Jamie pulled her close, dropping her head onto Ryan’s chest. She sighed deeply as she admitted, "I wish I didn’t know that you had done that."
"I wish I hadn’t done it," Ryan agreed fully.
Giving her a squeeze, Jamie reminded her of the promise she had made many weeks ago. "I told you before that the past was past. It’s buried between us. Let’s let it go."
"Can you do that?" Ryan asked, timidly.
"I think so. I don’t like it, but I think I understand your logic at least. The bottom line is that you learned something from it, and even if we weren’t together, I doubt that you’d ever do it again."
"No, I’m certain that I wouldn’t," she agreed, her heart starting to beat normally once again. "I thought I respected marriage before, but now that I’m committed to you…" She trailed off, shaking her head. "Now I understand how sacred the vow is," she said quietly. "It’s hard enough to build a relationship without a third party trying to destroy it."
The women were sitting on the deck when Catherine’s light tread finally sounded on the staircase. Duffy’s tail was whapping against the house so sharply that Martin came out, thinking someone was knocking on the door. He noticed Ryan holding on to the dog’s collar, then saw Catherine’s blonde head peek up as she smiled at the gathering. She was dressed in a pair of tan linen slacks with a pure white linen square-cut oversized blouse. The blouse hung out over her slacks, giving her a slightly casual air, but her exquisitely tasteful jewelry and carefully applied make-up diminished the casualness. In her left hand she carried a bottle of liquor, in her right a small purse that perfectly matched her buttery soft sable-colored leather flats.
"I wasn’t sure that the traffic gods would comply, but I’m finally here," she said brightly, a few signs of tension on her face.
"I’m sorry, Mom," Jamie said, getting up to greet her with a kiss and a hug. "We should have come down to you."
"Nonsense," she said, brushing off the suggestion. "Traffic was much worse the other way. I’m happy to come, Sweetheart."
Ryan greeted her mother-in-law, already feeling slightly better to have the older woman nearby. Martin dashed into the house and called for the boys and they filed out moments later. The look on Catherine’s face was priceless as Brendan bent over and gave her a robust hug, closely followed by Conor, who mimicked his greeting.
Composing herself, Catherine said, "It’s very nice to finally meet you, Brendan. Now I just have one more to go, correct?"
"Yes," Martin agreed. "Rory will be home by the weekend, so you’ll meet him at the party." He said this so matter-of-factly that Catherine was unable to disagree with him, figuring that she had a party to attend.
The boys returned to the house to continue watching the Giants game and Martin started to go with them, but Catherine asked him to stay. "Would you mind discussing what went on today with us, Martin?" she asked. "I’d like your opinion."
"No, no, I’d be happy to, if I’m not interfering."
"We’d love you to talk with us, Martin," Jamie insisted. "Let me go get a glass for you, Mom."
"Oh," Catherine said, looking at the bottle that she still held in her hand. "I wasn’t sure that you kept Scotch in the house, and I hate to switch."
She looked a little sheepish, but Martin immediately got to his feet and said, "Well done, Catherine. I think a wee nip would be just the thing." Moments later he returned with four glasses, a pitcher of water, a metal mixing bowl filled with ice, and a bottle of Connemara whiskey. "You’ll find no Scotch in the O’Flaherty home," he teased, his eyes twinkling. "It’s Irish or nothing here."
Ryan took a glass and helped herself to some whiskey, suitably impressed that her father had pulled out the good stuff, while Jamie joined her mother in imbibing a little Scotch.
"Well," Catherine said, letting the smooth warm mellowness of the liquor bring a nice heated tingle to her chest as she swallowed. "An impromptu Friday evening chat, a pair of very anxious looking young women, and two bottles of liquor. I have a feeling this is bad news indeed."
"It is, Mom," Jamie admitted. "I promised you that I wouldn’t take any major steps without talking to you first, so I wanted to let you know that I’m going to cut off all contact with Daddy in the future." She said this calmly, but there was such a well of sadness in her eyes that Catherine felt her heart clench in sympathy for her daughter.
