Remember, It's Our Honeymoon

by Mairsile Leabhair

  “Quick, run to the street and flag down the police, I’ll keep him busy.”

  “Be careful, Aidan!”

  “Roger that.” Aidan frantically looked for her gun, but it was nowhere in sight, so she picked up a trash can lid and took a defensive stance, but he wasn’t impressed and lunged at her anyway. She reared back and made contact with his head with the lid. When he went down for the second time, she jumped on top of him and pinned his arm back behind his head, pushing against it with her knee. It wasn’t long before the Gardaí arrived and carted the man off in handcuffs.

  “Are you all right, Aidan?”

  “I’m okay, what about you?”

  “Yes, I’m fine, now. Can you help me find my gun, please?”

  After a long day, and an even longer time debriefing her boss, Aidan and Vicky finally made it back to the hotel and into an eagerly anticipated bubble bath in the hot tub. The mission its self was over, and although Aidan still had some misgivings about the end results, President Trenton and the Prime Minister, were pleased with the Intel collected and that a suspect was captured. So, the newlyweds celebrated with an ice bucket of expensive Champagne courtesy of President Trenton, and a six-pack of beer courtesy of room service.

  Their first priority was to make love. It wasn’t so much a priority as it was an overwhelming need.

  “So…” Vicky leaned back against Aidan’s breasts, and ran her hand across Aidan’s legs that were wrapped around her. “are we back on our honeymoon now? I have this strange desire to baa like a sheep right now.”

  Aidan laughed, finding that strangely arousing. She slid her hands under the fragrant bubbles and caressed Vicky’s lathered breasts, squeezing them tauntingly.

  Vicky groaned with desire, and set her champagne glass down before she dropped it. She arched her back, pushing her breasts harder into Aidan’s long fingers.

  Even through the warm soapy water, Aidan could feel Vicky’s body heating up. She turned Vicky around so that they faced each other, and positioned Vicky’s knees wide apart. “I’ll be right back,” she said, and with a grin the Cheshire cat would envy, Aidan took a deep breath and ducked under the bubbles.

  After the last ripple of orgasmic pleasure had tingled across their frothy skin, they each took turns telling the other, all they had learned and accomplished during the day, when they were apart. But Aidan was troubled by something and Vicky could tell it. Aidan told her what she had overheard between the two men, where she thought she had heard her aunt’s name mentioned.

  Vicky put a voice to Aidan’s concerns, “Do you think she’s in on it or that she’s a target.”

  “Honestly, I don’t know what to think. I didn’t say anything in my report because I’m just not sure what I heard. Maybe when they analyze the recording they pulled from my phone, they can tell me what I heard. All I know is that I’m tired of this cat and mouse game my aunt is playing with me.”

  “What do you want to do about it?”

  “I’ve given that some thought, and decided that I want to follow up on what I learned at the library today. We know my family is from Cavan, which is a little over an hour’s drive from here. There’s a popular bar there, owned by someone named Angus O’Malley. Now, we know my aunt kept her maiden name, so I’m thinking that this Angus person is related to her, uh, and me.”

  “So let’s go there and ask him.”

  “I agree, but I don’t want to just ask him outright. If he is related to Aunt Peg, he probably won’t tell me anything and if he’s not related to her, he might know who is.”

  “Makes sense. So how do you want to do this?

  “I want to go to the bar and pretend I’m angry at my lover, and I don’t mean you, and I’ll start drinking a lot and‒‒”

  “I don’t like it.”

  “But you haven’t even heard me out yet?”

  “It’s the drinking part I don’t like.”

  “Don’t worry, kid, I can hold my liquor.”

  But Vicky still didn’t like it. She explained, “When I was in my early twenties my girlfriend at the time, turned out to be an alcoholic. I didn’t even know what alcohol smelled like on someone’s breath. And I thought her sudden, loving attention to me and my body was because she loved me. But when she started passing out on our balcony or even in her car at the K-Mart parking lot of all places, I was beside myself with worry. Then one day, she just up and left me. She moved up north to be near family and sent me a Dear John email. I promised myself right then and there, that it would never happen again. I would never be involved with a drunk, ever again.”

