Rían: (The O'Malleys Book 3)

by Michelle McLoughney

  “You okay Cass?”

  Cass rolled her eyes and rubbed her belly drawing his eye to her little growing bump.

  “Of course, this little one is making me a bundle of crying gloop. I’m crying on pretty much a continuous basis. Puppies, other children, pink booties, blue booties and booties in general, emotional basket case. Rory is enjoying it so much.” She grinned at Rory who widened his eyes slowly and nodded dramatically.

  “Hmmm, she is just peachy to live with at the moment. Cried yesterday for a half an hour because the peanut butter was gone. It’s all good.”

  Rory stood and moved beside Cass winking affectionately at her, Cass winked back and kissed Rory on the cheek, smiling shyly. Rían felt a little tug of jealously but pushed it back down deep into his gut. Stop that shite please. They deserve to be happy. They deserve everything they have. Something inside him suddenly felt lonely for home, for the little cocoon of safety he had there.

  “You okay Rían?” Rory clapped a hand on his brother’s shoulder and looked him in the eye, his eyebrow raised quizzically.

  “Yeah, just tired, looking forward to getting home I guess. End of a hectic six months. How long are you out here for?”

  “Four months, we need to fly home then. Cass will be seven months and will have to get home before they impose a no fly on her. Anyway we need to get the room ready for her or him, Cass wants to paint it yellow so it’ll be okay for either a girl or boy.”

  Rory smiled and looked down at his feet smiling. Rían laughed.

  “Ah look at Rory. Proud daddy to be,” Rían smiled at his big brother and felt a rush of love and hope for them both. “So any news from home?”

  He didn’t miss the look Rory and Cass exchanged.

  “What?”

  Rory shrugged and looked away in the distance. “Nothing, all good. Sure you’ll be home in the morning you’ll see the goings on yourself.” Rían didn’t push it but felt out of the loop somehow. Something was definitely up. Cassidy grabbed Rory and Rían linking their arms.

  “Here, come on inside, I’m starving, as usual and need to refuel. You guys can make me something nice to eat. Let’s try out this lovely pristine new kitchen.”

  Rory and Rían followed as she led the way. The next few hours were spent laughing and joking until Rory and Cass eventually said their goodbyes to Rían and headed to bed.

  Rían sat on the little beach outside the hotel, he watched the water as it lapped the shore until his eyes grew heavy and he headed to bed. He slept fitfully and dreamed of running after someone trying to catch them. Somehow the figure kept slipping from his grasp.

  Ireland, it’s the one place on earth

  That heaven has kissed

  With melody, mirth,

  And meadow and mist

  - Irish saying

  The village of Kilvarna, County Clare, is a tiny farming village with green fields, and a remarkable amount of pubs per square mile. Lying nestled in the mid-west, within close proximity to the famous Bunratty Castle and Folk Park, and a stone’s throw from the majestic cliffs of Moher, it is a place unlike any other. Rich in culture, language and music, it beguiles any visitor and beckons those who have left, tempting them back with dreams of times gone by and the possibility of greatness.

  It was exactly as she remembered, her memories a tentative mix of the happiest times of her life and the incident that had destroyed her childhood.

  Liadh sat, mug of coco in hand, and stared out of the patio window in the tiny kitchen of Rua Cottage. Green fields pooled out in front of her, a luminous sea of jade, emerald and lime, lush and fresh. Something about the air here made her feel as though her soul were singing. The roof of Cherry Tree Farmhouse was visible in the distance, a plume of white smoke rising up from the chimney. Liadh had an ominous feeling that the direction of her life was about to change. Every memory from her formative years was here, the smell of the turf crackling and burning in the hearth made her eyes misty with memories. Memories of her mother, her early childhood, Neddy, a life less ordinary. A wonderful life, so full of love and warmth it would have suffocated some, but not Liadh. Liadh cherished and craved stability, and she was, let’s be fair, a grown woman well able to look inward at what made her who she was as a person. The need for acceptance and love. Damn. It was still there, that little girl neediness inside her. Well cut that shit out right now. Yup. No room for that anymore. New life. New you.

