by KT Webb
“You’re so weak I only had to make you think I would hit you to take you down,” Roald spat as he towered over me.
I was on the ground, struggling to breathe. I lay on the ground completely defenseless, and that was the moment he struck. The copper head of that cane catapulted toward me, and I braced for an impact that didn’t come. Not yet anyway.
“The feck is wrong with you, Roald?” Molly screamed as she gripped the cane around the middle.
“If you knew what was good for yeh, you’d back off now, Molly!” Roald growled at her.
“You’d love that, wouldn’t you? How about I stick that cane up yer arse?” Molly tried to gain control of the weapon.
Roald wasn’t about to let her gain the upper hand. He jerked his elbow backward, connecting with Molly’s eye with a dull thump. Molly stumbled backward, stunned by the impact. By that point, I had gotten back onto my feet. Roald rounded on me; he wasn’t taking any chances this time. The last contact I had with this cane put me in mind of baseball. This time I had the horrifying thought of a child swinging at a pinata. The impact sent a siren-like ringing off in my ears. I fell to the ground again, immediately recognizing the blood pouring from my cheek. Just as Roald was about to bring the cane down a second time, I heard an angry yell from somewhere behind him.
At first, I was sure Gannon had finally shown up. I tried to sit up to see what was happening, but my head was spinning, and nausea had already begun to take up residence in my stomach. Suddenly, there were too many things happening at once. The sirens were getting louder and harder to stand. My head was pounding and there was a rolling fury of fists and rage somewhere nearby. That old bastard was deceivingly strong. Arms wrapped around me, pulling me into a sitting position. Everything was out of focus, but the scene didn’t look promising. Molly was lying on the ground nearby. She was so still that for one horrible moment I wondered if she was dead. I came to the realization that the louder sirens weren’t inside my head at all, they were coming from the car with flashing lights. One officer was asking me questions that I refused to answer until he checked on Molly.
Another officer was dragging Old Roald toward the Garda car and tossed him unceremoniously into the back seat. Then he returned to help the other officer with Molly. I looked over to find Pat, not Gannon, starting to push himself up off the ground. The back door was still open and Roald was yelling obscenities at us the whole time. But, the final nail in his coffin came spewing out of his mouth just as the officers were helping Molly to her feet.
“You should have left when you had the chance, you American bitch. I told you I’d get rid of you. I told you the Garda won’t prosecute me. Even now, look at what happened here today. They still won’t believe a word you say.”
I looked at him as Pat helped me stand, and I pulled my cell phone from my coat pocket. Thankfully, it was still recording everything. I held it aloft and waved it back and forth in his direction.
“They’ll have a hard time taking your side when everyone hears what you did today. Not to mention that you just admitted to threatening her life. Yer a real piece of shit, Roald,” Pat yelled at him, wiping the blood from his mouth.
That’s where the recording ends. Roald has been finished with my stitches for half the confrontation. Now, he’s shaking his head as he realizes just how fucked up his grandfather really is.
“I hope they took him into custody,” Roald says.
“They did. The officer gave Pat his email address so we can send them the recording, but I’m supposed to bring the letters to them tomorrow,” I explain.
Roald shakes his head, “I don’t think you’ll be going anywhere for a few days. He really jarred your noggin. You have a moderate concussion. Molly over there is going to have a black eye and one hell of a headache, and I’m assuming Pat ended up with some scrapes and a split lip. The one thing I don’t understand is why Gannon didn’t come when he was supposed to.”
“I told you, he was snogging Madigan Adams,” Molly enunciates each word.
“I thought you were joking. I never know with you, Molly. You tend to make light of any situation,” Roald shrugs his shoulders.
“I wish she had been joking,” I say miserably.
Roald pulls out some pills from the locked cabinet and counts some out before putting them into another bottle. He stares at the shelves for a few more moments before grabbing two more medications and repeating the previous actions. When he’s satisfied with what he has, he hands two bottles to me and one to Molly.
“Anti-inflammatory medication for you,” he tells Molly before turning to me, “and, for you, I have an anti-nausea medication and painkiller. It’s not as strong as the last one you had because I don’t want you to be incapacitated while your head heals. Someone needs to wake you every couple of hours. Don’t play on your phone or watch television, no blog posts. Give your head a few weeks to heal. I’ll see you again in one week for a check-up”
I nod and immediately regret the decision. Molly and I head out the front door, closely followed by Roald. When we step off the sidewalk, he calls after us one more time.
“Hey, Blake, don’t make a habit of this, okay? I don’t think I’ve had this much trauma care in quite some time. Would you mind giving me a little break?” He chuckles lightly.
“I’ll try not to make any more enemies,” I laugh as we walk to Molly’s car.
My heart hurts too much to think of anything but sleep right now. I’ll worry about Gannon later, right now I just need to clear my mind and take a nap. Thankfully, Aoife is waiting for me outside the cottage when we arrive. She and Molly get me inside and make sure I’m comfortable. Aoife promises Molly she’ll be a dutiful nurse as she shoos her out the door. I take the medication Roald gave me and drift into sweet sleep as Aoife pulls up a chair next to the bed.