"I’m sure you wouldn’t do that if it wasn’t justified, Jamie," she acknowledged. "What happened, Dear?"
"Daddy hired a private investigator to trail Ryan," she said, drawing a slight flush from her partner as all eyes turned to her.
"Oh, Ryan, I’m so sorry," Catherine said, her eyes blinking slowly against the shame that she felt. "I’m embarrassed to share a name with that man." Letting out a heavy sigh, she leaned back in her chair and drained her drink, immediately pouring another. "Is there anything that I can do to make amends, Ryan?"
"No, it’s fine, Catherine," she insisted. "Jamie knew almost everything in the report." She looked down at her feet and admitted, "It was pretty humiliating to see my life laid out like that—but I guess that was his goal."
"How do you feel about this, Martin?" Catherine asked, seeing the fire burn in the cold blue eyes.
He blushed slightly as he told the truth. "If it wasn’t for you and Jamie, I’d find him and beat him to within an inch of his life." His voice was low and filled with such venom that Catherine shuddered a bit in reaction. There wasn’t a shred of doubt in any of the three women that Martin would successfully complete his mission if he did not feel the need to control himself for the sake of the Evans women.
The older woman nodded after composing herself, and she turned to face her daughter. "I understand why you think this is your only option, Jamie. I wouldn’t have said this two weeks ago, but I’m in agreement. This might be the only chance he has to see how wrong he is." She sighed and leaned her head back, gazing at the moon high overhead. "I thought I had experienced pain in my life," she said softly, "but everything else pales in comparison to having the man who helped bring your child into the world intentionally hurt her. I don’t know if I can ever forgive him for this, Jamie," she said with a world of hurt in her deep brown eyes. "He might have lost both of us tonight."
With tears streaming down her face unchecked, Jamie got to her feet and crossed the short distance to her mother, dropping to her knees and resting her head in her lap. Catherine’s composure crumbled, and she began to sob softly as she tangled her fingers in her daughter’s fine hair and began to rhythmically stroke it.
Catching his daughter’s eye, Martin inclined his head towards the door, indicating that he thought the Evans women should have a moment alone. No sooner were they inside the house than he wrapped his daughter in such a fervid embrace that her lungs were unable to expand. "I’m so proud of you, Siobhan," he whispered raggedly. "I thank God for having given you to me."
She hugged him back with all of her strength, overcome with feeling. "I told Jim that all I wanted in life was for him to be half the man that you are," she said, her own voice hoarse with emotion. A small chuckle escaped as she admitted, "If he could only manage twenty five percent, it would still be a massive improvement."
At eleven o’clock Jamie poked her head into the house. Martin and Ryan were sitting in the living room, chatting quietly, and both dark heads turned in Jamie’s direction. Even from fifteen feet away Ryan could tell that she was bleary-eyed. "Mom’s gonna leave now," she said a trifle thickly.
Hopping to his feet, Martin strode out to the deck and stood in front of Catherine. "Would you rather stay over tonight, or would you prefer that I drive you home?" His deep blue eyes were locked on her, and it was obvious that only those two options were on the menu.
She sighed, not wishing to burden the poor man but realizing that resistance was futile. "I can just take a cab, Martin. I don’t want to be a bother."
"Nonsense. Cabs are an endangered species around here, Catherine. I’ll dri
ve your car and have Brendan follow me."
"No, no," she insisted, loath to have both men driving that far just because she had overindulged. "I’ll go stay at our city apartment," she proposed. "Can I take a cab there?"
"Again, no," he decreed. "I’ll drive you."
She sighed, catching her daughter’s amused look. "All right. Why don’t you just drop me off there. We have an extra car at the apartment. I can come over tomorrow and pick up my Mercedes."
"Are you sure you’ll be alone, Mother?" Jamie asked warily.
"Yes. He’s down in Pebble Beach. For the fourth consecutive weekend," she added, a harsh smile marring her features.
As their parents left the deck, Jamie sat between Ryan’s legs on the chaise lounge, soaking up the comfort that the dark woman’s body always provided. "I’m worried about her," Jamie murmured.
