by Darby Kaye
Ann stepped forward. She knelt down, then leaned into the grave, placing his bowls next to his head. She pulled out a small bottle of water and a handful of doggy treats and filled both bowls. “To sustain you on your long journey to the Otherworld,” she murmured as she rose.
Rory followed. He produced a squeaky chew toy, one of many Shay had left at her uncle’s house over the last six months, and dropped it in the grave. “To amuse you on your long journey to the Otherworld.”
Taking turns, Hugh, James, and Rory filled the hole, then began stacking rocks over the flattened mound of dirt. After the cairn was finished, Shay spoke to Cor. “Do you want to say anything before we leave?”
Lashes clumped with tears, Cor nodded with a sniff. “Thanks for saving my dad,” he whispered at the cairn. “I wish you could come back.”
A chill ran down Shay’s neck at the boy’s words and did a loop around her spine. She shook it off with a frown.
They returned to the house in silence, Hugh and Ann with arms wrapped around each other. Shay wondered how many friends and family members they had sent onward to the Otherworld in their long lives. Certainly, Robbie’s was the hardest. She shuddered at the thought of losing a child, then glanced down at the dark head beside her. This child in particular.
“What are you doing?” A few days later, Shay walked into Bann’s room to find him standing by the bed, dressed in jeans and buttoning his shirt. Cor bustled around the room, packing Bann’s duffle bag. The morning sun blazed through the window, busy with melting the last of the snow.
“Dressing.”
“Guess you’re sticking with your decision, then.” Shay wondered why she felt so drained. Probably because I spent the last three days pretending I was hunkydory, okee-dokee, a-okay with all this.
Leaving had become a forbidden subject between them. When Ann and Hugh had begged father and son to stay in High Springs, listing all the reasons they should, including how fond they were of Cor and how much they wanted to watch him grow up—an underhanded strategy Ann pulled without a trace of guilt—Shay had defended Bann’s decision. “If it’s what Cor wants, then I agree with Bann.” She remembered his look of surprise, and something else, when she had spoken.
Well, what did you expect? That I was going to get all weepy? Beg you to stay? Uh-uh. Not going to happen. So, fine. Go. Get out of here. Sorry I grew to love your son and…and…
“I’m well enough to travel, and I do not wish to be a future burden on you and your family.” Bann finished tucking in his shirt in the way only slim-hipped men could do. “Cor. Take my bag downstairs.”
Shay stepped to one side as Cor staggered past with the duffle. “How are you getting back to your truck?” Because if you think I’m giving you a ride over there, you’ve got another…
“I was hoping you might give us a lift.”
“I can do that.” She could have pinched herself in annoyance. At least act like it’s a big ol’ pain in the butt. “I need to go over and start cleaning it up, anyway.” Yeah. Just like that.
The drive back to her house, which usually took ten minutes on a good day, took a thousand years. At least, that’s what it felt like to Shay. Next to her, Bann sat granite-faced like he was going to his own execution, while Cor kept clicking his seat belt buckle until both Bann and Shay snarled at him at the same time, in the same words, to knock it off.
It made Shay’s spirit tear a little more in half. As they neared her neighborhood, she looked back in the rearview mirror. Cor was holding one of Max’s chew toys, the one shaped like a dead chicken, turning it around and around in his fingers. Sorrow made his boyish face look older.
“You want to keep that, kiddo?”
Cor nodded, his eyes shiny. “Yes, please.” He sat clutching it in his hand.
Bann glanced over a shoulder, wincing slightly from the movement. “Thank you,” he said in an undertone. He cleared his throat. “For everything.”
Shay nodded. “So. Will you keep in touch?” She kept her tone light. “I mean, you’ve got my cell number.”
“Certainly.”
They pulled into the driveway in silence. Bann eased out, Cor following. Standing by her vehicle, Shay watched as they unloaded their bags and threw them inside the camper, then Bann started up the truck. It kicked over after two tries. Letting it idle, he checked the hitch while Cor stood kicking at a clod of soil. Shay noticed he still held Max’s toy in his hand.
