Do Not Go Gentle
Page 47
Jamie’s head snapped around at the sound of his father’s voice. Frank Griffin, flanked by Patrick and Sully, stood with at least two dozen cops, pistols and riot guns raised. They all stood dumbfounded. Then, at movement by Emilio Gonzalez and his remaining men, training reasserted itself, with Jamie as well as the officers at the back of the room.
“Everyone throw down your weapons,” Frank Griffin ordered, officers and detectives fanning out around him. While Gonzalez’s men still held a slight advantage in numbers, they were in shock from what they had just witnessed and quietly complied with Frank Griffin’s command. As officers ran to them, ordering them to the ground and beginning the process of cuffing them, Jamie heard his name shouted by another voice.
“Jamie.”
He turned and saw Eileen push past Sully. He met her halfway and stepped into her fierce embrace. “I told you I’d come back,” he whispered into her ear.
“Come back?” Eileen demanded, holding him out at arm’s length. “I came and found you boyo.” Then she hugged him again.
“Jamie, you need to get an ambulance here right away.” Jamie turned and saw Louie kneeling down beside Darcelle.
“Sully,” Jamie shouted as he broke free from Eileen and joined Louie on the ground. “We need a bus, and we need it now.”
* * * *
It was mid-afternoon of a day that felt like it had lasted a week. The snow had abated, but dark clouds still scudded across the leaden sky as if they couldn’t wait to be elsewhere. Jamie looked around his dining room table. Eileen sat beside Lucy, a consoling arm draped around the old woman’s shoulders. A scowling Hanrahan sat a noticeable distance away from the cailleach, and equally distant from Louie, who sat with his head bowed, staring at a cup of lukewarm coffee. Patrick Griffin sat to Jamie’s right, Nuala Griffin to his left, and Jamie’s daughters were also present—Brigid next to her grandmother, Caitlin and Riona on a wooden bench built in to the wall between the hutches.
Lucy, already red-eyed, was struggling not to cry again when she asked Jamie, “What about Ríordán? I know he has family who need to be told, who will want to see his, his— ”
“My Da and Sully are handling all the red tape, Lucy,” he replied in a soft, even voice. “This mess has created a mountain of it. They will notify his next-of-kin and make arrangements for them. Given the circumstances of his death, the coroner will certainly want to perform an autopsy.”
Hanrahan snorted in disgust. “We know what killed the lad—his entire body was overloaded and fried like some cheap appliance.” He shook his head. “I warned him—the witch was too strong.”
“Mayhaps,” Lucy replied in a sharp tone, “but I doubt ye would have been strong enough to protect the rest of us without the lad’s strength.”
“Peace,” the druid said, spreading his big hands in conciliation. “I agree. He gave his life that the rest of us might live. I just wish it could have been otherwise.”
“Speaking of which,” Eileen said. “Have we heard anything more about Darcelle?”
Jamie shook his head. “Not yet, love. Daphné said she would call once they knew anything more about Darcelle.”
“Poor, poor thing,” Eileen murmured.
“Aye, but I don’t think it was a bullet that hit her in the eye—I think it was a fragment from the shelves. That may make all the difference in her survival and whether or not she keeps her eye.”
No one spoke for several moments. Then, for perhaps the tenth time since lunch, Patrick sighed and said, “I still don’t believe it, and I saw it.”
Jamie reached over and punched his brother lightly in the shoulder. “I know, dheartháir. I know. I can’t quite convince myself to accept it all either.”
“None of us can,” Eileen said in a muted voice. “I only saw the very end, when the poor woman was finally put out of her misery.”
Louie raised his head, eyes glinting. “You ask me, dat bitch didn’t suffer enough. Pardon my language,” he said with an embarrassed nod at the girls.
“It’s okay,” Riona said solemnly. “We hear worse every fall when Notre Dame plays football.”
Jamie glared at his youngest daughter but said nothing to her. “Personally, I agree with Louie.”
“Séamus Edward Griffin,” Nuala said in her sternest voice. “That is not a Christian sentiment.”
