Breakaway

by Deirdre Martin

  “What?”

  “I keep waiting to feel guilty, interfering in San’s life that way without her knowing, but I don’t.”

  “’Course you don’t. The fecker deserved our threats, and more. If you ask me, he’s lucky we didn’t beat him within an inch of his life.”

  “Yeah, I know.” Jake mulled this over as he dipped his biscuit in the tea. “The thing is, Rory, it sort of made me feel like we were brothers again, you know?”

  “I feel the same way.”

  “I still hate your bloody guts, mind you. But now you’ve come back for a bit, I can see you know you ballsed it all up with Erin. I figure I can hate your guts but still be your mate. That’s how I feel about my brothers, after all.”

  “I know I fucked up. But you can see I’m trying to make things right.”

  “I know. There’s just one thing more to get straight between us: Erin.”

  Rory regarded him warily. “What about her?”

  “Much as I would like it to be otherwise, I know I don’t have a piss chance in hell of winning her. Not only does she want the opposite of everything I do in life, but she’s still in love with you.”

  Rory went very still. “Why’d ya say that?”

  “Cut the fake humility, you pompous twit. You know she is. I think there’s a difference between a good life and a happy life. And what’ll make Erin happy is getting out of Ballycraig and being with you.”

  “You’re right.”

  “You wanker! Fake some humility just to make yourself a tolerable mate, would ya?”

  Rory was trying to come up with something snappy to say. But he was at a loss, and so he resorted to what he and Jake always fell back on at times of emotion.

  “Fuck you, you stupid shite, you just told me to cut the fake humility,” he said, grinning broadly.

  “And fuck you, too, you gobshite,” Jake responded reflexively, breaking into a laugh.

  He bit into a biscuit. “She’s yours,” he admitted. “Always had been, always will be. But I swear on my mother’s grave, if she takes you back and you mess her around, I will hunt you down like a dog, Rory, and beat you within an inch of your life.”

  “I know.” He grabbed a shortbread from the plate. “Mates?”

  “Mates.”

  Jake turned gloomy as he took a bite of his biscuit. “It’s back to online dating for me, I guess.”

  Rory frowned. “What are you on about?”

  “In case you haven’t noticed, there’s not a huge bevy of girls to choose from here.”

  “You’re a moron.”

  “What? Who’s here? Old Grace Finnegan? Those two batty twins in Crosshaven who go everywhere together?”

  “What about Sandra?”

  “Oh, right. Yeah. Sandra. Are you out of your fuckin’ mind? For starters, she’s Sandra.”

  “What the hell does that mean? She’s your mate. You like her.”

  “I know. But she’s got a lot of baggage. And a house full of kids.”

  “You’ve always said you wanted some.”

  “Yeah, my own, not prefab.” Jake shook his head in disbelief. “Sandra.”

  “Sorry. I just thought: good-looking woman, you’ve known her for ages, happy living in Ballycraig, and all that.”

  “Appreciate the thought, mate, but it’s back to tapping the keyboard for me, at least till the right one comes along.”

  20

  Sitting in the small caf in Crosshaven, Erin tucked her cell away in her bag, elated. She’d just gotten off the phone with Diana Everett, who’d accepted the job at the B and B. Diana would definitely be able to hold her own against Erin’s mother. The problem would be the rubbish her mother would heap on her, not Diana. It wouldn’t matter that she’d taken advantage of Erin’s good nature for months now. She wouldn’t be able to see past Erin’s “betrayal,” interviewing prospective employees behind her back. Erin had warned her, and her mother hadn’t wanted to listen. Well, she had no choice but to listen now.

  Erin had taken the bus into Crosshaven because she was in no mood to study at home. Her mother was in one of her manic spells, which was likely to result in multiple unwanted knocks on Erin’s door. Normally it would be Rory’s “job” to drive her, but she knew he was taking his gran for a checkup with Dr. Laurie. She almost enjoyed the bus ride, being able to read or eavesdrop if she wanted. It almost made her wish she’d hung on to her old job at the jewelry store. Almost.