  Aidan looked at her and realized that this was a very sensitive issue for her, “Baby, just so you know, I used to drink heavily in the Chicago gang I was hanging out with when I was a teenager. I also drank a lot in the Army. But I drank because it was expected of me. Now I’m telling you this for two reasons. One, to assure you that I can hold my liquor, and two, to let you know, I don’t like to drink until I’m drunk, for some of the same reasons you just told me about. My idea is for you to distract him while I dump the liquor and then pretend I drank it. I’m sure that I won’t have to drink that much to get this man to talk to me, but if I do, I was hoping that you’d be there to uh…, well to make sure I don’t drive drunk or anything like that.

  “Isn’t there some other way we can approach this? Maybe…, I don’t know, maybe I could talk to Peg again. Who knows, maybe I can draw her out some more?”

  “You told her about your situation and she didn’t open up then, why would she now? What more can you say to the woman that would make a difference?”

  Vicky sighed, “You’re right. I was just hoping...”

  “If I can get him to talk, maybe he will tell me what’s going on with my aunt and explain what they know about Harold and my mother. Listen, Peg went to this elaborate rouse to check me out, I think it’s time I did the same with her, don’t you?”

  *

  “How could she?” Aidan mumbled to herself.

  “How could she what?” The bartender asked.

  “What? Oh nothing, just thinking out loud. Top this off, will ya?” she scooted her empty shot glass across the bar to him and he filled it up. The pub she was sitting in was small, but not secluded. She had found Cavan easily enough, and the pub was also easy to find on a side street where traffic wasn’t as busy, but people hurried to and fro. Apparently there was a festival of some sort being held in the town, with street bands playing Irish jigs, and tourist and locals alike, clogging the streets to listen to them.

  “That’s yer third drink. Yer not driving are ye, Yank?”

  Just then, Vicky walked in and took a seat at the bar, two stools down from Aidan. She smiled at her and then looked at the bartender. She eyed him keenly and thought he had the same sea green eyes that Aidan has.

  “Hey, lady,” Aidan dug down into her jean pocket, and pulled out the car rental keys. Then she slid them down the counter to Vicky. “Hold onto my keys for me, will ya? The bartender’s a might worried about my car.”

  Even though Vicky knew that Aidan was pretending, she was still relieved to have her keys.

  While the bartender looked at Vicky, Aidan dumped her drink in the spittoon by her feet. If she was going to keep her wits about her, she didn’t need to have any more to drink and like he said, she’d had three drinks already.

  “Barkeep, get that little lady a drink on me.”

  The bartender started to pour Vicky a shot of whiskey when she interceded, “A glass of wine will be just fine, thank you.”

  The old bartender, wrinkled and gray, was use to tourist from almost every country, coming into his pub for a respite from the festivals. He enjoyed conversing with them, hearing their tall tales or lowest woes. He pulled out a bottle of wine, poured a wine glass full and handed it to Vicky, who smile at Aidan and said, “Thanks.”

  The bartender turned his attention back to Aidan and asked, “Want to talk about it, Yank?”

  “What’s
to talk about. Deceit, betrayal, heartache. Same old story that I’m sure you’ve heard before.”

  “Not only have I heard it before, lass, I’ve lived it. There’s nothing ye can say, what will be new to me.”

  “Get a lot of lesbian’s in this bar, do ya, mister?” Aidan deliberately slurred her words.

  “Leispiach? That is a new one. No wait, the old librarian down the street. She might be one.”

  Aidan cocked her head at the old man, is he trying to be funny? “Just forget it and give me another shot.”

  He did as she asked and poured her another drink, “Ye won’t find yer answer in a bottle, ye know?”

  He is so right, Vicky thought.

  “I already know all the answers, it’s the pain I’m trying to drown.”

  “What did she do lassie, leave ye? Sleep with another woman? Take all yer money?”

  “Worse, she lied to me about something she knew I’d dreamed of all my life.”

  “Now you have to tell us.” Vicky said, distracting the bartender again with some money, as Aidan dumped her drink.

