Straight Up

by Deirdre Martin

  None of them had a thing to say.

  *****

  “How does that crow taste?”

  The minute the bar closed for the night, Liam started on Old Jack. The old man had let the Trinity stay on past closing time because they'd been in on the bet from the first.

  “You lost the bet,” Liam continued. “The sooner you cop to it, the better.”

  Jack sighed. “Fine. I lost.”

  “Don't look so pleased with yourself just yet, Yank,” said Teague. “You might have won her, but she's still going to tear you limb to limb when you dump her.”

  “I'm not going to dump her. I love her.”

  Teague turned to Fergus. “Will you ever listen to this one? 'I love her.' Pull the other one, mate.”

  “It's true.”

  “It makes no difference,” Teague countered with a malicious smile. “She'll still mount your balls on the wall as a trophy when she hears about the bet.”

  “Why would she hear about it?” Liam snapped. “Are you that cruel? She's happy. Why would you want to take that away from her?”

  “It's true,” Jack agreed.“It would be a rotten thing to do, especially after what the poor girl went through.”

  “If the bet was so rotten,” David challenged Liam. “why didn't you call it off?”

  “You know damn well why,” Jack said. “Only a coward backs out of a bet.”

  “True, true,” David muttered. He looked at Liam with begrudging respect. "I have to hand it to you, Yank: I truly thought it couldn't be done. He drained his glass.

  “You know,” said Fergus, “It's kind of nice to have the old McCafferty back again, even though she does enjoy giving us a good tongue-lashing.”

  “You lot deserve it,” said Jack.

  “Yeah, we did give her an awful time at school, didn't we?” David said guiltily. “Maybe we should apologize.”

  “After all these years? Don't be an arse,” Teague spat. “We've an image to uphold. Besides, I'd miss the tongue-lashings: she's the only woman who ever talks to us.”

  “Whose fault is that,” asked Jack, ..with the three of you sittin' here on your arses night after night, in your cups by the time you stagger out the door?"

  “Better single than spending my life with the likes of your Bettina,” said Teague.

  “You watch yourself,” Jack growled, “or you'll never darken this doorstep again. Am I clear?”

  “Yeah, yeah, clear as day,” Teague muttered, hunching his shoulders.

  Jack looked at Liam. “Well done.”

  “Thank you.”

  “I wish you every happiness.”

  "Thank you again.

  “So, eh, how long you think you're gonna be in Ballycraig?”

  David laughed loudly. “Ha-ha, he's afraid he'll go bankrupt paying you double for God knows how long!”

  “Shut your gob,” Jack snapped, turning his attention back to Liam. “Any idea?”

  “None.”

  “Your brother had nothing to say about it?”

  “Nothing apart from the fact the Major says it's still not safe.”

  “All right, then,” Jack conceded with a sigh. “Possible bankruptcy it is.”

  “What a bunch of bull,” said Liam. “You make a mint in here,”

  Old Jack scowled at him. 'You've no idea what my overhead is, boyo. It'd put the likes of that rich bastard Sir Paul McCartney in a foul mood, believe me.

  “Be that as it may, a bet is a bet,” said Liam.

  “It is, and I'm a man of my word. Starting tomorrow night, double wages for you. Now let's get this place cleaned up so this old, soon-to-be-poor man can go to bed.”

  Straight Up

  Chapter Eighteen

  ************************************************************************************************

  Aislinn couldn't hide her anxiety as she sat in Dr. Laurie's examining room, waiting to hear what he had to say about Padraig. As she'd vowed, she made the appointment the day she returned from Dublin. Padraig gave her a hard time about going until Aislinn told him that she herself was going for a checkup, which was a lie, but she could live with it because it was a small one. Dr. Laurie, a short, serious-looking man in his midsixties, had examined Padraig first. Now he was with Aislinn, but it was for a consultation about the old man, not an examination.

  The doctor's brows furrowed worriedly. "His heartbeat is a wee bit erratic, and he has a little bit of rattling in his lungs. You know, I've no records of him here.