Taking his son by the shoulder, Bann walked over. “Say your farewells.”
Keeping his eyes fixed somewhere around her elbow, Cor spoke. “Bye, Shay. Thank you for taking care of us and for letting us stay in your home,” he said in a practiced voice. He pulled something out of his pocket. It was a folded piece of paper. He handed it to her, then bolted for the truck.
Shay unfolded it. A drawing of a dog danced across the page, black and tan, and with a smiling muzzle and a jaunty tail. At the bottom, Cor had signed his name with a careful eight-year-old’s print: To Shay Doyle, from Cormac Boru. This is a picture of Max. He was the best dog in the world.
She bit her lip, the lump in her throat almost choking her. She stomped down on her emotions as hard as she could. “Tell him I’ll frame it and put it with all the other pictures of my family.”
“I will.” Bann took her free hand in both of his. He stood gazing at her, silent.
Well, get it over with, she thought. So I can start figuring out how to put my heart back together. She forced herself not to look away.
In the end, Bann simply lifted her hand to his cheek and held it there. “Mo chara.”
She watched the tail end of their rig until it disappeared around the corner and rumbled away. Then she turned and walked into the empty house.
33
BANN MADE IT AS far as the Kansas border, three hours of silent driving along a mostly empty state road, before he gave up and pulled into a deserted rest stop. Ignoring Cor’s questioning look, he turned off the motor and climbed out, wincing slightly from wounds and bruises determined to remind him that one does not go hand-to-horn with a shapeshifter and stagger away unscathed.
He walked to the edge of the parking lot and stared westward across the plains. The mountains were long gone. A breeze pushed his hair off his forehead like a caress. Overhead, the sky mimicked the blue of Shay’s eyes. And his son’s eyes. The two people, he suddenly discovered, that he loved most in the world. “A rare one, ye are, Shay Doyle,” he whispered to the far horizon. “Friend and lover and warrior and healer.”
The sound of the truck door creaking open made him sigh. Can he not give me a bleedin’ moment to lament in peace? Guilt immediately slapped him upside the head. Gravel crunched underfoot. Cor appeared, still holding Max’s toy.
Standing side by side, they looked down the highway toward the west. The wind tugged at a tuft of prairie grass poking through a crack in the asphalt. It seemed to dance in celebration of overcoming the odds; Nature giving the finger to man.
“Dad?”
“Cor.”
“Can I ask you something?”
He’ll be asking for a dog, I’ll warrant. Well, we might look into getting one when we return to Pennsylvania. The thought of the long drive back across the country made his entire being feel ancient. “To be sure.”
“Promise you won’t get mad?”
Pinching the bridge of his nose, Bann sighed. “What is it?” He waited while Cor shuffled from one foot to another, fiddled with the toy, dropping it once, then finally rubbed his hand over his head, making his hair look like it just went ten rounds with a blow-dryer.
Classic Cor stalling.
“Well?”
“I…um… You know how I said I wanted to go back to our home?”
“Aye. And if your question is about getting a dog when we return—”
“I don’t want to anymore.”
“Get a dog?”
“Go back home.”
A long silence.
“Wait. What?
” they said at the same time.
“We can get a dog?” Cor’s face lit up.
“You don’t wish to return to Pennsylvania?”
“We can get a dog? Really? Like, not just saying that, but really? Oooh, a puppy! Shay could help me train it. No, wait. He. I want to get a boy dog.” He glanced down at the toy in his hand. “I wonder if Max would want me to share this.”
Bann squatted down. Ignoring his stomach muscles’ protest at the position, he held his son between his hands. “What about your mother? Do you think she would want to share us with Shay?”
“Yeah. I-I think so.”
That will come in time. “And what about sharing me with Shay?” A part of him realized he was putting the proverbial cart before the horse, but he had to know. Before he could allow himself to hope for happiness. His and Cor’s.
