by J. A. Howell
“I think he already knows,” I reached up and touched his cheek, smiling as the rough stubble scraped against my palm. “When I was lying out there in the snow, he told me I couldn't let go. He told me to hang on. He made me promise to tell you something, but I don't know if I can even say it right.”
“What was it?” Nolan's eyebrow lifted as he pressed his cheek against my palm.
“He told me to tell you, deartháir.” I wasn't sure how I managed to remember the word, but it echoed in my head, bouncing around with the array of outside voices. I knew I couldn't forget it, it was something important to him. “What does it mean?”
Nolan stared off in a thoughtful gaze before his eyes returned to mine and his lips hinted at a smile, “It means, brother.”
“I'd say he probably forgives you then. And Nolan? You are a good man.” I smiled at him and ran my finger under his chin, coaxing him to me. He leaned over the side of my bed and softly kissed my lips, his hand cradling my cheek.
“Well, I am guessing my daughter is finally awake!” Both of us abruptly pulled away, looking towards the door to see my mother standing there with Aggie.
“I'm so sorry, Mrs. Martin.” Nolan never sounded so formal and apologetic. My mother only waved him off.
“I told you, call me Delphinne.” She laughed, a sweet sound that I had missed. Nolan moved so that she could come stand next to my bed. She leaned over me, her long black and silver hair hung in a long braid over her shoulder. Her eyes, the same deep blue as mine, twinkled as she smiled down at me and planted a kiss on my cheek. I breathed in her scent, smelling the mixture of incense that always filled our house. Just like Alannah's.
“Aggie and Nolan got in touch with me after what happened with Jackson. If I would have known what he did to you, I would have marched over there myself and smashed his head in with a rock. Saved him the trip here.” She scowled.
“Momma!” My voice came out raspy as my eyes widened in shock
“Don't momma me. Nobody hurts my little Harley fae.” She winked. “But you're a tough cookie, just like your momma! Right, baby doll?”
Both Nolan and Aggie exchanged amused grins.
“Harley fae?” Aggie tilted her head at my mom’s other nickname for me.
“It’s a long story.” I felt my cheeks redden, but grabbed my mom’s hand.
“It’s not that long. Harley used to dance around the yard naked when she was little, like a cute little summer sprite. Her middle name is Faye, so I called her my little Harley Fae.”
I glowered at my mom as she patted my cheek, setting Aggie into giggles as Nolan raised a suggestive eyebrow at me. I blushed as he smiled then looked back at my mom.
Aggie nudged Nolan's arm then pulled him toward the door. “We’ll be back, Harley, we’re just going to grab this guy some coffee.” Nolan looked at me with those pitiful puppy-dog eyes, but followed after her, blowing me a kiss before the door shut behind him. My mother watched his exit then turned her attention back to me with a sly grin.
“You know, I always wanted to run off with an Irishman. Or a Scottish one. They’re nice too. But that Nolan is quite the strapping lad, eh?” I had a feeling she would have nudged me in the side, if not for the broken ribs.
“Momma.” I pulled my lips straight and tried to suppress my laughter. I knew it would hurt if I let it out.
“I'm just saying, he could definitely help you make me some fine looking grandbabies.” She held up her hands in defense.
“Really, momma?” I raised an eyebrow. She shrugged and flashed me a big grin.
“I didn't mean right now, but ya know...before I'm too old to play with them.” Her fingers combed through my hair as she looked over at my leg. It was strung up in traction, raised above the bed. “I still can’t believe that animal hurt you like this. I’m just glad it’s over now.”
I closed my eyes, focusing on the soothing feeling of my mother’s touch.
“I’m glad it’s over too.”
The next morning when I awoke, Nolan was stretched out across the thinly padded recliner next to my bed. As soon as he heard me stirring his eyes blinked open. He sat up, stretching his back, popping noises accompanying a grimace on his face.
“That couldn’t have been very comfortable.” I frowned, looking him over as he stood up. He smiled a sleepy, crooked smile as he stretched his neck.
“And sleeping like that is?” He nodded towards my leg.
“I suppose you have a point.” I shrugged as much as I could and looked down at it myself, “I look like a broken marionette.”
“Well, ya make a very cute marionette,” Nolan teased, leaning over me, “and ya don’t have the weird nose thing going on like Pinocchio.” I giggled, but immediately stopped and grabbed my side.
“Ooh, ribs.”
“Sorry, love.” He flashed me a meek smile and gave me a peck on the lips. “Just lay back and rest. I was going to grab breakfast downstairs, did ya need anything?”
