Last of the O'Rourkes

by Kate Douglas

  “I agree.” John Camden jerked Anderson by the arm, propelling him toward the kitchen door. “I just wanted you to ID him, Ms. Malone. I’ll go stick him in the back of the squad car until the others arrive.” He paused at the door. “Toni, why don’t you see if these folks would mind making up a pot of coffee. I think it’s gonna be a long night.”

  IT WAS ALMOST TWO a.m. before the last of the coffee had disappeared, the law enforcement officers had departed, and Seamus could take a moment to check on Kat. Pleading exhaustion, she’d gone to her room around midnight.

  Seamus felt oddly unsettled, but it had been an unsettling night. The storm still raged wildly. One of the men from the bomb squad had informed Seamus the Russian River had reached flood stage and the highway through Guerneville was closed. The Bohemian Highway was still open to local traffic, but a couple of trees blocked portions of the road and travel was difficult.

  Deputy Camden told him not to worry about coming in right away to make a statement. Since Anderson was already wanted for escape, there was no risk of him being freed on bail. With Kat and Seamus’s statement and future testimony as well as the evidence gathered after Hazel Andrew’s murder, Tim Anderson would most likely never be free again.

  That would be welcome news for Kathleen. In an odd sort of way, though, not so welcome to Seamus. He paused a moment outside her door, thinking over all they had been through over the past months. With her stalker behind bars, what reason did Kathleen have to stay?

  Seamus didn’t knock. He merely sighed in defeat, opened the bedroom door a crack and looked into the darkened room.

  “I’m awake.”

  Her soft voice startled him. “I thought you’d be sound asleep. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I was worried about you. It’s been a pretty traumatic night.” He stepped further into the room, stood awkwardly by the bed for a moment, then sat on the edge.

  Kat’s fingers found his hand in the dark. “Thanks. I couldn’t sleep. I keep thinking how anti-climatic it feels. All these months of fear...it’s like I don’t know how not to be afraid. Like I can’t accept the fact the threat is gone. It feels really weird.”

  “I know.” His fingers tightened around hers. “Part of it’s probably exhaustion. When you’ve had a good night’s sleep you’ll be able to put everything into perspective.”

  “I wish I could sleep. I guess I just don’t want to be alone. Not tonight.” Her sigh ended with a catch. “I bet you’re relieved it’s over.” Her voice had taken on a winsome, questioning quality. “Ever since I barged into your life, I’ve brought you one problem after another.”

  “That’s not true.” He smiled into the silent darkness, listening to the sound of Kat’s breathing, the thudding of his own heartbeat. “Scoot over, okay?”

  He heard the blankets rustle as Kathleen made room for him on the small bed. Still holding tightly to her hand, he lay down next to her. “Before I forget...I stuck the Ruger in the kitchen drawer with the cooking utensils. Figured it was one thing I didn’t want to explain.”

  “I completely forgot. Guess I left it on the couch. That shows you how well my brain is functioning.”

  “Like I said, you’re tired. I’ll stay here with you until you fall asleep. Maybe having someone close by will help.”

  “Thank you, Seamus. I appreciate it. Are you warm enough? There’s an afghan at the foot of the bed. I’m just so tired...” Her voice drifted off. Within moments the even tone of her breathing told him she was asleep.

  He lay there, wide awake, soaking up the feel of her, the soft curve of her body next to his. She turned her face against his shoulder and a wisp of soft hair tickled his cheek. He reached down and grabbed the afghan to pull it up. Kat stirred and he covered her as well. She rolled over on her side, molding her buttocks against his belly, snuggling back under his chin to fit perfectly into the contours of his body. Though his clothes and the bedding separated them, Seamus had never imagined such perfection, had never suffered such a surge of arousal.

  He wanted her, not merely to bed, but beside him like this until they grew old and crotchety together. He imagined trading barbs and kisses, gibes and hugs, insults and lovemaking with this woman until he was too old to hear and too feeble to care.

  No, that time would never come. He would always care, even if she chose to walk out of his life tomorrow. What was there to hold her now? Tim Anderson was under lock and key, so the threat of her stalker no longer existed. She could go off and live her life as she had intended all along.

