by L H Thomson
That night, I went over to Karen’s house and filled her in, then convinced her to come back to the Druid with me, so that we could all have a drink and toast Junior. Walter Beck showed up with a bottle of Italian bubbly that we popped and passed around, and Marty whipped up steak and kidney boxtys and cheesesteaks for the meal.
After an hour of socializing and good feeling Karen had some color back in her cheeks for the first time in a while. We sat in a corner booth alone for a few restful minutes and watched the rest of the room having a blast.
“I’ve got to thank you, you know that?”
“It’s nothing he wouldn’t have done for me, or anyone from the neighborhood.”
She smiled at the memory of him. “Yeah. Yeah, I bet he would, too. Junior loved to mix it up in the ring, but he always did fight for the right things outside it, once he’d turned his life around.”
“He owed you for that,” I said, because it was true.
But she shook her head gently, and smiled again, perhaps a little sadly this time. “No, never. Never owed me a thing, Junior. Was always nothing but good to me. He was my man.”
The mood was dipping back towards heartbreaking. “Come on, let’s get another pint,” I said, leading her through the crowd to the bar, where Marty was busy regaling Nora and my father with his tales of daring do in the old country.
“I lifted forty tons of stones that weekend if I lifted a pound,” he was saying, much to their bemusement.
“Yeah, I bet you lifted a few pounds over there, you crooked old bastard,” my father said.
I introduced Karen to Nora, and Nora hugged her like a sister. “Junior was a great guy,” she said, and Karen’s eyes shone brightly with another moment of tearful happiness.
I made my decision right then. I shouldn’t have needed a “moment” or anything dumb like that, as I always knew who Nora really was, how good she was. But that little gesture pretty much sealed it.
Like a great man once said, you miss all the shots you don’t take.
I put a hand on the small of her back and whispered, “Can I talk to you on the patio for a second?”
She cocked her head quickly, with a glint of recognition, like she knew what was coming next. “Are you going to…”
“Just… give me a second in private, without the family around.”
She probably saw the desperate panic in my eyes, because she gave me an evil smile, like she was considering tormenting me by making me ask her right there on the spot.
Instead, she gestured towards the door. A few seconds later, we were outside, surrounded by anonymous college-aged smokers.
“So what’s up?” she asked, still smiling.
“Well…. It’s … well….” I looked around at the nicotine addicts and the makeshift rope. “Geez this is romantic.” For some reason, all the smart stuff I’d come up with to say had disappeared when most needed. “Well, you and I, we known each other … what? Thirty-five years?”
“Thirty-five years, yes; since we were babies. Liam….”
“Well, I was kind of thinking, you know … like lots of people, they think you and I kind of go real well together. Like … we get along and all. And you got to know, I mean, I’m sure you know, and all.” Geez, this was hard.
She closed her eyes tight and took a deep breath, then shook her head slowly, as if the tension was too much. “Twenty years. Twenty years of …of… THIS! Just say it!”
And so I let out a lungful of stifling pressure, and I did.
“Nora, I think we should be together. You want to go out with me? You know, like, on a date?”
And what she said then? Well, that’s the kind of thing you don’t forget.
But I’ll tell you about it next time.
THE END
Liam Quinn returns in “Quinn Goes West”, available now!
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Also by LH Thomson:
Quinn Checks In
Quinn Goes West
Quinn and the Vanishing Bride
Quinn Gets The Blues
Quinn & The Dead Man’s Daughter
Buried in Benidorm
Vendetta in Valencia
Suicide in Salobrena
Revenge in Ronda
Maximum Max: The first three Max Castillo Stories
Terrible People Doing Terrible Things
The Antique Hunters
The Process Server
The Rough Side