  He agreed with Vicky, “I have no idea what could be more important than the love of yer life? Except maybe yer child.”

  Vicky liked this wise old bartender more and more.

  Aidan look at him curiously, “Either I haven’t had enough to drink or what you said is making sense? Give me another shot.”

  “I’m old enough to know that nothing is as black and white as it seems. Sometimes iontaobhas, uh, trust gets blurred when it comes to love.”

  “You said it pal. All my life I’ve dreamed of finding my family and come to find out, I have an aunt who’s a senator and she lives right here in Ireland. But here’s the kicker, she won’t tell me about my parents, my mom and my real dad.”

  “Yer aunt is a senator?”

  “Yep.” Aidan took another sip of her whisky.

  “And she’s from Éire then?”

  “From this very town, so they tell me. Her name is Peg O’Malley. Ever hear of her?”

  Vicky watched his face, wondering what his answer would be, and then marveled at how large his eyes grew as he thought things over. He knows something.

  “And ye say yer mother is dead?”

  Aidan nodded her head and pounded her fist on the bar.

  “Wait. Be ye… are ye Aidan, from America?”

  “How did you know?” Even though Aidan suspected he would know Peg, she never imagined he would know her name too.

  “Cac, girl, I’m yer grandfather! Yer my gariníon! Ye were named after me, my middle name is Aidan, and we were named for the Patron Saint Aidan of Iona.”

  “Fuck me!”

  “Listen, lass, ye got it all wrong about Peig. She’s only trying to protect Brigid.”

  “Who’s Brigid?” Aidan gulped her drink down forgetting that she wasn’t supposed to, but in her confusion, she needed something to steady her nerves, because she had a feeling she knew what he was going to say next.

  “Lass, that be yer máthair, er, yer mother.”

  “You mean my mother is alive?” the air in the room suddenly formed a vacuum in Aidan’s lungs and she gripped the bar rail to steady her quivering nerves. Could it be? Could she really be alive?

  “Oh cac, I probably wasn’t supposed to tell ye that.”

  Why not? Why the fuck would she go to all that trouble to hide the fact that she’s my mother? Aidan became indignant, her excitement instantly turning to anger, “To late grandpa,” she said, “I hope you all are having a good laugh at my expense.”

  “Don’t be asal capall, uh, a horse’s ass girl!” He replied with annoyance.

  Aidan was shocked, but Vicky marveled at their similarities.

  “Brigid was in America on holiday with some school chums. Five months pregnant with ye, and engaged to be married, she was kidnapped and forced to marry a no good, ag fuck bastaird.” The old man lapsed into brogue but Aidan knew he was talking about her adoptive father, Harold. She knew that everyone who knew him, called him a fucking bastard.

  Vicky thought he must still be very angry over it. Not that she could blame him. Hearing him tell the story was breaking her heart. She moved to the stool beside Aidan, waiting to hear what happened to Brigid next.

  “Then, after ye were born, she tried to escape with you, but he found her again. He was cruel, abusive to her, especially when he was fuddled from drinking. She tried to escape several times, but he always caught her. Then, after a year had passed, she escaped again, this time by herself, but she was only trying to find a teileafón to call me. When she went back for ye, she found that the bastard had taken ye away. She was left with nothing, no money, no food, nothing. I brought her back home me self. She tried to find ye. We all tried to find ye, but we couldn’t, that’s when Brigid took to the bottle. Just like ye are doing now.”

  Aidan tossed back the last of the whisky in her glass and looked at him for another shot. She was losing control of her thoughts, which were churning helter-skelter in her mind. Unsure of whether to believe him or not, her heart begged for it to be true, but her brain was skeptical.

  “Where is she now? Why hasn’t she come forward?” Vicky asked the question Aidan was about to ask herself.

  He looked at her curiously, and then continued with his story, “I brought Brigid home, but she was different now. She wouldn’t leave the house. Wouldn’t even look me in the eye. Then she crawled inside a buidéal, er, a whiskey bottle and didn’t come back out until just a few years ago. It took her a long time to feel safe out in the public again, but when she did finally find her courage, she didn’t hide anymore. In fact, she has a buachaill, uh, boyfriend and she’s becoming a well-known singer in this country,” he looked pointedly at Aidan, “She was finally happy again, until ye showed up.”