“Mother,” Jamie said, patting her hand. “Sedecla was not a Christian woman.”
“Matters not,” his mother replied. “Matters not.”
“I still don’t understand what happened when you and the witch woman stood there starin’ at each other,” Louie groused.
“Yeah, Dad,” Caitlin said. “You kinda skimmed over that part earlier.”
Jamie took a deep breath. “I’m not sure I can really describe it, not properly, not yet anyway.” He paused for several moments, and then when it became apparent that he wasn’t being let off that easily, he continued. “I found myself alone with Sedecla in a dark place, and she was tempting me.” He paused again, struggling for the exact words. No one interrupted him. “Eileen probably knows more about this than anyone, so I’ll back up for everyone else’s benefit.
“When I first became sick, I started having nightmares. I had one the very day I began feeling bad. I was being forced across a bridge. I could tell that my old life was on one side—where everything was bright and colorful and happy. On the other side, life was drab and gray and miserable. Even when I managed to break free of those forcing me across, the bridge itself started to collapse behind me, and I had no choice but to run to the far side, the gray side—the nightmare side.” Jamie took a long sip of coffee. “Over the months, the nightmare kept changing, but it was always the same theme—I was losing everything I loved. It changed to nightmares about fighting Sedecla, especially after Cal was murdered. So when we were face to face in the place that was not a place where she took me at the end, Sedecla offered to give me my old life back. She offered to make my nightmares go away. I could be healthy again—she offered me money, power, even immortality.”
“Worship me and all this shall be yours,” Nuala murmured.
“Aye,” Jamie replied. “She wasn’t Satan, but she was obviously a dark, evil person, and she tempted me.” Jamie looked at his coffee cup, swirled the dregs for a few seconds, drained it, and then continued. “Lord forgive me, I was sorely tempted.”
“So how didja turn her down?” Louie asked.
“I couldn’t have,” Jamie replied, his voice distant and soft, as if he were back in that dark place with Sedecla. “By myself, I would have given in—I wanted to be a worthwhile person again. I wanted to stop letting my family down. I wanted to be a man again.” He looked down at his empty coffee cup, and when he looked up again, they could see tears glistening in his eyes. “I would have failed if not for those who love me. As I felt myself succumbing to her offers, another part of me opened up and shone a bright light on her dark words. I saw the faces of my family and friends—of Cal and Mario Ramirez and Sedecla’s other victims. I knew her offers were lies, and I had the strength to reject them.”
No one spoke for several seconds. “I think you sell yourself short, my love,” Eileen finally said, breaking the silence. “I think you just drew upon our love to give you the strength to fight her.”
Jamie shrugged. “Maybe.”
“No maybe about it,” Hanrahan disagreed. “The witch knew your greatest desire and offered it to you, as well as anything else she could think of that might induce you to give her the statue. If you hadn’t been true to yourself, you would have given in.”
“The druid has the right of it,” Lucy said. “Ye are a good man, and your heart is good. Otherwise, the witch would have made ye one of her own.”
Eileen hugged Jamie fiercely. “You stubborn, stubborn man,” she said in a choking voice. “You are worth so much more to me, to your girls, and to your family and friends than just being a ‘good provider.’ Being sick hasn’t made you less of a man—the way
you’ve handled this adversity has made you more of a man, and I love you more now than ever.”
Brigid, Caitlin, and Riona reached out and touched Jamie as well. “How could you ever think you were letting us down?” Brigid asked with genuine dismay on her face. “Da, you’re my hero.” Riona and Caitlin nodded in agreement.
Now Jamie did cry. It was something he only had done a few times in his life—and only at funerals. Still, he quickly wiped away the tears and nodded. “I know, my dear ones, I know. It was just how I felt. I may never completely get over the feeling of loss and failure at not being able to be the man I was before all this, but with help from all of you, I know I can get through it. I know I can make peace with it.”
They lapsed once more into silence, listening to the wind howling its icy threats outside and thankful for the warmth and protection they enjoyed within.
