Seeds of Tyrone Box Set

by Debbie McGowan

  “And then we can?”

  “Oh, God yes, we can,” Patrick breathed.

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  They were sitting on the couch when Lily returned with their late lunch—a bucket of chicken and sides. She smiled at them and placed the food on the coffee table.

  “Everything okay?”

  Aidan nodded slowly. They’d waited for her before opening any of Nadia’s boxes, which were lined up along the couch. The tape had been sliced open on them, so that the lids tented just a little.

  Slowly Lily approached the couch, a question in her eyes, and Aidan patted the cushion next to him.

  “If you’ve got plywood and some tools, I’d be happy to temporarily mend the window,” Patrick told Lily, his hands shoved deep in his pockets. Patrick was so intuitive, knowing just when to give them a bit of privacy—but God, how Aidan wanted to call him back. He took a deep breath, told himself to be strong. Lily explained to Patrick where he could find her tools, and he left them alone to the boxes, stopping only to grab a chicken leg.

  “I’m going to pay for the window,” Aidan told his sister-in-law quietly. It would deplete the last of his savings, but he was determined to make it right. Assuming it could be made right. “And I’m sorry.”

  “I know you’re sorry, and yes, you will pay me for the window,” she agreed, carefully reaching out and pulling him into a side hug. He let himself be guided over and after an awkward moment, he hugged her back. “But not in the way that you think,” she added.

  “What do you mean?”

  “We’ll talk payment later. Right now do you want to look through these boxes?”

  “Can we?” he asked.

  Lily pulled one of the boxes over and placed it on the coffee table next to the food neither one was interested in at that moment. Then, slowly, she laid out each item. For a long time, the only sounds in the house were Patrick’s as he moved around in the kitchen: a bit of hammering, some low murmuring as he talked to either the plywood or the hammer, Aidan wasn’t sure which.

  He and Lily worked in an almost companionable silence. For the last three years, going through Nadia’s things had always been made all the more painful by Aidan’s resentment and Lily’s need to talk. Now, they just sat amongst the possessions of the woman they had both loved. Lily handed over a small silk handkerchief with roses embroidered on it, and Aidan passed her a woven bracelet.

  When Lily found Nadia’s journal, she began to cry, turning the pages slowly until she could no longer look. She silently passed it over to him and he flipped through it in much the same slow, lingering way he’d turned the pages of Nadia-turned-Lily’s art book. He stopped on a page near the middle. In bright red letters Nadia had written We’re having a girl! And underneath, in cursive so flowery it was almost impossible to read: I’ve never been more happy in my entire life.

  “Why did you let her roses die, Lily?” His own voice sounded strange in the quiet living room.

  “Oh.” For a moment Lily worried her lip and then she shrugged a bit helplessly. Sniffling away the last of her tears, she said, “I tried my hardest to keep them going. I even got some books from the library, but I think my thumb isn’t just black, it’s cursed. I haven’t been able to bring myself to dig them up.”

  “She was so good with those flowers.”

  “Yes she was,” Lily agreed. “Nadia loved her flowers.”

  “I’m sorry,” Aidan told her again.

  “I’m sorry, too. I wish I could bring her back. I’d do just about anything to bring her back. Do you know that?”

  He was saved from having to answer by Patrick, who must have decided it was safe to return. He smiled and said, “I’ve tacked up the plywood. Should be really easy to pull loose once you bring someone out to put the new pane in.”

  “Thank you, Patrick,” Lily smiled. It was ridiculous that Aidan should still feel a little pang of jealousy. He knew now that the peck on the cheek at the graveyard didn’t mean anything other than friendship. Still, when he spoke, he was definitely letting his sister-in-law know once and for all that Patrick was off limits.

  “Patrick and I are going on a date soon,” he told her. “A real one.”

  “Oh?”

  Patrick studied Aidan, a bemused smile on his face.

  “This weekend, maybe?” Aidan directed the question at Patrick and when Patrick nodded he said, “Though, I guess I should probably find out if I’ve been fired. I never did come back from my break. We might be able to get together earlier in the week.”

