Sin Worth the Penance

by M. J. Schiller

  All because of money. It was a hard pill to swallow.

  Chapter 12

  Killian

  It was a gorgeous summer day. The best Ireland had to offer. And Bridey was coming home from the hospital.

  She insisted on returning to her house, said no one was going to take that from her, though I couldn’t imagine going back to the place where it all happened. The cleaning company did a fine job. We’d replaced Bridey’s comforter, finding one as close to the old one as possible. We got another kitchen chair to match the one the sorry bastards broke, and a table, which was also destroyed. We took a collection at the pub. It’s not that we didn’t have the funds to do it ourselves, but so many folks asked to help out, and Deirdre thought it would benefit them to be able to contribute. I snuck in early in the morning and put a vase of flowers on her new table. Just some wildflowers I found near the cliff, but I thought they might cheer her some.

  We’d debated if replacing things to exactly the way we found them would be comforting—as that was the way it’d been since she was a child—or disturbing, as that was the way it was the night of her beating. In the end, Deirdre asked her outright, and Bridey thought having it the same would be best and said she would change it if she needed to.

  Paddy and Deirdre gave me the honor of driving her home, as long as I took her into the pub later. They had a welcome home banner behind the bar, and I knew the place would be packed with the regulars who missed her. When I got to her room at the hospital, she was up and sitting in a chair.

  “Well, look at ya.” I crossed to her, took her shoulders, and gave her a kiss on the head before lowering my mouth to her ear. “You’re not ready to get out of here, are ya?”

  She smacked me with her good hand. “Ya know damned well I am. What took ya so long, Murphey?”

  “What?” I raised my eyebrows. “Am I late?”

  “No.” She frowned, flopping into the chair. “They haven’t even given me my discharge papers yet.”

  I took hold of the arms of her chair and leaned toward her with a smile. “Let me see if I can speed that up.”

  She grinned. “Thanks.”

  I turned to go.

  “Wait.”

  I spun around.

  She stood and sauntered over to me, putting her good hand on my hip. A jolt of surprise coupled with something else zapped through my system. “How ’bout giving me a real kiss?”

  Even though her lips healed days ago, I was so afraid to hurt her, unable to forget how fragile she was at one point. Coughing had been enough to make her cry during those first days. I slowly bent in and brushed my lips over hers.

  She stretched to play with my hair, which was in need of a cut and curly. “Ya can do better than that, Murphey.” She tilted her head and drew me in to her. The kiss radiated to my toes, and back up, out to the very ends of the curls she was fiddling with. My natural response was to seize her by the waist and continued what she started.

  A rap came from behind us and we broke apart, though still staring into each other’s eyes. Hers danced with a fire I hadn’t seen in a while.

  Someone cleared their throat. “Huh. I take it you’re ready to go home?” Dr. Duggan chuckled. He made it a point to be there when it was time for her to leave. He passed her a pink sheet of paper. “Here’s your get out of jail free card. You follow those instructions to a T, Miss Bridey.”

  She saluted him. “Aye. I will, sir.”

  “Ahh. Get out of here,” he said, giving her a hug. In the two weeks she’d been in the hospital—counting her added surgeries for her hand—she’d made some new friends. They were as astounded as we were by her ability to remain positive after what happened to her.

  “Ya take care of her, Mr. Murphey. She’s been an ideal patient. We need more like her.”

  I shook his hand. “Thank you so much for all ya did.”

  “My pleasure. Please be sure to tell your aunt and uncle goodbye for me.”

  “Will do. All right, m’lady.” I offered her my arm but was on her cast side and was forced to move to the other.

  “Are ya certain ya have this?” the doctor said with raised brows.

  “I have it. I have it.”

  I managed to get her in the car without incident. I started the engine, but before pulling out I turned to her. “Ya look great, by the way.”

  “Oh. You’re mad as a ditch.” She flipped the visor down and studied her reflection in the mirror. “It’s like someone took yellow highlighter to my skin.”

  The bruises had yellowed, but not gone. Once some of the swelling and other bruising went down, a darker set of bruises showed clear fingermarks circling her throat. When I asked her about it, she said that’s what she got for nutting one of ’em.