I shook my head, “No, I’m good. All the painkillers have kept me pretty full.” Nolan started to say something more but a knock at the door interrupted us. He looked to the door, a scowl immediately crossing his lips. I followed his stare to a tall officer standing in the doorway.
“Relax, Finley, I’m not here fer ya. I need ta talk ta Ms. Martin.” He flashed his badge at me as he came in.
“About what? Ya already know what happened.” Nolan’s tone was defensive, as he stood straight with wide shoulders, his gaze unflinching.
“Nolan, it’s okay. I’ll talk to the officer. Go get yourself something to eat.” I squeezed his hand, forcing his attention back to me. He nodded, kissed my forehead, and then hesitated as he stood in the doorway, his eyes shifting from me to the officer.
“Go on. I’m fine.” I reassured him. A few seconds later he left and the officer quietly pressed the door shut behind him.
“Good morning, Ms. Martin. I’m Officer Flemming, but ya can call me Tommy.” He grinned cordially as he walked to the side of my bed.
“Morning, Tommy. Sorry, Nolan’s a bit protective right now.” I said. “What can I help you with?”
“Well, we wanted ta find out what Jackson Donnings had said ta ya before the struggle. As ya know it may help us with Claire Steven’s case. Did he confess anything ta ya? Did he tell ya about any accomplices?” His deep brown eyes flickered curiously at me and it felt like the room had suddenly shifted.
Accomplices. Jackson had help.
Shit. The man in the alley.
“Accomplices? No. He didn’t say anything like that. Everything happened so fast. When I came to he just attacked me.” I shook my head, as I looked toward the door.
I shouldn’t have let Nolan leave.
“Ms. Martin,” that voice seemed to snake around me, taunting me like it had that night in the alley, “ya can tell me what he told ya. Yer safe now.” I forced my gaze down to his hand as it gently patted mine. Teeth marks on his finger. Shit. Where the hell is Nolan? I fought to conceal the panic creeping through me, flashing a big smile at “Officer Tommy.”
“I’m telling you, he never said anything about having any sort of help,” I shrugged, glad to pull my hand away from his.
“I can tell yer lying, Ms. Martin. I can see it in yer eyes.” His finger ran down the scar his gun had left on my cheek. “It's the same look that was in them that night.” My eyes darted toward the door again, praying Nolan would come through it any second.
“I don't know what you're talking about.”
“I don't have time fer games, Ms. Martin. You’re a terrible liar. The fact is, ya do remember me, so that makes you a liability. Yer quite beautiful, so it’s a shame I’m going ta have ta do this but I can’t have anyone else find out about my association with Mr. Donnings.” Tommy turned from me then, snatching the pillow from the recliner and shoving it down against my face before I could let out a scream. My left hand flailed for the call button, but he must have knocked it off the bed. My nails dug int
o his arm and I tried to kick at him with my left leg, but he only pressed harder as I gasped against the fabric. Where the hell was Nolan?!
“Get the feck off her!” Nolan's voice shouted from the doorway. A second later the pressure holding the pillow was gone. I knocked it off of me, gasping for air. “Dirty feckin’ pig!” Nolan was leaned over Tommy on the floor as his fists swung down in successive blows. They were on the other side of the recliner out of my view, but I heard Tommy's head slam into the wall followed by a loud crunch. I located the call button as Nolan stood up, looking over his bloody fist then back down at Tommy who was groaning. Before he could reach for it, Nolan pulled the man's gun from its holster and sent a few sharp kicks to his kidneys as he cursed under his breath.
“Nolan! Enough!” I reached for him as another kick caused Tommy to wail in pain and curl into himself. A second later, a nurse rushed in, freezing when she saw the bloodied officer.
“He attacked her.” Nolan dropped the gun and held his hands up. I nodded as she gave me a questioning look. Nolan stood next to my bedside as two police officers stormed into the room minutes later. He refused to leave my side when they wanted to question us separately, and given the situation they didn't really fight him on it. I told them about his attack in the alley and the bite mark I'd left on his hand. Finally they dragged the bloody-nosed bastard to his feet, cuffing him before they took him to the ER to have his nose set. After they left and the nurse checked me for further injuries, we were left alone.
“Ya sure yer alright, love?” Nolan gently turned my face to his.
“I'm fine now.” I answered, then motioned for him to lay next to me. He pushed down the safety rails and ever so carefully climbed onto the bed next to me, lying on his side, and cradling his body around mine. His fingers combed through my hair, and I turned my face against his chest, breathing in his familiar scent. I never thought I’d get to feel his arms around me again, but I was happy I was wrong. His lips gently pressed against my forehead as my eyelids drifted shut.
