Tears streamed down the boys face.
Brian continued relentlessly. Youre a lucky man, Tim Sheehan. We were in time. Annie Claiborne didnt burn to death but she spent last night in hospital. Did you even bother to ask why you were set to such a task?
The boy fidgeted with his covers, unable to meet Brians eyes.
Out with it, lad. Youre hidin somethin and Im in no mood to be generous.
I didnt bolt the door and I didnt set the fire.
Brian frowned. Someone did.
I dont know his name but Mr. Fahey sent him. He was in the barn when I got there, inside the colts stall. Hed done something to him. One minute Irish Gold was standing and the next time I looked he was on his side in the straw. The chap told me to do what Id been paid to do. I swear it, Mr. Hennessey. All I did was keep watch to be sure no one came around and then get rid of the cans. I didnt see him leave or bolt the door. I didnt know the girl was inside. He was desperate. If Id known I would never have done it.
Why did you, Tim?
He looked surprised. I needed the money.
A wave of fury swept through Brian. The boy was contemptible. You knew what he intended. Youve cared for those horses for weeks. Have you no feelins at all for them? Wasnt there one you felt partial to?
No answer.
Doesnt the idea of charred horse meat make you want to vomit? Seconds ticked by.
Tims voice was barely a whisper. I thought theyd get out.
You didnt think it through, lad. Otherwise you would have asked yourself why someone would do such a thing. Brian stood. I think youre in the wrong profession, Tim Sheehan. When youre up and about, come in for whats owed to you. Dont come back to the Stud again and dont use me for a reference.
Despite his stricken expression, the boy hadnt lost all of his wits. What about Mr. Murphy and the investigation? Will something be done?
You can be sure of it, Brian replied grimly. Ill tell Murphy what you told me. It might go easier on you if you agree to stand witness. Thats for you to decide. Turning his back on the boy he left the room.
There were two messages on his cell phone display. One was from Keith Murphy, the other was Hillary Benedicts secretary. Ignoring both, he dialed Brigid Keneallys number. Caitlin answered.
The sound of her voice flooded him with images, images he had no business having on a winding country road slick with rain. He pushed them aside and identified himself. Hows Annie?
Caitlins voice was giddy with relief. Shes fine, Brian. I think she may be well enough to go back to school tomorrow.
May I talk to her?
Of course.
There was a brief silence and then he heard Annies voice, slightly hoarse but unmistakable. Brian?
In the flesh.
Were you hurt in the fire, Brian? she asked anxiously. Mum says you were, not too badly, but more than I was.
No more than a bad sunburn and a sore throat. Tell your mother not to give it another thought. A good nights rest fixed me up.
Annies sigh was audible. I didnt feel anything so I was never afraid. I guess its a good thing.
A very good thing, Brian agreed.
Will you come to see me?
As soon as Im allowed.
Another silence with muffled conversation in the background. Annies voice came on again. Mum says to come for dinner at six if you can. Were in the new house now, you know, the Sullivans old house. We werent supposed to be in until after Christmas but Mama surprised us. All of our things are here and my room is perfect, all pink, just like it was in Kentucky. Ben likes it, too. Would you like to see it, Brian?
I would. Thanks for the invitation. Ill be there at six.
Keith Murphy wasnt surprised to hear Brians news. It was definitely arson, the fire inspector said, and the job of an amateur. The petrol cans were thrown in a nearby dumpster, fingerprints all over them. The horse is still at the clinic, scheduled for an autopsy. Were waiting to hear the official cause of death. Ill wager my mothers rosary that it wont be smoke inhalation although I wouldnt go spreading it around just yet.
Im not sure Sheehan can be counted on not to talk to Fahey.
Ill make it easier for him, Murphy promised. As soon as I hear word on the horse, Ill call you.
Hillary Benedict wasnt so easily appeased. What do you mean you dont know how it happened? she fumed. It was negligence, pure negligence. How else does a fire start in the middle of the rainy season?
Were still confirmin the cause, Hillary, replied Brian.
