Seeds of Tyrone Box Set

by Debbie McGowan

  The lads downed tools and squelched back across the field in a troop, minus one.

  “You can go too, Michael.”

  “I’d rather give you a hand, Seamus. Maybe I can hold Tess while you take the trailer?”

  “Good thinking, that, young fella.” Seamus took off his gloves to untie the dog’s lead from his belt and handed it over. “There you go. Won’t be long.”

  “We’ll walk over to the bus, Seamus.”

  “OK. See you there,” Seamus said, but as he moved off towards the tractor, Tess started yapping. “Be good, girl,” he called over his shoulder. She stopped long enough for him to climb into the cab, and then started up again, loudly enough to be audible over the rough diesel engine. He stuck his head and one arm out of the window, beckoning to Michael, who slipped and skidded under tow of the eager border collie. She didn’t wait for the door to be opened; she scaled the side of the cab in one leap, straight through the window and into Seamus’s lap. He chuckled. “I don’t know about you, lady.”

  “Sorry,” Michael gasped breathlessly, heaving himself into the seat.

  “No worries.” Leaning to one side so he could see around the dog, Seamus moved off.

  “She’s lovely, isn’t she?” Michael said, stroking the white flash down Tess’s chest.

  “She is too. Once she knows what’s what, she’ll settle down. I hope. It’s a tad warm, sleeping with a big hairy dog wrapped around your head, I can tell you.”

  Michael laughed a little too loudly. Clearly the dog wasn’t the only nervous passenger. Seamus took a sneaky sideways glance at the lad to find he’d turned bright red and was twiddling his fingers in his lap.

  “Something on your mind, is there?”

  The finger-twiddling instantly stopped. Michael turned towards Seamus. “Er, not really. Why?”

  Seamus could only see him in his peripheral vision, but Michael was staring wistfully into space. He recognised that look. He saw it in the mirror every morning. Lovelorn. Poor kid. “You’re a bit quiet,” he said.

  “Can I…ask you something a bit personal, Seamus?”

  “I suppose.”

  “Have you, er…” Michael cleared his throat and paid a great deal of attention to the dog. “Have you got a girlfriend?”

  “Aside from young Tess here, you mean? No, I haven’t.”

  Michael laughed again, more quietly this time but just as nervously. For now, he said no more.

  Seamus parked the tractor and disconnected the trailer, handing over to the other lads working in the sheds before heading back on foot along the road to the waiting minibus. The silence was uneasy, and Seamus felt compelled to break it.

  “What you got planned for this evening, then?”

  “Oh, nothing. I need to save every penny, so I do.”

  “Aye, true enough. How much now?”

  “A hundred and eleven pounds exactly.”

  “Not bad at all!”

  “I know,” Michael mumbled into his shirt, “but I looked at the price of the plane.”

  “It’s not cheap, is it?”

  “No. And then I’m going to need to pay for lodging.”

  “Not necessarily. I think there’s some place online where you can arrange sofa-surfing. You know the kind of thing? You get your mam to agree that people can stay on your couch, and in return they let you stay on theirs.”

  “That’d work. I’ll have a look when I get home.”

  “And I know a few people over there as well. I’m sure our Paddy’d let you stay with them when you’re in PA.”

  “That’d be grand, but I don’t want to be any trouble.”

  “I’m sure it’ll be fine. Tell you what, I’ll ask him when I call him this evening. How about that?” Seamus gave Michael a smile to reassure him, and Michael nodded enthusiastically. “So that’s one stop on your way. And I think you’ll get along grand with Aidan. He’s a lot like you.”

  “Who’s that? Paddy’s flatmate?”

  “His boyfriend.”

  “Oh.”

  Until that point, the three of them had been walking at a brisk pace, but now Michael fell back. Knowing the lad needed to talk, Seamus slowed down so that they were walking side by side again. “What’s up, Mike?”

  “If I tell you something, will you, er…”

  “Keep it to myself? Of course.”

  Michael offered a swift, grateful smile. “I’ve got a bit of a crush on…” He glanced furtively at the minibus. Seamus did the same; all the other workers were facing away from them.

