by KT Webb
I still find it hard to believe that of all the men in the world that would be lucky enough to be with Blake, she wants me. And I’d be an idiot to discourage her from being with me when I feel so strongly for her. A thought occurs to me that makes my stomach clench. If the rest of the town has been gossiping about our budding romance, there’s no way Aoife Fitzpatrick missed a bit of it.
“I heard what happened at the Wolfhound. What are you going to do about it?” Mum sighs.
I shake my head, “I don’t know yet, mum. I’ve called the Garda, they’ll be here to investigate on Monday. I’ve done everything I could do for now. I’m going to see if Dr. Roald will be willing to speak with the Garda again.”
“You know I’ll help in any way I can just let me know if you need anything” mum has something more on her mind and I have a feeling I’m about to find out what it is. “How is Blake?”
“She feels responsible for what happened at the pub,” I say carefully.
“You know perfectly well that’s not what I meant, Gannon.”
I can’t keep the grin from my face when she raises an eyebrow at me with her hands on her hips. I know exactly what she’s talking about, but I want to see just how much she knows before I go spilling the beans. I shrug and gesture toward the items she’s trying to organize in the shed. Without awaiting direction, I pick a few boxes up and stack them toward the back with the other boxes she’s already moved.
“Gannon Donal Fitzpatrick,” her warning tone only makes me chuckle.
“Okay, okay. I don’t know what to tell you, mum. I love her, I need her in my life. And for some crazy reason, she loves me too. I don’t think I’ve been this happy in a very long time.”
Mum shakes her head with a laugh, “No, son. I don’t think you’ve ever been this happy. I’ve seen the way you look at one another. I’ve never seen you look at anyone like that.”
I know what she’s telling me without actually saying the words. She’s talking about Madigan. I’ve already come to terms with the fact that I was never really in love with Madigan. And while I don’t know that I’ll ever fully heal from the pain she caused, I’m thankful that she left. If I’d married her, I might have never ended up with Blake. Fate has a funny way of making sure everything works out the way it should, but I’m glad this wasn’t entirely left to chance. Our paths were meant to converge.
“So, Gan, what are you going to do about it?” Mum pushes a little further.
“I don’t really know yet. There are some things we both need to discuss before we can even start to think about what the future will look like.”
“Like Madigan Adams?” Mum arches that eyebrow again.
“I do think I owe Blake some explanation about my past. There are things I need to tell her that have been eating away at me for eight years. Things no one else knows because I haven’t been able to form the words,” I glance at mum to see if she bristles at this information.
“Son, you’re an adult. I know there are things you’ll probably never tell me. It’s not part of the job description to know everything. As long as you know I’m here for you, it’s up to you what you want to share with me.”
“I appreciate that, mum. Believe me when I tell you I want nothing more than to build a future with Blake. This girl is everything I never knew I needed,” I’m sure she can see the raw emotion under my stoic exterior.
“I’m beyond happy for you. Maybe now I’ll get some grandbabies.”
The ping in my heart at the mention of having children sends a shot of sadness through me. She doesn’t know how close she was to having a grandchild years ago, and I don’t know that I’ll ever have the heart to tell her. Blake will know soon enough, and I think that’s probably all my heart can take right now.
“Don’t go rushing things, mum,” I chuckle. “While we’re on the subject of Blake, have you seen her today?”
Mum nods, raising her arm to point toward the path leading to the cemetery, “She didn’t stay at the cottage long before heading off for a walk.”
“Thanks, mum,” I offer her a swift kiss on the cheek and set off to find Blake.
I find Blake sitting on a blanket in front of her great grandparents' tombstone. She’s reading something and I immediately think she’s received my letter. That seems unlikely considering where she decided to read it, but I’ve learned Blake is full of surprises.
“Hey, what brings you up here?” I ask, knowing she will tell me if she wants to.
Blake looks up from her reading, and I no longer think she could be reading my letter. The fear and anger in her eyes that soften when she notices that I’ve found her tells me this isn’t about me at all. Blake heaves a sigh and pats the blanket next to her as though she’s resolved that I’ll be joining her in what may have been a private moment.
“Gannon, I have something to tell you. I’m just worried you’ll be upset that I didn’t say anything before now. I have a feeling now is the best time for me to come clean.”
My entire body reacts to her words. Whatever she’s about to tell me is bad enough that she’s been hiding it from me. I quickly review the possibilities in my mind. After our time in Galway, I find it impossible to believe she may be interested in someone else. Maybe she’s had a change of heart and wants to return to the states. Could Old Roald have succeeded in driving her away? The best thing I can do right now is try not to show any fear. I steel myself for whatever’s coming.
“You can tell me anything, Blake. I can’t promise I won’t be upset because I’m human, but please know that even if I’m cross with you, it won’t change how I feel.”
Blake gives me a smile that doesn’t reach her eyes, “Good. I guess I should start from the beginning. In addition to the altercations you know about, I’ve received three letters from Old Roald since arriving in Kinnitty.”