  “Thanks a lot.” Aidan tapped her glass on the bar, but her grandfather ignored her and continued talking.

  “I meant that yer presence only upset her balance because she was afraid to believe it was ye. I’m not saying that’s a bad thing. Brigid pined for ye since ye were a wee babe taken from her arms. She said there was a hole in her heart where ye were supposed to be.”

  “Well, tell me this, how in the hell could Harold have forced her to marry him? And give me a damn drink, will ya!”

  He reluctantly poured her another shot, “I believe ye Yanks call it a gránghunna wedding.”

  “Bullshit. We don’t have shotgun weddings there anymore.”

  Vicky could tell, Aidan wasn’t pretending any longer, so she put her soft hand on her wife’s arm, and took the drink from her hand. Aidan shot her an angry look, but then just as quickly, let the anger melt away. She knew Vicky was right. The game was over. The truth was out and drinking away the pain is not going to help. Better to learn all she could now and deal with her abandonment issues later.

  “This man you call Harold, we knew him as Henry. From what we can figure out, he led his parents to believe that he had gotten Brigid pregnant. She thinks he put something in her food because she said she felt ólta, er, drunk, and then he took her to meet his father. His father was how ye say, ar gcúl, uh, backwards? I wasn’t sure what that meant, but Brigid said they’re like cavemen, primitive. Brigid’s mine was befuddled, but she remembers seeing the father standing by another man, cradling a gránghunna in his arms like it was a child.

  “Fuck me!” Aidan exclaimed, thinking, this just gets worse and worse.

  Vicky was also shocked by his revelation, so much so that she tossed back her head and swallowed Aidan’s whisky in one gulp. Good God, that poor woman, she was drugged and forced to marry that bastard.

  He looked at Aidan, “Ye like saying that word don’t ye, lassie?”

  “It’s just an expression.” Aidan tried to regain her composure, but her head was buzzing from the whiskey and the old man’s story, “So you’re saying you tried to find me, but after all these years, you never could?” She wanted desperately to believe him. She needed an excuse,
any excuse that would allow her to forgive her mother for leaving her with Harold.

  “Aw, lassie. Ye have yer mother’s stubbornness, I’ll give ye that. Let me pour ye a cup of caife and I’ll tell ye all about it.” He poured a cup of strong, black coffee and handed it to her. “Yer mother and I spent everything we had to find ye. We lived in America for a couple of years, hired investigator’s to look for ye, spent every last pound we had. But he kept moving about from one place to another, changing his name, and the like, until we ran out of money. Brigid gave up when it came down to selling me pub here. Which I was willing to do, but we both had lost all hope by then, so we returned home.”

  “But why take Aidan from her mother?” Vicky asked innocently.

  He looked at her and smiled. “We don’t know why, lass. He was a devious bastard.”

  “So yer, I mean, you’re saying he did all that just to kidnap me?”

  “Now that ye put it that way, yes, I guess so. We never understood why, although we had plenty of theories. He left everything of Brigid’s, except her engagement ring and her wee babe.”

  “This ring?” Vicky stuck her hand out for him to see, and he examined it closely.

  “Mac soith! Sin ceann de na seoda choróin a goideadh i 1907!”

  “Son of a bitch!” Aidan repeated in English.

  “What? What is it, Aidan?” Vicky asked excitedly.

  “He said that your ring is one of the crown jewels stolen in 1907.”

  “Fuck me!” Vicky blurted out.

  Chapter Nineteen

  “Here comes the ambulance!” Joyce heard someone shout, and she tilted her head toward heaven and cried, “Thank you, God! I owe you one!”

  As she did in her younger days, when Joyce worked rounds in the emergency room, she presented to the emergency medical team, first on Ellen, and then on the drunk, reporting every detail that she knew. Then she did the hardest thing she had ever done in her life, she put her wife’s life in their hands.