by Chloe Walsh
"Joey," Dad said from the driver's seat as he started the engine and pulled away from the house. "You're going to come home with us now, okay?"
He started to shake violently, but didn't respond. Keeping his eyes clenched shut, Joey placed his hands on his knees to steady himself.
"We're going to take care of you," Dad continued, keeping his voice calm and steady. "And that's not me asking you, son – that's me telling you."
"I should have been here," he whispered, trembling. "It's my job to keep them safe."
"They are safe." Reaching over, I slung an arm around his shoulders. "And so are you."
"No." He shook his head and I watched as a tear trickled down his cheek. "It was my job to keep her safe."
"They're going to hate me," Joey hissed, backing away from the sitting room door when we finally managed to coax him from the car into the house. "I can't do it. They're going to blame me –"
He spun around to leave, but my father clamped his hands down on his shoulders, forcing him to keep eye contact with him. "Nobody could hate you," Dad coaxed, keeping ahold of Joey for fear he would run. It was a very big possibility with this guy. He was a flight risk. "And no one is blaming you for anything."
"Get off –" Breaking free from my father's hold, he heaved violently. "I don't want you to touch me."
"It's okay," Dad replied calmly. "You're safe."
"I fucked it all," he strangled out, gripping his hair with his hands. "I fucked it all."
"Then we'll fix it," Dad replied. "I can help you, Joey, but you need to let me."
"I don't need your help," he choked out. "I just need –" He glanced around wildly, looking cornered and frightened. Backing up a couple of steps, he ran a hand through his sooty hair and asked, "Where's Shan?" Shaking, he looked around once more, clearly agitated and frightened. "Where's my sister?"
"She's upstairs sleeping," I told him, trying to keep my voice steady. "In my room. You can go up to her if you want, lad," I coaxed, edging closer to him with my hands up. "Whatever you want to do –"
"Don't touch me," he spat, batting at my father's hand when he reached for him. Looking startled, he shook his head and hissed, "Just…just stay back."
"Joey, it's okay," I coaxed, closing the space between us. "You're okay –"
"Don't fucking touch me!" he hissed again, shoving at my chest. "I don't want –"
The sitting room door swung open before he had a chance to finish his sentence and my mother appeared in the doorway. "Oh, Joey, love," Mam sobbed, moving straight for Joey. Not stopping until her hands were cupping his cheeks, my mother looked up at him. "Oh, my poor sweetheart," she soothed, pulling his head down to rest on her shoulder. "Come here to me."
Holding my breath, I watched him warily, praying that he didn't do anything in this moment to make me have to hurt him. If he lashed out at my mother, grief stricken or not, I would lose my bleeding mind.
Exhaling a ragged breath, he slumped against her, arms shooting out to clutch her tightly. "What am I going to do?"
"I'm here," Mam whispered in his ear as she stroked his hair and rubbed his back. "Shh, I'm right here for you, Joey, love."
"You came back," Ollie sobbed as he came running out of the sitting room. "Tadhg! Joey's here." Mam stepped aside just as Ollie threw himself at his brother. "I knew you'd come back," he cried. "I told them all."
"O-ee," Sean wailed, toddling into the hallway with his hands out. "O-ee!"
Sinking to his knees on the hallway tiles, Joey scooped his baby brother into his arms. "I'm sorry, Seany-boo." Sniffling, he hooked an arm around Ollie and held both boys to his chest. "I'm so sorry, Ol."
"Mammy's in heaven," Ollie cried. "The Gards said Daddy took her away."
Sniffing, Joey nodded and pulled them closer. "It's okay."
Mam buried her face in my father's chest, sobbing quietly. "Shh," Dad whispered, wrapping an arm around her. "It's okay, baby."
"But she's gone," Ollie wept. "Gone to heaven without us."
"Mammy," Sean cried. "Mammy gone."
"She's not gone, guys," Joey whispered, sniffling. "She's just an angel now instead."
"An angel?" Ollie sniffled, looking up at Joey. "With wings?"
"Yeah. Big, beautiful wings," he choked out, wiping his cheek against his shoulder. "A special angel just for you."
"Daddy?" Sean asked, looking wary. "Ow, ow."