  I ran the back of my hand along her face, overwhelmed with tenderness. “I think you’re the most beautiful woman on the planet.”

  She blinked, and her mouth hung open for a second, then she shoved me. “Ahh. Ya hang around a poor class of women then.”

  “Not so. Not so.” I stretched toward her. “And none of them can kiss the way you do.”

  “Oh?” she said coyly. “Maybe it’s because you inspire me.”

  I stole a few more smooches and closed my eyes as I was parted from her. “I missed that.”

  She beamed at me. “Me, too.”

  We had a grand old time chatting on the way home, but as we drew closer to her gaff, she became quieter. She’d broken down a few days ago and admitted she was scared to clean the mess. I told her we hired someone to do it, and she seemed relieved. Then she felt bad about the expense. When we got there, I hopped out and got the backpack of things we’d brought for her out of the boot. She opened her door and stood staring at the house but not moving. She shook herself as I approached, closed the car door, and ambled along the path. She fumbled getting her key out, and she was shaking as she went to slide it into the lock. I placed my hand over hers.

  “Ya don’t have to do this.”

  She continued to look down, blinking rapidly. “I do.” She drew a breath, then swiveled her head to reassure me. “I’m fine.”

  I wasn’t sure if she was convincing herself or me.

  She opened the door and stepped in, then stopped abruptly. “Oh, you got a new table and chairs.” I saw it on her face. She wasn’t seeing that table, she was remembering how the last one was broken by her falling body. “It’s nice.” She glanced around, swallowing. “Everything is so nice. Thank you, Killian.”

  “Everyone at Murphey’s chipped in to get stuff for ya. And a pretty sizable lump is put away for your medical expenses, too.”

  “Oh.” Her hands flew to her heart. “That’s so kind. I’m touched. Truly, I am.” She spotted the flowers on the table, and a ghost of a smile crossed her face. “And who did the flowers?”

  “Uhh…that was me.”

  Her smile grew wider. She picked up the vase and smelled them. “They’re from the cliff.” She glowed.

  “That they are.”

  She set them on the table and strolled over to me. I was mesmerized by her. That fire she had was so…enticing. She put her hand behind my neck and teased me with a kiss. I wished her other arm was free. The cast separated us far too much. “Thank you. Thank you for everything ya did. For visiting me. Giving me a ride home.” Her gaze ran between my eyes. “For being a friend to me when I needed one most.”

  “It surely wasn’t a trial.”

  She turned around and walked away. “I don’t know about that. There were lots of miles you drove, time ya spent, it was—” She froze, facing the bed. Her breathing quickened, and her body trembled. I came up behind her and gripped her shoulders.

  “It’s all right. I’m here. No one’s going to hurt ya.” I laid my forehead on her back, both to comfort her and because the whole thing made me so sad.

  “Kill—” She took a deep breath. “Killian. Can I ask you an odd favor?”

  “You can ask me anything.” And if it is in my power,
I will do it for ya.

  “Would ya…ahh. I probably shouldn’t ask ya this.” She spun away from the bed and faced the windows on the opposite side of the room, rubbing her arms.

  I came in front of her and wrapped my fingers around her biceps. “Bridget. Ask me.”

  “Would ya—I know it’s pure crazy—but could ya, maybe, lay down with me? On the bed? I’m not suggesting anything improper. It’s just—”

  “Of course I will.”

  “Ya will?” The tension left her face, and her shoulders relaxed some.

  I bent and swept her off her feet, being careful to avoid her cast. “Dr. Duggan would have my ass if he knew I did that.”

  She chuckled. Which is what I’d hoped she’d do.

  I laid her gently on the bed. “Now. What side do you want me on?”

  She thought about it. “My right.” She started to scootch her backside to the left.

  I frowned. “Careful.”

  She smirked. “I’ve got it.”

  I got in next to her, and she lifted so I could slide my arm around her. I bent the other under my head on the pillow. “Do ya need a blanket?”

  She turned carefully on her side, plopping her cast on me.