Cor blinked as the new thought entered his head. “What do you mean?” Confusion clouded his voice. “Aren’t you going to marry her?”
Bann’s mouth opened and closed a few times. “Marry. Her.”
“Yeah. I mean, you like her and she likes you. And I like her. So, you could marry her and we can live in her house. And she would be like my…” Cor couldn’t finish the statement.
Bann knew why. He does not want to betray his mother by loving another woman as a mother. Nor should he. A voice whispered in his head. Are you? Betraying Elizabeth’s memory? In spite of your rock-strewn marriage, she was your wife and the mother of your child. He couldn’t answer truthfully. Not now. Perhaps later. One step at a time.
“Shay would be your friend. A grown-up friend who will force you to eat your vegetables, go to bed. And”—he poked Cor in the tummy—“who scolds you when your puppy messes in the house.”
“I think I want an Irish wolfhound.” Cor swung from Bann’s hand as they hurried to the truck.
“No. Every Celtic hero nowadays has an Irish wolfhound for a sidekick. Try again.”
“Poodle?”
“You’re joking.”
They climbed back into the truck. Turning the rig around, Bann bounced back on the highway and pointed the truck westward. Homeward. We should make High Springs in time to take Shay out to dinner. The thought made him press harder on the gas pedal.
Cor tried again. “Saint Bernard?”
“Too slobbery.”
“Greyhound?”
“Too skinny.”
“Pug?”
“I wouldn’t be able to tell you two apart.”
“Hey!”
34
BLOWING A STRAND OF hair from her face, Shay stored the cleaning supplies under the kitchen sink, then looked around with a humph of satisfaction. The great room was almost back to its pre–Fir Bolg attack appearance, bloodstains cleaned and damaged furniture awaiting repair. Except for the kitchen table. Shay had carried the shattered pieces out to the garage. Oh, well. I always wanted a round one, anyway. She glanced at the window. Nice of Hugh to arrange to have the busted windows and door fixed so fast. Guess I should tackle the guest room next.
She dragged herself down the hall. The beds in the room were still made. Somewhat. A forgotten sock, boy-small and boy-dirty, peeked out from under Cor’s. She stripped his bed first, dumping the sheets in a pile in the middle of the floor, then started on Bann’s. Picking up his pillow, she refrained from smelling it. I’m not that pathetic. With a snap, she yanked the pillowcase off and tossed it in the pile. Sheets followed.
After starting the washing machine, she wandered the house, searching for something to do to occupy her mind and fill the emptiness. She kept thinking she heard Max pawing at the back door, or the click of his nails on the wood floor. Max reminded her of Cor, which reminded her of Bann. I miss all three of my boys. She couldn’t honestly say which one she missed the most.
After a long shower, she changed into clean jeans and a sweater and headed to the kitchen to see if she had anything edible. She stood in front of the open refrigerator for a few minutes, waiting for food to magically appear, then closed it with a grimace. Tea, at least. She snagged the kettle and walked over to the sink. Stopping to admire the final rays of the afternoon sun pinking the tops of the boulders, she sighed, then reached for the faucet knob.
A low rumble made her freeze.
The rumbling grew louder.
Heart thumping, Shay dropped the kettle in the sink with a clang and sprinted for the front door. Heaving it open, she stepped outside.
Bann’s truck roared down the street toward her, the camper dancing behind like the tail end of a conga line. The sunlight on the windshield hid the faces of father and son. As it squealed to a halt, the man didn’t even bother to pretend to try to park it. He simply turned off the motor and climbed out, holding the door open for Cor to slide out his side as well.
“We’re getting a puppy, Shay!” Cor announced, trotting beside his father as they hurried up the driveway toward her, hand in hand.
“We?” Shay asked weakly.
“We,” Bann said firmly. Still holding Cor’s hand in his, he wrapped his free arm around Shay.
Mindful of his injuries, Shay pressed her cheek against his. “What about…” she murmured.
“We’ll work it out as we go along,” Bann whispered back. “‘Twill be a bumpy ride, darlin’. Cor and I, we’re a pair, as I’ve said before.”