"I am too," Ryan agreed. "She must need the security or the familiarity or something to have stayed with your father this long. I think this is really going to be tough for her." I just hope that she doesn’t continue to drink like this. Jesus, that bottle was more than half full when she arrived. She gazed at the empty, sitting upright on the table next to them. Jamie seems a little buzzed, but not too bad, so Catherine must have caused the most damage. Fighting the lethargy that seemed to settle into her bones, she laughed at herself mockingly. You’ve got a lot of room to talk, O’Flaherty. You spend the afternoon in a bar, then you come home and do a good bit of your own damage on that whiskey bottle. People who live in glass houses…
"You haven’t read the whole report yet, Honey," Jamie reminded her partner. "There’s some stuff about you and Sara in there, and I was thinking that you’d better call her and tell her about it."
Dropping her head into her hands Ryan moaned, "He doesn’t care about anything other than getting what he wants. It doesn’t matter how many innocent people he hurts." She sighed heavily and said, "I’ll read the damn thing when we go downstairs. If I need to call Sara, I will," she agreed, not looking forward to that conversation in the least.
As they drove along in the still-heavy Friday night city traffic, Catherine leaned her head back against the headrest and gave voice to her slightly disordered thoughts. "Martin?" she asked lazily. "Have you ever wished that Ryan…Siobhan wasn’t a lesbian?"
He was a bit taken aback by the question, but he answered honestly, and from his heart. "No. Never." Glancing at Catherine he continued. "I take it that you wish Jamie wasn’t."
Shaking her head slowly she said, "Not for me. It doesn’t bother me at all." Shrugging her delicate shoulders she said, "How can I express this?" She thought about her point for a few minutes, finally saying, "Since she is gay, I’m very, very happy that she’s found Ryan. They seem like a perfect pair, and I want you to know that I couldn’t have picked a better partner for my daughter." Her voice was earnest, and Martin realized that what she was saying was very important to her. "But there is a part of me that wishes she was straight, Martin. I would never want her to pretend to be who she wasn’t—I just sometimes wish she wasn’t who she is."
"Why?" Martin asked simply. "She’s such a fine lass, Catherine. Why nitpick?"
"I don’t know," she sighed, feeling very open with a man she knew so little. "All of the trouble started when she first started having misgivings about her engagement. I know now that Jack wasn’t right for her, but there is a part of me that wishes she had found a man who would have made her happy. I just can’t tell you how horrible it is for me to watch her sever her relationship with her father over this. A year ago Jamie would have told you that her bond with her father was the strongest one in her life." Tears sprang to her eyes again as she whimpered, "It’s breaking my heart, Martin."
"I can’t imagine," he soothed, reaching across the car to grasp and squeeze her hand. "I truly can’t imagine, Catherine." He had a lot to say to the woman—mostly reminding her that Jim had chosen this split, but he didn’t think now was the time. He knew that she had to mourn the death of trust that both Jamie and she had once shared with the man, and he knew that he couldn’t help her with that.
She looked out the window, watching the brightly colored buildings fly by. "Forgive my musings, Martin. I know that things are what they are. Lord knows, there’s no guarantee that Jamie could have ever found a man to love her and care for her as much as Ryan does." Bitterly she added, "I certainly didn’t."
Catherine insisted that Martin drop her off, resisting his offer to find a place to park and accompany her. Now, as she rode up in the gold-toned elevator, she mused, I should have let him walk me up. It’s so comforting to be in his presence. No wonder Jamie cares for him so much.
Slipping her key into the lock, she opened the door to the muted sounds of a television playing in the background. Shit, she muttered to herself, uncharacteristically cursing. All of her instincts told her to back out of the apartment, preserve her dignity, and walk to the first hotel she spotted. But some insolent part of her—long buried—poked its head out and caused her feet to carry her towards the sound.
They were nestled together on the couch. Jim was bare-chested, and as Catherine walked closer she could see that he was wearing only his boxers. The young redhead was attired in a skimpy ribbed tank top—only. Jim’s head was resting on her shoulder, and Catherine detected that he was asleep, which made perfect sense since the young woman was watching MTV and she knew that her husband would never choose that channel.