  “I’ll call in for you,” Lily said sternly. “You’re sick for the rest of the day. I want you to stay here with me and just, y’know, get some rest. Patrick, should I call in for you, too?”

  “Nope,” he said. “I’m good. But thank you for the offer.” He walked over to Aidan and bent down, lingering over a goodbye kiss. He whispered, “Saturday then? Side-by-side chairs? Get those clean bills of health and then go out for a burger?”

  Aidan nodded.

  Chapter Sixteen:

  Rebuilding

  Across the way, Aidan and Lily were at Nadia’s grave, together; Patrick watched from the safety of the shed behind Arthur’s house, the clouded, web-bordered window creating the most incredible soft focus around the outskirts of his view. Had Aidan and Lily been an eyesore—which they were not, Lily was a striking woman, and Aidan…well to Patrick’s mind he was the essence of pure beauty—Patrick would have been more glad for the fuzzy view. But it looked like things were getting out of hand, and he felt a sense duty to intervene on behalf of…who? He wasn’t sure.

  “They’re as bad as each other,” he thought aloud, as Aidan shoved Lily and she staggered backwards.

  “What’s that, Paddy?” Arthur asked.

  Patrick turned and marched toward the door. “Aidan and his sister-in-law.”

  “Oh? Who’s that then?”

  “I’ll explain later, Arthur. Excuse me a moment.” Patrick stepped past the senior groundskeeper and out of the door, doing his best not to slam it behind him. He wasn’t sure why he was angry, or even why he was feeling so protective, and kind of fatherly. No, actually, he did know why he was angry, and he was misdirecting it, because he was powerless to do a thing about it. Plus he was so damn frustrated! He hadn’t seen to himself either, because it felt wrong. Why should he get release when Aidan couldn’t? Of course, he didn’t know whether Aidan had dealt with his own needs last night, after Patrick had left him at Lily’s, but that was beside the point. What that Ashmore woman did ruined their tentative exploration, but they were going to get tested on Saturday. Not the most romantic of first dates, and yet it kind of was at the same time.

  He couldn’t quite make out the words—the wind was strong today, the trees rustling around the graveyard, leaves breaking free and gathering more in their swirling mass, like a storm was on its way. Perhaps it was only in Patrick’s imagination, though one thing was for sure: autumn was coming. He could feel it in the chill of the air, and he allowed it to still his troubled mind, for he’d inherited his mam’s love of the season. Many a time in the big cemetery someone would catch him off in a daydream, his thoughts flying free as those leaves. And he’d justify his inaction by pointing out that trying to sweep leaves in the wind was as pointless as pretty much anything could be.

  Patrick continued along the path, catching a snippet here and there, squinting a little to see better. Lily was bent double and Aidan’s arms were flailing like a windmill. Then the man took a step back and charged at his sister-in-law. Patrick increased his pace. Oh, Aidan, don’t do anything—

  “Oh my God! That is just hilarious!” Lily whooped, trying to right herself without success. She was laughing far too hard.

  “And Mom was like, ‘Nadia! You get in that shower right this minute, little girl,’ and Na-Na went stomping up the stairs in her boots, with Mom shouting after her, ‘I meant take your boots off first! NADIA!’” Aidan swiped his eyes with the back of his hand.

  Tears
—of joy! He’s laughing. Oh, thank Christ for that! Patrick slowed down, now he knew everything was well. Weller than well. He dodged behind a large headstone so he could spy a little longer on Lily and Aidan laughing together. The words were carried away on the wind, but Patrick didn’t need to hear, for Aidan’s eyes were telling the story. Where they had been so full of sadness before, now they sparkled with life, a brow raised here, an exaggerated eye roll there. As he sought to capture a memory, he studied the sky above, and when he gifted it to Lily he looked right at her, that hardened glare of spite long gone, in its place compassion, understanding, a plea for forgiveness. Lily reached out and touched Aidan’s arm. He looked down and nodded, looked up again and smiled.

  “That rose wasn’t from his mam at all, was it?” Arthur said. Patrick hadn’t realized he was there, standing next to him.

  “No,” he confirmed, not taking his eyes off Aidan for a second. Arthur gave him a pat on the back.