Chapter Thirty-Two
January 2nd dawned sunny and cold. The worst of the storm had passed, although winter still held New England in its icy grip. Jamie got up around nine and went through his morning rounds with Finn MacCool. He was exhausted—Jamie could tell that he was going to pay a heavy price for the previous days’ events. His headache, which he could normally keep to a dull roar, sent stabs of pain through his eye. Jamie had taken one of his migraine pills. They worked slowly, but they worked. By the time he had finished his second cup of coffee, his head felt better—now it only seemed like someone was running a jackhammer inside his head. His exhaustion, which at best was like a small-to-medium size monkey on his back, felt more like King Kong’s big brother today. His balance was terrible this morning. His days of being able to stand on one foot with eyes closed for several minutes without swaying were gone. Now Jamie congratulated himself if he could get a cup of coffee without spilling it or bumping into anything. Worst of all, in a down cycle, Jamie could barely focus. He tried reading the newspaper, but gave up when he realized he had read the same article twice and still didn’t remember what it was about. When Eileen got up at eleven, she found him sitting on the sectional, surfing the Web and scratching Finn’s belly.
“How are you today?” she asked in a bleary tone of voice. Eileen was disheveled and groggy. She never would be a morning person. She shuffled to sit beside Jamie on the sectional. Finn thumped his tail twice in greeting.
“Well, this is not going to be one of my better days,” Jamie admitted. “I need someone to sic the cops on the demented semi driver crashing around inside my head. I told him he could pass—”
“Hey. I heard Mom get up, so I knew it’d be safe to come down.” Riona’s cheerful voice preceded her down the staircase. She entered the room with her usual bounce and sunny disposition.
Eileen growled but said nothing. Jamie glared and just held up his coffee cup.
“Ah, I think I’ll get you guys coffee. Let’s go, Finn,” Riona said, feigning terror as she backed out of the room.
“Wise decision, sunshine,” Eileen said with a grin creeping onto her face.
Brigid and Caitlin came downstairs and settled onto the couch. The dog followed Riona for a moment, then when it was apparent that she did not intend to act appropriately and get him any of the treats he deserved, Finn returned to the living room and settled in between the two girls. Eileen and the girls were all still in pajamas and robes. Jamie was dressed in a comfortable Notre Dame running suit.
The doorbell interrupted their morning bliss. Finn MacCool barked furiously and accompanied Riona to the front door, quieting and sitting upon command.
There was a FedEx delivery person at the door. “I need an adult signature,” she said, grinning at the exaggerated frown that Riona put on her face.
“I’m an adult—I’m nearly in high school.”
Jamie got up and walked to the door, put a hand on top of his daughter’s head, turned her around, and sent her back to the living room with a swat on the butt. Riona yelped. and after signing for the box, Jamie came back to sit down beside Eileen on the sectional.
“Whatizzit, Dad? Whatizzit?” Riona demanded.
“Who votes for applying some duct tape?” Caitlin said, raising her hand.
When everyone else immediately raised their hands, Riona sat in a huff beside the dog, who had found a nice patch of sunshine coming in through the front windows. “Finn loves me,” she complained in a quiet voice.
“We all do,” Jamie replied, “but Mom and your sisters are not awake, and I’m fighting another migraine.” He looked at his youngest daughter with a weak smile. “Please just keep the Riona-meter to no more than a 5.0 on the Richter scale, okay baby?” Riona nodded, and Jamie opened the box.
“It’s from Timmy O’Neill,” he said in a sad voice. They had learned of O’Neill’s suicide yesterday afternoon, which had only added to their somber mood. Daphné had called yesterday with an update on Darcelle. She said that Darcy was going to lose her right eye, but otherwise, had come through the surgery in good shape.
“What in the world is all that?” Eileen asked as Jamie removed three thick, brown accordion file folders and a box of CDs/DVDs.
“Dunno,” Jamie replied, then opened an envelope atop the file folders. He took out a three page, typed letter. As he scanned the letter, his face sagged, and Eileen saw tears starting to form in his eyes.
