Whiskey Rebellion

by Toni Aleo

  Lady O’Callaghan found out she’s been off gallivanting with multiple men! Locked her up!

  Such trash she’s become.

  She brought home all the STDs, and now they are treating her so they can marry her off. Ya know they’re hurting for money.

  We don’t see her because she’s getting fat. That babe will be here in no time.

  Who’s the father? Oh, you know darn well it’s her old beau, Micah.

  Rolling my eyes, I take the order of leeks that was waiting for me and head down the next aisle. I have a hard time believing what I’ve heard. I’ve only been here a little over a week, eight days to be exact. But in that time, being on the O’Callaghan land and in the pub, it’s as if I’ve been here longer. Everyone is so welcoming. Everyone also talks all day long. Everywhere I go, be it the stables, the pub, the market downtown, or even the library, it seems as if the only thing these people talk about is the O’Callaghans.

  I get that they’re royalty around here, but don’t these people get sick of talking about the same thing? Especially when most of it is so untrue. I just don’t get it. How do they make it up? And why? I’ve only met two of the O’Callaghans, and when Lena isn’t calling me names, they seem like good people. This town, though, their home, has painted all of them into something resembling bad reality TV.

  “Did ya hear? Missus Amberlyn donated all that money to have the kids go shopping for new clothes.”

  “She’s a godsend, she is,” another lady says, and I smile. This is the first nice thing I’ve heard all day. “Way better than Miss Lena. Did you hear she showed up to tea in her PJs! I can’t believe they let her do that.”

  Shaking my head, I walk past the two ladies and I know they look at me, but I’m kind of done with it. Usually, the rumors are easy to ignore. While I don’t know anything about any of the O’Callaghans, I do somewhat know Lena. Or, I want to feel like I know her. It’s hard because I feel like we have this connection. It’s so raw and new, and man, it needs some life. I’m unsure if it’ll ever happen. She’s obviously standoffish, with good reason. Everyone basically hates her. And for what? Living her life? I’m doing the same fucking thing, and the only person bitching at me is my mom.

  It’s just unfair.

  When I get back to the pub, Fiona is there with Novelly on her hip. Like always. The things that woman does with a baby on her hip make me look bad.

  “Howya, Jackson.”

  “Hey, Fiona. Hey, Novelly,” I say as I walk by, and the sweet girl reaches for me. “One second, let me put this down.”

  Fiona laughs as she follows me. “How’d ya get me lass to love ya?”

  “I feed her candy when you’re not looking.”

  Her eyes widen. “Ya filthy bastard!”

  I laugh as I set the bag down before taking Novelly from her and hugging her to my chest. She’s a cute little thing. As she plays with the hair that is growing on my face, Fiona glances back at me. “How was the market?”

  I shrug. “It was an experience, I guess.”

  She smiled. “That’s why Ma sent ya. She wanted you to see how it was.”

  “It’s huge.”

  “It is, which is why it’s only once a week.”

  I lean back on the prep table, bouncing Novelly on my arm. “Are the O’Callaghans always the hot topic there?”

  She glances back at me with a chuckle. “Ah, they’re the topic anywhere.”

  “Not here or at the estate, though.”

  “Because we know them,” she says simply. “We know the rumors aren’t true, and that the Royal Times is a bunch of shite.”

  “It just seems a little over the top.”

  “Because it is. We’re a small town with this huge castle. We’ve made them a big deal, when really, they only wanted to make whiskey and be rich,” she laughs as she shakes her head. “I’ve never met a man like Declan. He’d die for Amberlyn. His ma and da, they’re good people. They love their children, and they love this community. Then there is Lena,” she says slowly. “I’m not one hundred percent sure what is going on with her, but the lass I’ve seen lately is not the Lena I know. Something has changed, and it’s not fair for me to decide what it is.”

  “Do you believe the rumors?”

  She shakes her head quickly. “Lena isn’t a hoor. She is a good lass. Her ma raised her to be an exact copy of herself. I don’t know, it’s weird.”

  “Do you think it’s the pressure?” I ask, and she thinks that over. “From what I’ve gathered, she didn’t live here for a while.”