  Liadh looked around the little cottage and hugged her arms around her waist. It was small and dark and there were damp patches on the ceiling and the walls. But, it was hers, her home, and the first she had ever owned. When her mother had passed away Liadh had been shocked to find that she had made a Will at all, never mind that she had been the owner of Neddy’s cottage and the acre of land that went with it. Her mother hadn’t coveted much in her short life, a few trinkets of minimal value, candles and a vision chart that showed the world, well her daughter, exactly what she had wanted out of her life. Liadh had cried like a wailing widow when she had seen it in the attic of their little flat. Not so much a vision board, more of a sad indication of unfulfilled dreams and small wants, little cut out pictures from magazines stuck with glue to a hard back page. Words in bold print. Happiness. Security. Integrity. Love. Such a sad little life for Caoimhe O’Neill. And Liadh knew, in reality, her very existence had ended any dreams her mother had of a life of her own.

  Her mother had been saddled with a baby at 16, Liadh frowned when she thought of what her mother had missed out on because of her.

  The cottage had confused her though. A secret her mother had kept so carefully, Liadh never knew they had any secrets from each other. Her mother had a house in Kilvarna and had neither sold it, nor mentioned it. Why hadn’t she sold it years ago? Her mother never would have come back here, so why keep it instead of selling it and using the money to make her life a bit easier? The minute the thought left her brain, Liadh already knew why her mother hadn’t sold it, because her mother had wanted to leave it to Liadh. A legacy of her own. Liadh shook her head sadly. If her mother had enough money for private health care, medical professionals would have seen her long before the cancer had spread.

  Liadh banged her mug hard on the table top. She hated privilege, hated what it afforded those who had it and hated what it denied those who didn’t. Liadh had assumed that the O’Malleys owned Rua Cottage, since it was technically in a corner of their land. Her mother had never spoken of Kilvarna, not since they had packed their bags that day and left without a backward glance. Liadh knew that the small town had finally broken her gentle mother. Unbeknown to Liadh at the time, Granny and Louisa O’Malley, Rían’s mother, had visited her mother occasionally in Dublin. Not that it mattered; in her mind Caoimhe had cut ties with her family and with the town of her birth. The actions of Sister Gearldine all those years ago had been the final straw for Caoimhe O’Neill. All the rejection and abandonment her family had heaped upon her had been bad enough, but with her protector Neddy gone, there was little to keep her shackled to the nightmares and dreams of the past.

  Those days of walking through the town with her head down, crossing the road to avoid her parents, all the days of back breaking work, cleaning and scraping to make ends meet were finally over. Liadh had tried to make her mother as comfortable as possible in her last few years. Repaying her mother for the years she had worked nights to put Liadh through college seemed like the very least she could do. But it was all too late; a few years living in relative comfort was all her mother had in life. A sad little existence for a woman who had been by far the most intelligent and talented woman Liadh had ever known.

  Now Liadh was back. Not for long, just for a summer, she’d get the house shiny and new and sell it on to the first buyer that showed an interest in it. She didn’t even know why she had accepted the position in the town. God, you’re so full of shit, Liadh. You know why you came back. You know why you took the job. Liadh nodded to herself. A locum position had come at the exact ri
ght time for her, a three-month working holiday. Kismet. Serendipity. Whatever the hell it was, she would take it. She knew exactly why she had come back. Because coming back as Doctor Liadh O’Neill was a triumph of sorts. That little bastard - that little sin, had returned. The days of hiding behind her mother’s skirt were over. She stood and walked over to the old brass framed mirror on the sitting room wall and looked at herself closely. Long caramel hair and big blue eyes stared back. A generous mouth, slightly too big and narrow high cheekbones gave her a delicate look, a look that was in direct contrast with the personally that lay beneath. Liadh was nobody’s fool, especially no man’s fool. Being a doctor she was more than used to dealing with her fair share of gore and ailments of all kinds. She never shied away from a challenge either, and knew how to handle herself. You’ve got this Liadh, you can make it work!

