Breakaway

by Deirdre Martin

  “That’s really none of your business, but since you’re a mate, I’ll tell you: I’m using money saved up from the wedding.”

  Jake took a long pull off his beer. “You’re making a big mistake.” There was no mistaking the appeal in his voice. “You could learn to love me. If you set your mind to it.”

  Erin started to choke up. “We’ve been down this road. You’re breaking my heart. You deserve someone who loves you for you, not someone you think would appreciate you with time.”

  “And what if your dream doesn’t work out?”

  “Then I’ll figure out something else to do. But coming back here is not an option.”

  Jake looked hurt. “You really hate it here so much?”

  “I don’t hate it at all.” Erin didn’t know how much longer she could stand going round and round in circles. “I just want a different experience of life. You ever feel like you belong to a place, the way you feel about Ballycraig? Well, my heart feels it belongs somewhere else. I’m not sure where, exactly, but I’ll know it when I see it. Ballycraig isn’t my soul home.”

  “And would New York have been your ‘soul home’ if you’d married Rory? Mmm? What if it wasn’t?”

  “It’s still a city,” Erin contended. “And it wasn’t like he’d play hockey forever.” She plucked a crisp from the bag. “There’s no point in talking about that now, anyway.”

  * * *

  “Hey, superstar goalie. Where’s your brain today?”

  Rory tousled LJ’s hair affectionately, waiting for an answer. LJ wasn’t the sort to let his mind wander, especially when he was in goal. But twice the kid had had his head in the clouds. Rory hoped to hell he wasn’t fighting nausea due to some putrid breakfast his sister had cobbled together.

  “Dunno.” The tried-and-true answer any child gives when the opposite was true.

  “Ah, don’t give me that line of bull. Believe me, I notice when one of our top players doesn’t have his heart in it.”

  “It’s nothin’,” LJ insisted.

  Rory shrugged and started to walk away, waiting for LJ’s voice to ring out behind him. And it did.

  “Wait!”

  Rory walked back to him. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

  LJ looked uncertain.

  “Anything on earth,” Rory continued. “And I won’t tell another living soul.”

  “Not even Erin?”

  “What’s Erin got to do with it?”

  “She and Mam talk about you all the time. They think we can’t hear because of the telly, but it’s dead easy to creep to the doorway of the kitchen and listen in.”

  “That’s not very polite, LJ,” Rory admonished, even though he wanted to promise the kid anything if he gave Rory gory details. “Sometimes people can’t help themselves,” he added sympathetically. LJ looked relieved. Yes, his face said, that is exactly what it was.

  “So, they talk about me, huh?” Rory felt like the alpha dog in a large pack.

  “You and my da.”

  Rory deflated.

  “And what do they say about him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Probably just stuff.”

  “Yeah. Stuff.”

  LJ was looking at the ground, creating figure eights in the dirt with the toe of his trainer.

  “It must be a lot of stuff if it’s crowding your mind that way.”

  LJ paused. “It is.”

  “I could try guessing if you want. Like a game. Would you like that?”

  LJ nodded.

  “Right.” Rory rocked on his heels, hands intertwined behind his back, as if he were pondering a difficult question. “Does it have to do with…your mam?”

  “Yes.”

  “Does it have to do with…something your dad said to your mam?”

  LJ nodded.

  “Is it to do with…the house?” A nod, yes.

  “You kids?” Yes.

  “Does it make your mam cry when she talks to Erin about it?”

  “Yes,” LJ said, getting teary. “But sometimes they yell at each other. Mam and Erin. But they always make up.”

  “What did your dad say to your mam? If you don’t mind me asking?”

  “That she’s a fat whore and she was stupid if she thought she could ever do better than him. He said”—LJ stumbled—“he said he’d take us from her. Mam said that was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard; he hasn’t given any money for us in ages.”

  “And where were you when this was happening?”

  “Hiding in the downstairs loo with Oona.”

  “And what else?” Rory swallowed hard, pushing down his fury. “Has he ever hit your mam?”