  Nursing her second cup of tea at the caf, she opened her laptop to do some studying for one of her final exams. She’d handed in what she thought was a well-written final paper on the sculptor Louise Nevelson. Nevelson had been flamboyant, self-confident, and brave in a way Erin dreamed of being. Her work challenged Erin, which was one of the things she liked about it. Erin had never been challenged in school.

  Erin still found herself in the grip of panic sometimes. Art history: what a stupid, useless degree to get. As if there were loads of jobs for art historians out there. She’d almost chucked it all in except that one night, she and Sandra had ordered in Chinese, and when Erin cracked open her fortune cookie, the tiny slip of paper inside said, “Do what you love and the rest will follow.” Ridiculous as it was, Erin took it as a sign, especially when the first song she heard on Pandora the next morning was Tom Petty’s “Runnin’ Down a Dream.” Maybe the universe was trying to tell her something.

  Erin wasn’t sure how long she sat absorbed in her studying. All she knew was that the sight of Rory strolling through the door caught her completely by surprise.

  “What are you doing here?”

  “Picking you up.”

  “How did you even know I was here?”

  Rory tapped the side of his head. “Radar.”

  Erin rolled her eyes. “How’s your gran?”

  Rory grimaced. “Fit as a fiddle, if a fiddle had cataracts and was losing its hearing.”

  “Oh, no.” Erin squelched the instinct to reach out and squeeze his hand in a gesture of consolation.

  “Ah, it’s not that bad.” Erin knew he was minimizing things. “She’ll get cataract surgery and a hearing aid, and she’ll be good as new. At least now I know she won’t be asking ‘WHAT?’ every two minutes. It’s beginning to drive me spare.”

  Erin laughed.

  “I’ve always loved your laugh,” Rory confessed with a big smile. “Like crystal running down a…oh, feck it, you know I’m not a poet.”

  “You certainly aren’t.” Erin steered the conversation away from herself. “How long is she going to have to wait, your gran?”

  “For what?”

  “Her operation and her hearing aid.”

  “She’s not waiting,” Rory replied indignantly. “I’m bringing her to private doctors in Dublin. None of this National Health runaround.”

  “Good idea,” Erin said, remembering how her brother had once had to wait two years for his elective hernia operation. She could still see Brian walking around with his hand on his abdomen, looking like he was trying to hold his guts in.

  Rory picked up one of the laminated menus on the table and started looking it over. That’s when Erin noticed the knuckles of his right hand were still scraped. The pieces came together in a flash.

  “You ran Larry out of town, didn’t you?”

  Rory smiled slyly. “Maybe so.”

  “Don’t come over coy. I know you did. He’d never leave otherwise.”

  “Jake and I had a little chat with him, yeah.”

  “‘Chat’?”

  “We didn’t throttle him, if that’s what you’re worried about. We just conveyed to him that if he enjoyed breathing, he might want to leave town for good.”

  “Why was it you and Jake took care of it? Not just you?”

  “We both agreed he had it coming. Plus, we didn’t want the weasel thinking he could sneak back into Ballycraig once I went back to New York.”

  “I don’t know whether to be appalled or impressed.”

  “I’d say ‘i
mpressed.’” Rory laughed delightedly. “Look at you. Your eyes are so wide with wonder you look like a kid who’s just seen Father Christmas.”

  “I feel like I have.”

  “You can’t go telling Sandra.”

  “She suspects it already, but even so, why would I ever do that?”

  “How’s she doing?”

  “Holding up,” Erin replied matter-of-factly, fiddling with an empty sugar packet on the table. “Saying she loves him and wondering how she’s going to face life without him.”

  Rory cocked his head inquisitively. “And who do you love?” He covered his eyes with his palm. “Wait, wait, I think I know.”

  “Shut your gob.”

  Rory pulled his hand away. “Why? Because my gob speaks the truth?”

  “Your gob speaks a load of rubbish.”

  Rory rose and leaned across the table, rubbing his nose against hers. “You’re almost there,” he whispered. “I can feel it.”

  Erin pushed him back down into his seat. “You’re so annoying.”