  “On one of the lads?” Seamus asked. Michael nodded. “Oh aye? Who is it?”

  “Tom.”

  Seamus nodded thoughtfully. “He’s a good-lookin’ fella, so he is.”

  “D’you think so?”

  “I do. He’s got lovely green eyes.”

  “Yeah,” Michael agreed, properly smiling now. “And big, chunky thighs.”

  Seamus grinned. “He has that.”

  “So, anyway,” Michael shrugged philosophically, “he’s probably straight.”

  “Probably,” Seamus agreed. The other lads had now noticed them dawdling and were tapping their wrists and shaking their heads. “Come on. We’d best get ourselves on the bus before they leave without us.”

  They reached the minibus, and Seamus gave Michael a quick wink as he let him climb aboard first, watching him edge past Tom, who was playing on his phone, oblivious. Typical.

  It took going on for three-quarters of an hour to drop all of the lads off, but there was no rush, since Kaylee would have Chancey tied up for the entire evening—Seamus was trying not to think of that literally—and Paddy wasn’t due home from work for another five hours. Marie had taken delivery of his laptop, so Seamus went straight to the pub—for just the one, seeing as he had a dog to feed. He was glad, because the temptation to drink himself into a stupor would otherwise have been impossible to resist. He even considered taking the dog home and then coming back, but Marie would have ripped a piece off him.

  The stupid thing was he trusted Chancey, believed what he’d said about Kaylee having no hope of snagging him, but he didn’t trust her. Not at all. Still, Dee would be there. Surely that would stop Kaylee trying anything?

  Back at the cottage, Seamus fed Tess, which was a job and a half. She wasn’t used to being inside, and every little noise, such as the sound of her food bowl sliding across the floor, had her fleeing to the garden. He had no desire to repeat their three-hour bathing and grooming session, so he crouched down and held the bowl for her. She took so long to eat that his legs had gone to sleep, but it was worth it for the thank-you she gave him. She lightly jumped up and rested her front paws on his shoulders, leaning her face against his cheek.

  “You’re a beautiful girl, you are,” he crooned, and she wagged her tail in response, which brought a tear to his eye. He’d missed having a dog. For a pet, at any rate: Tina’s cattle dogs had just wanted to work. Most collies were the same, and once Tess had got her nerve back, maybe she’d like a job to do. For now she needed TLC, and Seamus was more than happy to give it. He was feeling the need for it himself.

  And so, finally, to his high-speed laptop with a million added extras so he could make his non-existent DIY videos. On the plus side, everything was pre-installed—plug ’n’ play, the sales assistant had told him—so now it was a case of plugging it in, and playing. He hit the power switch and returned to the kitchen to make a cup of tea while the machine booted up, although it was done long before the kettle boiled. He logged in to Facebook and sent Paddy a message—add me on Skype—made his cup of tea and found, lurking in the back of a cupboard, half a packet of custard creams, which be brought back to the living room.

  No response yet. He opened the biscuits and bit into one, grimacing at the softness. He munched slowly, waiting for the stale taste to register, but it didn’t. He nodded and hummed to himself, cramming an entire biscuit into his mouth. The computer beeped.

  Skype? Since when?
/>   “Oh God. Here we go.”

  Just add me.

  Who are you?

  Seamus, your brother?

  No, you dope. On Skype.

  “Ah!” Seamus felt a blush fill his cheeks and glanced self-consciously at Tess. She didn’t care.

  shay881122

  He watched the screen, waiting for a response, but none came his way. He ate another soft custard cream, sipped his tea, kept watching, still nothing. Another biscuit, a slurp of tea…

  “Come on, Paddy. I haven’t got all night. Well, I have…sadly, but I—”

  Voice call from PatrickRW…

  Seamus answered, “About feckin’ time. You could’ve swum here by now.”

  “I was on my way home from work.”

  “Ah, yeah. Sorry. Kind of forgot about the time difference for a while there.”