I’m doing my best to keep my expression as neutral as possible, but I imagine I look like I’m trying not to shit myself. Slowly, calmly, I force my body to relax. Up until a week ago, Blake had no reason to tell me everything going on in her life. If she didn’t think the letters were a major concern, she would have kept it from everyone. Blake isn’t easily intimidated, she can handle herself.
“Where did you find these letters?” I ask, fearing he’s been in her cottage while Blake isn’t there.
“The first was slipped under the front door at my place. That one no longer exists. It was a vile attempt at inciting me to respond by dropping to his level. I burned it. But the second one was on the kitchen table, and this one was lying on my bed,” Blake explains.
Holy mother of hell. Old Roald has been getting into her cottage and she didn’t tell me? How the fuck does she expect me to stay calm? He could have attacked her or poisoned her or done any number of things while she was away from home. Okay, Gannon, you have to suck it up for now. Blake was already afraid to tell me; it wouldn’t do me any good to prove her right. I take a deep breath and focus on the one letter that’s missing.
“Can you recall what the first letter said?”
“Not all of it. I remember he addressed me as ‘American bitch’. Honestly, that letter put me in mind of middle-schoolers trying to find the worst possible insults they could. It was juvenile,” Blake laughs wryly at the memory.
My blood is boiling already, even though she’s playing it off as trivial. I never thought of Old Roald as anything but a drunken bully, but now I’m beginning to see him in a darker way. He’s manipulative, abusive, and far bolder than I’d ever guessed. I feel a flash of unwelcome anger at the thought that she burned evidence of his behavior. Again, I take a deep breath. I can’t be upset with her for this, she was new to Kinnitty and had no idea just how bad things would get.
“What about the second letter?”
Blake hands me a piece of paper. From the repeated crease lines, I know she’s read this letter multiple times. Whatever he said in this letter led her to believe there may be reason to hold onto the pages. I unfold the paper and b
egin reading. The more I take in, the more I want to kill Old Roald with my bare hands. When I finish reading, I look up to Blake. Her eyes are brimming with tears that will fall as soon as she tries to blink them away.
“None of this is true, Blake. Not one bit of it,” I insist.
“How do you know? You only know what I’ve told you. What if I’m just a monster who treated her family like shit for selfish reasons? What if my grandfather was just a selfish bastard? How am I supposed to know what to believe about him?”
She’s openly crying tears of bitter frustration. Before I offer rebuttals to her points, I move over on the blanket until I’m in a better position to provide comfort. I hold Blake close to me, stroking her back and kissing her head. I realize that because everything between us heated up so quickly, I didn’t take the time to share what Curren Molloy told me about the love triangle from years ago. I shift her so I can see her face to face.
“Blake, the reason I know he’s wrong is because I know you. You’re many things, but a liar isn’t one of them. I saw the pain on your face the night you shared your story. I know what the anguish caused by betrayal looks like because it was written all over my face every day until I met you,” I pause to move a strand of hair from her face. “I know what he’s saying about your grandfather is untrue because while you were away with Molly, I met with some of the Molloy’s to figure out if they would stand with Old Roald or if they saw through his bullshite.”
“What? Who did you talk to?” Blake has temporarily ignored the first half of my argument.
“I spoke with the two younger Roald’s, Baldwin, and Curren.”
“Curren as in Molly’s grandfather? Did you tell him about her tires?”
I nod, “As it turns out, there’s more to the story about your grandparents leaving than most people know. It wasn’t just about the estate. Old Roald was Imogen’s boyfriend before she fell for Brion.”
Blake’s expression morphs from one laced with anxiety to one full of skeptical surprise. “What? Ew! That’s not true, is it?”
I chuckle at her reaction and give her the entire story as I know it. Blake hangs on every word, taking it all in like the plot of a soap opera. By the time I’ve finished sharing what I know, I can see there’s something that seems to be working its way through her mind. I can only hope that what I’ve told her helps her see that Old Roald was just trying to get in her head.
“Now, the part that’s really bothering me about this letter is that he blatantly threatens to ‘get rid of you’ in a very Godfather way,” I don’t mean to make light of the situation, but his verbiage immediately made me think about the old mobster movie.
“I know. That’s why I kept this letter. I was going to tell you about it the day I got it, but we were otherwise occupied when you got back from Dublin,” Blake blushes.
I can’t help but chuckle at that, “I’m guessing you got more hate mail today?”
Blake nods, her face paling slightly when I bring her attention back to what brought her to the cemetery today. She silently hands me another piece of paper. This one has far less writing than the other. It isn’t addressed to anyone, and it doesn’t have a signature to tell us who it came from. It doesn’t take much knowledge of the situation to know who left it.
There will be no more warnings. Get out of Kinnitty, or the next time you see me will be your last time seeing anything.
“That motherfucker,” I practically growl the words.
“How am I supposed to prove it’s from Old Roald? He didn’t sign any of the letters. I obviously know he wrote them based on the content, but that’s not going to hold up as evidence,” Blake says.
