SEAN: A Mafia Romance (The Callahans Book 3)

by Glenna Sinclair

  I lifted her hand to my lips and kissed her fingertips. She smiled, but pulled her hand away.

  “Stacy isn’t going to take my death well. You’ll have to watch out for her and make sure she keeps her head on straight.”

  “Killian was always her favorite. You should be telling this to him.”

  “Killian will be there for her. Eventually. But I think it’s going to take him a little while to come around.”

  “Momma—”

  “Kevin’s going to need some help, too. He’s always been so angry, and this is just pushing him over the edge. Promise me you’ll be there for him.”

  “You know I will be.”

  “And Kyle. Take care of Kyle. But don’t get so deep in taking care of your siblings that you forget about yourself.” She reached for my hand, squeezing it lightly. “I’m so proud of you for getting into law school. You make sure that you finish, that you do everything you’ve always wanted to do.”

  “I will, Momma.”

  “I love you, Sean. You were always my favorite.” She smiled softly. “When I was pregnant with you, you would kick like crazy every time I desperately needed a little comfort. And when you were a toddler, I’d be crying and you’d come over and give me a hug or cuddle with me until I was feeling better. You were so intuitive, so empathetic. I adored you so much.”

  I pulled the chair closer to the bed and leaned in close to her. “I love you. I don’t know what we’re going to do without you. You’re the one who’s always held us together.”

  “You’ll be fine. You’ll just have to learn to lean on one another a little better.”

  She closed her eyes for a long moment, her face contorted. She was in pain…it had never occurred to me that she was suffering until that moment, until I saw the pain on her face.

  “Momma…”

  She opened her eyes and continued as if nothing had happened. “Your father is quite capable of taking care of himself. But he’ll be devastated when everything is said and done. You’ll have to watch over him and make sure he doesn’t just give up on life.”

  “We will.”

  I rubbed her arm, and she smiled again, but the smile was weaker this time. She was fading.

  “Promise me you’ll take care of him.”

  “Pops?”

  “Promise me.”

  “I promise.”

  She studied my face a minute. “You’ll watch over your siblings and you’ll protect your father?”

  “I will.”

  She closed her eyes even as she patted my hand. “You’re a good boy, Sean.”

  She drifted off to sleep for a few minutes, the sound of her soft snores heartbreaking. I studied her face, softened by sleep, and tried to find my mother in it. But that woman was gone, eaten up by the cancer that was ravishing her body.

  I bit back tears again, cursing the doctors and the gods and whoever else crossed my mind for what was happening to her. After everything she’d done for so many children, to have her die this way, it was so undignified.

  I wanted to scream. I wanted to take her place, to allow her to continue living no matter what the cost. I wanted to make this stop and make everything okay for her, for the family, for everyone whose lives she’d touched and made better. I wanted my mom back.

  “I want to die,” she whispered.

  I thought for a moment that she was still asleep. But she was watching me through pain-filled eyes.

  “Momma—?”

  “The pain is unbearable. And the nausea is constant. I’m so weak that I can’t walk. I can’t sit up for too long. I can’t even go to the bathroom alone.”

  “But once you’ve gained a little weight—”

  “And how long will that last? Without this damn tube—which is so uncomfortable I can’t even begin to explain it—I’ll just continue to waste away.”

  I’d never heard my mother use a curse word before. And it had been a long time since I’d seen her cry. But now she was crying, great big tears that seemed to swallow her up.

  “Don’t cry, Momma,” I said, leaning close to the bed so that our heads were right next to one another. “Please.”

  “I’m sorry to do this to you, Sean, but I know you’re the only one.”

  “The only one, what? What are you talking about?”

  She touched my cheek lightly. “I can’t do it anymore. And your father…he’s going to do everything he can to ensure that I live as long as possible. I can’t bear that.”

  “I can talk to him, convince him—”

  “There’s no convincing your father once he’s made a decision.”

  “Momma—”

  “Don’t you think I’ve told him that I don’t want chemo? We had a long discussion about it and I made my arguments and he said he understood. But now they think they’re sneaking this stuff into my IV, but I know what they’re doing.” She patted my cheek lightly. “And I know you know it, too.”

  “He thinks he’s helping.”

  “I know. He’s doing it because he loves me and he’s afraid to be alone.” She scraped her hand over my face again. “I believe there is one person out there for everyone. And I believe your father is my one, true love. Not everyone finds their true love, and some…well, maybe some are allowed more than one. Or maybe it’s not always a two-way street. I think your father loves me and he’s come to believe I’m his one true love. But I also believe that he’s the kind of man who can find happiness with someone else. And he will. He’ll move on with his life after I’m gone; he’s just afraid of that moment.”

  “He loves you.”

  She smiled. “I know. I know he does, finally, after all this time, I know that Brian loves me and that he knows I love him. And that’s wonderful. But I…I’m tired, Sean. I’m ready to go.” She touched me once again, running her nails over the edge of my jaw. “I’m sad that I won’t see Stacy get married, that I won’t hold my first grandchild. I’m sad I won’t live to see each of you settle down and raise your own families. But I believe you’ll each be wonderful fathers and Stacy will be a wonderful mother, because I’ve taught you well.”

