Seeds of Tyrone Box Set

by Debbie McGowan

  “All right?” Seamus greeted them, taking up the next stool along.

  “Seamus,” the man closest acknowledged.

  “Weren’t ye flyin’ off to America today?” the other man asked.

  “Tomorrow.” Seamus glanced around. “Where’s Marie?”

  “Collecting empties. Jon’s gone to change the lager.”

  “Right.” Seamus slid off his stool again and went around to the other side of the bar to get his own beer; the men paid him no heed. Before Marie took Jon on, she’d had terrible luck with getting reliable staff, and Seamus had filled in a good many shifts in the pub. She’d offered him the job first, and much as he enjoyed the banter, working indoors made him claustrophobic. He needed to be out in the open, especially at this time of year.

  Autumn had been his mam’s favourite season, and he could fully appreciate why. It was like Earth was on a mass clean-up operation, getting rid of all the old, faded leaves and sweeping them away on the brisk, cool breeze, in preparation for another year. Conker wars. It didn’t matter how old Seamus got, autumn would always be the time of conkers, bonfires and treacle toffee, when sunburn became windburn, and the seemingly mythical threats of chilblains and pneumonia were bandied about. As kids, he and Paddy were never inside, forever being warned about catching their death or burning themselves to a crisp, depending on the season.

  Don’t kick up them leaves, boys. There might be a wee hedgehog hibernatin’ under ’em.

  Hedgehogs, roses, apples, windows—there was always something if they played in the garden, with Mam’s constant vigil at the kitchen sink, even though they were big and ugly enough to look after themselves. Once they got a bit of road sense, she gladly let them venture further afield, if only for a minute’s peace, and be back for your tea or the dog’s gettin’ it.

  The hours they’d spent up at Barry’s place, playing cowboys and ‘herding’ the cattle. If nothing else, it had afforded a decent working knowledge of how the big foolish beasts behaved. Kansas or Tyrone, cows were just as stupid, unwittingly playing along while the ‘men’ on the ‘Williams Ranch’ steered them up to the top of the hill and back again, shouting ‘mush’ at the cows and ‘come by’ to the dogs.

  God, they’d had so much fun. Alas, these days, working the fields was about as close as Seamus got to reliving the old days. Sure, he’d rather be with livestock than picking cabbages—or sprouts, like they’d be doing after Paddy’s wedding. But being outdoors, working in all weathers, made Seamus feel alive, made him feel closer to Chancey, as if the wind whipping around his face and making his ears ache was the same wind kicking up dust around Chancey’s boots.

  “Thirsty, were ye?” Jon asked, announcing his presence behind Seamus.

  “All right, Jon?”

  “Aye. Not so bad. Yourself?”

  “Same, mate.”

  “I thought you’d be after an early night. What time ye leavin’?”

  “Not till afternoon, but I’ve come to ask Marie a favour.”

  “Have ye now?” Glasses landed heavily on the counter. Seamus gave Marie his best smile. She raised an eyebrow in question and walked around to Seamus’s side of the bar.

  “I’ll load the washer,” he offered.

  “You will, will ye?”

  “I will,” Seamus answered and immediately set to it.

  Marie folded her arms and leaned an elbow on the bar, watching Seamus through narrowed eyes. “So what is it you’re wantin’?”

  “Well, I’m not asking for me, to be honest with you, although it kind of is for me at the same time, because if I wasn’t goin’, then it wouldn’t be a problem.” Seamus paused and frowned. “Mind, if I wasn’t going, then he wouldn’t be going anyway, so…”

  “Come on, Williams, spit it out, for Christ’s sake.”

  “How are you fixed for looking after my Tess?”

  “Can Michael not do it?”

  “Well that’s the thing, you see. He’s been saving up to go over to America himself, and he’s a long way off raising the cash. But with all the crap he’s been through with his stepdad, I think he deserves better, you know?”

  “So…what? You’re taking him with you?”

  “That’s what I was thinking, aye.”

  “Will he get the time off work?”

  “We’re done till the sprouts are ready.”

  Marie nodded thoughtfully and sucked her teeth. “Aye. All right, then. Bring her down in the morning.”