  “He's never been to a doctor in his life. Says a whiskey a night and a good smoke is medicine enough for him.”

  Dr. Laurie gave a small wince. “Does he smoke a lot?”

  Yes. Aislinn grew nervous. Why?

  "Well, years of smoking could be what I hear in his chest. It could also cause hardening of the arteries, which mi

  ht explain the forgetfulness you mentioned to me on the phone."

  “So you noticed it?” “When I asked him a few questions, yes. But you needn't worry about Alzheimer's or anything else like that, Aislinn. It's just the type of forgetfulness that's to be expected at his age.”

  “Will it get worse?”

  “Probably. Is he aware he's forgetting?”

  “When it's pointed out to him. Then he tries to cover.”

  “He seems a proud man. It must be hard on him.”

  “How's his blood pressure?”

  Very good. He's in good shape for a man his age

  Aislinn was relieved. “That's good to hear.” “I take it you wanted me to check on the forgetfulness because it's starting to affect his work on the farm?”

  Yes,“ said Aislinn, feeling guilty. ”Nothing major has happened yet, but I'm afraid it will.“ ”Could you limit his chores?"

  “I have been. I think he's getting resentful. I mean, how do you tell a man like Padraig that he's slowing down? He doesn't think of himself as old, and until he started to become forgetful, neither did I.”

  “Has he never mentioned retiring?”

  Aislinn burst out laughing. “Are you kidding? He's going to die with his wellies on, that one.”

  “Perhaps you could mention it casually.”

  “And what would he do with himself?”

  “I hear there's a nice retirement community right outside of Moneygall.”

  “He'd die of boredom in a month. That's not who he is. The farm is all he knows.”

  “Then as far as I can see, the only option you've only got is what I suggested before: limiting what he does around the farm.”

  Aislinn bit her lip. “He did light the wrong burner on his stove once, making tea.”

  “I've done that once or twice when I've been over-tired,” said Dr. Laurie with a smile.

  “I'm glad to hear that,” Aislinn said with relief.

  "If he starts forgetting the words for simple things, or does something like putting his keys in the freezer or daft things like that, then there's need to worry. But for now. I think his forgetfulnes

  is just your garden variety getting old stuff."

  “Good, good.” “While you're here, I may as well give you the once-over. C'mon: let's take your blood pressure.”

  Aislinn complied with Dr. Laurie's pokes and prods, knowing they were a waste of time. She was right: her blood pressure was perfect, her weight was right on the mark, her heartbeat was strong, and her lungs were clear.

  “Fit as a fiddle,” Dr. Laurie declared, “with a glow about you as well.”

  “I'm in love,” Aislinn confessed. It was wonderful to say it aloud. Wonderful that people could see it, too, after that horrible year of just wanting to snarl at the world and be left alone.

  “Lovely,” said Dr. Laurie, looking genuinely delighted. “Being in love is good for your health, you know. Strengthens the immune system. Should I be expecting my invite to the wedding soon?”

  “That's truly putting the cart before the horse,” Aislinn said with chuckle. “We'll see how it goes.”
<
br />   Dr. Laurie patted her shoulder. “Right - off with you then. Like I said, just keep an eye on Padraig.”

  “I'll do that. Thank you very much for fitting us in, Dr. Laurie.”

  “My pleasure. Have a lovely day.”

  *****

  Fit as a fiddle,“ Padraig crowed triumphantly. ”I told you I would be."

  “The doctor said your heartbeat was a wee bit erratic and your lungs rattled a bit.”Padraig thrust his lower lip out defiantly. “He didn't say a word about that to me.”

  “Because he knew it would go in one ear and out the other. He also said you should cut back on the smoking a bit.”Padraig snorted. "I will not. It relaxes me.

  “Just a bit,” Aislinn urged, her ulterior motive being that maybe, if he smoked less, it might slow the hardening of his arteries.

  “Since your heartbeat was a wee bit erratic,” Aislinn continued carefully, “I think maybe we'll lessen your chore load.”Padraig glared at her.

  Just for a little while," she amended.

  “I don't think so,” Padraig replied stubbornly.