  “We will.”

  She nodded, her white hair moving awkwardly against her pillows. “I know you’ll all be fine because you have one another and you have your father. You’ll take care of each other because I’ve talked to each of you, and each of you made the same promises.”

  “You’re not going today,” I said softly. “Why does it sound like you’re saying goodbye?”

  “Because I am. I need to go, Sean. And I want you to help me.”

  I immediately pulled away, shaking my head so vigorously that if I was a dog, saliva would have been spraying from my half-open mouth.

  “I won’t.”

  “There’s morphine in that machine,” she said, gesturing toward the small machine controlling her IV drips. “All you have to do is increase the dosage. Then, when it’s delivered, change it back.”

  “No, Momma. I won’t do it.”

  Her eyes softened with disappointment. “I know it’s a lot to ask. But you’re the only one I could ask.”

  “Killian—”

  “Killian is too softhearted. He would dissolve into sobs if I asked him.”

  “No, he’s the strong one. He’s the one who always takes charge, who always makes us do what’s right.”

  “Yeah, but he’s also the one who used to sneak you popsicles when you were grounded.”

  “What about Ian?”

  She shook her head again. “He’s been through enough. He doesn’t need this on his conscience, too.”

  “What about—?”

  “It can only be you. I’ve thought about this a lot—and I know, only you.” Tears filled her eyes. “It’s a horrible thing to ask a child. But I feel like I have no choice.”

  “Are you really in that much pain?”

  She nodded even as a spasm overtook her again. She grimaced, tears filling her eyes once again. A few spilled over the corners, and
she wiped them away. When she did, I saw the horrible bruises that her IVs and the many needle sticks they’d forced her to endure over the past few weeks had left behind.

  “How long did the doctor say?”

  “A month, if I’m lucky. More if we do chemo.”

  “How much more?”

  “A couple of months, maybe.”

  “It’s really that bad?”

  “It had already spread by the time they found it. It’s in my bones, my liver, my stomach. Pretty soon I’m not going to be able to speak because of the one in my brain. Then I’ll never be able to argue with your father over the things he wants to do.”

  She was right. I knew she was right, yet I couldn’t make myself wrap my mind around what she wanted.

  “If I talked to him—?”

  “He’s convinced himself that what he’s doing is right. But it’s my life. Shouldn’t I have a right to choose how I live my final days?”

  “Of course. But, Momma, wouldn’t you want to spend your final days with us?”

  “I have. I’ve spoken to each of you and said what I needed to say. I’ve said goodbye to everyone, and I think they’ve all said goodbye to me, except maybe your father. And he’s never going to say goodbye.”

  She was right about that, too. He wouldn’t. I didn’t want to.

  “Please, Sean. I know this is terribly unfair and that I shouldn’t do this. But it’s what I want. Do you understand?”

  “Of course.”

  She took my hands and held them between hers. “I love you so much. I knew you would do this if I asked.”

  “I just…”

  I swallowed hard. I didn’t want to make this about me. It was about her, about her right to choose. I was just the one who was going to have to live with it.

  She held my hands for a long time, and we stared into each other’s eyes. I liked to think that we communicated a great deal in those final moments. Maybe we did. Maybe not.

  With a deep breath, I turned to the IV machine and tried to open the little door that covered the programming buttons. It wouldn’t open. I worked at it, played with it, but it wouldn’t open. They’d put a lock on it to keep people from doing exactly what I was about to do.

  I could pick the lock, but I wasn’t sure it would do any good. There was likely some sort of code I’d have to input.

  I searched the drawers under the medical cart that held all the supplies they could possibly need to treat her. There were syringes in one of the drawers. I took one out and clumsily used the ports on the IV lines to draw out a large amount of morphine from the bag hanging above the machine.

  They didn’t think of everything.

  I injected the medication into my mother’s arm, but as I did, I noticed the writing on the IV bag.

  Saline.

  The morphine must be inside the machine.

  “Momma…”

  “Please, Sean. I don’t want to keep living with this pain.”

  “But the medicine is locked up. I can’t get into it.”

  “Is there something else?”

  There wasn’t. They hadn’t left any potentially fatal medications in the room. There were no scalpels, no ropes or belts. There was nothing. Nothing except the pillows under her head.

  She saw me looking at them and understood the direction of my thoughts. She reached behind her and tried to tug one of the pillows free, but she wasn’t strong enough. My beautiful, jolly, angelic mother wasn’t strong enough to simply pull a pillow out from under her head.

  I gently lifted her head, like she must have done for me when I was a baby, and tugged the pillow free. Then I laid her back on the remaining pillow, straightening her hair as it flowed around her face.

  “It’s okay, Sean,” she said softly. “This is what I want.”

  “I know, Momma.”