  Seamus felt a peace descend over him, which pushed out an involuntary sigh. It made Marie chuckle.

  “That’s a relief, is it?”

  “Most definitely.” Seamus closed the glass washer and gave Marie a hug in thanks. She patted his lower back—it was all she could reach with the size of him compared to her five foot two.

  “You’re a good man, Seamus Williams.”

  “I try,” Seamus said. He stepped back and grinned. Marie shoved him playfully.

  “Ye gonna tell him?”

  “Aye, I’ll have to. He needs to go home and collect his passport, so he does.”

  Marie thumbed over her shoulder. “Well, fella, now’s your chance.”

  Seamus turned to see Michael and Tess by the door, both shaking off the rain.

  “Hey, Mike. Good walk?”

  “Yeah. She’s coming along really well. This huge truck went past, and she didn’t react at all.”

  “Good girl, Tess.” Seamus peered down at her, and she lightly jumped up, resting her paws on the bar.

  “She’s a beauty,” Marie said. “Did you ever figure out what spooked her?”

  “Not a clue. She was nervous to begin with, but she’s settled down, hasn’t she, Mike?”

  “Aye. I’ve been tellin’ her all the places we’re going walking while you’re away.” Michael rubbed Tess’s head, and she leaned back into his hand, looking up at him in pure adoration.

  “About that…” Seamus began. Michael’s happy smile fizzled away. His brow creased and his mouth turned down.

  “D’you not need me anymore?”

  “I don’t, but not for any other reason than—” Seamus stopped. He’d been planning on winding Michael up a little before telling him, but the poor lad was already assuming the worst. “Oh, Mike, stopped frettin’, will ye? I thought you might like to come with me.”

  “To…America?”

  “Aye. What d’you reckon?”

  “But I don’t have enough saved yet.”

  “Don’t worry about that. I’ll pay.”

  “But you’re already putting me up.”

  “You pay keep, don’t you? And do your fair share.”

  “But—”

  “But, but, but—nothin’. I’d like you to come, so I would.”

  Michael focused on scratching Tess’s head. He was conflicted.

  “Look. I’d appreciate the company if nothing else.”

  “I don’t want to be in the way.”

  “You won’t be. And Marie’s going to look after Tess for us.”

  Michael peered up through his mop of black hair, meeting Marie’s gaze. She nodded to confirm it.

  “I’m going to America,” Michael said doubtfully, and then with a little more conviction, “I’m going to America. Tomorrow.”

  “That you are,” Seamus confirmed.

  Michael beamed at him.

  <<< >>>

  “Hello, Seamus.”

  Seamus offered Michael’s mother a warm smile and stepped aside. “Good morning to you, Mrs. Brannigan. Come on in.”

  “Call me Eileen,” she said, accepting the invitation. Michael came bounding down the stairs, with the dog overtaking him at the halfway point. He jumped the last three and landed in the hallway, next to Seamus.

  “Hey, Mum.” He gave her a shy smile and kept his distance. She rolled her eyes.

  “Come here, you dafty,” she said, holding out her arms to him. He readily went into them. “Nothing’s changed, you know. I still love you.”

&nbs
p; Michael nodded into the crook of her neck. She kept hold of him for a few moments longer before gently easing away. She unclipped her handbag.

  “OK, so I’ve brought your passport, and a little bit of spends too.”

  “It’s all right. I’ve got me own money.”

  She ignored him and handed over his passport with five twenty-pound notes inside it. “It’s not much, I’m afraid.”

  “Mum!” Michael pulled the notes free and tried to give them back to her, but she batted his hand away.

  “Is there anything else you need?”

  He shook his head, still unhappy about taking the money. She affectionately pinched his cheek.

  “All right. Now you behave yourself, you hear?”

  Michael nodded. “Yes, Mum. Thank you.” He gave her another hug and a kiss. “Love you lots.”

  “Love you too, son. And I’ll keep working on that old swine of a husband of mine. I’m telling ye, if he doesn’t buck his ideas up he’ll be the one finding digs.”

  “It’s OK,” Michael muttered.