  “No. Mostly he just curses her and breaks up the furniture. Then he goes off and, a few days later, comes back. He and Mam make up. She tells Erin it’s all an act, her making up with him. That when she gets a job, she’ll boot him proper.”

  “That must be hard to hear.”

  LJ just shrugged.

  “Sounds like your da isn’t very nice to your mam.”

  “He’s dead mean!” LJ cried. “I hate to see Mam cry.” He paused. “Sometimes Da yells at Erin if she’s there. He tells her to get out and she tells him she’s going to call the garda. He just kinda laughs and he says she better watch her step.”

  Rory struggled to keep his rage in check. “Phew! That sure is a lot to carry around, LJ.”

  “I know!” He looked relieved to have spilled it all out.

  “Now can I ask you one final question?”

  LJ rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

  “Is your sister still making you those awful weird breakfasts?”

  “Yes,” LJ replied, making a horrible face.

  “Right. Well, we’ll see if we can’t do something about that.”

  LJ looked grateful. “Thanks, Rory.”

  Rory smiled. “You ready to go back out there and be the next Iker Casillas?”

  LJ nodded. His demeanor had altered completely during the course of their brief discussion. Rory couldn’t imagine what it was like to walk around keeping all that bottled up inside. His own home life had been fairly well balanced.

  Something had to be done.

  17

  Rory knew a setup when he saw one, and Erin was pulling a good one: today she’d asked him to pick her up at Sandra’s rather than have her parents give her a lift up to Aislinn and Liam’s farm for dinner. He was sure it was to do with their previous conversation, when she’d accused him of having no respect for her. He’d admitted it, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t enough for Erin, that perhaps it was time for him to face the full wrath of Sandra.

  Rory was in a pretty good mood as he pulled up in front of Sandra’s house. But that was before he stepped out onto the street and heard the shouting through the open window.

  “You fuckin’ slag! I bet half those kids aren’t even mine! I’ve a good mind to punch you into next week, you cow!”

  Rory lurched for the doorknob. Locked. Sonofabitch. “Touch Sandra again and you’re dead, you coward!”

  Erin. Jesus Christ. Rory took a step back, then threw himself at the door shoulder first, bursting in on the sight of Larry giving Erin a good slap across the face while Sandra sat sobbing on the floor, fingers pressing into her split, swollen lip. Instinct took over.

  Rory grabbed Larry, spun him around, and shoved him against the wall. “You fat piece of shit.”

  Larry bared his teeth like an animal. “Who the fuck do you think you are—”

  Rory didn’t let him finish. He drove his fist into Larry’s face.

  As Larry fell to the floor, Rory jerked his head around to Erin and Sandra. “Go upstairs! Look after the kids!” Sandra hesitated. “GO!”

  Erin grabbed Sandra by the wrist, yanking her up the stairs. The stinging red color of Erin’s face was fading, but there was still terror in her eyes, and it was his job to erase it.

  Rory turned back to Larry in disgust. The rage and adrenaline
pumping through him was even stronger than when he was fighting on the ice. This wasn’t another player who’d crossed a line. This was a coward who hit women. Who hit Erin. Rory jerked Larry back up to his feet by the lapels of his jacket, headbutting him square in the face. “I suggest you get the fuck out of here. NOW.”

  Larry crumpled to the floor again, groaning as blood poured from the gash to his forehead and his nose.

  Rory pulled him up a final time. “Get the fuck out of here. Now.” Rory dragged Larry to the open door and shoved him through it, slamming it behind him.

  “I’m gonna get the garda!” Larry bellowed drunkenly from the sidewalk.

  “Yeah, you go ahead and do that,” Rory replied sarcastically.

  Rory slowly scrubbed his hands over his face, pulling himself back together. The last thing he wanted was Erin and Sandra tiptoeing back downstairs, only to see the rage that was still flying through him. He could hear the kids crying upstairs, and the yen to pummel Larry again rose up in his gut. He knew he had to get away or he’d chase the bastard down and beat him to death right there on the sidewalk. He didn’t move, knowing he couldn’t just leave. He took a deep breath and slowly walked into Sandra’s kitchen to wash Larry’s blood off his knuckles and forehead.