  Liadh turned her head slightly to the right and touched her fingers to her face. The burn damage from the fire was not going to improve any more than it had in the last fifteen years. The ten skin grafts had made some improvement, but it was not going to get any better than it was now. She had long ago come to accept her lot in life. Helping others gave her joy. She needed nothing else. A thirty old sexually frustrated spinster, fine, whatever. She had her dog, her books, a vibrator and her job, Oh and Bonnie for company, and that was enough. Well, it has to be, doesn’t it! Not that she didn’t have offers; she was still an attractive prospect for most people. Doctor, single, 30, it all sounded good on paper. The reality was not many men wanted to deal with a woman who carried as much pain as Liadh did. Not many men wanted to deal with a woman that other people pitied. Ah hang on! Who needs a man anyway? Not you missy. Damn right!

  And of course she had Bonnie and Peanut, although in the month since they had arrived in Kilvarna, Bonnie and the O’Malley girls had been in each other’s pockets, and Liadh hadn’t seen that much of her. Plus, she had seen the way Bonnie and Rían’s brother Darragh had been looking at each other. It was impossible not to notice the attraction that sizzled between them. It had been a busy month and Liadh had settled in nicely into the medical practice. She was crazy about Burke Nason the head doctor, a gentle and kindly man and they had become fast friends. Hanging around with the O’Malleys had been a revelation to Liadh. Everything about them was the exact opposite to every assumption she had made. All of them had made Bonnie and Liadh feel so welcome. Liadh bit her lip and groaned. Being in close proximity to Rían’s face in photographs and Rían’s old bedroom was torturous, being in the middle of Rían’s life without him present felt wrong on some level. The family talked about him constantly when Liadh and Bonnie went to the house for dinner, and Liadh felt as though the smile on her face was glued into position.

  She knew he was returning home soon and her nerves couldn’t stand it. What would he think of her all these years later? And her scars, she was dreading the look of pity from him. Maybe they could be friends again. She wasn’t completely sure when her feelings had changed from a fondness for an old friend to a raging desire burning inside her whenever she heard his name or saw his picture. She wondered if he had changed much as a person, sure of course he had, he was a man now. Liadh cast her mind back to the first day they had met. The first day of her proper life.

  Liadh Grace O’Neill had one mother, one uncle and one dog. These three individuals were the sum total of her life experiences with the outside world. Her mother, a gentle soul was shy and quiet, a warm person prone to outbursts of crippling shyness when in company. Liadh adored her as a child, her beautiful singing voice was something to be admired and envied. Like a little lark she would open her mouth and beckon birds from the trees, and they would watch, jealous as they trilled around her. Of course this was nonsense, but in a child’s mind her mother was the snow white of Kilvarna, and even better than that, she belonged only to Liadh. She was young, so much younger than the other mothers around, only sixteen at the time of her birth and in her youth Liadh remained unaware of the stigma and shame her mother had apparently brought upon her parents who owned the local funeral parlour. This was never spoken of, but Liadh knew even as a young child that when they saw anyone from her mother’s family that they should hide. In shop doorways, even once in the graveyard as they passed by. They had sat on the grave of Mr John Madigan who was born in 1877, and had died in 1900. Liadh tried to subtract his age and came up with twenty-four. Twenty-three her mother corrected in a whisper as she looked up nervously, glancing to the left and right. Quite particular about mathematics was Liadh’s mammy. Well, as John Madigan helpfully provided them with a hiding place, Liadh said a little prayer for him as they waited a few minutes and then went about their business.

  It was only years later Liadh understood that her mother’s immediate family had turned their backs on her mammy, disowned her, because of Liadh.

  Her one uncle was called Neddy O’Neill. No one ever really called him Neddy. Always Neddy O’Neill, Liadh had no idea why. She didn’t know then and it was never made any clearer as time went by. It’s just the way it was, when you are Irish you come to expect and accept these things without question. Neddy was actually her mammy’s uncle and he took them into his cottage when her family didn’t want her or Liadh, anymore. When they came to live with Neddy, Liadh was only a small baby, so had no real memories from that time. As she got older Liadh realised that Neddy was different from most people in the town. The main difference was, he never went to mass on a Sunday, and neither did Liadh and her mammy. Her mammy had some trouble with the priest because she was an unmarried woman with a baby and had brought trouble to the O’Neill family. Neddy had told the priest exactly what he thought of that, and Liadh gathered that it had turned the air blue as it rained down upon his head like the fires of hell burning in one man’s eyes.