  Fiona shakes her head as she hands a strawberry to Novelly. “No, after the trial for the man who shot my cousin, Lena left—”

  “What? Someone shot Amberlyn?”

  “Oh, yeah. This bloke Casey did it. Madman, for sure. After the trial, Lena was happy from what I heard. But then one day, she just vanished. She stopped using her social media, no one could find her, and Declan was worried sick. Something happened, but it’s not what they are saying.”

  “I don’t think so either.”

  Fiona sends me a grin. “Ya got a wee crush on the princess, do ya?”

  I scoff, trying to mask the fact that I absolutely do. “I don’t even know her.”

  “You don’t have to know her to crush on her. I crushed on my Kane for years, and now look at us.”

  I smile. “True love always wins in the story I was told.”

  She holds out a strawberry to me, a grin playing on her lips. “I can’t disagree with ya, but know I wouldn’t even try with Lena.”

  I already knew that, but what is she thinking? “Like I’d have a chance.”

  She rolls her eyes. “Like I said, that lass ain’t in her right mind. She’s as lost as last year’s Easter egg.”

  But was anyone trying to help her find herself?

  Taking the top of the strawberry from Novelly as Fiona hands her another, I glance back at the portrait hanging on the wall. It always amazed me how every time I looked at it, I got breathless. I can’t help but be in awe of her. As I stare into her eyes, drink in her milky-white skin, I wonder how no one notices she is hurting?

  Am I the only one?

  Yes, she’s lost, but something has hurt that girl.

  Or someone.

  It’s so fucking frustrating, and it bothers me how upset I get.

  Especially when I’m pretty sure she doesn’t give two fucks about me.

  I may have overreacted.

  Okay, there is no may about it, I flipped the fuck out.

  I’ve been watching him for the last week. He must have gotten his clearance because he has been all over the grounds. From my room, I can see him in the stables and along the lake. When he rode Belle farther out, I wanted to follow, but I knew I couldn’t.

  I was a wee of a bitch to him.

  Jackson had had every right to ask me what he did. We were wild. We were reckless, and I would have asked the same thing if someone had tried to go bareback inside of me without discussing it first. I should have told him I was good, that he was good. But instead, I got lost in the moment, and when he asked, I just… I don’t know. Lost it, I guess. I’m so embarrassed. I’ve never had to be embarrassed by my actions before. But then London happened, and the blogs are running shite about me left and right, and I just felt Jackson was different. I didn’t think he’d believe that shite. But here I am. A total feckin’ mess.

  From my seat in my mother’s sitting room, I can see him, riding Belle through the field. I’ve spent the whole week going back and forth on what I should do. I started toward his tent many times. I even wanted to go to the pub, but I didn’t know how to face him. I didn’t know how to tell him he was right. He should have asked even though I don’t want to think about myself like that. I don’t want to be that girl someone has to ask if they should be worried about.

  But if he’s read the papers or heard the talk that’s all over the place, he’ll think I’m a hoor.

  I cringe as Franco moves his brush through m
y newly done hair. Ma ordered new highlights and lowlights put in. She wanted my hair bone-straight and glowing. Meanwhile, I couldn’t care less. I just want to figure myself out. But for the next couple months, I don’t know if I’ll have the time.

  My ma, ever so graceful, stands before me. I find it amazing that her condition doesn’t slow her down. She walks around like she is completely healthy. Like her face isn’t haggard or scary. I just want her to be back to normal. I just want me ma back.

  She looks at the printout of what the latest blog post has said about me.

  “The Princess was seen having sex with multiple men at once—”

  “Gobshite, I was not.”

  She gives me a look as she goes to the next entry. “She was so drunk, she fell down three flights of stairs and broke both her hands.”

  “It was only two,” I answer, tearing my gaze from Jackson with a sigh. “And I hardly broke anything. I’m fine.”

  Ma pays me no mind as she continues, “The princess was found facedown in her vomit, and it was a full twenty-four hours before she woke.”

  “Ma, do you really think someone is gonna let me lie in my puke for that long? Please. I never, ever did that. I almost always made it to the loo or at least my bed.”

  Her face is twisted in anger as she glares back at me. “The point is there is truth in these lies, Lena Élodie!”