I cant believe this is happening. He heard a deep sucking silence and the breathless pop that indicated shed lit a cigarette. All of my horses will be pulled. What idiot would take a chance on boarding his thoroughbred at my stud after this catastrophe?
Brian lost his patience. We lost one horse, Hillary, one horse. Id say we were lucky. Now if youve got anything else to contribute, say it now.
I need to see you as soon as possible, Brian. Its urgent.
Im free now.
Her voice grew sharp. Now isnt possible. Tonight is better.
Tonight isnt good for me. Ive made dinner plans.
That shouldnt take long. Ill wait and see you after.
Damn the woman. What could possibly be so urgent that wasnt urgent yesterday? Youll have to come here.
I will. Where and when?
Come to the cottage at half past nine. Ill leave the door open in case Im late.
Dont be too late, she ordered before hanging up the phone.
Perhaps she would fire him. It wasnt the first time the thought had crossed Brians mind but never before had the prospect of being on his own again appealed to him so. He would open up his own training yard. It might be slow at first, but not for long, not when the word got out. His reputation for creating winners had exceeded even his expectations. Breeders beyond the borders of Ireland were contacting him. Even so, he had enough put aside to make it through more than a few lean years.
Brian fingercombed his hair and ran a hand up the side of his jaw, testing for smoothness. Deciding against a shave and the fancy cologne his sister had sent him for Christmas, he dug through his bottom dresser drawer for his favorite sweater, an oatmeal wool Aran, and pulled it over his head.
Hed wasted too much time at the off license debating between red or white wine and ended up buying both. If he didnt leave now, he would surely be late.
Caitlins house was two miles north of Kilcullen, a pleasant gray two-story with gables, white trim, and wide lawns. At his knock, Ben opened the door. Its Brian, Mum, the boy shouted over his shoulder.
May I come in? Brian asked.
Ben stepped aside. There are starters in the sitting room. Annie made them. Mum helped, the boy confided, so its okay to eat them.
Brians lips twitched. Such an uncharitable thought never crossed my mind.
Annie knelt beside a small table and set down the tray she had carried in from the kitchen. To Brians relief he was able to recognize nearly everything on it.
These are fried cheese sticks, Annie announced, pointing to several steaming brown wedges, and this is marinara sauce to go with it.
Ben immediately reached for one, dragged it through the sauce and popped half of it into his mouth. He was nearly at the sauce again when Annie stopped him. Dont you dare double dip or Ill tell Mum.
My sauce is all gone, he said, ever practical.
Thats what the plates are for. She left the room returning with a stack of five small plates, tiny spoons, and forks with three tines. You can use a spoon to put the sauce on your plate. Then you can dip all you want.
What an idea, said Brian, shrugging out of his coat and laying it over the back of his chair. The sauce is delicious, Annie. Did you make it yourself?
I made everything here, the child said proudly.
Ben reached for the carrots. Wheres the dip?
Annie ignored him. Would you like something to drink, Brian? Mum told me to ask you. Shell be out in a minute.
Brian handed
over the wine bottles. Take these in to her. I wasnt sure what she was servin. Ill wait until she can join me. He looked around for Brigid. Is your grandmother here tonight?
I am. Brigid walked down the stairs choosing her steps carefully. She stopped Annie to inspect the wine labels. Very nice. Very nice, indeed. Show these t your mother, Annie. Shell know what t do with them.
Ive left Caitlin on her own, she explained when Annie had left them. She does a much better job in the kitchen than Ive ever done. I believe shes servin lamb tonight.
Brians stomach juices came to life. I look forward to it.
Caitlin stepped out of the kitchen, an apron around her waist and smiled. Hello, Brian.
He nodded. Thanks for the dinner invitation.
She addressed her son. Ben, this is the second time Ive asked you to come and set the table for dinner.
Something green held her hair up and back, away from her face. A few loose tendrils curled around her temples. Her neck looked impossibly long and creamy white. Brian wanted nothing more than to press his lips on the exact spot where her shoulder met her throat and kiss her. Damn Hillary Benedict.