  “All right, so, what’s this about, then? You on Skype?”

  “Aye, well, I thought it was about time I caught up, you know. There’s not much else to do here. And it’s cheaper than the phone.”

  “True enough. But you never phone me anyway. I always phone you.”

  “I never have anythin’ new to tell you.”

  “Until now?”

  “Hm. How are you?”

  “I’m grand, Seamus. Yourself?”

  “Not bad at all. And Aidan?”

  “He’s doing all right, aye.”

  “At home, is he?”

  “No. He’s at night school.”

  “Oh, right. That’s good.”

  “Seamus, will you please say what you need to, because I’ve got news to tell ye.”

  “You go first, then.”

  “All right. We’re gettin’ married.”

  Seamus’s chest swelled and a big smile took over his face. “What? Are ye serious? When?”

  “Whenever suits you. I was hopin’ you’d do me the honour of being my best man.”

  “Your best man?” Seamus laughed with joy and punched the air. Tess startled and leapt from the couch—where she’d been on custard-cream vigil since he’d opened the packet—and started barking. “I’d be delighted, young Patrick. Delighted,” Seamus said over the racket.

  “You got a dog?”

  “Aye. A border collie. She’s a stunner, but she’s mad as a stick, so she is.”

  “She sounds it.”

  Seamus was still grinning like the big soppy fool he was. His worries about Chancey getting up to something with Kaylee had popped right out of existence.

  “So I don’t need to be worryin’ about you gettin’ lonely?” Paddy asked.

  “What d’you mean?”

  “Now you got yourself a friend.”

  “Oh!” Seamus laughed, initially in an attempt to cover where his thoughts had taken him, but quickly realised that was the whole point of the call. Somehow it didn’t feel like a problem anymore, because his brain was racing ahead of him.

  Go over for Paddy’s wedding, see if Chancey’s up for us meeting halfway.

  It was a bit selfish, maybe, unless…

  “Paddy. I need to tell you a thing.”

  “I thought you probably did.”

  Seamus nodded, not that his brother could see him. He tried to gather his thoughts. “Do you remember Colm?”

  “Which one?”

  “Colm O’Shea. He was in my class at St. Mary’s. Dark hair, blue eyes—”

  “Who came bowling with us that one time you won?”

  “You’re a cheeky—”

  Paddy chuckled and then asked, “What about him?”

  “Did you think he was good-looking?”

  “Yeah, very. Why? Has something happened to him?”

  “No, nothing like that. Just…” Seamus took a deep breath. “I’m doing this all wrong,” he said.

  “You’re making no sense at all.”

  “I know. Right. Let’s start again. You know before I came back here, you asked me if I was in trouble?”

  Paddy groaned. “What have you done?”

  “Ah, fuck it. Laying it on the line here, all right? There’s this guy, Chancey, who works the ranches I used to work. We were good buddies—still are—and then we…we spent a night together. It got awkward.”

  “That’s why you left?”

  “Not really. I’d decided, after Mam passed, I wanted to come back, but I kept putting it off and putting it off. Then the thing with Chance happened, and I didn’t think it’d work out.”

  “But you like girls.”

  “I do, aye. And I like Chancey.”

  “Right, so…you’re telling me…why? For my approval? Because honestly, Seamus, so long as you’re happy I don’t care.”

  “I’m telling you because I need to talk to someone who won’t judge me, Paddy. I’m in love with him.”

  “OK,” Paddy responded quietly and left the space open for Seamus to say more, but he was feeling very emotional, and so he used the time to calm down, push back the tears that were threatening. That was how he and Paddy had always been; their parents didn’t believe in the old saying ‘boys don’t cry’ and they’d encouraged their sons to be open about their feelings. Even so, crying over being separated from Chancey when it was his own stupid, stubborn fault…

  “Sorry,” he muttered eventually.

  “It’s all right. So, does he feel the same?”

  “I’ve no idea. He’s angry that I didn’t say goodbye. I couldn’t, Paddy. I’d been lying to myself for so long, because I fell for him way back before that night, and I should’ve told him that it meant more to me.”