  Rory stuck his hands under the tap and then splashed his face, the rage in him ebbing away in time with his heartbeat, which was slowly returning to normal.

  “Rory?”

  He turned around. Erin was standing in the kitchen doorway, her lips trembling while tears trickled down her face. Rory quickly dried his hands and face with a tea towel, then held his open arms out to her.

  “It’s all right,” he told her when she came to him and started sobbing against his chest. “It’s all right; he’s gone.”

  Rory held her tightly, hoping that his embrace was enough to convey the words he wanted to speak: I love you. I will always protect you.

  Eventually, Erin’s shoulders stopped heaving, and she stepped out of his arms.

  “Thank you,” she said stiffly. “For going after Larry and—you know—comforting me right now.”

  “I want to do more than comfort you, believe me,” Rory said fiercely. “I want to hold you in my arms until you believe nothing like that will ever happen again.”

  “I do believe it.”

  “What the hell happened?” Rory asked disgustedly.

  “He was drunk,” Erin said numbly, walking toward the freezer. “Very drunk. Things escalated and he punched her. Then I tried to intervene, and he slapped me.”

  “Yeah, I was there for that bit,” Rory spat out angrily.

  Despite crying things out, Erin still looked dazed as she brought an ice tray to the sink, twisting it so the cubes tumbled out into the basin. “Thank God you came.”

  “Bloody right, thank God.”

  Erin grabbed one of the other tea towels on the counter, putting some ice into it. “I’ve got to go to Sandra.”

  “Erin.” Rory stayed her, putting a hand on her shoulder. “Round her and the kids up; I’ll take them over to her mam’s.”

  “She’s already said she won’t go to her mam’s. She’s staying put.”

  Rory was shocked. “What? Can’t you talk some sense into her?”

  “Haven’t I been trying to for years?” Erin snapped, looking again on the verge of tears.

  “I know, love,” Rory said gently. “I just thought that now that he’d laid a hand on her, maybe she’d come to her senses.”

  Erin suddenly looked exhausted. “It doesn’t work that way. I wish it did, but it doesn’t.”

  Rory couldn’t shake his incredulity. “She’s just gonna stay here, then?”

  Erin nodded painfully.

  “Well, you’re getting the hell out of here, that’s for sure,” Rory declared.

  Erin looked at him like he was crazy. “I’m not leaving her!”

  “The hell you’re not!” Rory thundered. “If she wants to stay here and risk another pummeling, that’s her business. But you’re not staying for that drunken asshole to come back and lay a hand on you when I’m gone!”

  Love blazed up in Erin’s eyes for a split second, but just as quickly it sparked out. If he mentioned it to her later, she’d deny it. But he saw it.

  “I’m not leaving her, Rory,” Erin said wearily.

  “This is insane.” He racked his brains. “How about this? I pack the lot of you up and take you to Aislinn’s farm for a few days. You know she and Liam wouldn’t mind.”

  “I told you, Sandra won’t go.”

  Rory felt a surge of anger. “There’s loyalty and there’s madness. This is madness.”

  “She’s my best friend,” Erin reiterated plaintively.

  “And you’re my—”

  “Don’t.” Erin swiped at her eyes, sighing with resignation. “I best call Aislinn and Liam and let them know I’m not going to make it for dinner.”

  “No, you know what? I’ll tell them. I was going to talk to Jake anyway when I dropped you off, so I’ll take care of it.”

  Erin looked unsure for a minute. “All right.” She ducked her head shyly, then kissed him softly on the lips. “Well…thanks.”

  Rory nodded, wanting more and knowing it wasn’t the time to try to take it. He also wanted to throw her over his shoulder and just get her the hell out of here. Christ, he wanted to get them all out of here. But Erin wouldn’t see it as him wanting to protect them all; she’d see it as his not respecting her crazy insistence on staying here with her masochistic friend.

  Rory left the house reluctantly. His first stop would be the pub. He was going to let Old Jack know what happened, asking him and any of the regulars who were there to keep an eye out for Larry. And then he was going to speak to Jake.