Gathering every bit of gumption that she had been gifted with, Catherine strode to the front of the sofa and extended her hand, pasting on a cultured smile as she said, "Catherine Evans. I don’t believe we’ve met."
The young woman paled noticeably and pushed Jim from her body, cowering in the corner of the sofa as if Catherine was planning on shooting her. Her sudden movement woke him and he blinked slowly, as he tried to focus. "Wha…?" Turning his head in the direction of his lover’s frightened gaze he focused on his wife, standing two feet in front of him with an eerily calm look on her face.
His head swiveled in all possible directions, finally lighting on his lover as he noticed her state of dishabille. Grabbing a chenille throw from the back of the sofa he gallantly covered her, trying to get to his feet at the same time. "Now look here, Catherine…" he began, his authoritative voice coming to the fore.
"I’m going to sleep in the guest room, Jim."
She stepped around the piece of furniture, confidently making her way towards the hall when he called out, "You can’t just barge in here…"
She turned quickly, her brown eyes flashing with seldom-seen anger. "This is a community property state, Jim. Until the divorce, one-half of this apartment is mine. I’m sleeping in my half tonight. Try to keep the noise to a minimum, won’t you?"
With that, she turned on her heel and continued on her path, not stopping until she reached the well-appointed guest room, immediately locking the door behind her. Her body sagged against the heavy, solid surface, her legs slowly losing their muscular tension until she had slid down the length of the door and collapsed onto the plush pile carpet. With all of the strength that she could summon, she focused on keeping her sobs nearly silent, intent on never letting her husband know that he had finally managed to break her heart.
"Your mom seemed pretty sedate today, don’t you think?" Ryan asked after Catherine showed up to collect her car on Saturday morning.
"Yeah," Jamie agreed. "She probably has a bit of a hangover. I don’t think she’s been drinking much lately. She’s outta practice."
"Do you think we should have gone home with her? I hate to see her looking so sad."
Turning to look at her partner fully, Jamie said, "You know, even if you didn’t have any other good qualities, I’d love you just for the way you care about my mother. I can’t tell you how much that means to me, Ryan."
"I love her too," the taller woman said simply, meaning every word.
"Are you going to call Sara today?" Jamie asked, not wanting to bri
ng up the sore subject, but feeling that she should.
"Yeah," Ryan said glumly. "I think I should."
"Wanna talk about it first?" Jamie asked.
"Nah. I’ll just tell her and hope she doesn’t freak."
"Hard to imagine that an incident that happened seven years ago could show up in some investigator's report about an entirely different matter."
"Yeah. Hard to imagine is an understatement," she groused.
"Sara?" the anxious woman asked a few minutes later.
"Hi, Ryan," she said immediately, not needing further identification from her old friend. "I’m surprised to hear from you."
"Yeah," she said quickly. "You’ll be surprised and displeased when I tell you why I’m calling."
"What’s wrong?" she asked, her voice rising in pitch.
"Nothing," Ryan started to say, but amended quickly. "Plenty of things are wrong, but nothing life-threatening. Let me just get to the point so you don’t have to guess, okay?"
"Sure. Go ahead, Ryan."
She blew out a breath, unsure of where to start. "Very shortened version of the story," she said in the familiar shorthand that Sara was so used to. "Jim Evans is unhappy with Jamie and me being together. He has some doubts about me as a person and he had me investigated."
Sara gasped in shock, mumbling, "That sucks."
"Sure does," Ryan agreed. "This affects you because he went back and delved into my uh… romantic life," she said with a nervous clearing of her throat.
"And he knows about you and me," Sara said quietly.
"Yeah. Your name was in the report," Ryan agreed. "It was pretty accurate factually."
Sara was quiet for a moment and Ryan waited also, letting her friend have time to think about her reaction. "Thanks for telling me, Ryan," she finally said. "I’d hate to have that blindside me if it came up at work."
Honesty - SF8 Page 23