Breakaway

by Deirdre Martin

  “I’m goin’ as fast as I can.”

  Finally, finally, the tray was empty.

  Erin looked around, confused, not knowing where to put it, till her aunt plucked it out of her hands. “I’ve got it. You can hug her now,” she informed Rory.

  Rory picked her up, swinging her around. He was laughing like a fool, near delirious with love and disbelief.

  Erin was laughing, too. “Put me down! You’re going to give me vertigo!”

  Rory put her down, still not quite believing his eyes.

  “Shall I pinch you so you know I’m real, then?” Erin offered.

  “A kiss might be better.”

  Rory thought her natural shyness would kick in, but she threw her arms around his neck, kissing him so passionately he was the one who began to feel self-conscious.

  Her aunt coughed loudly. “Enough of that, now.”

  They broke apart. Erin couldn’t stop grinning. She looked like a kid who’d gotten every single thing she’d ever wanted in her life. “Surprised?”

  “What do you think?”

  “Surprised me, I can tell you that,” said her aunt. “Am I correct in assuming you will not be sleeping under my roof tonight?” she asked Erin politely.

  Erin blushed. “Yes.”

  “I thought as much.”

  Erin kissed her aunt on the cheek. “Thanks so much for keeping my secret, Aunt Kathleen. I’ll be round tomorrow.”

  “Good. I’m going to go tell your uncle that he can ring your mam and dad now to let them know it all went off without a hitch. They’ve been on pins and needles, especially your mam.”

  “That doesn’t surprise me.”

  Her smile was affectionate as she hugged Erin. “Welcome to America, love.”

  * * *

  “Well, that was deliciously primitive.”

  Erin was lying in Rory’s arms, so relaxed she thought she might just float away on the breeze. It had been comical, the two of them trying to stay a decent amount of time at the pub with Rory’s teammates when, really, all they wanted to do was head back to Rory’s and tear each other’s clothes off. But the universe seemed intent on putting a few more obstacles in their way first: It was pouring when they got outside, so it took them eons to get a cab. When they finally got back to Rory’s flat, he couldn’t find his key. Turned out it was deep inside one of his skates. But for a moment there, they thought they’d have to troop back to the pub.

  Their clothes had come off pretty damn quickly, which was fine with her. Sometimes sex was meant to be slow and exquisitely torturous; other times, it was meant to be raw and frenzied. This was one of those times when wildness lay waste to your senses.

  “I like that word, primitive.” Rory mused. “It conjures up images of cavemen.”

  “You are a bit of one, you know.” Erin loved the thin sheen of sweat on his face and gave his cheek a small lick.

  “How’d you reckon?”

  “You’re macho, always have been. Not much of a decorator, though.”

  Rory looked offended as he propped himself up on one elbow. “What’d you mean by that?”

  Erin chortled as if it were self-evident. “Rory, you’re still living out of boxes. We’re on a mattress on the floor!”

  “So? I know where everything is.”

  “Well, I don’t. First thing tomorrow, I’m giving this flat a good cleaning.”

  “Wrong.” He took her in his arms and flipped her so she was lying on top of him. “First thing tomorrow, you’re going to make love with me before I go to practice.”

  “Deal.”

  “I can’t believe you’re really here,” Rory marveled. The amazement in his voice made her tingle, not only because it was obvious he really was glad she was here, but because it confirmed what she’d known the minute he’d flown out of Galway: her life was meant to be lived right by his side.

  THREE MONTHS LATER

  “Da, being allowed to sit in your Ford Fiesta is the best wedding present any girl could ask for.”

  Erin couldn’t contain her joy, grinning at her father as they cruised down the High Street to Saint Columba’s church. Even though she knew the car wouldn’t be an issue, she liked teasing him anyway. Her mother was in the backseat, fussing with her hair and generally looking nervous.

  She’d taken the internship at the Guggenheim, and it had led to a job. When she and Rory got back to New York, she’d start at the museum as a trainee archivist.