  Aislinn resisted the urge to look skyward and plead with the heavens to help her out here. “I said, just for a little while.”

  "And then what? You're going to drag me back here for another checkup to make sure the ticker is back to its old self'? I don't think so.

  “You think I want to be responsible if you keel over dead in one of the pastures?” Aislinn shot back.

  “Can't think of a better way to go,” Padraig countered. His expression turned bitter. “Those Fry boys filled your head with a load of bollocks, didn't they? Fibbing about me. Trying to push me out.”

  Paranoid. Why had Aislinn forgotten to mention to Dr. Laurie he was paranoid sometimes? Then she realized: it wasn't paranoia, it was fear. Of being useless. Of no longer being needed.

  “Why would they push you out? They've got their own farm to tend to.”

  “Yet they were able to take time to tend to yours.”

  "There are three other brothers who help them work theirs. And just for the record, they didn't have one bad word to say about you, apart from the fact you'd sometimes make a great show of ignoring them or else treating them like lackeys.

  “Did you or did you not say I was in charge?” Padraig challenged. “Yes, I did, but there was no call to be rude to them, especially since they were helping us out.”

  “Could have done it myself,” Padraig muttered.

  “Button it,” Aislinn warned.

  “Do I sense a bit of the McCafferty temper coming on?”

  “The McCafferty exasperation, more like.” Aislinn patted his arm. “I need you on the farm, old man. You know that. But I also want you to listen to me. Tell me: if it was my father asking you to cut back a bit on the fags and the chores, you'd do it, wouldn't you?”

  “He wouldn't ask me to do such a thing.”

  Aislinn was ready to scream. “Pretend he would.”

  “Then I might,” Padraig allowed reluctantly. “For a bit.”

  “Then do it for me for a bit, all right?”

  “All right.” They were walking up the high street. “Where we off to now?”

  “You're going to go to the truck to wait for me while I run into the grocer's to get a few things. Do you need anything?”

  “Couple of packs of fags,” said Padraig with an impish grin.

  “One pack. That's it.”

  “You're a cruel mistress.”

  “I try.”

  Aislinn was satisfied she'd made at least a little bit of headway with Padraig as she headed into Finnegan's Greengrocer. Grace was at her usual perch behind the counter, gossiping with Teague's mother, Beth, and Jack's refrigerator-sized wife, Bettina. They said their hellos as Aislinn picked up a small basket to shop.

  “Poor thing,” Aislinn heard Bettina murmur as Aislinn headed down the nearest aisle.

  Puzzled, Aislinn hovered nearby, pretending to peruse the biscuit selection. Obviously they had no idea she could hear them.

  “Why's that?” Teague's mother asked.

  “Did you not hear about the bet?” replied Bettina. "When the Yank first came to town, he bet my Jack he could tame the McCafferty. He's been wooing her like mad; even took her up to Dub. Well, she fell for it, didn't she? The Yank won, and now my Jack has to pay him double for as long as he's here.

  “I wonder how he did it,” Grace said wonderingly.

  “God only knows, but he did,” said Bettina. “Well, he is handsome, and a bit of a smooth talker. Any woman could find herself falling for that eventually, even Aislinn McCafferty.”

  “I like his accent as well,” said Beth. “He could get my juices flowing.” The three of them cackled.

  “What'll happen now, I wonder,” Grace mused.

  “He won the wager. I imagine he'll break up with her now,” said Bettina.

  Beth shivered. Oh Christ, I don't want to be there when that happens. She'll be leavin him a bloody heap on the floor.

  “Poor thing,” Bettina repeated. “After what happened with Connor and all.”

  “Still, she's always been a bit odd, hasn't she?” Beth mused. “I never understood why she wouldn't give my Teague the time of day.”

  Grace and Bettina were silent. at least her sister is around now to help ease the pain:" said Bettina. .

  “She's up to something, that one, said Grace with a sniff. I can't stand that la-di-da husband of hers, with his nose so high up in the air I can see his bloody tonsils.”