  Seamus knew if she did that he would die. Not physically. He was too damned healthy to die of a broken heart, much too Catholic to take the easy way out. His soul, though, was another matter. His soul would not survive if she left him. He didn’t want to imagine life without Kathleen Malone.

  His arm slipped around her waist, resting on the rounded curve of her belly, encircling his brother’s child. How would he ever convince Kathleen he loved her because he’d fallen for the woman, not because he wanted the baby she carried?

  For the first time in his life, Seamus found himself thankful for Riley’s indiscretions. Not merely because this growing life was the result, but because Seamus would never have met Kat if not for his brother.

  Could Seamus make Kat love him, though, and not his twin? Would she ever look at Seamus and see the man before her, not the man she’d once loved?

  Suddenly the mound beneath his arm heaved and bumped as the baby repositioned itself within Kat’s womb. Tears filled Seamus’s eyes. He felt a connection to this baby as if it were his own child, a connection every bit as strong as he felt for its mother.

  If only he had the confidence Riley had had with women! If only he could somehow, in some way, convince Kathleen to stay. Seamus could accept the fact she might never love him, but could he make her accept him as a father to her baby? As a man to protect her and her child?

  Why should she? She’s perfectly capable of protecting herself, especially now that Anderson has been captured .

  His mind roiling with turmoil and questions, Seamus lay quietly with Kathleen in his arms. The storm battered the cabin, rain beat against the windows. Lulled by the angry wind, Seamus fought to stay awake, unwilling to miss even a moment holding Kathleen.

  I can’t even do that right , he thought. Exhaustion engulfed him, weighted his arms and legs, dulled his thoughts. He drifted, surrounded in Kathleen’s warmth, vaguely aware of the wind, the rain and the woman sleeping in his arms.

  “SEAMUS? ARE YOU AWAKE?”

  Seamus blinked, then squinted against the glare from the overhead lamp. Rain still battered the windows, wind roared and whistled around the cabin, but the pale glow of a dreary dawn made the light almost unnecessary. He sat up and leaned against the headboard.

  “I am now.” He focused on Kat, the unusual pallor of her skin, the dark circles under her eyes. She held his old terry bathrobe wrapped tightly about her. “What’s wrong?”

  “I think my water broke. I was just getting out of the shower when...”

  Galvanized, he leapt out of bed. “Are you sure? Are you having any contractions, any pain?” His mind whirled...the main road to Santa Rosa was closed, the other had been partially blocked by trees. After the night-long storm Seamus was certain it would be impassable.

  “Just a backache that won’t go away. I don’t know if it’s labor or not. Seamus, I’m really scared.”

  He pulled Kat into his arms, felt her trembling. “We’ll call the doctor and...”

  “I already tried. The phone’s out. I tried the cell phone, but it’s not working either.”

  “Okay. Everything’ll be okay. Let’s figure out what to do.”

  “Can’t we just drive into town? The hospital is less than an hour from here.”

  “No, it’s not. After you went to bed last night the deputy told me the river’s up and they’ve closed the highway. We might be able to get out on the same road we came in on, but it was already partially blocked by downe
d trees. The storm hasn’t let up all night, so I imagine it’s in even worse shape this morning. The only way I know of would be to head west, toward the coast, then loop south and back to Santa Rosa that way. It’s a lot longer, though, so we better get you dressed and get...”

  “Aaaaahhhhh!”

  Kat suddenly tightened and doubled over. Seamus swept her up in his arms and carried her to the bed. She drew her knees up in obvious distress, her breath whooshing in and out like a bellows.

  “How long have you had that backache?” Seamus demanded. He leaned over Kat, breathing every bit as deeply as she. He wondered if he looked as wild-eyed as he felt.

  “Late yesterday afternoon, I think. Just before all the trouble started.” Her words puffed out between labored pants.

  “Why in God’s name didn’t you say anything?”

  Kat opened her mouth but no sound came out.