  I kept hoping they’d come to check on her, that something the nurses did or said would change her mind. I hoped they would find me suffocating my mom, and they would call security, drag me out of there, and put me in jail. I hoped someone would come to their senses and realize this was not what was supposed to be happening in here. But no one came, even when instinct caused her to kick her legs, even when she clawed my arm with her fingernails. No one came as she grew still, as she stopped breathing and the life slowly left her body, as I continued to hold the pillow over her face for impossibly long minutes, waiting to be sure she was gone. I didn’t want to have to put her through this a second time.

  And then I collapsed, my arms shaking from the effort, falling onto the mattress beside her. I was breathing hard, as if I’d just run a marathon, not sure where that was coming from. Then I moved the pillow aside and saw the blood trickling from her broken nose, the surprise and shock in her eyes. I tossed the pillow onto the floor and gathered her up into my arms, sobbing as if I was five years old again.

  “Momma…momma…momma!”

  I don’t even remember the nurses coming in; I don’t remember when Pops got there. All I remember is waiting for the police arrive to take me away for killing my own mother.

  But they never did.

  Chapter 19

  Delaney

  “She asked you to do it.”

  The words hung heavy in the room. Sean was still sitting in that chair, still staring down at the floor, his hands between his legs as if he’d lost all muscle control. He shook his head, his hands shaking with it, denying my words even though he’d just told me exactly what’d happened in his mother’s hospital room that night.

  “Sean, she was terminally ill. She asked you to do it.”

  “It doesn’t matter. I killed her.”

  “At her request.”

  I went to him, pushed his shoulders back, and climbed into his lap. He still wouldn’t look at me even when I tried to push his head back.

  “She was my mother. She was in pain, half-crazed by the treatments they were giving her. I should have said no; I should have told her that she needed to live long enough to let us all get used to the idea of her death. I saw what it did to my brothers, to Stacy. Saw how devastated my father was. I couldn’t…I couldn’t even go to the funeral. I watched them bury her from a distance; I watched that casket go into the ground, and I knew it was because of me. If I hadn’t—”

  “If you hadn’t, she would have died a few weeks later, in pain, miserable. She would have left you all with memories that she didn’t want you to have.”

  “Instead, I killed her and tore the family apart, anyway.”

  “How?”

  “Stacy moved away, unable to deal with how Pops stole the final weeks of her life. Kevin spends most of his time as far from everyone as possible. Killian and Ian came back to Boston instead of living the lives they’d intended to live.” He shook his head. “Everyone lost sight of what their lives were supposed to be when she died.”

  “And how is that a bad thing?” I touched his face again and tried to get him to look at me again. “Stacy’s back with the family. She’s married and raising a child of her own. Killian and Ian are working with your father and they seem happy.”

  “They should have gone straight. They should have had a different life.”

  “They might have chosen this life anyway. You don’t know that they wouldn’t have.”

  “I do because Momma would have chased them away. She didn’t want this for them.”

  “How do you know that?”

  He finally looked at me then. “She didn’t like what Pops did for Jack.”

  “But that doesn’t mean she didn’t accept it. Eventually.”

  He shook his head, but he didn’t look away. I took his face in my hands and held him as gently, yet firmly, as I could.

  “She was sick. She was dying. She wanted to go out her way.”

  “But that way…”

  “It’s awful, I agree. But you gave her a gift when you allowed her to choose how she would die.”

  He lifted me off his lap and began to pace the length of the sma
ll room. “You don’t understand. I’ve killed people. I’m a murderer.”

  “You let your mother die with dignity.”

  “And what about the others? The gang members and Italian mob guys I’ve killed for Jack?”

  My heart stuttered a little in my chest. “You didn’t mention that.”

  “Your father is the leader of the Irish mob, Delaney. What did you think working for him meant?”

  I shook my head. “I don’t know.”

  “It means violence. It means death. It means doing things that bring darkness into innocent people’s lives. It means that I’m not the man you thought I was.”

  “No. It means that you’ve done things you’re not proud of.”

  He snickered at that. “You think?”

  “It means that you have some choices to make.”

  “And what’re those?”

  “Do you want to be with me, Sean?”

  All these things rushed over his face, feelings that were so strong that each one made an impression on his handsome features. Fear was the dominate one, but love and affection followed closely behind. And hope.

  “I want that more than anything.”

  “Then you have to make a choice. Me or my father.”

  “It’s not that easy, Delaney.”

  “Sure it is. My father thinks you have a death wish. He says that’s the only reason you asked to work for him. And now I know why you were acting that way, but you’ve got to know that it’s no longer necessary.” I walked up to him and pressed a finger into his chest. “You didn’t do anything wrong when you helped your mother die. You don’t need to be punished for it.”

  Sean’s face crumpled for a moment. He looked up at the ceiling for a moment, trying to regain control.

  “You don’t understand.”

  “I understand better than you think I do. I know how much you loved her. I know she was very convincing when she asked you to do it. My mom…she could talk me into just about anything. We can’t say no to our moms.”

  “Delaney—”

  “Stop, Sean.” I took his hands in mine. “It’s awful. You shouldn’t have been put in that position. But it’s over now. She knows the truth. You know the truth. And now I do. It doesn’t need to go any further than this. But you don’t have to punish yourself, either.”