  “No, Michael. It’s not OK. But you’re not to worry about it. You have a grand time.”

  “I will.”

  His mother nodded. “Good.” She looked up at Seamus. “I can’t thank you enough.”

  “No thanks needed, Eileen. He’s a smashing young fella, all credit to you.”

  “Oh, I…I don’t know about that,” she blustered bashfully and turned away, reaching for the door latch. “Have a good trip now.”

  “I’m sure we will,” Seamus said. He held the door open for her, and she bustled down the path, pausing at the gate to give them a wave. They waved back, and Seamus shut the door. “Right, young Michael, let’s go see a woman about a dog, and then we can be on the road!”

  Chapter Twenty-Four:

  Coming in to Land

  Chancey had never flown before—never even been to the airport—and there was part of him, a big ol’ yellow-bellied coward part of him, that wanted to change his mind again and drive to Pennsylvania instead of flying. But that was a helluva long way to drive, and it was time he and Seamus would lose if he turned tail. Besides, Chancey and Dee no longer needed those two days in the car to awkwardly ease into a so your daddy’s seein’ a man conversation between town-to-town fights over the radio.

  Dee shifted at his side as the line through security inched forward.

  “You nervous, darlin’?” he asked, thankful his voice came out steady enough. His nerves had tied his guts into huge, intricate knots. Chancey could face a stampeding herd of cattle without batting an eye, but being sealed into a piece of metal and hurtled through the sky? Hell, no.

  Dee looked up at him and grinned. “Nah, it’s going to be fun.”

  Her eyes lingered for a moment as she scrutinised his face. Then she slipped her little hand into his big hand and didn’t say anything about it. God, such a sweetie. Comforting him.

  “You think Seamus is going to like me?” Dee asked later as she pushed her grey plastic bin of carry-on belongings up the rollers. One of the TSA agents took it without a word, and it slipped into the machine.

  “Next!” another agent called, motioning Dee forward. She practically jumped into the tube-like scanner, spreading her socked feet onto the foot pads and holding up her arms as instructed. When the man cleared her, she jumped out just as eagerly. Chancey wasn’t quite so enthused as the machine whirred around him, and he wondered if he was getting a dose of radiation while standing there. When he stepped out, the TSA agent made him stop and then patted him down.

  “Hell, if you were gonna do that,” he muttered as he unloaded his satchel from the bin, “Ya might as well have not irradiated my balls and got straight to the pat down instead.”

  “So do you?” Dee asked, having to fall back several times when she’d race ahead of him and then find he wasn’t beside her. “Think Seamus is going to like me?”

  “I think Seamus already likes you, darlin’. He knows all about you.”

  She frowned. “Well, that isn’t fair. I don’t know anything about him except…well, he’s your boyfriend.”

  “You’re interested?”

  She smirked and her eyes sparkled. “Well, yeah.”

  “You wouldn’t rather play on your phone than hear about my love life?”

  He got a raised eyebrow for that.

  “I just do not wanna know about that… But I’m good about everything else!”

  “That?”

  She rolled her eyes and said, “You know…if you’ve…done it.”

  Chancey felt hot colour rising up under his collar. “Uh…yeah, so, um…about Seamus… He’s…he’s from Ireland.”

  <<< >>>

  “I wouldn’t have minded driving, you know.” Seamus switched the in-car heating off again. It was either too damn hot or too damn cold.

  “You fiddlin’ again?” Paddy asked. Seamus glanced sideways and spotted his younger brother’s amused smirk.

  “What’s funny?”

  “Nothin’. Why?”

  “You’re dying to laugh.”

  “No, I’m not.”

  “You’re a terrible liar, Patrick.”

  “Well, it is kind of funny watching you fuss and fidget like an old woman. Why are you so on edge?”

  “Who says I’m on edge?” Seamus protested.

  “Well, first there’d be that poor wee girl in the store who accidentally pushed in to the line in front of you…”

  “There was nothin’ accidental about it.”

  “And before that you fairly bit Max’s head off for suggesting your man Michael might fancy exploring the city on his own.”

  “He’s only nineteen, Paddy, and he’s never set foot outside Omagh, never mind wanderin’ some feckin’ huge city in another country—a country with guns, let me remind you.”