  “Oof!”

  “Sorry,” she said, though she wasn’t. “I need no blanket. I have you ta keep me warm.” Her leg came over mine.

  I bent my neck to see her grinning up at me. “I like the sound of that.” I kissed her. “Mmm. Ya know, I don’t think ya gave this whole ‘improper’ thing enough of a chance.” I’ll admit to wanting her and knowing that was a long ways off. She needed time to heal. Physically and emotionally. Psychologically, after what they did to her.

  She giggled. It was music to my ears. She snuggled in tighter. “Ya know, Killian. I really…care about ya. You’ve been so sweet. You’re kind. And caring. Not like anyone I’ve ever met before. …Except Paddy and Deir’. And Tag, sometimes.”

  “Well, I really care about you, too. A great deal, in fact.”

  She tipped her chin up to peer at me. “Thank you.” She yawned. “This is nice. So good to be out of a hospital bed.”

  “I bet.” I played with her hair. “Go to sleep, angel. Ya need your rest.”

  “Just for maybe twenty minutes.” Her voice sounded tired. “Then, could I talk ya into going with me to the pub?”

  “Talk me into it? You know how many points I’d score walking in with a fine thing like yourself on my arm?”

  She yawned and nudged me. “Oh, stop. I look like a freaking monster.”

  “No, ya don’t.” I put my hand under her chin and lifted her face. “Bridey, no amount of cuts or bruises could dim your fire. You’re a beautiful woman, inside and out.”

  Her chin quivered. “You say…the nicest things.” She ducked her head and played with a button on my shirt. “No one, not a single person, has ever talked to me the way ya do.”

  “Well, that there’s a sin, Bridget. Because ya deserve so much better.”

  She was quiet. I thought for a second she’d fallen asleep. “Sometimes I wonder if I do.”

  “Well, take it from me. You do.” I continued to run my fingers through her silky tresses. How do ya show someone who’s been taught they’re nothing that they mean everything to ya? And suddenly, I knew it. I wanted her to be part of my life. I wanted to take her as my wife. Gawd, I never thought I’d be there again. Yet there I was.

  She was perfectly still. Soft breaths came out of her mouth. So much different from the night we took her to the hospital. I closed my eyes and gave a sigh of relief. We were so lucky. And as I lay there, images of the room as I saw it, looking in the windows when the guards were there, invaded my mind. Now knowing what happened in these walls, I couldn’t escape the thoughts. And, aye, she was shaken, but she was amazingly strong. I guess that happens to someone when their life has always been rough.

  I listened to her breathing and it comforted me some, but not enough to erase the horrors the room still held. I couldn’t sleep.

  Chapter 13

  Bridey

  I opened my eyes, and the room was murky. I sprang up, sending a shooting pain along my arm. “Shite!”

  “What? What’s wrong?”

  I think I scared the living daylights out of him. I pushed myself to the edge of the bed. Hard to do with one hand. “I’m going to be late for work.”

  “Bridey. I think it’ll be all right.”

  I finally got to my feet. “It’s not gonna be all right. They’re gonna be shorthanded. Where’s my apron?” I searched around, then muttered, “Course, they’ll be shorthanded when I get there, too. Where is that damned thing?”

  He was grinning, which annoyed me. “By the door.”

  “Oh, good.” I spun. “Get your ass out of bed, Murphey. I have work to do.”

  He chuckled. “I’m coming. I’m coming.”

  I kissed him when he got to the door. “Thank you.”

  “For?”

  I slapped his tight little tush. “For being here for me.”

  He put his arm over my shoulder. “Come on. They’re waiting for us.”

  “You’re the slug-abed.”

  Walking to work with him—his arm around my shoulder, or holding hands—was the best. Life is strange. I had one of my lowest lows, and now was at one of my highest highs, within weeks of each other. When I opened the door to Murphey’s, I closed my eyes and inhaled deeply through my nose. The familiar smell of peat smoke mingled with pipe smoke (we were a trifle loose with the smoking ban, being in such a remote area), freshly poured Guinness, and warm Irish stew and soda bread about made me cry. This was home.

