Beneath an Irish Sky (Choc Lit)

by Connor, Isabella

  Thankfully, Luke was in a single room. No nosy fellow patients or visitors to worry about. Jack watched from the doorway as the nurse checked the IV.

  ‘Why don’t you sit with him for a while?’ she suggested. ‘I’ll fix you a cup of tea.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  Jack slumped down into a chair, hoping the boy wasn’t going to wake up just yet because he didn’t have a clue what to say. The hospital bed made him look small and young, about seventeen, maybe eighteen. Unfortunately, the birth certificate said otherwise. He focused on Luke’s face with its cuts and bruises, and tried but failed to find any resemblance to the Stewarts. Luke was his mother’s son. With his long dark eyelashes and black hair, the kid was so like Annie that it actually hurt. Jack had thought he was over the pain, but all this was bringing it back.

  What exactly had Annie told her son? Luke had probably seen his birth certificate yet he’d never tried to make contact, which seemed strange, especially given the Stewart’s wealth. And if Annie wanted nothing more to do with him, not even financial help, why did she put Jack on the birth certificate at all? It didn’t make sense.

  A monitor beeped, and he flicked his attention back to Luke, whose eyes were now open. He looked confused, and Jack wished he’d gone to a hotel for the rest of the day because now he’d have to say something reassuring, and probably identify himself. Standing up, he moved towards the bed. ‘Luke? You’re in hospital, but don’t worry, you’re going to be okay.’ He sounded and felt awkward. ‘You don’t know me, but …’

  ‘I know who you are. I’ve seen your picture. You’re my bastard father.’

  Jack froze, his mind replaying the words.

  ‘You threw my mother out because – what was it? – you didn’t want a gypo kid!’

  Luke was staring daggers at him. Annie must have said Jack had rejected her, instead of the other way round. ‘What the hell are you talking about? I never even knew you existed before today.’

  ‘Liar!’ Luke’s voice was raised and cracking with the strain. He struggled to sit up, winced, and sank back against the pillows. He looked exhausted but somehow found the strength to sweep a jug of water from the locker beside him towards Jack. It missed by inches, clattering against the wall, its contents flooding the floor.

  A nurse hurried into the room. She spoke gently to Luke but it had no effect. He was obviously distressed and in pain. A male nurse appeared and frowned at Jack. ‘If you don’t mind, sir. We need to settle the patient.’

  A firm hand on his shoulder steered Jack towards the door. As if it were his fault. He flushed at the injustice. That was it. He was out of here, on a flight back to Manchester that afternoon.

  ‘Where’s my mother? I want to see my mother!’

  Glancing back, the despair on Luke’s face told Jack he already suspected the truth. Part of him was thankful he wouldn’t have to be the one to tell the kid his mother was dead. The other part of him felt like a total shit, but what could he do? It wasn’t his problem. It was all very sad but nothing to do with him. If he didn’t go now, he’d miss the flight. Luke was not his son. But although his head said one thing, his heart said another. He couldn’t walk out now and leave those terrible accusations unchallenged. ‘I’ll wait in the Relatives’ Room,’ he told the nurse.

  Emer Sullivan sipped a strong black coffee and wished she still smoked. Five years without a cigarette and she was still waiting for those occasional cravings to disappear. They came when her in-tray was overflowing. Being a hospital counsellor was great, but to get through all the paperwork, you’d have to give up talking to the patients. One of life’s little ironies.

  She opened the file on her desk. A new case had just developed into a crisis. The details were sketchy: a woman killed in a car crash, her son badly injured. The father had just appeared on the scene and there’d been an argument. Emer had been asked to tell the son, Luke Kiernan, his mother was dead. She glanced at her watch. An hour since the incident. His tranquilliser would be wearing off but he should still be calm enough for her to talk to him. Emer left her office and reached Luke’s side room at the same time as a nurse finished taking his blood pressure. His eyes were fixed on the ceiling.

  ‘Luke?’ said Emer, after the nurse had gone.

  There was no response.

  ‘Luke, my name’s Emer. I’m a trauma counsellor. I’m here to talk to you about your mother.’

  ‘She’s dead, isn’t she?’