  “I know. But seeing as how I saved you and your best friend, I think the least you can do is give me a little kiss.”

  Erin leaned over, aiming for his cheek, but Rory pushed his chair back so he was out of range. “Oh, no, no, no. Not one of those chaste Catholic school kisses.” He smiled wickedly. “I’m talkin’ a real kiss.”

  “Yeah, you’ve mentioned that already.” Erin knew she wasn’t going to win this one. Well, it’s nothing, she thought, a quick skim of her mouth over his and she’d be done. She paid her bill. Rory was waiting for her at the caf door, looking all smug as he held it open for her. Twit.

  “Let’s just get this over with, shall we?” Erin said briskly as she started up the street.

  Rory made a serious face. “Oh. I agree completely. It’s a horrible chore. The sooner it’s done, the better.”

  Halfway down the street, Erin realized she had no idea where she was heading to. Well, Rory Brady would just have to forget about his kiss.

  He pointed across the street at a fish and chips shop. “Maybe they’ll let us use their basement. Nothing more romantic than locking lips surrounded by bushels of spuds.”

  “You’re an idiot.”

  Rory shook his head disappointedly. “I can’t believe you’ve forgotten.”

  “Forgotten what?”

  “Come on.”

  He took Erin’s hand, twining his fingers through hers. He’d always been a good hand-holder, Rory, his grip firm and protective.

  It all started coming back to Erin as they approached the jewelry store where she used to work. The alley. The long, narrow, brick alley between the jewelry store and the tobacconists next door. She couldn’t count the number of times they’d snogged there, especially when they were teens.

  “Remember now, do you?” Rory asked, leading her down the alley.

  He stopped at the end, casually leaning up against the wall with his hands deep in the front pockets of his faded jeans like he was some bad boy, his expression one of cool composure.

  “You think you’re some kind of rock star, don’t you?” Erin’s sarcasm was purely a cover for the exquisite anticipation sparking inside her.

  “C’mere.”

  Rory held out his hand. Erin hesitated, pretending the last thing she wanted was to be in his arms but was somehow managing to force herself. She squirmed. He was holding her too tight, then not tight enough. “I don’t know what you think you’re doing,” she said with a huff. “Because if you think you’re going to get anything beyond a simple—”

  Her sentence was swallowed up by a rough kiss. It was familiar, yet gloriously new. Erin hadn’t realized she’d parted her lips until Rory’s tongue touched hers. She knew this taste. The technique. And then, where a few seconds ago her senses had been adrift, she realized what she was doing and who she was doing it with, and jerked her mouth from his.

  “There,” she said, trying to regain the upper hand. “You got your kiss, now let’s go back to Ballycraig.”

  Rory looked genuinely bemused. “What are you so afraid of?”

  “Do you really need to ask that?”

  “Yeah. I’m thick. Tell me.”

  Erin tapped her chin thoughtfully. “Maybe, just maybe, I’m afraid of getting my teeth kicked in again. Just maybe, mind.”

  “How long do you want me to keep groveling? Forever? Because if that’s what you want, so help me God, I will.”

  “Don’t. This has been madness, me getting rides from you. What was I thinking?”

  She made her way back onto the sidewalk, tears stinging her eyes. What must he think of her? Stupid Erin, so- easy-to-manipulate Erin.

  “Where’re you going?” Rory followed, keeping pace with her. It felt like a bad déjà vu.

  “Where’d ya think? To catch the bus.”

  Rory groaned. “Don’t be ridiculous. I swear I’ll never touch you again, all right? Or put you in a position where you have to kiss me. Okay?”

  Erin wasn’t buying it. “Really.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Let’s just forget this happened.”

  Rory looked angry. “You know what, Erin? I’m tired of pretending things never happened. Things are happening, and for a reason, too. You still love me. But here you are, wasting all this precious time we could be together.”

  Erin turned on him. “Until when? When you leave at the end of the summer and dump me?”

  Rory’s whole body was tense with frustration. “I’m not going to dump you. I love you. I didn’t come back here for my gran. You know that. Everyone knows that. I came back here for you. Everyone deserves a second chance, don’t you think?”