  Seamus backed away and ran his fingers frantically through his hair. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to shout at you. It’s just that...honey, haven’t you read any of those books I got? You’ve probably been in labor since yesterday. Good lord, woman!” He spun around and paced back across the room, then turned to look at Kat. She had suddenly focused inward, her concentration on what was obviously a contraction of monumental proportions.

  Seamus fought panic. Her last contraction had been just moments ago. He’d read about women who passed the early stages of labor relatively free of pain.

  She could be close to delivery right now and he didn’t have a single thing prepared! “Don’t push! Not yet...you’re not pushing, are you?”

  “Son of a bitch! No, damn it, I’m not pushing. I thought I was supposed to get some warning here! Not...supposed...to...surprise... melikethis! ” She took deep draughts of air, breathing in and out much too quickly.

  Seamus spotted a small paper bag on the dresser. He grabbed it, dumped the contents out on the floor, then had to step around the jelly beans that rolled in every direction. Just as Kat took another deep breath, Seamus placed the bag over her mouth.

  She struggled to push it away.

  “Breathe into this or you’re going to hyperventilate. I don’t want you passing out on me!”

  Kat ripped the bag out of his hand. “If I pass out, it’ll quit hurting, damn it! Leave me alone!”

  “Do you really want me to leave you alone?” Seamus held the bag to one side.

  Kat looked at him with stricken eyes. “You wouldn’t do that, would you?”

  “You know better. But please, at least I read the books.”

  “You find the place in your damned books where it says you shove a paper bag over the woman’s face. Then maybe I’ll put up with it.”

  Suddenly she blanched as another contraction hit. Seamus dumped the bag on the floor with the jelly beans and held tightly to both of Kat’s hands. “Breathe with me, then. C’mon, honey. Take it slow...that’s a girl. In, out. You’re doing great.”

  Kat merely glared at him. She didn’t have to curse for Seamus to know what she was thinking.

  Time seemed to stand still, at least for Seamus. He figured Kathleen might not see it the same way. Between contractions he managed to get a bowl of warm water, some clean towels, string and sharp scissors. When Kat worried about ruining the mattress, he ripped the plastic curtain off the shower and managed to slide it under her, then covered it with soft towels. Nothing was sterile. Nothing was as the books described it.

  Neither was Kat’s labor. It seemed to progress much too rapidly, to intensify with each contraction. The birth had to be close. Right now she lay back, exhausted, her face pale, her blond hair hanging in tangles around her shoulders. She’d grunted with pain, cursed, he knew, at her own inability to control what was happening to her body even though she aimed most of the curses at Seamus—all the while breathing like a draft horse on a long pull with each contraction.

  She hadn’t screamed. He was thankful for that. Seamus died inside with each painful grunt. He didn’t think he could handle it if she screamed.

  “Kat, honey, I really should take a look and see if the baby’s head is showing.” Crowning, the word is crowning... why couldn’t he remember anything? Kat’s life depended on him, Kat’s baby....

  “Hurry, Seamus. I feel another one, like I’ve got to... Oh, God, it hurts, Seamus. I feel like I’ve got to shove this...aaaaahhhhh.” She tucked her legs up and grabbed hold of her shins. Her scream drowned out the cry of the storm.

  Frantically Seamus pushed Kat’s drenched robe out of the way and knelt at the foot of the bed...barely in time to catch the squirming infant that slipped from her body into his waiting hands.

  Shock, a moment etched forever in his memory as the perfect, tiny little boy opened his eyes and stared directly at Seamus. No sound, no life-giving gasp for air, just the steady gaze of Riley O’Rourke’s only son, a look Seamus took deep into his heart.

  “Oh, my God, Kat. It’s a little boy. He’s, he’s... Oh, shit, he’s not breathing, he’s...” Seamus quickly cleared the baby’s mouth with his finger and turned him face down to clear his airways.

  Instead of the feeble cry he’d prayed for, the baby let loose with a loud, indignant wail. Tears streamed down Seamus’s face as he sheltered the baby in his hands and placed him on Kat’s stomach. Her slender fingers encircled her newborn son. Seamus cut the cord and tied it off with a clean piece of string.