  “No, Ma, they’re smearing my name because it’s news the people want in this poor, pathetic town. It gives them shite to talk about!”

  But she continues anyway. “‘One of the Princess’s lovers says she didn’t even know who he was when they woke up the next morning in the bed. He was in love with her.’”

  “What a feckin’ wanker! He was not.”

  “So ya did wake up with someone?”

  “Yeah, Ma! I woke up with plenty of someones, but I usually knew their names.”

  “Usually!” she roars, which brings my da to step in.

  “Noreen, sit and calm down. Yer blood pressure, love.”

  “Ivor! She’s done ruined herself.”

  “She has not. She’s had a few indiscretions.”

  I roll my eyes. “I was a regular twenty-two-year-old girl in London. It’s not a big deal. Everyone does this—”

  “Declan did not. I didn’t. Ivor, did you?” He shrugs, and she smacks him in the chest. “Yer supposed to say no.”

  “Ah, she’s a child. They make mistakes.”

  “Not our child, though. You were raised to a higher standard, and you know better.”

  “Ah, Ma…”

  “You’ve locked yourself up in this castle. Not going anywhere for the last week. You went to tea in sweat pants and a ratty T-shirt!”

  “I told you I didn’t want to go—”

  “You didn’t show up to the event I had written down for you.”

  “Amberlyn went, and there was no reason for both of us to go—”

  “She just had a baby. She shouldn’t have to go anywhere. It is your job.”

  “Which is why I’m in the feckin’ chair, Ma! Gah! I’m trying.”

  “Yer not! Yer hiding, yer trying to avoid what you were raised to do.”

  “Because these standards are suffocating!”

  “These standards are who we are, Lena. Don’t you understand that? You used to understand that.”

  Unable to handle it, I throw my hands up, knocking the flat iron out of Franco’s hand. “I don’t give a shite about what I used to know, Ma! Things change.” My ma’s eyes widen as her lips press together as best as they can. It hurts to see her like this, and I hate it, but damn it, I can’t take it. “I fucked up. I did. I know that, but it’s over. I’m home. I’m doing what you want me to. Okay. Yes, I laid low for a week. I had some things I had to work out in my head, but Jaysus, just let it feckin’ be. I can’t fix what I did. Do I regret it? Yes, I do. All of it. I wish I were stronger, I wish I had been the perfect daughter ya raised me to be, but I wasn’t. I was weak, and I’m sorry. I’m so sorry, but please, just stop.”

  My mother holds my gaze. “Lena, my love, what on earth happened to you? Why are you acting like this? Never would you talk to me like this. What have I done? What is wrong?”

  “Ah, Ma, Jaysus, nothing,” I lie, looking away as my eyes cloud with tears. “I just wanted to have a bit of fun, and it turned into more than that. I couldn’t control it, but I’m getting better. I am.”

  “Fun that led to your name being ruined? You know better—”

  “I do, but I didn’t care. I made myself not care.”

  “Ya have to care, Lena, this is who you are. Who we are.” I shake my head, and I can feel her stare. It’s like she is burning me with her eyes. “Look at me, Lena.”

  I can’t. I’m fighting back tears, and I can’t let her see that. I know I’m messed up, I do. I know I’ve disappointed them, but I didn’t want to care. I didn’t want to feel. I just wanted to be.

  “I said, look at me, lass.”

  “Ma, just leave me be.”

  “I don’t even know you anymore.”

  And with that, she leaves the room.

  Letting out the breath I’m holding, I open my eyes to find my da still there. His eyes are soft and full of worry as he watches me.

  “Can I help you?” he asks, and I quickly shake my head. The tears are still threatening to fall as I squeeze my eyes shut tightly.

  “There is nothing to help.”

  And I don’t know why I’m lying. Maybe because I don’t know what kind of help I need? Maybe because I’ve already fucked up enough, I can’t bear to tell them why? They’d be so worried, thinking I’ve fallen back to where I was after Casey raped me. A part of me did, but I don’t want my family to know that. Hell, I don’t want to know it. I want to deny it. I want to think I’m fine, but I think I know I’m not. Though, it isn’t about me. If I tell my da, he’ll want to try to fix it again. He’d try to pay Casey off once more, but this time, he’d come to kill us all.