“That you are.” She pulled back enough to stare up into his eyes. “And I wouldn’t have it any other—”
“Shay?”
“Yes?”
“Shut up and—”
Shay finished his sentence in the best way possible. A corner of her mind realized that this was the first time they had kissed in front of Cor. Except for the disastrous kiss in the kitchen the night the Fir Bolgs had attacked. It seemed liked a thousand days ago. She forced herself to end it before it could become heated. Okay—more heated. “We’ll pick this up later.”
“Oh, I promise ye that.” His breath tickled her ear.
Grinning so hard her face hurt, she stepped back and stood looking from father to son and back. “So, does this mean I’m stuck with you two again?”
“Yup.” Cor beamed up at her. His smile faded after a moment. “I mean, I-I think so.” He glanced up at Bann. “That’s what we talked about all the way here.”
Shay’s heart danced a little jig—an Irish jig, of course—at the words. But still not one hundred percent sure of what we’ll work it out as we go along actually meant and feeling a little dizzy from the speed things were happening, she threw an unspoken question at Bann with a lift of a eyebrow.
“Aye. We’ve a great deal to talk about. But first, supper out. Have you a favorite restaurant?”
“I know a great place downtown, Jack Quinn’s, that serves a sell-your-firstborn-for-their-fish-and-chips platter. And they usually have some live music.”
“Excellent. And as luck would have it, we’ve a firstborn to sell.” He ruffled Cor’s hair; he batted his father’s hand away. “We’ll take my truck.”
Shay, with Cor bouncing beside her babbling nonstop about dogs, watched as Bann parked the rig in its customary spot at the side of the house. After he unhitched his truck, he pulled it into the driveway next to Shay’s SUV.
Helping Cor carry in clothes and personal items from the camper, she noticed Bann frowning as he kicked the parking blocks under the trailer wheels. She let go Cor go ahead with another armload.
“Hey. Everything okay?” She leaned against the front of the camper and stuffed her hand in her jeans pocket, the evening air growing chilly. “Are your injuries hurting?”
“A wee bit tender. Nothing more.” Crouching down, he began wrapping the security chain around the hitch, eyes fixed on his task. He cleared his throat. “About the sleeping arrangements…”
“Say no more. We don’t want to make the situation awkward for Cor. Let’s keep things the way they were for now. You know…until we decide…” She let the rest of the statement drift away on the breeze.
“Thank you.” Bann peeked up at her through his lashes.
Shay’s stomach fluttered. Does he know how sizzling he looks when he does that? Because he’s sure got it down to an art form.
“Although you should know,” he added, “Cor is a sound sleeper.”
“Meaning…” Shay asked, hoping it meant what she hoped it meant.
“Meaning”—he gave the chain a final tug and stood up—“once he’s asleep, he tends to stay so.” Stepping closer, he planted his hands on the camper on either side of her head, trapping her between the vehicle and his body.
Which she didn’t mind in the least. The heat from his body warmed her nicely. As did the look in his eyes. She lifted her face. “All night?”
Bann moved even closer, their bodies less than an inch apart. “All. Night.” His breath ghosted along her cheek.
Cor made a gagging noise as he darted past. His feet clanged on the aluminum steps as he clambered inside, the camper rocking slightly. “Okay, I’m done,” he announced, his voice echoing. A few moments later, he emerged. Eschewing the steps, he jumped from the camper and landed with a grunt. “Enough kissing already. Let’s go eat.” He started for the front of the house.
Shay laughed when Bann darted after his son and caught him from behind. “More kissing, did ye say?” Pinning Cor’s arms to his sides, he leaned over and buzzed the side of the boy’s neck.
“Nooo! I said enough kissing!” Cor protested, nearly breathless with the giggles. “Your beard’s too scratchy.” He squirmed, trying to wiggle free.
Releasing the boy, Bann gave him a swat on the rear. “Go wash up.” He turned and held out a hand to Shay.