  “You’re doing my head in, Rory. Truly.”

  “Isn’t that a sign you care?”

  “You have to back off,” Erin said testily. “I need to think.”

  “Of course.”

  She wasn’t looking at him, but she could feel his elation: it felt like bright, golden beams directed right at her. “I’m going to take the bus back to Ballycraig. Like I said, I need space right now. To breathe. You’ve no need to wait with me.”

  “I understand.”

  He walked her over to the bus stop, then gave her one of those chaste Catholic school kisses he’d mocked earlier. She watched him go, a little bounce in his step despite the chilly drizzle that was starting to fall. So sure of himself. Cocky bastard. Don’t put the cart before the horse, mister, Erin thought.

  21

  Erin had the entire bus ride back to Ballycraig to think about Rory. She tried puzzling it out as if it were a math equation. You like Rory’s kiss, ergo you still like Rory. You gab with him like you’re old pals, ergo you still like Rory. You sort of like being fought over, ergo you still care about Rory, because you always want him to win. You’re afraid of letting your heart loose again, because you live in mortal terror Rory will crack it into a million tiny bits, ergo he affects you, ergo you still love him, ergo goddamn ergo.

  Erin tried to imagine what it would feel like taking him back. Would it feel like coming home, or would it feel like stepping off a cliff?

  It was close to five when she got home. Five meant doing the laundry and making up the beds. But not tonight.

  “Well, look what the cat’s dragged in,” her mother said, not without affection, when Erin walked into the kitchen. “And where have you been, if your own mother is allowed to ask?”

  “In Crosshaven. I found the woman who’s going to replace me. Her name’s Diana Everett and she’s got loads of experience. I think you’ll like her.”

  The stillness was killing. Erin had never seen someone’s face turn so red so fast. Red as a fire truck, it was, with the purple veins faintly pulsing in her mother’s temples taking the place of the flashing lights. Well, I warned her.

  Her mother seemed to be cemented to the spot beside the open dishwasher. “Mam?”

  “How dare you? How bloody dare you?”

  Erin’s hackles w
ent up as soon as her mother said “bloody.” Her mother rarely, if ever, cursed.

  “I told you ages ago I wasn’t going to be here for good,” Erin pointed out calmly. “I also told you that if you didn’t start interviewing people yourself, I would do it.”

  “You’ve no right!”

  “And you’ve no right to keep me on here months and months! I’ve been a good sport about this! No—more than a good sport! I’ve been a wimp. So don’t start giving me the old rubbish about loyalty! Most parents would want their children to go out into the world and do what makes them happy.”

  “I just want to protect you, Erin!”

  “Protect me or hinder me?” Erin took a deep, frustrated breath. “Look, just because I want to go out and do things doesn’t mean I don’t love you or that I’ll never come home. That’s silly.”

  Her mother looked smug. “Have you figured out yet where exactly it is you’re going?”

  “Yes. Away. You have to be willing to take chances in life.”

  “I’m all for taking chances—”

  “You aren’t—”

  “If you’ve got a sensible plan in place.”

  “I do have a plan.”

  “What’s that?”

  “I’m finishing up my degree online.”

  “Online?”

  “Yeah, on the computer. The one I’d been doing in bits and pieces. That’s what I’ve been doing upstairs: studying. Art history.”

  “Jesus, Mary, and Joseph, I thought you’d knocked that thought out of your head,” her mother said, looking appalled.

  “Why would I do that?”

  “I just thought it was something you were doing to keep yourself occupied while Rory wasn’t here. That once you got married, you’d drop the whole thing.”

  “I did. For a while. But when I was right in the head again, I thought: ‘I want to do it, and I need to do it, so I’m doing it.’”

  “And there’s hundreds of jobs waiting out there for you, sure,” her mother drawled.

  “No,” Erin replied with a defiant tilt of the chin. “But I’ll work till I find one.”

  “Doing what?”

  “I’ll work at a B and B,” she said dryly. “God knows I’ve got more than enough experience.”