"Daddy's all gone," Joey promised. "No more ow, Sean."
"Mammy's an angel?" Ollie whispered, sounding almost reverent. "Wow."
"Yeah, and she's watching you right now," Joey continued to speak in a low, hushed voice to his brothers. "She doesn't want to see you crying. That would m-make her sad. You need to be h-happy–" his voice broke off and he dragged in several sharp breaths before continuing, "Think happy thoughts, okay?"
"You left." Tadhg's sharp voice came from the sitting room doorway. Tears dripped down his cheeks as he stared at Joey, jaw jutting out. "You fucking left us!"
"Leave him alone," Ollie defended, sniffling. "He's back now."
"O-ee, no go," Sean croaked out. "O-ee stay with Sean."
"I know," Joey choked out, voice trembling, as he stared back at his brother. "I'm sorry."
"I hate you!" A small sob of pain tore from Tadhg's throat, and then he was running, barreling against Joey, folding himself up in his big brother's arms. "I fucking hate you," Tadhg sobbed as he clung to Joey. "I hate you so much."
"I know." Clenching his eyes shut, Joey held all three boys against him. "Me, too."
"You found him," Darren said, voice thick with emotion and relief, as he stood in the doorway where Tadhg had just been, eyes locked on my father. "Thank you." Staggering forward, he hesitated for the briefest moment before couching down beside his brothers. "Hey, Joe."
"Hey, Dar," Joey whispered, green eyes glued to his brother.
"You okay?"
Joey shook his head and his face contorted in pain.
"Look at me –" Cupping his face in his hands, Darren pressed his forehead to Joey's and exhaled a ragged breath. "You did more for her than anyone else."
Joey clenched his eyes shut. "I didn't do enough –"
"You did," Darren corrected, voice hoarse and raspy. "You are the reason they survived as long as they did. Not me or anyone else. Just you."
Tears trickled down his cheeks. "No, I should have been there –"
"You," he repeated. "You couldn't have done anything more."
Silently, Mam and Dad ushered Tadhg, Ollie, and Sean back into the sitting room, giving Darren and Joey some privacy.
"I left them," Joey strangled out, dropping his head on Darren's shoulder. "I did that to them. Me. I walked away."
"You didn't leave anyone," Darren whispered, smoothing his hand over his brother's head. "You just took a time-out."
"I'm in trouble, Darren," he squeezed out through sobs. "I've got a problem and I can't stop."
"I know," Darren soothed, holding onto him. "We'll get you some help, Joe. I promise."
"He did it," Joey choked out, crying hard now. "He finally finished her off –" His voice cracked and he heaved a huge sob. "Jesus Christ, he burned her alive…"
The sound of a car engine came from outside and I spun around and moved shakily for the door. I couldn't be in here. I couldn't listen to their pain another second. Yanking the front door open, I practically ran out into the night, staggering away from the house in my bid to get some clarity.
When my eyes landed on the silver Ford Focus parking up outside, and the familiar blond head climbing out, I felt my body give out beneath me.
"I've got you, Johnny," Gibsie said, wrapping his arms around me just before I collapsed in a heap. "I'm right here, lad," he whispered, lowering us both to the gravel. "Let it out."
So, I did.
"You saved their lives, Johnny," Gibsie stated when I'd managed to compose myself enough to tell him what had happened. We were sitting, side by side, in our old, battered treehous
e down the back field from my house, looking out as the sun rose over the mountains. "All of them."
"You should have seen the baby, lad. He was soaked in whiskey." Shuddering, I hooked my arms around my knees and swallowed down a scream. "At the time, I didn't even think about it – I just thought that drunk bastard spilled his drink on him or something." I shook my head, feeling lost and bewildered. "It didn't click in my mind, Gibs."
"Why would it?" he replied, mirroring my actions. "Who does something like that?"
"Him," I muttered, still reeling.
Gibsie sighed heavily. "Are they all in your house now?"
"Yeah, they're inside with my folks. I just… I had to get out and get some breathing space." I shrugged helplessly. "It's too upsetting."
"You did good, Johnny," he replied quietly.