  He must have guessed when nobody would give him a straight answer, which was what he needed now. ‘Yes, Luke, I’m afraid she is. I’m so sorry.’ No matter how many times Emer gave people bad news, it never got any easier.

  Luke turned to her, pain evident in his sad eyes. ‘What happened? I can’t remember.’

  He had a right to know the facts. Once he accepted them, he could start the grieving process. She pulled out the police report. ‘An oncoming truck hit your car on the driver’s side, making it roll over and hit a tree. Another driver got you out. The emergency services got your mother out later.’ Cut her out from the tangled mess of metal, but he didn’t need to know that. ‘A priest from the local village was with her during her last moments.’ Maybe it would comfort him to know she’d received absolution and hadn’t died alone.

  ‘Thanks,’ murmured Luke as he turned his head away.

  It was a dismissal and Emer didn’t blame him. He needed time alone to absorb what he’d been told and to start mourning his mother. She stood up. ‘If you need to talk, just ask for me. I’ll look in on you tomorrow.’

  He didn’t respond. There was nothing more she could do for him at that moment. Now she had to find the father.

  Jack sat alone at a table in the Relatives’ Room, nursing a cup of cold coffee, his mind focused on Luke’s harsh, unjust words.

  ‘Mr Stewart?’

  Jack looked up to see a redhead, dressed in jeans and a Trinity College sweatshirt.

  ‘My name’s Emer Sullivan. I’m a counsellor. I’ve been talking with your son, Luke.’

  Jack fixed his gaze on the coffee in front of him. He was in no mood to talk to anyone, least of all a counsellor. Perhaps if he was silent, the woman would take the hint and go away.

  ‘That’s pretty much the same treatment I got from Luke,’ she said as she sat opposite him.

  When Jack glanced at her, he was pinned by the intensity of her gaze. She had green-yellow eyes, like a cat.

  ‘People react to grief in many different ways,’ Emer continued. ‘Some people keep busy. One widow I know cleans her entire house every day. The makers of bleach never had it so good. There are those who start a new life almost immediately, sell up and leave all the old ties, while others shut down, retreat into their grief, and let no one in.’

  ‘And then there are those like Luke, who throw things,’ said Jack. ‘How should I deal with that?’

  ‘You’ve both suffered a terrible shock. You’ve lost your wife. Luke’s lost his mother. The next few days are going to be critical. You need to find a way to talk to each other. I can help you do that.’

  She was well wide of the mark there. Thought she knew it all. ‘Look here, Oprah …’

  ‘Emer.’

  ‘Look here, Emer, I lost my wife over twenty years ago. She never told me I had a son. In fact, I’m not even sure he’s mine.’

  She didn’t look shocked, just thoughtful. ‘But you’re still here,’ she said. ‘You could have washed your hands of it all, but you didn’t. Why?’

  ‘To make sure he’s okay. To see if … if he needs anything. I’m not the total bastard he thinks I am.’ Although maybe he was. Because he wasn’t on a mercy mission. He’d come for his own reasons – looking for closure. He felt a tiny trickle of guilt. Looking out of the window, he saw dusk approaching. He was losing track of time in this place. Losing track of himself.<
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  ‘Luke is injured and grieving – and probably very frightened,’ said Emer. ‘Right now, he’s hiding behind anger, but that anger won’t last. And when it’s gone, he’ll have nothing left.’

  That made sense, but all Jack could see was Luke’s face. The hostility and the hatred. How could he fight that? He wouldn’t know where to start. Wouldn’t have the patience.

  ‘I’m sure you have questions for each other,’ said Emer. ‘I’ll talk to him tomorrow – try to persuade him to see you.’

  ‘Good luck,’ Jack murmured, unable to keep the bitterness from his voice.

  ‘Mr Stewart, look at me.’

  He looked at her determined face.

  ‘I know how hard this is for you, but if you walk away now, you won’t get answers and that will eat away at you for the rest of your life. I know – I’ve seen what regret does to people. Stay a while longer. Don’t give up on Luke. He needs you, whether he knows it or not.’

