny would lose it—they would go after Billy. I was afraid if they found out it would become this huge thing, and someone would get hurt.”

  Kale wouldn’t have put that past Mickey and Denny. And certainly Maura would have used that kind of psychological aggression to frighten Sunday into staying quiet. “I can understand why you didn’t want to tell them.” He pulled his hands to his chest. “Why couldn’t you tell me?”

  She stopped pacing and faced him. “Because you were part of them.”

  “If you didn’t want them to know, I would have respected that.”

  “Do you really think you could have carried that around? Been with them every day and not said anything to my dad or Denny?” Her eyes bored into his. “You wouldn’t have pressured me to tell them?”

  “No!” Though he immediately knew it was plausible.

  She tilted her head in doubt.

  If she had told him what happened to her, Kale wouldn’t have known what the hell to do with all that rage, and he would have been worried about how to take care of her.

  “You’re right,” he said, holding up a hand. “I would have wanted to tell them, I would have wanted their help figuring out what to do. But I would not have forced it. I never would have betrayed you like that.”