"She was right there," I choked out, eyes filling with tears. "Looking right in my eyes. I told her I would come back for her." I clenched my eyes shut and shuddered at the memory. "She looked resigned, Gibs. Like she knew."
"She probably did know, lad," he told me. "And you must have given that lady some serious peace. Seeing her kids getting out? Knowing that they would be safe? You gave that to her, lad. She couldn't go anywhere. She knew that. The whole place was rigged to blow. If she had tried to leave with you and he lit that match, you'd have all burned to death before you had a chance to blink– you and Sean included."
"Why would he do that?" I hissed, shivering at the realization of how close to death I'd come. "Why would anybody do that, Gibs?
"I don't know, Johnny," he replied.
"It doesn't make any sense," I strangled out.
"No," he agreed with a heavy sigh. "It doesn't."
"I'm so freaked out," I confessed, biting down on my lip. "I keep thinking, what if he turned around when we were in the hall?" I shivered again. "What the hell would have happened to those kids –"
"But that didn't happen because you got them out," Gibsie reminded me. "You're all safe, lad."
"She got them out, too." I turned to face him. "She helped me, lad, and I know that sounds fucked up, but she did. It was like she was…willing me to get them out of the house." I shuddered. "And once I did? She just turned around and went back to him. She… sacrificed herself for those kids. For me…"
"Shit," he whispered.
"Yeah." I nodded. "Shite."
We sat in silence for several minutes before Gibsie finally rose from his feet and moved for the ladder. "I better make tracks," he said. "My Mam will be in meltdown mode."
"Gibs?"
"Yeah, lad?"
"Don't go home yet, okay?"
He paused on the ladder, hands clasping the wooden frame, and I watched as a multitude of emotions flashed across his features. Finally, he climbed back up and reclaimed the space beside me. "You know, if you wanted to watch the sun come up with me, you only had to say, lad," he mused, nudging my shoulder with his.
"Yeah," I choked out a hollow laugh. "That's what it is."
69
Rebuilding
Johnny
"What are you doing up there, lad?" Gibsie asked on Friday afternoon when he found me down the field at the back of the house. It had been four days since the fire, since Shannon and her brothers' world had collapsed and I'd never felt more helpless in my life. The sun was splitting the stones and I'd been out here since dawn broke and the crying re-started. Sick to death of social workers and the Gardaí, not to mention family friends and relatives, I kept my distance from the house. Nothing I said or did seemed to be helping matters anyway, so I decided to remove myself from the situation. Not far enough that I couldn't come back if she needed me, but enough to give her some space with her family.
Besides, people had been calling to the house all day, every day since it happened, and if I had to hear the 'you're a hero, young man' spiel one more time, I was going to lose my shit. I was no hero; I loved my girlfriend and I did what any other lad in my position would have done.
"You're afraid of heights, Johnny," Gibsie reminded me, like it was something I could easily forget. "And you're up pretty high there, buddy."
"I'm revamping our old treehouse," I replied as I dangled from a branch of the old oak, with a hammer and nails in hand. "And I'm not afraid of heights," I bit out. "I'm warily cautious of anything that poses the threat of me plummeting to my death."
"Makes sense." With his hands on his hips, Gibsie stared up at me, expression thoughtful. "So, why are we revamping the fort?"
"Because I need to do something," I explained. "And I can't do anything in the house."
"You been to training today?"
"Nope."
"The gym?"
"Nope."
He signed heavily. "Johnny…"
"I need to do this, Gibs," I choked out, voice thick with emotion. I felt useless and it didn't bode well with me. I couldn't fix this for her and I couldn't change what had happened. "I need to fix something."
"Then we'll fix it," Gibsie replied simply. "I'll call the lads."
Within an hour, Hughie and Feely had arrived on one of Feely's father's tractors and trailers, drawing old boards and planks of timber. "Hope you don't mind, Cap, but my Mam's after pulling up with Claire and Lizzie," Hughie puffed as he hauled a tractor tire off the back of the trailer and rolled it over to the trunk of the tree. "They're gone inside."
"Pity about Lizzie the viper," Gibsie grumbled, throwing some old boards off to the side. "I hope she's in good spirits."
I shrugged, not breaking my stride, as I ripped the flooring off the old treehouse and tossed the boards down to Gibsie. "Can't hurt."