  “It’s nice to see the young feller smiling for once.”

  “Yeah. You can say that again.”

  Arthur continued on his way, passing by Aidan and Lily with a courteous nod. Patrick chuckled to himself. Sometimes, though not often, they’d see huge arguments erupt in the cemetery, but it wasn’t the done thing to tell them quiet now, have a bit of respect when those who were arguing were likely mourners themselves. Aidan and Lily were still laughing and chattering away, oblivious to the quietness around them, the other visitors who came here for some peace and a little time with those they’d lost. Patrick thought, knowing them the way he did, he could probably stand to give them a gentle telling off—which was to say he’d found an excuse to get closer to Aidan, and was just debating whether he should, when Aidan spotted him and waved. Lily turned Patrick’s way and she waved too, then beckoned him over.

  “Good afternoon, Lily, how are you doing today?” he asked, passing her straight by. Aidan’s eyes widened as Patrick closed in, wrapped his arms around him, and kissed him fully on the lips. Keeping his arms around Aidan, he turned back to Lily and smiled.

  “Much better, thank you.”

  “You’re welcome, for sure. Did that plywood hold up all right?”

  “Yep. The glazier is coming at five. Actually…” Lily checked her watch. “I need to go to the office on the way home. Are you ready to leave, Aidan, or…?”

  “Er, I…” Aidan cleared his throat and said no more.

  “You can stay here with me, if you like,” Patrick suggested.

  Aidan nodded rapidly. “I like,” he said.

  Lily laughed. “All right then. So I’ll see you back at the house later?”

  “No, thanks. I need to go to work.”

  “Aidan, we discussed it, didn’t we? You’re going to look for another job.”

  “Yeah,” Aidan confirmed. Patrick felt him tense. He shifted an arm and rubbed gentle circles with his thumb on the bare nape of Aidan’s neck. The tension eased. “I am going to find another job, Lily, I promise, but I need to keep this one for now.”

  “You can stay with me.”

  “I know. And don’t think I don’t appreciate the offer. I do, but I need to do this, Lily. I hope you understand.”

  Lily examined him a moment longer and shrugged. “It’s your call.”

  Aidan eased himself out of Patrick’s embrace so he could give his sister-in-law a hug. “Thank you for everything.”

  “No problem. I’ll see you soon, yes?”

  Aidan nodded. “Yes.” He released her and stepped right back into Patrick’s arms.

  Lily acknowledged Patrick with a smile. “Guess I’ll see you too.”

  “You will that,” Patrick agreed.

  He and Aidan watched Lily all the way to the gate, where she blew Aidan a kiss and left.

  “So you’re working this evening, my love?”

  “Not officially, but Jill will expect me to make up my hours from yesterday.”

  “She won’t make you do that, will she?”

  “I owe her, big time, so yeah, she will. And I need to talk to her. I did something I shouldn’t have, and it was…stupid.” Aidan’s gaze fell. Patrick noticed he was doing that crushed under the weight of The Grand Heights shrinking thing again. “Really, really stupid.”

  Patrick wasn’t one to lecture, but it needed saying. “You’re very hard on yourself, Aidan.”

  “I just wanted to…” Aidan lifted his face and met Patrick’s gaze, holding it. “I wanted you to like me.”

  Patrick raised an eyebrow. “I liked you from the moment I set eyes on you.”

  Aidan pulled away again. He went and stood behind Nadia’s headstone, hands resting on top of it. His knuckles turned almost as white as the marble they clutched. He was seeking his sister’s strength.

  “You don’t need to tell me,” Patrick assured him.

  “I do. I’m so ashamed.”

  “Why?” Patrick asked the question calmly, but he wasn’t calm at all. Far from it.

  “She—Jill—has a lot of contacts, and I knew she could get us a table at Berringer’s, so I asked her if she would. And she said I owed her a thousand favors, so I figured I may as well ask for the tickets for Jay Joseph, but she said no.”

  “But we saw Jay Joseph,” Patrick pointed out.

  Aidan nodded. “I, er…” He was breathing too fast.

  “Did you steal the tickets, Aidan?”