Another mozzarella stick found its way into Bens mouth. A stern glance from Brigid sent him scurrying into the kitchen. Brian grinned. There was nothing like an Irish grandmother to turn a lad in the right direction.
Are you all right in here? Caitlin asked. Ive the salad to make and then I can join you.
Can I help you, love? Brigid asked.
No, thanks. Everythings nearly done. She smiled and returned to the kitchen.
Brigid sat down in a chair beside the fire. It seems we are in debt t you, Brian Hennessey.
You may feel that way, Mrs. Keneally, but theres no need. Im pleased no harm was taken.
No harm at all, thank God. Have you any idea how it started?
I do, but Im not at liberty to say just yet.
Brigid leaned forward. So, it wasnt an accident.
I never said that.
You didnt say it wasnt either.
She was quick. Brian would give her that. Older people were supposed to be less keen but there was nothing at all feeble about Brigid Keneallys faculties.
I know how t keep my mouth shut if thats whats worryin you.
I would never dream of askin you to do so, Mrs. Keneally. The fire marshalls will be done with their investigation soon and then I imagine the cause of the fire will be public knowledge.
Brigid fixed a cold blue stare on his face. Is my family safe, Brian?
They are, more now than ever.
She hesitated I believe you.
Something wasnt right. But?
I need a favor.
Hed been down this road before. What can I do for you, Mrs. Keneally? he asked warily.
Id like you t make an inquiry about Father Durans health?
It was a request he hadnt expected and his surprise showed.
Martin will tell you, she said.
Martin would tell you, too, if you asked him.
No. Brigid shook her head. I dont want t be the one askin.
He was about to cross the line and ask if there was a particular reason for such a question when Caitlin called them into the dining room. One glance at the feast she had prepared wiped all other thoughts from his mind. Caitlin, he said in awe, youre an artist.
She brushed aside the compliment but her flushed cheeks told him that his words had pleased her.
Sit down, Brian, Brigid said dryly, waving him into a chair. We eat like this all the time. If you came around more often every available woman in town wouldnt feel the need to feed you.
Caitlin sighed. Dont listen to her, Brian. Kathleen Finch tells me she gets more outrageous every year.
His chest ached with emotion. Give him another minute and he would embarrass himself. There was something about a table groaning with food, shining silver, well-scrubbed children and a woman, lovely and smart, talented and giving. He wanted it, all of it, even the omniscient old harridan who pretended ignorance when all the while she knew exactly what she wanted and exactly what it took to get it.
This was the answer, the master plan, the reason hed ended up here in Kilcullen. It all came down to this moment, this woman and all the years that would follow. Brian was thirty-four years old. Finally, hed found his destiny.
Hillarys BMW wasnt anywhere in sight when he pulled into his driveway. It was past nine-thirty. He waited until ten before dialing her number. She answered on the first ring.
Im here, Hillary. I cut my dinner plans short. Where are you?
I have a guest, she said, keeping her voice low. I wont be able to make it tonight. Tuesday will be better. Ill drive over Tuesday night.
You said it was urgent.
I dont care for your tone, Brian. Please remember that you work for me.
He could feel his jugular throb. That can be remedied.
She laughed, the false, tinkling laugh of a woman who knew she was being watched. Dont be absurd. Ill see you Tuesday.
He hung up the phone. Neeve padded in from the kitchen and rested her head on his knees. He stroked her where she was most sensitive, under her chin. She whimpered and he gave in. You win. Well go for a run. I dont know who needs it more, you or I.
25
Michael Duran was dead. Black clad mourners passed by his open coffin paying their respects in death as they had not in life.
Brigid sat in the back of the mortuary, her fingers frozen in the twisted strands of her rosary beads, her voice whispering familiar words of the litany that no amount of grief, or time, or resentment could wipe from her Catholic memory.
Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thouamong women and blessed is the fruit of they womb, Jesus. HolyMary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour ofour death.