“What, love? What does the letter say?”
Jamie said nothing until he reached the end of the letter. Brigid, Caitlin, and Riona looked on with apprehensive eyes. Timmy O’Neill had been like an uncle to them. Finally, Jamie handed the letter to Eileen, and then rubbed his face several times. “I can’t believe it,” Jamie said in a sad, shaking voice. “I’m sure I’ll have no choice,” he added, pointing at the materials, “but I just can’t believe it.”
“What?” his girls asked in a chorus.
Jamie stood, levering himself against the arm of the sectional. Eileen reached up and steadied him. “Apparently, Timmy was head of the Mazzimah, Sedecla’s criminal operations.”
Eileen looked up from the letter with tears in her own eyes. “It’s not possible.” The girls sat on the couch and floor with stunned expressions.
Jamie reached back and gave his wife’s hand a hard squeeze. “I’m afraid it is, love.” He shuffled from the room and started up the stairs.
“What are you after?” Eileen asked, looking up again from O’Neill’s letter.
“I’m going to get a shower and clean up,” Jamie called back. “I’m going to have to call Da and Sully and take this in to them.” Jamie continued up the stairs with heavy steps and a heavy heart.
* * * *
They had been home maybe an hour from a lengthy, often heated meeting, where Jamie had reviewed O’Neill’s materials with his father and Bob Sullivan. They were just discussing dinner plans, when the telephone rang. As usual, Riona answered it. No one dared to get in her way when the telephone rang. “Griffin residence,” she answered, in her best British servant accent. After listening for a moment, Riona took the cordless handset to Jamie. “It’s for you, Da.”
“Hello?”
“Hi, Jamie, it’s Maggie Walsh.” Maggie was Jamie’s disability attorney.
“Maggie. Happy New Year to you. How are you doing?”
“Jamie, I am doing absolutely wonderful. Fantastic. In fact, I am ecstatic this fine afternoon.”
Jamie sat forward with a jerk. “Maggie—” he said, not daring to continue.
“Jamie, I am holding a letter that we just received via fax. We won your long-term disability, Jamie. We won.”
“Ohmygod,” Jamie said. For the third time in just over twenty-four hours, Jamie felt himself tearing up. “Oh, Jaysus, Maggie—” Jamie could barely hold the telephone. “You’re serious.”
“You bet your ass I’m serious,” Maggie Walsh replied with glee. “I buried those assholes in enough paperwork and citations that they reversed their initial decision.”
“I thought you said it’d be months before we got a response,” Jamie said.
Eileen and the girls watched Jamie with fear, especially given recent events. As Eileen started to realize what Jamie was discussing, she began to cry herself.
“What?” The three Griffin girls could barely speak. The past few days had seen too much bad news. Even Riona deflated like a punctured balloon.
“I’m sorry,” Jamie said, handing the phone to Eileen, who took it and began interrogating Maggie in an excited voice.
“What is it, Da?” Brigid asked.
“Don’t worry. It’s good news, lass,” Jamie said, holding out his arms to his daughters. “It’s wonderful, excellent, fantastic news. In fact, we’re going to go celebrate. Maggie Walsh called to tell me I won my long-term disability.” Looking at his daughters’ stunned faces, he added, “That includes back benefits from when I first got sick. We’re going to get through this.”
“Papa Gino’s,” Riona shouted.
“No, Sonny’s,” Caitlin said.
“No,” Jamie said. “This is a big-time celebration—we’re going downtown to the Black Rose.”
“Woo-hoo,” Brigid shouted. “I’m gettin’ cleaned up.” All three girls dashed out of the room, winding up Finn MacCool with their whirlwind exit, each yelling for dibs on one of the showers.
When Eileen finally got off the telephone, she grabbed Jamie into a fierce hug. “Oh my love.”
Jamie hugged back just as hard. “I can’t believe it,” he murmured.
“Believe it, boyo.” she replied. “Maggie says we should have the initial settlement check by the end of next week, and sweet Jaysus it’s going to be a big one.”