  “Aye, but who would in that situation?” Paddy reasoned. “You’re given the opportunity to sleep with someone you’ve got feelings for—no one in their right mind is going to say no, are they?”

  “I guess. So what do I do?”

  “Are you still in touch with him?”

  “Aye. That’s why I got Skype.”

  “And there I was, thinking you got it for me,” Paddy grumbled in jest. Seamus managed a small laugh.

  “I didn’t even know Skype existed until Chance called me with it.”

  “Interesting.”

  Seamus waited for Paddy to elaborate on what was so interesting.

  “I think you should tell him.”

  “But it might just be a bit of online fun to him.”

  “You know, that’s really way too much information.”

  He was blushing again, and Paddy was laughing his head off.

  “You’re no help at all,” Seamus complained. He didn’t mean it though; he already felt a hell of a lot better for talking to Paddy.

  “The way I see it, Seamus, is this. If it meant nothing he wouldn’t have called you. So tell him. You’ve got nothing to lose. Well, other than your online fun, but there’s always Scruff.”

  “There’s what, now?”

  “Never mind. Tell him. Hey, you could even invite him over for the wedding, get him to meet you halfway.”

  “Ha. Talk about great minds… I was thinking the exact same thing. You’d be OK with that?”

  “Does he make you happy, Seamus?”

  “I think he could, aye.”

  “Well there’s your answer.”

  Chapter Fourteen:

  To Everything an Interview

  Deidra, it turned out, was not exactly heartbroken to be skipping her study group for the evening, especially after Chancey told her that her mother was in town. Her brown eyes went obscenely wide, just like they had every time she was surprised, starting when she was little. Chancey used to call her ‘Little Owl’ because instead of hollering when a door slammed or the family yelled over a touchdown on the TV, Dee’s eyes would get big.

  “Momma’s here?”

  “Yep.”

  “I thought she was on tour.”

  “Well, I guess she’s taking a stop out because she wants to spend some time with us.”

  Dee smiled at this and pulled her phone out of her pocket.

  “Who’re you writin
g to?” he asked.

  “Nate. I want him to meet Momma.”

  Chancey reached across the seat and put his hand over the phone’s bright screen. “Not today, darlin’. And we still need to talk about this Nate business. You’re way too young to be dating.”

  “I’m gonna be fourteen.”

  “Next year.”

  “All my friends have boyfriends.”

  “Stills has a boyfriend?”

  “Stills is a lesbo.”

  “Dee.”

  “What?” she snapped. “That’s what she says.”

  “But it isn’t pretty. Don’t say shit like that.” God, he needed a smoke.

  Quinn Stills was a lesbian? He wondered if Charlene knew, wondered if she’d open those Pilates-toned arms in support, or stick her fingers in her ears. Wasn’t Stills a little young to know that about herself? But nah, Chancey had known younger than her that he liked it both ways.

  “…really nice. If you’d get to know him.”

  Dee was still prattling on about Nate.

  “How old is he? Does he hang out with those high school boys.”

  She got quiet then.

  “Oh, Christ alive. How old, Deidra?”

  He glanced at his daughter, who was worrying her bottom lip with her teeth. He had a sudden sinking feeling that he’d be burying a body. High school kid… Or older? His knuckles went white on the steering wheel.

  “Don’t laugh, OK, Daddy?”

  Laugh? There was nothing funny about this situation.

  “He’s…a grade behind me.” Then, as if Chancey had burst into guffaws and not simply sighed in relief, Dee charged on quick as a bull, “But he’s real smart and mature, and he wants to be a teacher someday. And—”

  Not a high school boy, not a pervert. Chancey relaxed and let her talk about her Nate. They were going to have to have the talk again. Last time hadn’t gone so well. She’d been twelve, and he’d told her if she ever came home pregnant, he was going to find the boy, rope him, throw him in the bed of Layla, and that would be the last anyone heard from the kid. But he supposed that didn’t really explain how not to get pregnant.

  Jesus.

  Was it really that time? She was only thirteen.