  He nodded again.

  “And does she know?”

  “No. Or at least I don’t think so, but when she finds out…”

  Patrick felt all the hairs on his body bristle. The rage swelled and though he tried to contain it, it was too big, too powerful a force to hold back.

  “Right,” he said. “Now you listen to me, Aidan Degas, because I’ve had just about enough of that Grand fucking Heights and seeing what it does to you. Those women are the most vile, evil creatures, and that cow on the desk—that’s Jill, is it? She can go to hell if she thinks you owe her anything at all. Does she know about the rest of it?”

  “Ms. Ashmore and Mrs. Wright? No! Jill’s not like that!”

  “Are you sure about that? I mean, someone who puts a price of a thousand favors on a table at a fancy restaurant doesn’t sound like she’s going to care so much if one of her staff is being used and abused like a piece of trash. Because you’re not, Aidan. You’re worth more than that. So much more.”

  Aidan’s lip started quivering, and it hit Patrick like a punch to the gut. He gulped down air, clenching his fists to get his rage back under control. “I’m sorry, Aidan. I’m way out of line.”

  “No. You’re not. You’re right, about all of it, but I need my job.”

  “You need a job. You don’t need that job. It’s destroying you.”

  “But what else can I do?”

  “Surely anything would be better than working there?”

  “If I quit I’ll have to find some place to live. Lily said I could move in with her.” Aidan shook his head. “I can’t, Nadia. Not yet.”

  Patrick wasn’t sure if it was a mistake, or if Aidan was talking to his sister now, but he felt the connection between the man and this place where his twin lay. It was strong, and it was positive, and it was giving something to Aidan, feeding him, nourishing him.

  Aidan released his grip on the headstone and stood up straight, pushing his shoulders back, his face set with a brand-new determination.

  “I’ve got a plan,” he said.

  “Which is?”

  “I’m gonna go talk to Jill, tell her what I did, and about Ms. Ashmore and Mrs. Wright. And I’ll tell her, if she tries to fire me, I’ll go to the police about Ms. Ashmore.”

  Patrick nodded slowly. “Are you sure about this? Maybe think about it first.”

  “No. If Nadia were here, she’d have marched me straight into Jill’s office and made me do the right thing. And I can feel her, in my heart, in my head. She’d want this, Paddy. She’d want me to be honest with Jill and stand up to those women.”r />
  “Your mind’s made up.”

  “Yeah. It is.” Aidan stepped around the headstone, making his way back to Patrick. He stopped a couple of feet away and glanced back at Nadia’s grave. “I miss her so much, and it never goes away. Times like this, I just wish she were here at my side, holding my hand, pulling me along, telling me I can do this.”

  “Hey,” Patrick said. Aidan turned to face him. Patrick smiled and took his hand. “You can do this.”

  “Come with me? Please?”

  Patrick pulled Aidan close and sighed into his hair. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  Chapter Seventeen:

  Talking With Jill

  Jill’s intense green gaze was locked on her steepled fingers, a crease cemented between her blonde brows. She was sitting forward in their manager’s chair, her elbows resting on his mahogany desk. It had been almost a full minute since any words had been spoken in the large, designer office, and Aidan shifted uncomfortably in the guest chair. He’d been sweating the entire time as he told her what happened, and his palms were clammy. His stomach felt a bit queasy too. The only thing that had kept him charging through his speech was knowing that Patrick was waiting for him in the lobby and would welcome him with an embrace no matter what happened.

  The clock on the wall seemed to tick louder than normal and each click of the second hand made him more and more nervous until he simply wanted to shout, Just bring Mr. Francis down here to fire me! In fact, he’d just opened his mouth to tell her that he would resign when she lifted her eyes and said, “Tell me again about the night Ms. Ashmore took you up to her apartment.”

  “Jill, I don’t want—” to go through it again. He’d barely managed to get it out the first time. Hell, if she wanted to call the police to take him away in handcuffs for the second time that week, he’d be more okay. That would be preferable to this. She silenced him with a raised hand.

  “When she gave you the wine that night, did you feel weird afterward? Like…more than drunk?”