“I love ya, Harley Martin,” was the last thing I heard before I fell asleep in his arms.
CHAPTER THIRTY EIGHT
New Beginnings
December 31st, 1999
“I can’t wait to get rid of this stupid thing!” I frowned and pushed my walker toward the front of the pub. “It keeps getting stuck on the tiles...and I look like a grandma.”
“Mmm, a very sexy grandma though.” Nolan teased as he came up behind me and planted a kiss on my neck. Aggie, who had walked into the kitchen in time to hear the exchange, only cocked an eyebrow and gave us both a questioning look.
“Really? Sexy grandma?”
“What? I was merely trying ta help Harley feel better about having ta use her walker. So yes, sexy grandma.” Nolan defended his words, planting another soft kiss on my collarbone.
“I think it’s the yellow tennis balls that do it for him.” I added, wiggling an eyebrow at her. Her lips twitched into a smirk.
“I swear, you two were made for each other. Weirdos.” She laughed. “You coming up front? It’s getting close to the countdown.”
We both nodded.
“Nolan, why don’t you go on ahead and help Angus and my mom. I’m sure Aggie can help me get out there.” I turned my head, looking up at him.
“Alright love.” He gave me one more peck on the cheek before moving past us to the front of the pub.
“Let’s sit for a minute. I’m still exhausted from physical therapy today.” I nodded toward the table and carefully lowered myself onto a chair. She sat down across from me, her green eyes watching me with curiosity. Everyone else was out front, getting ready to ring in the New Year, but I had wanted a second to talk to her. Since I’d been home from the hospital things had been pretty hectic. After the media got wind of my story, Finley’s business had picked up tenfold and the phone hadn’t quit ringing with people wanting to talk to Nolan and me about my harrowing tale. Admittedly, she and I hadn’t gotten much time to hang out just the two of us, and I really missed her.
“Everything okay?” She asked me.
“Yes, I was actually wanting to ask you the same thing. With everything that happened with Brody, how are you doing?”
She breathed in deep, letting out a sigh a she stared off.
“I try not to regret how things went. What if I had told him how I felt sooner, ya know?” Aggie shrugged. “At least I know that he loved me. I’m doing my best not to think about what could have been between us. I’ve got to move forward, right?”
“Right,” I grabbed her hand, squeezing lightly. My fingers were healed but still a bit stiff.
“I suppose now’s a good time. New year and all.” She forced a smile but it didn’t quite reach her eyes.
“Listen. I’ve got something for you,” I slid my hand from the table, reaching into the pocket of my jeans for a small box. “I found this the other day, after sorting through the boxes from the apartment.”
My mother and Nolan had gone to the apartment while I was still in the hospital, packed up everything, and moved me into his place. Mom was staying in his old bedroom while I recovered and had been helping with the added business at the pub. Now that the splints had been taken off my fingers, I had gotten a chance to look through some of the boxes. I slid the small jewelry box across the table to her.
“What is it?” She looked down at the unassuming little black box suspiciously, her fingers slowly grasping it.
“I believe it was meant for you.” I said, encouraging her to open it. Her fingers hesitantly pulled the lid off to find a small silver locket lying in plush emerald green velvet on top of dried thistle and moss. On the front of the locket was a traditional Claddagh symbol, two hands holding a crowned heart. When she opened it, one side of the locket held a picture of Aggie and Brody, no older than six or seven. The other side had the inscription, “Mo Chailín Rua.”
“I didn’t know what that meant, but I could have recognized that red hair anywhere.” I told her. Aggie sat there for a moment, her eyes running over the small picture of them as a smile slowly crept over her lips.
“Thank you, Harley.” Her voice was hushed and although her eyes were misty, the smile seemed to reach them finally as she pushed her hair to the side and carefully clasped the silver chain around her neck. “Let’s go ring in the new year, shall we?”
The End
ABOUT THE AUTHOR
J.A Howell is an office drone by day, and a writer by night. Her love of writing took off when she was eleven years old and decided to fill a composition notebook with stories to read to her friends. Many years (and notebooks) later, not much has changed. She still loves writing and sharing her works with others. When she isn’t writing, she can often be found trying her hand at whatever artistic pursuit strikes her fancy. J.A. Howell resides in Apopka, FL with her husband and their menagerie of animal children.
You can learn more about her and her books at:
http://www.midtown-underground.com
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www.sidestreetcookiepublishing.com
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[1] If I were as wealthy as I was last year, I’d build a big house on yonder hill. Wine and gold I’d give to my store, and I’d be making music with my red-haired girl.