  There were no words. None Seamus could think to say that would make this moment more perfect. He could only care for Kathleen with what little knowledge he had. Care for her and keep her and their baby safe.

  KAT HEARD THE BABY cry. She awoke, climbing out of a half-formed dream to see Seamus leaning over her, placing the tiny little being at her breast. She’d tried to nurse earlier in the evening without much luck, though the baby had eventually fallen asleep. Now he took her nipple between perfectly formed lips and drew it into his perfect little mouth.

  Everything about him was perfect. How could she have ever wondered if she could mother this child? She felt the sharp pain in her breast and instinctively knew it was a good feeling, sensed the first milk flowing even before the baby sputtered, choked, then reattached himself with a contented sigh.

  His tiny fists kneaded her breast, his face scrunched up with supreme concentration. A cap of dark hair covered his head, soft as silk and black as night. Kat felt the tears flow, knew the deep bond of motherhood at its very core. When she raised her eyes to stare directly into Seamus’s dark gaze, she knew he shared the same emotion, the same bonding.

  Everything was going to be perfect. She drifted off to sleep, the man she loved at her side, her son nursing at her breast.

  Sometime later, Seamus’s voice penetrated her drowsy mind. He was whispering to the baby, his words so filled with love and emotion they brought tears to Kat’s eyes.

  “You are the son I never expected, little one. A gift more precious than any other. I promise to always be there for you. I promise to love you and care for you no matter what happens. I want you to know your mother and I love you more than anything or anyone in the world.”

  Kat drifted with the sound of Seamus’s promises, one question uppermost in her mind. Do you love his mother?Will you care for her no matter what happens?

  Kat awoke hours later. The baby was gone! Startled, she sat up, fought the brief dizziness, then realized Seamus had moved the rocker into the bedroom. He sat in the corner holding the baby.

  No...it wasn’t Seamus. Something was different, the slant of the head, the turn of the shoulder. The man raised his head and Kat realized she looked into Riley’s blue eyes.

  “He’s so beautiful, Kat. So goddamned perfectly beautiful. Thank you. You’ve given me more than I could’ve ever wished for.”

  “Riley?” She pushed herself upright, struggling to come fully awake, to prove to herself this wasn’t a dream.

  “Sleep, sweetheart.” Riley stood up and carried the baby to her. Just as Seamus had done earlier, he place
d his son at her breast. His fingers brushed the hair back from her forehead. Though the hair moved, she could not feel his touch.

  “I loved you. I loved you more than I ever loved anyone, but to be honest, Seamus loves you more. He was always more than me, Kat. He just never quite figured it out. Tell him I love him, please. Tell Seamus and our son I love them both. You know I will always love you.”

  He leaned over as if to kiss her cheek, but the caress was without substance. When she opened her eyes, Riley was gone. Their son suckled at her breast. The rocking chair sat unmoving in the corner.

  She dozed then, and when she awoke Seamus sat in the rocker, watching her. His hands drooped listlessly between his knees, his eyes were dark pools, filled with despair.

  “What’s wrong, Seamus?” Kat carefully dislodged the sleeping baby and tucked him close beside her. “Are you okay?”

  “Have you thought of what you’re going to name him?”

  “What?” She shook the sleep from her mind and brushed her hair back out of her eyes. Immediately, Kat thought of Riley, of the touch that wasn’t a touch. “What are you talking about?”

  “The baby. What do you plan to call him?” Seamus raised his head. His eyes held a haunted look, a look of need and loss and something more. Something Kat didn’t understand.

  He dreamed of Riley, too, she thought. He’s haunted by the loss of his brother, more than he’ll ever acknowledge.

  “I’d like to name him after his father,” she said. She’d call him Seamus, after the man who was more a father to him than Riley had ever been, ever could be. Even his spirit, if that’s what had visited her last night, agreed.

  Seamus bowed his head. “I agree. We’ll call him Riley.”

  “No, I...”

  “I need to see if I can get to town.” Abruptly he stood up. His quick movement sent the chair rocking. “I think I can still get to the store. It’s on high ground. I’ll see when the roads are supposed to open. You really should be seen by the doctor. The baby needs to be checked.”