Michael Duran was dead. Was it possible? How long ago had he come to Kilcullen? Thirty-seven years ago or was it longer?
Why must black be the color of death? Didnt they know Michael hated it? Wasnt it enough that he would rest in it for all eternity? Brigid wasnt enough of an optimist to believe that there was another option for Michael Duran. He was a priest whod lived a lie and was sorry for it, but in the end knew he would have done nothing differently. No white clouds and pearly gates for him, no rubbing shoulders with the likes of Saint Patrick and Thomas More. Michael was a flawed man, a man who stood on the fence to make his life comfortable. No amount of rationalizing would whitewash what he had done.
Martin looked visibly shaken, his handsome youthful face was gray with shock or grief, or both. But he performed his duties well. Assumpta would have been proud of him tonight, officiating at Father Durans rosary. Assumpta had always been reverent, too reverent, Brigid thought, but then one could never walk in anothers shoes.
There would be no wake. Michael Duran hadnt the soul of an Irishman. They wouldnt put him to rest as one. Brigids fingers tightened around her beads. Hail Mary, full of grace, the Lord is with thee, blessed art thou among women and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, mother of God, pray for us sinners now and at the hour of our death.
Where was Michaels family? Hed mentioned a sister, Mary Rose. Perhaps she was dead as well. People didnt live forever. Her knees ached from kneeling. Martin had begun the Lords Prayer. Automatically, Brigid followed his lead. Our Father, who art in Heaven hallowed be Thy name, Thy kingdom come, Thy will be done on earth as it is in heaven. Give us this day our daily bread and forgive us our trespasses as we forgive those who have trespassed against us. Lead us not into temptation but deliver us from evil. Our Father . . .
Brigid closed her eyes and clutched at the words, familiar and comforting in the face of her tragedy. For it was a tragedy. It signalled the end of an era, an irrevocable closing of a chapter that had finally been set in ink, never to be revised or improved. She brushed away a tear. It was time for Michael Duran to have his day of revelation. She never doubted that it would come. Shed hoped for more t
ime, just a few more years until her own life wound to a close. But it was not to be. Michael would have the last laugh, only this time no one would be laughing. Perhaps she deserved it to end like this, after the way shed treated him. She only hoped for Annies sake, and for Bens, that Caitlin would forgive her.
Even with her eyes closed she knew the exact moment her daughter had slipped into the seat beside her.
Brigid opened her eyes and forced a smile. I didnt expect you t make it.
Im sorry to be so late, Caitlin whispered, but I couldnt get Ben to bed, and then Davy was late. He said he wouldnt mind staying with the children. She looked around. Everyone is here.
Brigid didnt miss the venomous look Lana Sullivan had directed at Caitlin. Now, what ailed the girl? Aye, she said dryly. The passing of a priest doesnt happen every day, thank God.
You didnt like him, did you, Mum?
Frowning, Brigid shook her head. This isnt the place.
Martin turned in their direction, smiled, and blessed the congregation. The rosary was over.
As always, the inhabitants of Kilcullen drew together when one of their own expired. It had taken his demise to do it, but Father Duran had finally been admitted into the inner circle. Gathering together on the steps of the mortuary, the priests mourners discussed his passing.
Caitlin pressed her mothers gloved hand. You look tired, Mum.
John OShea interrupted them. Will you be openin the pub for a few hours, Brigid? Kathleen said if you werent feelin up to it, she would unlock the cafe.
Brigid hesitated. A few hours meant half the night. She wanted to mourn Michael in the peace of her own house. If she had been a relative or even a close friend they would understand. But she was neither of those. They knew nothing of what had really happened that autumn thirty-odd years ago and she had no plans to tell them.
Caitlins arm closed around her shoulder. Mums been up the last few nights with Annie. She hasnt caught up on her sleep yet.
Dont think twice about it, said Kathleen. Lana and I will manage. She nodded at the girl hovering on the edge of a group of four. You dont mind puttin in a few extra hours, do you, Lana? Caitlin wants to take her mum home.
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