It’s been three days. Seventy-two hours without seeing or talking to Blake. The worst part about it is that she’s right up the road, just out of reach. Mum has been keeping me up to date on how Blake is doing, but it’s not the same as being there with her.
After I told Pat everything that happened before Madigan left, he was far more understanding than I deserved. He filled me in on what happened with Old Roald and played the recording for me after they spoke with the Garda the following day. I went separately and gave my statement, so I didn’t make anyone feel pressured to talk to me.
Now, I’m at the B&B for my morning update with mum. She’s quiet as she pours my tea and hands me a freshly baked scone. Mum sits down at the table and sets a familiar envelope in front of me.
“Gannon, if I give her this letter, is it going to hurt her more than she’s already hurting?”
I shake my head, “No, mum. It’s going to tell her why I needed to confront Madigan. But it’s not going to make what happened the other day any less painful.”
“In that case, I will give it to her when she is in a better state of mind. Right now, she’s been sleeping on and off most of the day. The first day, I woke her every few hours, as instructed by Roald. Now that he isn’t worried that she won’t wake up, I let her sleep for four hours in one stretch.”
“I’m so relieved she has you looking after her, mum.”
Mum smiles sadly, “Gannon, I’m disappointed in you. I know you were hurt terribly by Madigan’s disappearing act, but I thought Blake changed everything. You told me yourself how different the feelings are and how certain you are now that you didn’t truly love Madigan. Why would you choose her over Blake?”
It’s that final question that makes me realize how much of a disservice I was doing to the people who love me. I once thought it was better to keep that pain to myself, now I know there is only one way we can all heal and move on.
“Mum, I didn’t choose Madigan over Blake. Nothing would ever make me do that. Some things happened before Madigan left that made me hold onto hope that I’d see her again.”
“Do you care to explain?” Mum leans back with her cup of tea.
&n
bsp; I tell her the story of how I spent the last eight years mourning the loss of a child that never existed. I realize now that the letter for Blake is only going to tell her part of the story. Hopefully, when she reads it, I have the opportunity to explain everything further.
“Oh, Gan! How awful for you to carry that burden for so long only to find out it was all a scheme. I’m so sorry,” Mum comes over to hug me.
“Thanks, mum. Honestly, it’s like I’m feeling the loss all over again. But this time, I’m angry more than anything else. I can’t help but feel like I wasted the last eight years of my life,” I tell her.
“You haven’t wasted your life. You’ve accomplished a lot in that time, son. Just because you weren’t running around dating a bunch of women doesn’t mean your time was wasted.”
I know she’s right. The only problem is, right now, everything feels like it’s spinning out of control. Finally getting the truth from Madigan felt like having a bomb go off in my chest. But the pain caused by revealing the truth doesn’t compare to the hurt of knowing Blake may not forgive me. Not only did I abandon her when she needed me most, she also walked in on me kissing someone else. She probably hates me.
It’s been the most torturous week of my life. I’m trying to find anything to occupy my time. Anything to keep my mind off how badly I miss Blake. Pat has been trying to help. I was worried about how he would feel after everything, but Pat knows his sister better than anyone. He reminds me that he’s still pissed, but at least he’s here.
Pat also confronted his sister after he spoke with me last Sunday. Madigan left the pub and went straight to her parents’ house, trying to feed them a sob story about how she returned, hoping to fix things with me, and I refused to listen. Pat sat by while Madigan cried to their parents, then he told them what really happened.
Learning that their child is a manipulative, selfish bitch is hard enough, but discovering some of the things she did hurt them deeply. I’m told Madigan left after her parents suggested she return to London. I have no idea if she did, and I don’t particularly care. The only thing I hope is that I never have to see her face again.
Despite Pat’s constant reassurances that he understands why I let them down, I still feel fully responsible for the injuries each of them sustained. The worst part about it all is that Blake received the hardest hit and, therefore, the most severe injury. I don’t know if she’s still mad at me, I don’t know if she still loves me.
I’m at the pub alone when my phone starts to vibrate. Immediately, my heart rate jumps. It could be Blake. When I look at the screen, I have mixed feelings about answering. It’s Molly. She hasn’t spoken to me since last Sunday, either. Molly has every right to be pissed at me too, but I’m never going to be granted forgiveness if I don’t ask.
“Hello?”
“Hey, arsehole, let me in. I brought lunch.”
“Um, okay. Where are you?”
“You must be dumber than you look, Fitzpatrick. I’m right outside the pub. Now, let me in before I change my mind.”
I disconnect the call and walk to the front door. Sure enough, Molly is standing outside with something in a large brown bag. I open the door for her and offer to take something out of her hands.
“I don’t need your help, Fitzpatrick. Now, sit down. We have to talk,” Molly has never been one to hold back her feelings.
