Shamrocks and Secrets

by Cayce Poponea

  “Auntie Christi?”

  Abigail's small voice caught my attention and I glanced down at her.

  “Yes, Baby?”

  “Are we marrying Patrick today?”

  I had to smile at her, it wasn’t if I was marrying him she felt the whole family was going to marry him. I guess in a sense we were.

  “Yes, we are. Are you ready?”

  Her face suddenly looked upset.

  “But I don’t want to marry Patrick. I want to marry my daddy.”

  I looked to my sister who had her hand firmly covering her mouth, a small sob escaping as she quickly turned to gather her flowers.

  “Abby, I think that if you want to marry your daddy, Patrick will understand.”

  The smile that covered her little cherub face was enough to brighten the room. And she began to jump up and down excitedly, the yellow ribbon of her dress following her every move.

  My father stood at the end of the hall, dressed in a crisp black tuxedo. He, like Patrick, would not have the same tuxedo as the groom’s men.

  With Charlotte on my left and my dad on my right, I focused my eyes on my sister who stood directly in front of me.

  The beautiful one shoulder dress that we had chosen would truly be one of those you could wear after my wedding. I had ordered one for myself as a matter of fact.

  Once Shannon was on her way down the aisle and the doors again securely closed, I could hear the rustling of the runner as it was being laid down the aisle. Nora had insisted that it be made of real lace and not the waxed paper version that so many brides did these days.

  The doors opened, and with a final breath and a quick close of my eyes, I took my first step at becoming Mrs. Patrick Malloy.

  As I placed the ring on Patrick’s left hand, I spoke the words I’d memorized since I was a little girl. As I looked into his deep green eyes, I tried to picture what my life with him would be like. Will he remember this day as a day he will never forget, or will he wish it was just a bad decision he made in his youth? I would spend the rest of my days reminding him how wonderful this day was.

  "Ní féidir leat a bhfuil liom go mbaineann mé liom féin.

  Ach fad is mian linn an dá é, mé a thabhairt duit go bhfuil mianach a thabhairt.

  Ní féidir leat gceannas orm, mar tá mé ag duine saor in aisce.

  Ach beidh mé ag freastal ort sna bealaí de dhíth ort,

  Agus beidh an honeycomb blas bhinne ag teacht ó mo lámh.

  Geallaim duit go mbeidh mise an t-ainm a bheith caoin mé os ard ar an oíche,

  Agus na súile isteach a aoibh gháire mé ar maidin.

  Geallaim duit an bite chéad mo feola agus an deoch chéad ó mo chupán.

  Geallaim duit mo bheo agus mo bháis, gach cothrom faoi do chúram.

  Beidh mé a bheith ina sciath do do ais agus tú mianach.

  Ní dhéanfaidh mé clúmhilleadh tú, ná mé tú.

  Beidh mé honor tú thar aon rud eile, agus nuair a quarrel beidh muid é sin a dhéanamh i

  Phríobháideach agus insint Ní hannamh ár casaoidí.

  Tá sé seo vow mo bainise a thabhairt duit

  Is é seo an pósadh ar comhionann."

  (“You cannot possess me, for I belong to myself.

  But while we both wish it, I give you that which is mine to give.

  You cannot command me, for I am a free person.

  But I shall serve you in those ways you require,

  And the honeycomb will taste sweeter coming from my hand.

  I pledge to you that yours will be the name I cry aloud in the night,

  And the eyes into which I smile in the morning.

  I pledge to you the first bite of my meat and the first drink from my cup.

  I pledge to you my living and my dying, each equally in your care.

  I shall be a shield for your back and you for mine.

  I shall not slander you, nor you me.

  I shall honor you above all others, and when we quarrel we shall do so in private and tell no strangers our grievances.

  This is my wedding vow to you

  This is the marriage of equals.”)

  “It is my great honor to present to you, Mr. and Mrs. Patrick Malloy.”

  The master of ceremonies’ voice vibrated the floor I currently stood on. Patrick lips firmly attached to mine and I could feel the smile he was wearing against my lips.

  “I love you.” His word carried a promise, one I knew he would keep.

  Patrick, never one to do anything the normal way, quickly picked me up bridal style as he walked into the massive ballroom.

  We had to use the same room that Paige and Caleb had used due to the number of guests. The same companies set up monitors for all to see. Though the threat was gone, the security was even tighter. This was the first time I had seen the room completed.

  Just like Paige and Caleb, we cut our cake first. The multi-tiered cake had our initials setting majestically on top. Patrick carefully placed the tiny bite of cake to my lips and then quickly kissing me. Maggie handed me a glass of champagne and I quickly took a drink.

  “Go easy on that stuff. We have plans for later and I want you to remember every detail.”

  His words alone caused my body to shiver and left me completely speechless.

  That night, I danced until my feet nearly fell off and I laughed until I cried.

  I hugged, flirted, and had the time of my life.

  When I look back on this night, I doubt that I will remember how the food tasted or what brand of wine sat on the table.

  I won't remember what music was played or who left together.

  I won't remember what time Abigail finally fell asleep in her daddy’s arms.

  What I will remember, was the look on Patrick’s face as he glided me across the dance floor.

  I’ll remember how my father let a single tear fall as we danced to I loved her first by Heartland

  How Tonto and Caitlyn were caught making out in the back of the limo.

  And how Abigail announced to the whole room that she was glad Patrick was married so he wouldn’t cry when she married her daddy.

  But most of all I will remember that today I married the man of my dreams…

  Epilogue

  Twenty-five years later…

  I had dreaded this day for as long as I could remember. Our son, Declan, was getting ready to board a plane for Ireland.

  Patrick was with him now, just as Thomas had been for him. I could still remember the night Patrick had decided to go, the night of Shannon’s bachelorette party. Oh, how many of those I had attended since then. Thank, God there hadn’t been anymore serial rapists in attendance.