“It doesn’t have to. I think we’re going to find a way to get him to admit everything himself.”
A new plan has begun forming in my mind, one that will free Blake from the terroristic threats of Old Roald. An idea that will ensure that he’s finally forced to face the things he has done. The one thing that terrifies me about my line of thinking is that it will ultimately mean putting Blake in front of the person who wants her dead.
The plan is insane. I can’t help but question Gannon’s thought process on this one, but I know he’s right. The only way for us to get Old Roald to own up to what he’s done is for me to confront him. It’s Saturday morning, and we’re sitting around the breakfast table at the B&B. The guests have already departed for their various adventures, and Aoife prepared enough food to feed the troops.
“We’ve got to talk about the logistics here,” Molly insists as she takes a bite of sausage.
“This whole thing feels like a scene from a movie. Am I going to wear a wire? Will there be a van with blacked-out windows just down the road? Wait a minute, do I get a code word to tell you I need back-up?” I know my sarcasm isn’t helpful in this situation, but I can’t help it.
Gannon and Baldwin look at me like they’ve never been less amused by my antics. The basic idea here is that they want me to find a way to meet face to face with Old Roald and get him to admit what he’s done. It’s not that I don’t think it will work, I just don’t know how we’re going to pull it off.
“While I know you’re being cheeky, you bring up some good points. How do we plan to actually obtain the proof to show the Garda?” Baldwin says.
“I can just record it on my phone. I think the fewer people we have trying to coordinate when this actually happens, the better,” I shrug, taking a bite of pancake.
The key players in Operation Old Roald are all present, Dr. Roald has agreed to help get me in front his grandfather, Baldwin is helping keep us on the right side of the law, Molly offers to be the getaway driver, Pat seems to be here for the food, and Gannon is mostly sighing loudly. Everything is predicated on the slim possibility that Old Roald won’t see right through my confrontation.
“I think it would be wise to catch him after church tomorrow morning. He takes the same path every day. I see him walk past my house like clockwork,” Aoife suggests.
“Now we’re talking,” Dr. Roald replies appreciatively.
“As much as I know you want to be a getaway driver, I don’t think that’s going to be necessary,” Gannon explains, “Mum, if you send a text to Blake to let her know when you see Old Roald, she can happen to join him along the road. I’ll plan to come looking for you after fifteen minutes.”
“A lot can happen in fifteen minutes, Gan,” Pat finally contributes.
Gannon nods, “That’s true. When mum texts you that she sees him, she can text me too, and I’ll start walking from the pub. That way you’ll only be alone on that road with him for a handful of minutes. Not long enough for him to overpower you, but long enough for you to get him talking.”
To say I’m nervous would be an understatement. If Old Roald felt perfectly comfortable hitting me with his cane in broad daylight where anyone could see him, I can only imagine how he’ll behave if he meets me along a deserted path. In the end, everyone has agreed to the plan that leaves plenty of room for error.
After the others leave, Aoife, Gannon, and I are still sitting in the dining room. It’s nearly lunchtime now, but I don’t feel even the least bit hungry after the large meal we shared with friends. Aoife looks between her son and me as though she’s trying to find the right thing to say.
“Blake, I want you to know how happy I am that you and Gannon have decided to stop pretending you don’t belong together,” Aoife says casually.
Gannon laughs out loud. Of course, I assumed Aoife knew we were together, but her frank manner takes me by surprise. It’s a relief that she’s happy about it.
“Thank you, Aoife. I’ve got to admit I was a little worried about how you’d react. I know we’ve become friends, but dating your son is a little different.”
“Listen, sweetheart, Gannon has been around long enough to know what he’s looking for in a woman. I didn’t think it was a good idea at first, considering all the factors that brought you here, but I was wrong. The fact that my son found in
you all he’s been waiting for is enough to make this mum beyond pleased,” Aoife smiles, clearing the plates from the table.
We bid Aoife farewell after she refuses to let us help her clean up. Gannon holds my hand as we return to my cottage. I’m sure he’s going to want to spend the day with me, but right now, there’s something I feel like I need to do.
“Gannon, I need to make a phone call. It’s something I’ve got to do alone. Can I meet up with you later?”
The disappointment is impossible to miss, but he nods and gives me a soft kiss. “We’re going to take care of this, Blake. I promise.”
“I know. I love you,” I tell him with another kiss.
“I love you too.”
The phone rings while I wait anxiously for an answer. I’ve been doing a lot of thinking about what Gannon told me, and how it connects directly to the accusations made in the second letter. The story of Old Roald dating my nana makes me draw connections between myself and Old Roald that I never imagined were there. I don’t think my choices are a reflection of the decisions he’s made, but I can’t help but wonder if his bitterness was born from the same place as my broken heart. In his mind, his brother betrayed him by stealing Imogen. I don’t feel like Maeve took Vince, but the betrayal is the same. I think it’s time for me to reach out to my nana to learn the whole story.