  I can’t tell them.

  Any of them.

  When I hear the door shut, I know it’s my da leaving. I close my eyes and groan, “Are ya done yet?”

  Franco tsks at me. “Don’t get pissy with me because of your mom.”

  “I’m getting pissy ’cause I don’t want to be here.”

  “No, really?” he asks sarcastically, and I roll my eyes.

  I’ve always hated Franco.

  But then, maybe I’m just in a mood. I hate fighting with my ma and da; it sucks, and I don’t want to be a disappointment to them. I fear I already am, though. This is why I didn’t want to come back. At least, when I’m not here, they don’t have to know what I’m doing. It’s bullshite how these tabloids don’t come out until I’m home to be with my ma. No, they want to make up a story around why I’m here, because my ma having a feckin’ tumor isn’t enough.

  Tears threaten to fall again as I lean back, looking out the window. Of course, I can’t keep myself from watching Jackson. Even on my horse, he looks huge. I can still feel his arms around me. I don’t know how I’ll ever face him. He’d probably laugh in my face. I was such a bitch to him, and I feel like I’m doing everything wrong. I let my parents down, I let Declan down, and I guess, in a way, I let Mayo down too. All of that bothers me. I didn’t want to be a disgrace to my family, and when I was doing what I was doing before, I didn’t care. I wanted to be free, I wanted to have fun, and I didn’t care less what anyone said about me.

  But as I watch Jackson ride, I realize I care what he thinks.

  Which is why I was so awful to him.

  I couldn’t bring myself to admit that I had gone to the clinic to get checked out before I left London. Thankfully, all my tests had come back negative. But instead of telling him that, I just went off like a mad bitch.

  Which sucks ’cause I really like him.

  I should go to him.

  Yeah.

  “Okay, let’s get your face done,” Franco says, but I stand up, out
of his reach.

  “I don’t need my makeup done. I don’t have anything until tomorrow.”

  “Yeah, but your mom said to.”

  “I don’t care. I don’t need it. Are you done with my hair?” He nods. “Fine. Thank you.”

  Walking out of the room, I head down the stairs, ignoring the yelling in my parents’ room. It’s probably about me, and I have no desire to be in the argument. Not when I actually have the courage to say something to Jackson. As I take the stairs rapidly, I pull up my hair and pray that I was right about his clearance. I haven’t seen him with Pip, but maybe I was just too focused on him.

  We’ll see, I guess.

  Stepping out the front door, I head to the field where I saw him with Belle. It’s a beautiful, bright day, and while I want to enjoy it, I’m too focused on finding Jackson. As I round the corner of the castle, I try to come up with what I’m going to say, but I really have no clue. Coming to the fence that surrounds the field for the horses, I open the gate, shutting it behind me.

  I think that’s when Jackson sees me.

  Patting the side of Belle’s mane, he gets off with ease, like he’s been riding a horse his whole life. I don’t know if that is true, but it sure looks like he has. Taking Belle’s reins, he walks toward me and I to them. When we meet in the middle, his eyes glide along my face, and I try to meet his gaze, but it’s hard. I wonder what he sees when he looks at me. Gone is the matted hair and awful eyebrows that I hadn’t taken care of when I was gone. I’m not wearing makeup or even my jewels I’m sure my ma had laid out for me, but I am wearing a very nice pair of slacks along with a blouse that screams I am an heiress. My shoes are sky-high heels, but his gaze doesn’t change. He looks at me the same, with those sweet brown eyes that visit me in my dreams.

  As before, I can feel the energy pushing me to him, and I almost think he can too, but when he reaches out, it’s to hand me the reins. “She’s warmed up if you wanted her.”

  “As much as I love riding her, that’s not why I’m here.”

  “It’s not?”

  “No,” I say simply, shaking my head as I take a step forward, cupping Belle’s muzzle in my hands. “I came to apologize.” He looks away as he takes a deep breath. When he doesn’t say anything, I go on, “I flipped out on ya when I shouldn’t have. I was a huge bitch, and that was wrong of me.”