  They laughed again. Aislinn couldn't move. Her throat had closed up to the size of a pinhole, and she was finding it hard to breathe. She was convinced she was going to die of suffocation or worse, a heart attack, if the relentless, crushing pain in her chest was any indication.

  You have to move. You have to get out of here without letting them know you heard them, without your expression giving any hint of what you're feeling inside. Feeling as though she were mired in cement, she forced herself to pick up a packet of biscuits and put it in the small plastic basket in her hand. She started moving up and down the aisles mechanically, throwing random items in the basket, not caring if she needed them or not. Through sheer force of will, she finally made herself go up to the counter.

  “Will that be all, love?” Grace asked kindly.

  “Pack of Benson & Hedges, please,” Aislinn said with a smile. Beth Daly and Bettina were smiling at her, too, the hypocritical old biddies. I heard what you said, Aislinn longed to lash out. And I don't need or want your bloody pity. I might have been played for a fool, but at least I could never be like you. standing by and doing nothing while an innocent person got hurt. The lot of you can go to hell.

  She paid her bill and walked out of the shop, feeling their eyes on her back. Liam. That lying bastard. She should have known it was too good to be true. Her mind combed through a catalogue of memories: meeting him, teaching him to change a tire, the first time they'd made love, their weekend in Dublin . all of it bullshit. The whole town was in on it, laughing at her behind her back, the stupid, desperate, blind McCafferty making a sorry arse of herself.

  Nausea rose in her throat, bitter and swift. She pushed it back down. Humiliation and heartache - well, she was an old pro at dealing with those twins, wasn't she? Time again to wall off her heart. But first, there was a certain Mr. Liam O'Brien who was going to feel her wrath later this evening at the Royal Oak. She just hoped Old Jack had a first aid kit.

  Straight Up

  Chapter Nineteen

  ************************************************************************************************

  It took every ounce of Aislinn's concentration to keep her mind on the road: all she wanted to do was pull over and pound the steering wheel of her truck, screaming out the rage and hurt inside her. Padraig seemed oblivious to her mood, chattering away about God knows what, his words like the annoying buzz of an insect in her ear.

  As soon as they got home, she sent Padraig to put down fre
sh straw in the barn, while she went out with Deenie to rotate the flock to a new meadow. Faithful Deenie. How sad was it that the only ones in the world she trusted to never let her down were her dog and Padraig, and possibly Nora? She thought about how the whole town knew about the bet, and yet no one had tipped her off. Was she that disliked? She knew she'd scorned their sympathy and had deliberately chosen to remove herself from their company. She knew she'd been gruff, perhaps even a bit curmudgeonly. But still: didn't any of them have brains enough to see that she was acting that way because she was in pain? Was there no one, anyone. who'd thought to themselves, “Dear God, what the Yank is doing to Aislinn is downright cruel: I would be devastated if someone did that to me”?

  Tears threatened as she thought about Liam's treachery, but she forced them back. She knew she shouldn't have trusted that smug, overconfident bastard. Anger alternated with devastation. How could he toy with her affections that way, as if she were some kind of plaything, not a human being with feelings? What kind of a man would do such a thing?

  Well, she'd give him one thing: he was one hell of an actor. She'd believed every silver-tongued word that had come out of his lying mouth. How pathetic. All of Ballycraig must have thought it a testament to how lonely she was. She pounded her temples with her fists, trying to drive the thought from her mind. She couldn't bear the thought of them sniggering behind her back about the poor, pathetic, desperate McCafferty.

  Liam wouldn't be the only one who she'd be laying into tonight. Every one of the villagers deserved to be exposed for what they truly were: cruel and heartless. This was it: she was done with men, and she was done with the lot of them as well. She had her farm, Padraig, and Nora. She had Deenie, who loved her unconditionally. Never again, she vowed. Never again.

  *****

  She waited until around eight to go to the Oak, when she knew the pub would be packed. When she walked through the door and Liam spotted her, he broke into that sexy, curving smile of his that usually made her go all soft inside. Judas. Wanker. She smiled back, refusing to make eye contact with anyone else. Screw all of you, she thought.