  I started to circle the bar to hang my cape up and get to work but noticed the banner strung from end-to-end and came to an abrupt halt.

  “Hey! Bridey’s back!”

  A shout went up, and I was swarmed by customers, mostly older men with more time to devote to pubbing.

  Johnny O’Toole clapped me on the shoulder. “Good to have ya home, old gal.”

  “Place ain’t been the same without ya,” sweet Rory McDermott, Bre’s da, added, giving me a hug.

  “How’s the form, Bridey?” someone called out.

  I cocked a hip and ran a hand along my side. “Better than ever, boys.”

  Oh, they hooted about that.

  “And look at that banner.”

  Paddy came out to greet me. “There’s a cake, too.” He hugged me and gave me a huge squeeze. “We missed ya, Bridey.”

  “I missed the lot of you, too.” When I pulled away, I could see tears in the old man’s eyes. “Oh, now, Paddy. Don’t ya make me cry.” He owned my heart, that man. Kindest soul God ever created.

  Hugging him to my hip, I addressed everybody. “Aren’t ya all a thoughtful bunch? I’ve a mind to kiss every one of ya.”

  “Start with me,” Brody O’Keefe hollered from the end, and everyone fell out.

  “I’m gonna do just that, Brody.”

  I gave him a smacking kiss on the cheek, then worked my way down the bar. I’d never felt so loved in my life. They were so tender and mindful of my arm, offering all kinds of support.

  “Now, Bridey. If you’re ever needing anything about the house, ya let me know,” Braeden Walsh volunteered.

  “And if’n you’re needing any help around the bedroom,” his stoolmate, Ryan Mac Ateer informed me, slurring a trace, “ya give me a call, love.” He stuck his puss out for a kiss and frowned when it landed on his forehead and not his lips.

  “You’re three sheets to the wind, Ryan Mac Ateer, and I’ll have none of your shenanigans. But I love ya.”

  I could barely make out his words over the roar of laughter. “I love ya, too, gal,” he said sincerely.

  I continued along my way, finding a shot waiting at about every other seat. “Ho. I keep going like this,” I said to the crowd. “I’ll wind up like Ryan, there. As knackered as a brewery mouse.” I raised my glass. “A toast.”

  Everyone lifted whate
ver drink they had and quieted. “May the winds of fortune sail ya, may ya sail a gentle sea.”

  “Aye!” someone shouted.

  “May it always be the other guy who says, ‘this drink’s on me.’”

  Responses rang out.

  “Hear, hear!”

  “That’s a good un, Miss Bridey.”

  “Truer words ’ve ne’er been spoken.”

  Downing the Bailey’s, which they all seemed to know was my favorite shot, I moved on to the next stool and found it occupied by Killian. He tilted his head. “Come now. Ya said a kiss for everyone.”

  I slipped between his legs. “Oh, you shall have yours.” I planted a kiss on him that would’ve made me scarlet on most occasions.

  “Hey!” Ryan shouted while we were still lip-locked. “Ya didn’t kiss me like that!”

  I was getting a mite carried away with Killian, but the man could kiss the lips off an angel. He pulled away finally and spoke in my ear. “Ya keep kissing me like that, and I’ll be forced to disgrace the both of us in public.”

  The words I said would have been in jest were I speaking to anyone else. “I’m game to give it a go anytime ya want, boyo.”

  He drew back and studied my face, then leaned in again, laying his cheek against mine and murmuring, “You get yourself healed, and I’m going to take you up on that.”

  A fire rose inside. I stood and looked him straight in the eye. “I don’t think I can wait that long.”

  He groaned as I walked away.

  Mick Callahan held up his fiddle as I was passing by. “Favor us with a song?” A few others joined him in coaxing me.

  “Not now fellas, I need to get to work.”

  Paddy, who was behind the bar, spread his arms out wide on the wood top. “Come on, Bridey. Ya ain’t sang in ages.”

  I glanced at Killian, who mouthed, “You sing?”

  I shrugged. “Sort of.”

  “What’ll it be, Bridey?” Mick already held his fiddle to his shoulder.