  Patrick and I were blessed with three children, not the twelve he’d desired, or so he’d said. It was after Katie was born,that I learned that he had really wanted a little girl, too, not the twelve boys he had so boldly spoken of. Nora was overjoyed when we announced that we would be naming two of, however many sons we had, after her two brothers that had been murdered all those years ago.

  Declan was our oldest and first in line to run the family business. He was so much like his father that I felt a little sorry for his girlfriend, Katie. Katie, on the other hand, was a little on the nervous side and a bit high-strung. She overanalyzed everything and cried at least once a day. Declan assured me he would work on helping her toughen up her skin. She would need it to survive in our world.

  Yes, that was right, his sister and his girlfriend had the same name. It wasn’t planned that way. Patrick and I had chosen to keep our baby’s name a secret, and so had Maggie and Angus. Maggie and I had delivered our girls within minutes of each other. Thomas had made good on his word and Angus received his official citizenship a few short months later. Shamus stood beside him as they raised their right hands and took the oath.

  Our second son we named Connor. He was my mini-me. He wanted nothing to do with the running of the family business and chose to be a ‘positive’ part of the family as Nora had
labeled it. Connor was in his second year of medical school. Patrick and I couldn't have been more proud.

  “Christi!” Katie’s voice was quivering as she raced into the room in tears, effectively putting an end to my walk down memory lane. “Christi, why does he suddenly have to go to Ireland? I mean how important can his business be if I can’t go with him?”

  See what I mean?

  “Katie, what have both your Mother and I told you about your behavior?”

  Her head fell and she plopped herself into the chair she was closest to. “You said that if I plan to be a part of this family, that I need to grow a backbone and not cry all the time.”

  Her voice was so tiny and I continued to question if Declan had made the right choice in asking her father for her hand in marriage. Declan had always had the maturity of a thirty-year-old man. From the day he was born, not that he’d had a choice in the matter.

  “So, why are you sitting here crying your eyes out?”

  I watched as she raised her head, straightened her shoulders, and then wiped her eyes with her tiny fingers, “Because I just don’t get why he has to do this.”

  I remembered questioning Patrick as to why he had to go. I had simply accepted that he had business, but Katie wasn’t me.

  “Katie, there are going to be things that happen in life that you have to just accept and go on.”

  “I get that, Christi, but he won’t even talk about it. He tells me it’s something he has to handle and that I can’t go,” she pouted.

  Her attitude was that of a three-year-old and it bothered me the most.

  “Well, Katie, you don’t follow him to the bathroom do you?”

  Her nose wrinkled up in disgust. “No!”

  I laughed, as I had changed far too many of his diapers not to find that thought amusing.

  “Well, then think of this as an extended bathroom break.”

  She began to giggle at my statement. At least she had quit crying, for now.

  “So, Christi, you know what’s happening while he’s in Ireland, can’t you tell me anything? Are they buying more buildings?…Is he going for fun?…Does he have…a…a girl there?”

  All of my children had a very clear view of how Patrick and I felt on the issue of cheating. Katie knew that as well. So it puzzled me as to why she would even think that.

  “Katie,” my voice was clipped.

  “Sorry, Christi, I know he'd never do that, not after...”

  “Exactly.” The tone of my voice quickly ended that conversation.

  I knew I had to give her something, a glimmer of hope, and yet not ruin the proposal that Declan would have for her upon his return. I thought for several moments until the right words came to mind.

  “I can assure you that what he’s about to do in Ireland will be to your advantage as well as his. Don’t worry, Sweet girl, it’s just a whole lot of shamrocks with a touch of secrets.”

  Declan did both his father and grandfather proud when he walked back through our front door six days later. His clothes were just as tattered and torn as Patrick’s had been. Katie again worried me as she turned her nose up in disgust as Declan made his way toward her.

  “Are you thinking of the day this all happened for us?” Patrick wrapped his strong arms around me, chasing away the chill that had crept into the room.

  “Has it really been twenty-five years?” My voice a little thicker than it was back then, the hair a little grayer.

  “Um hmm. It has.” He responded as he kissed the top of my head.

  I watched as Declan slowly bent to one knee, saying the same words that men have spoken to their intendeds for years.

  “I wish your mother could have seen this.” I spoke softly, missing Nora terribly, especially during times like this.

  “Yes, I miss her, too. But the past twenty-five years have been good years, haven't they?” Patrick seemed to have a different memory of those years than I did. Granted the majority of them were wonderful, but I questioned if he forgot the first few that our marriage nearly didn't survive.

  “I seem to recall things a little differently.” He said against my temple. I turned my head slightly, my cheek now against his broad shoulders, my eyes locked with his.

  “Oh, really?” I challenged, his green eyes now dusted with age, the laugh and worry lines trophies he wore with pride.

  “Yes, really, Mrs. Malloy.” He tossed back at me, his teasing and highly playful tone shining thought his voice.

  “And pray tell, Mr. Malloy, how do you remember the last twenty-five years?”

  Patrick snuggled in closer to me as the crowd that had been invited to share in this moment, were clapping with congratulations for the happy couple. Katie of course was crying.

  “Well, my beautiful wife, I remember…”

  Want to know what Patrick remembered? Find out for yourself in

  Claddagh and Chaos

  The sequel to Shamrocks and Secrets. Coming soon.

  ABOUT THE AUTHOR

  Cayce Poponea is from southern Georgia. From an early age, she discovered the amazing world that resides in the pages of books. She shared that love for reading with her two children and both were able to read at very early ages. With encouragement from her friends and family, she took the plunge and decided to share her own thoughts in the form of her books. A true romantic at heart, Cayce brings her ideas and desires about love and relationships to life in each one of her novels.