  After that they hid from the priest as well. Liadh still said a prayer for him though; her mammy said everyone deserves a good intention every now and then, especially the mean ones.

  And her one dog was Peanut. Peanut was a bit of a mixture of a small dog, a brave dog, a big dog, a dirty dog and a dog that thought he was a seal. He might have started out in life as a white dog but had ended up deciding that he preferred to be grey. So grey he stayed. He never looked quite right and that’s why Liadh loved him. Peanut made a noise that he might have thought was a dog bark, but really it was more like a seal’s barking. Once, Liadh caught Neddy O’Neill sitting beside him outside trying to teach him how to bark properly, but he gave up eventually. Neddy O’Neill accepted the oddities in people, the quirks and differences thrilled him, such was his way.

  On the first day of school, Liadh’s mammy had walked her to the gates and bent down to whisper softly into her ear.

  “Now remember what I told you Liadh.”

  Liadh nodded at her. “I remember mammy.”

  “Tell me, Liadh,” her mammy said holding her tightly by the shoulders.

  Repeating the lines solemnly Liadh looked into her mammy’s wide blue eyes.

  “I’m better than no one, and no one is better than me.”

  Squeezing Liadh tightly, Liadh saw the tears that glistened in her mammy’s eyes.

  “That’s it Liadh. Never let anyone ever tell you otherwise. Now, off you go, my lovely Liadh.”

  Her teacher was kind and she enjoyed the lessons, the break time in the yard started out exactly as expected, the girls who knew each other banded together and Liadh stood on her own, her feet heavy and tense.

  In a small town nothing is unknown.

  Neddy O’Neill had told her that once, and it was as true as God, nothing is unknown.

  She pretended she couldn’t hear them whispering about her mammy being so young, about them being dirt poor, and everything else they knew about her life from listening to their own parents chatter.

  And that’s where he found her.

  While the other boys played football, he walked up to her, bold as brass tapped her on the shoulder and stared into her face. Then he waved, j
ust like that, he waved a hand inches from her face as way of introducing his presence.

  “Hi,” he said as he continued to wave at her and smiled. She smiled back at him, because he was different, darker than the other boys, his big brown eyes twinkling with mischief, his black hair shone with an almost navy tinge in the September sun. She smiled because he had noticed her, little Liadh O’Neill, nearly invisible and barely there at all.

  “Hi,” Liadh said shyly. He put out his hand out in a formal manner, she wasn’t sure how to respond but he took the lead, clasped her hand in his and shook it enthusiastically.

  “I’m Rían O’Malley. Do you want to look for worms in the grass? I saw a huge one a while ago. What’s your name? You have very yellow hair.”

  Shrugging her shoulders and cocking her head to one side Liadh soaked up the essence of him. “Liadh Grace O’Neill. You don’t kill them do you? Killing things is wrong”

  He shook his head quickly.

  “Oh Jeepers no, I just look at them and give them names. I’d never kill a worm, they’re too valuable to the soil and the land. My granddad, the Bossman told me all about them?”

  “Why is his name the Bossman?”

  Rían lifted up his chin and looked away in the distance making her giggle with the dramatics of it all. He responded in a hushed reverent whisper. “No one knows, he just is, that’s all. I think he is probably the boss of the whole of Ireland. It’s a proper mystery.”

  Liadh nodded at him in agreement, the Bossman sounded fierce and important altogether. Rían smiled, took her hand in his and led her over to the grassy mound beside the tarmac covered playground. They sat together and dug two sticks into the earth while the other children moved around them like dancers in a ballet. Listening as Rían regaled her with amazing facts about worms, Liadh decided that he really was very clever. Rían sniffed and she caught him looking out of the corner of his eye in her direction.