I do as I’m told, sitting while she unpacks the sack. She’s brought us each a sandwich and crisps. The bruising around her eye is starting to fade to a yellowish-green. It’s an ugly mark, but I’m thankful there was no lasting damage. I’m waiting for her to start the conversation since she called this spontaneous meeting. Molly starts eating her lunch in silence. I’m not sure what she wants me to do, so I mimic her.
“I talked to Pat and Aoife,” Molly begins.
“Okay.”
“No, sir. This is my time to talk,” Molly gives me a stern look that almost makes me laugh. “You fecked up. I now understand why, but you really fecked things up with Blake.”
I simply nod and take another bite of my sandwich. I’ve already been told not to speak, so I’m not taking any chances.
Molly sighs, “She doesn’t hate you. Her feelings are hurt, she’s royally pissed off, and she’s got a killer headache. The best thing you’ve done is let Blake have her space.”
I’m still silent. Molly has more to say, and I’m not going to interrupt her again. The best thing I’ve heard in days just came out of her mouth, and I’m dying to hear more. Blake doesn’t hate me. Molly would know, she’s her best friend.
“Aoife told me you wrote her a letter while you were in Galway. She’s going to get it today. I can’t guarantee that she’ll read it or that what’s inside will make a difference to her. I just thought you should know,” Molly shrugs and takes another bite of her sandwich.
“Molly, I’m so sorry. I know that doesn’t fix anything, but I want you to know it kills me that I wasn’t there when you guys needed me.”
“I appreciate that. I won’t lie, I’m getting more than a little satisfaction out of how guilty you feel,” Molly grins, then turns serious again, “Don’t give up on her, Gannon. You two belong together, even if you’re a total wanker.”
The rest of the visit, Molly, tells me how much has happened in the Molloy family over the course of the past week. Everyone in the immediate vicinity has renounced Roald’s behavior. Oddly enough, one man’s violent behavior has brought the family back together. They’re rallying around Blake and planning a family reunion, sans Roald, for later in the summer. If nothing else comes from all this, at least Blake will have the support of the entire Molloy clan.
As Molly stands to leave, she surprises me by giving me a hug, “Don’t be a dolt. Fight for her, it’s what she deserves. You’d better do everything in your power to earn her forgiveness. Don’t let her slip away.”
I give Molly a brief squeeze before releasing her, “I promise that if she still wants to be with me, I will do whatever it takes to keep her.”
“Good. You’re a good man, Gannon. Don’t make me regret forgiving you,” she winks.
“Wait a second, you forgive me? You sure you don’t want to bust my balls a little longer before granting me reprieve?”
Molly laughs aloud, “Nah, I’m sure you’ll have plenty more attacks on your balls when Blake decides to talk to you.”
I wince at that comment, which only leads her to laugh again. She walks out of the pub, leaving me with the anxiety caused by waiting to hear from Blake.
On Monday morning, I lie awake in bed, staring at the ceiling. Mum called to tell me she left the letter with Blake and explained why she hadn’t given it to her sooner. Waiting to hear from her is torture. I miss her scent. I miss the way it felt to hold her in my arms. I miss the way her freckles crinkled with her nose when she laughed. It feels like there is a part of me missing, and I have no way of knowing if I’ll ever have it again.
I finally drag my sorry arse out of bed and head for the shower. Maybe the hot water will ease some of the tension in my mind as well as my body. Just two weeks ago, we were on our way to Galway. I’d never have guessed that in two weeks, I would go from professing my love to wallowing in self-pity. I’d feel a bit pathetic if I wasn’t too busy trying to keep myself from breaking down.
This woman changed everything. I thought I was perfectly content to live my life alone. I didn’t need a woman; I didn’t need love. Then Blake stepped off an airplane and into my life. I think back to the first moment I laid eyes on her, and I realize that part of me knew, even then. There was something about the way she held herself with a confidence I’d never seen before. I saw it in the way she studied every aspect of the places we went. I felt it in that first kiss that felt so forbidden yet so right.
As I dry myself off and grab my boxer briefs from the closet, I’m reminded of what brought her here in the first place. Brion Molloy didn’t know me, he barely knew my mum outside of her position as caretaker. When he
decided to send his granddaughter to Kinnitty, he must have known he was sending her toward something life-changing. He probably hoped she would find love, happiness, contentment. The hopes he had for Blake are the same that I’ve had since we met.
With a sigh, I pull on my sweatpants and walk barefoot to the kitchen in search of something to make for breakfast. From the kitchen, I hear the familiar sound of my phone alerting me to a notification. My heart skips a beat, and I take off for the bedroom. I pull the blankets off the bed, desperately searching for the slim device. Maybe it’s a text from Blake. When I finally find the stupid thing, I collapse on the bed. My stomach is in knots. It was an alert from Blake’s blog. There’s a new post to read. Could this be how she bids me farewell? Could this be her way of telling me I’m forgiven? With a deep breath, I open the site to read what she’s written.