  Her expression was kind. She wasn’t judging him, just trying to help. Perhaps she could work some kind of miracle. ‘Do you know a good hotel?’ he asked, and she smiled. That turned out to be quite a reward in itself.

  Chapter Two

  When Emer arrived to see Luke the next day, he was sitting up in bed, supported by a mound of pillows, and pushing pudding around a dish. She pointed at it. ‘Don’t touch that custard. It’s lethal. You’ll wish they’d left the drip in.’

  He responded with a half-hearted smile.

  ‘I’m Emer,’ she said, pulling up a chair and sitting down. ‘I came to see you yesterday. D’you remember?’

  ‘Sure. You’re the shrink. Come to see if I’m mad or not.’

  He was mock cheerful. Raising barriers, just like his father. ‘I’ve come to see how you’re feeling,’ she said.

  ‘Me? I’m feelin’ fine. Thanks for askin’.’ Luke shifted his gaze to the window where a steady rain streaked across the glass. Emer watched it with him. Most people found extended silences uncomfortable, and the discomfort forced them to speak. It took a little longer than usual with Luke, but eventually he turned to face her. ‘Aren’t you goin’ to show me ink blots?’ he asked.

  ‘Why would I do that?’

  ‘Isn’t that what psychiatrists do?’

  ‘I’m not a psychiatrist. I’m a trauma counsellor. It’s a little different. I try to help …’

  ‘I don’t need any help,’ he said, picking up his spoon and sloshing the custard around again.

  ‘I think you might, Luke. Shall I tell you why?’ The spoon slowed. He was listening. ‘You’ve been badly injured. You’ve lost your mother. You could suffer sleeplessness, nightmares, flashbacks, guilt or panic attacks. And – last, but by no means least – your father shows up for the first time ever and you’re angry about that.’

  ‘Damn right I’m angry!’ The spoon clattered onto the tray. ‘Wouldn’t you be?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s not me it happened to. Why are you angry?’

  He threw up his hands in frustration. ‘For Christ’s sake, isn’t it obvious? The bastard didn’t want me when I was born so sure as hell won’t now.’

  ‘Then why is he here?’

  Luke hesitated but then maintained his resistance. ‘I don’t know! Guilt? Maybe he wants to be seen doin’ the right thing? Why don’t you ask him?’

  ‘Why don’t you ask him?’

  ‘Because I don’t want to talk to him. I don’t even want to look at him – ever.’

  ‘That’s a shame, because then you’ll never know.’

  ‘Know what?’

  ‘Why he came all this way, why he sat by your bedside waiting for you to wake up. He didn’t need to, so why did he?’

  ‘I told you, I don’t know, and I don’t care.’

  He sounded weary but she persevered. ‘Luke, you have a chance to ask him why he wasn’t around for you. Maybe you won’t like his answer, and you won’t want him in your life. That’s your choice. But I think not to have at least one conversation with him is a mistake.’

  Emer studied him. He seemed torn, maybe between curiosity and a desire for revenge. The latter might satisfy him for a while, but then he’d never have proper resolution or closure. She willed him to take a risk.

  ‘I can’t,’ he said, rubbing his hand over his eyes. ‘Just the thought of him makes me mad. I’d end up punchin’ him, I know it.’

  ‘Well, I can be here with you, if you like,’ she offered. ‘I used to referee girls’ football teams. I know when to show the red card.’

  He gave a wry smile. ‘Girls can’t play football. Too scared of breakin’ their nails.’

  ‘Cheeky bugger. Show me a bunch of men defending a free kick and I’ll show you real fear.’

  ‘I’m good at football.’

  Evasion again, but she’d indulge him.

  ‘I used to dream of playin’ football for Manchester United. And Ireland. Earnin’ millions. People chantin’ my name and buyin’ shirts with Kiernan on the back.’

  She could identify with that. ‘I dreamed of doing backing vocals for Take That. Used to mime to their songs using my hairbrush as a microphone. I was devastated they split up before they discovered me.’

  He smiled and Emer was tempted to leave things there, but she remembered her promise to Jack. ‘C’mon, Luke. What’s there to lose? Just listen to what your father has to say.’

  He was quiet for so long that Emer thought she’d lost the argument, but he surprised her.