  * * *

  Rory hadn’t been up to Aislinn’s farm since he’d dropped Erin off there after the fair. Distracted by her nearness, he hadn’t really taken in the changes that had occurred since he was last in Ballycraig. He was disappointed to see that some of its natural beauty was marred by electrical fences and No Trespassing signs. The Leary-ites. He could never imagine having to live like that.

  It was a little after five, and the fields were cleared for a dinner break, or at least that’s what Rory assumed. During the short ride from town, his adrenaline eased, but his anger grew. He took a deep breath and rang the bell. Aislinn opened the door.

  “You have got to be joking me. What’cha want? A good beating from Liam?”

  “I’m here to see Jake. And to tell you Erin can’t make it.”

  Aislinn gave him the evil eye. “And why would that be?”

  “Sandra and Larry had a dustup and Erin doesn’t want to leave her alone.” He didn’t think he should give any more details.

  He peered past Aislinn. “So is Jake about?”

  “Let me go check and see if he wants to see you.”

  Tough nut. Always had been. She’d scared the hell out of weaker men for years, but she’d never scared him. He’d always sensed her brusqueness was just a cover for deep emotional pain. He was glad she’d finally found happiness. Christ knew she deserved it.

  “C’mon in!” Aislinn shouted. Rory slipped out of his muddy trainers and went to the kitchen. Jake was at the table with Alec. Liam was there, too. Aislinn was at the kettle. He was going to have to play nice for a few minutes and make polite conversation.

  “Take that hat off,” snapped Liam.

  That was fast. “What?”

  He gestured at the baseball cap on Rory’s head. “The Yankees? This is a Mets family.”

  Rory took off the hat. “I bet you like the Islanders, too.”

  Liam turned to his wife. “Can you believe this shit?”

  Aislinn looked at her husband questioningly. “You mates now?”

  “What’s up?” Jake interjected.

  Alec was glaring at Rory from across the table. It was a useless gesture, but if it made the dullard feel as if he were somehow protecting Jake, Rory
was willing to give him his macho moment.

  Aislinn put a cup of tea down in front of him.

  “Laced with arsenic, is it?” Rory asked.

  “Worse. I laced it with guilt. And humility.”

  “Two flavors I’m very familiar with.”

  “Give over,” Jake sneered.

  Rory was unperturbed. “Ask Erin.”

  Jake looked ticked off, but before it developed into a pissing match, Aislinn was on it.

  “None of this rubbish in my kitchen. Alec, come to the barn with me, we’ve to finish the dipping. As for you”—her expression was affectionate as she put an arm around Liam’s neck in a light choke hold—“I’ll try to make it down tonight if I can. Depends on how tired I am.”

  “Same old story,” Liam teased. “I should get down there now, actually.” He threw Jake a miserable look. “Bettina’s still moaning about the hole in Vin Diesel’s eye.”

  “Talk to Mr. Hockey Star here,” Jake said sourly. “He said he could get one quick smart.”

  “You told me you’d take care of it,” Rory pointed out.

  “Well, I’m busier than I thought,” Jake muttered. “So if you could call your mate, I’d be grateful.”

  “No problem.”

  “Must be nice to be so powerful.”

  “It doesn’t take much power to get a Vin Diesel photo.”

  “And on that note,” said Aislinn, “we’re all on our way.”

  She, Alec, and Liam took leave of the kitchen, but not before Liam got another shot in at Rory. “The Yankees. Unbelievable.”

  Rory just smiled.

  Now that everyone else was gone, Jake made a big show of yawning. “What’s up, Rory? You want to go down to the pub, hoist a few, and get your ass kicked again?”

  “Actually, I am here to talk about an ass kicking of another sort.”

  “What’s up?”

  “Feckin’ Larry Joyce.”

  Jake groaned. “What about him?”

  “Has Sandra never talked to you about any of the shit going on at her house?”

  “No. She only talks to Erin. But everyone knows what’s up.”

  “I went over there earlier to pick up Erin to bring her here,” Rory started.