After that, we all worked in silence. I didn't think any of us wanted to be inside right now. I couldn't leave her, but I couldn't fix this, and the guilt I was feeling was drowning me. It was insurmountable and I was close to my breaking point. Throughout the afternoon and evening, Mam popped in and out with trays of sandwiches and flasks of tea, but none of us broke stride long enough to make small talk.
"When's the funeral?" Feely asked after a couple of hours of working together in companionable silence.
"After twelve o' clock mass on Monday," I replied, feeling my chest squeeze tight at the thought. "They only got the bodies back this morning – with the post mortems they had to perform and all that shite."
"So, the rosary is tomorrow night, and the removal is on Sunday?"
I nodded stiffly. "It's a closed funeral –obviously, it will be closed coffins, too."
Feely sighed heavily. "Shit, lad."
"Yeah." Wiping my brow with my forearm, I exhaled a heavy sigh. "Throw me up a bottle of water, will ya?" Locking my legs around the limb I was balancing on, I whipped off my t-shirt and tossed it away. "I'm bleeding melting up here."
"You're not the only one sweating your tits off," Feely grumbled, throwing a bottle up to me. "I'm as a red as a lobster."
I peered down at his bare shoulders and winced. "Ah, lad. You should put some cream on your shoulders."
"I did," he growled. "We don't all tan like you, Cap."
I glanced down at myself and shrugged. "I'm not that tanned."
"Yet," Feely countered. "Give it a week of this weather and you'll look like you the spent the fecking summer in Oz."
"Ah now, don't be jealous, Pa. You have a grand farmer's tan," Gibsie offered. "Your arms are lovely."
"I am a farmer," Feely growled. "But thanks, Gibs. I appreciate the sentiment. Your arms are lovely, too."
"I'm lovely all over," Gibsie corrected, gesturing to his tanned chest. "I'm sallow skinned," he added with a wink. "The sun loves me."
"Good for you," Feely shot back huffily.
"Someone needs to tell your mother to bring the Child of Prague statue back inside, Pa," Hughie puffed. 'Tis hot enough and you won't be doing hay until June."
"She's superstitious," Feely said with a noncommittal shrug. "And they're at silage this week, so she won't be taking him out of the field for a while."
/> "Great," Hughie groaned. "We'll just swelter so."
"You guys are so fucking weird," I chuckled. "You seriously believe putting a little, holy statue out in a field brings the good weather?"
"You're damn straight we do, city boy," Gibsie shot back. "It's one-hundred percent effective. Same as when my nanny lights a candle for me before exams. It's bulletproof."
I rolled my eyes. "Culchies."
"Hey – what about Joey?" Hughie asked then. Covering his eyes from the sun, he looked up at me and asked, "What's happening there?"
I leaned down and grabbed another board off Gibsie before dragging it up and laying it down on the beams of the treehouse. "The treatment place are sending some guys down to escort him after the service on Monday."
"Jesus," Hughie muttered, rubbing his jaw. "What the hell was he thinking getting mixed up with drugs?"
"He was probably thinking his dad was a psycho prick who spent the best of his life beating the living shit out of him and he wanted an escape," Gibsie snapped, pulling his t-shirt out of the back of his jeans and using it to wipe his brow. "None of us know what he went through, Hugh, we haven't been in his shoes, so don't judge him."
"I'm not judging him," Hughie replied, holding his hands up. "I'm just sorry for him – for all of them. I remember when Shannon first started hanging around with Claire. He was so fucking prickly and protective of her. I could never figure it out. We didn't go to the same primary school or anything, but we were the same age and I couldn't understand why he cared so much about his little sister. I couldn't fucking stand Claire when we were small, but Joey? He kept Shannon with him everywhere he went. Now I know why."
"How long will he be gone?" Feely asked.
"The summer," I replied, feeling numb to the bone as I hammered the board down. "It's a ninety-day program, but it depends on how he copes. It might take longer. It might take less." Shrugging, I added, "He wants to do it."
"That's good," Gibsie agreed, tone steady, as he passed me up another board to hammer down. "He's only eighteen. He's got as good a chance as any of beating it."