  ‘Okay – on condition you’ll be there, like you said.’

  That was a given. Luke and his father really did need a referee. ‘I promise.’

  He nodded. ‘I owe it to Mam to make sure he doesn’t get away with what he did.’

  The edge in his voice left Emer in no doubt that Luke Kiernan was much tougher than he looked.

  As Jack walked through the hotel lobby, the muscles in his neck were knotting again. So much for that massage in the hotel spa. He’d also managed twenty laps in the pool and some time on the treadmill. Trying to exercise his demons. He almost laughed aloud at that but dreadful puns didn’t mask the fact the ‘exorcism’ hadn’t worked. He couldn’t block out Luke’s words, or the memories of Annie.

  Emer had arranged a three o’clock showdown. She’d be there as well, at Luke’s request. Too scared to be alone with his wicked father? It was so bloody unfair.

  He got to the hospital fifteen minutes early and went into the foyer shop to buy chocolate and fruit, not quite sure why he was bothering. Because it was the thing to do, he supposed.

  ‘I hope the patient feels better soon,’ smiled the assistant.

  ‘Me too,’ Jack said, and meant it. He had a job and a life to get back to. Now if he could just get some answers …

  Seeing Luke again was a shock. Jack had tried to forget how much he looked like Annie. The long lashes, the hair colour – the far-too-discerning blue eyes. It was unnerving. Luke was scowling at him, chin jutting defiantly. Emer, seated on the other side of the bed, was smiling encouragement. It was like good cop, bad cop.

  Jack put the fruit on the bedside locker. ‘Vitamins,’ he said. Then he held up the chocolate. ‘This won’t do any harm either.’

  Luke said nothing. Probably guessed it was just for show.

  Jack sat down, scooting the chair back slightly as he gauged the distance between himself and the water jug. He cleared his throat. ‘First off, I’m sorry about your mother, Luke – truly sorry.’

  ‘Sure you are.’

  ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ Jack was being sincere, and the little git was mocking him.

  ‘Course you’re sorry,’ Luke replied. ‘You’re afraid you might be saddled with me.’

  There was some truth to that. Deep down, Jack wanted to get a
way with giving the kid money, setting him up in a job somewhere. Not having to see him on any regular basis. Perhaps not having to see him at all because Luke’s face was Annie’s face, and the similarity was too painful. ‘Is that what you think?’ he asked, stalling for time.

  ‘It’s what I know,’ was the response. ‘You didn’t want me before, so don’t pretend you do now.’

  There was that accusation again. ‘I already told you – until yesterday, I didn’t know you existed.’

  ‘That’s a good one,’ Luke retorted, ‘but not what I heard.’

  ‘Then you heard wrong!’

  Luke’s eyes flashed, and Jack was startled again by the hostility there. ‘Don’t call my mother a liar!’

  Emer put her hand on Luke’s arm to calm him, giving Jack a warning glance.

  This was hopeless. He was only making things worse. ‘I’m sorry, Luke. You obviously don’t want me around. Do you know where your uncles are? I can call them.’

  Luke shook his head, his eyes wide. ‘No! I don’t want them here!’

  He seemed panic-stricken, his breathing rapid. Not just panic, though. Fear.

  ‘Calm down,’ said Jack. ‘I won’t call them. I don’t even know where they are. Just relax, okay?’

  ‘I think that’s enough for today,’ said Emer, but Jack wasn’t finished. He’d been unjustly accused. He couldn’t shrug that off. Perhaps now Luke had exhausted himself, he’d have a chance to speak.

  ‘Luke, you have to believe me when I tell you I never knew Annie had a child.’ Luke sighed and closed his eyes. But he couldn’t close his ears. He would hear what Jack had to say. ‘I don’t know why your mother told you what she did. She must have had her reasons, but what do I do? Let you keep believing I threw her out? There was obviously a huge misunderstanding. I was working a lot – maybe too much. Perhaps she told me what was troubling her, and it didn’t register.’

  It was the best he could come up with, though it could be true. He’d probably never know. There was no response from Luke. The meeting had been a waste of time. Jack left, feeling bitter disappointment.