  Paddy chuckled and pulled out to overtake the truck in front.

  “What the hell’s the point of big gas-guzzling cars and massive roads if you have to poodle along at twenty miles a feckin’ hour? They’ll have landed, decided we’re not comin’ and turned ’round and gone back again before we’re even across the bridge.” Seamus huffed and leaned forward, yanking his seatbelt away from his neck in order to switch on the radio. The twee pop song was no better for the decibels behind it, and Seamus changed the channel—more pop—“That’s shite”—another change, this time to some kind of hip-hop—“Shite”—and another—“Utter shite—”

  “Nothin’ wrong with Taylor Swift,” Paddy objected.

  “Don’t let Chance hear ye say that.”

  “What’s he listen to, then? Billy Ray?”

  “Feck off!” Seamus snarled, but he was laughing at the same time. “Billy Ray, Christ.”

  “Miley?” Paddy suggested with a grin. Seamus ignored him. He gave the radio one more shot: a rock station.

  “That’ll do. At least there’s no chance of ’em playing her.”

  “The ex?”

  “Aye. We’ve been through a lot of crap because of her.”

  Paddy kept his eyes on the road and said nothing.

  “What?” Seamus asked. Paddy shrugged, but Seamus wasn’t letting it go. “You got an opinion, I’d like to hear it.”

  “Not an opinion, Seamus. More an…observation.”

  Seamus watched and waited, aware of Paddy carefully measuring his words before he said them. He’d always been that way—ever the peacekeeper, was Paddy.

  “Did you run away from him, Seamus?”

  “Er…” The answer was ‘yes’.

  “Don’t worry. I’m not laying blame. Just trying to work out why you wanted me to come with you to pick him up.”

  “For his benefit. You wouldn’t know it to look at him, but he’s pretty shy. Plus I didn’t want to overwhelm Dee. This way they get to meet you before everyone else.”

  Paddy nodded, still with his eyes on the road, hands at ten and two on the steering wheel.

  “And…” Seamus sighed. “For my
protection.”

  “Protection?” Paddy repeated. “From what?”

  “Meself. Because the second he comes through that security gate I’ll be wanting to snog his feckin’ face off.”

  <<< >>>

  Chancey bounced his leg nervously, gripping the armrest with every slight bump and jostle of the plane. Sweat had broken out across his forehead and along the backs of his hands. Man up, Clearwater, he berated himself, and when that didn’t work, he grabbed his second rum and Coke of the flight and sipped.

  “Can I have a taste?” Dee whispered, staring curiously at the clear plastic cup. He snorted at her, happy for the distraction. “C’mon, please! Just the eensiest bit?”

  They were three to a row, with Chancey in the aisle, Dee in the middle, and by the window, an old woman slumped with her head against the seat in front of her, snoring slightly.

  “Dee,” he replied. “Be a kid as long as you can.”

  “This is me being a kid.”

  Chancey grinned, considering her request. “When we get to Pennsylvania, I bet one of the Williams brothers will give you a sip of their Guinness.”

  “Isn’t that stereotypical?”

  “What?”

  “That they’re Irish so they’ll like Irish beer?”

  “Not if it’s true. Don’t know about Patrick, but Seamus would hook himself up to an IV if he could.”

  “So he’s a drunk?” Dee teased.

  “Only so much as I am.”

  “So he’s a drunk then.”

  He couldn’t help but laugh. Smartass. A whole minute had gone by, and he hadn’t noticed if there were bumps or jostles or any of it. Dee was good at distracting him. But then she slipped her earbuds back into her ears and leaned into his shoulder. So much for keeping up the chatter. The plane was starting to dip. God! Were they falling out of the sky?

  He drained his drink, the knuckles of his other hand turning white on the armrest.

  “What’s happening?” Chancey asked the flight attendant who wandered past with an open trash bag. The man stopped and looked at Chancey.

  “Sir?”

  “The, um…” He kept his voice as level as he could, but his accent was out in full force, betraying his stress. “Plane’s goin’ down? Is…is anythin’ wrong?”