  Thank Christ for Sandra, she thought. Were it not for her, it would have been near impossible to plan the wedding from afar. San had arranged the flowers, the photographer, and the music, running stuff by Erin via e-mail, phone, and Skype. Since Sandra was the only one standing up for her, Erin told her friend to go to Belladonna Bridal in Galway City to pick out any dress she pleased. Rory’s bank account was large enough to give both of them free rein to create the day Erin had long dreamed of.

  Rather than have the reception at the Oak, she and Rory had opted for the parish hall at Saint Columba’s, which was now also miraculously air-conditioned thanks to an anonymous donor whom everyone suspected was PJ Leary. Erin’s parents insisted on taking care of the catering (“Best in Galway City”) and Jake had picked the band.

  There were so many things about today that were making Erin happy. Not just that she and Rory were finally going to be married, but that her aunt Kathleen and uncle Charlie were here, as well as Rory’s parents. Jake was standing up for Rory. Esa had flown over for the wedding, while the rest of the team was watching the wedding on closed-circuit TV at the Wild Hart.

  Erin hadn’t felt the least bit nervous until now, when she and her da pulled up in front of the church, and there were familiar faces standing outside waiting for her arrival, including the Holy Trinity.

  * * *

  She’d chosen a simple vintage wedding gown, opting for light champagne pink over the traditional white. Tea length, with a delicately ruffled hemline, it was exquisite, with subtle floral embroidery at the bust and at the bottom of the scalloped shoulders. She’d never pictured herself in a wedding dress with a capital W. It wasn’t her style; plus, she was too petite to carry it off.

  As she started up the church steps, Teague reached into a paper bag, but David quickly grabbed his wrist. “Not now, you stupid bastard! You throw the confetti afterwards.”

  The idea of confetti amused Erin: the reception was being held a few feet away. Standing at the back of the church, she began to tear up unexpectedly. The early-evening light shining through the stained glass windows made the chapel look magical. Pink and white roses adorned the altar, matching Erin’s bouquet of pink and white rosebuds. The chapel was packed. One look at the crowd and Erin’s mother’s lower lip began quivering.

  “None of that now,” her father chided affectionately. Erin’s brother and his wife were already sitting up in the left front pew. Erin and her parents were just waiting on Sandra, who’d insisted on getting to the church early to make sure everything was perfect, and to put the fear into Father Bill if he somehow managed to make a hash of things.

  Erin was just about to ask her da to go check and see if everything was okay with Sandra when Erin spotted her tiptoeing down the left aisle of the church.

  “Sorry,” she whispered, joining them in the vestibule. “Just getting my last fag in. Don’t worry: I popped a mint.” She blew a stream of breath at Erin. “Is it okay?”

  “Gorgeous,” Erin teased.

  Sandra kissed Erin’s parents on the cheek. “Look at you two. You look lovely, Mrs. O. And you, Mr. O—if you were twenty-five years younger, Mrs. O over here’d be havin’ some stiff competition.”

  Erin’s mother scowled, but her da enjoyed the compliment.

  “Everything’s a-okay,” Sandra told Erin. “Rory’s as twitchy as a man trapped in a bag of fleas, but he’ll be all right.

  “Jake’s a bit nervous, too.” At this, Sandra’s eyes dropped demurely.

  “Yeah, I’ll bet he is,” Erin said
slyly.

  Sandra kept reaching out to touch her dress. “You look so beautiful.”

  The lovely, gentle organ music had stopped as Jake and Rory appeared on the altar. If Rory was nervous, it didn’t show on his face; he looked happy and confident. In fact, it was Jake who was looking a bit peaky.

  Erin and Rory had decided they didn’t want a traditional wedding march played as Erin walked up the aisle; so when the sound of Nat King Cole’s “Unforgettable” came floating out of the speakers, people looked confused. But it only took them a few seconds before they all grew misty-eyed.

  Sandra headed up the aisle, beaming, which obviously wasn’t lost on Jake, who beamed back.

  “It’s time,” Erin’s da said quietly. She’d asked both her parents to give her away. She took a deep breath, then nodded.

  Afterward, Erin would have no memory of the walk up the aisle, or of her parents kissing her and sitting down. There was only one person in the church, and it was Rory. She’d dreamed of this day for years, and now that it was here, she realized just how pale one’s imagination could be. The intensity of the love she felt for this man was so overpowering it was almost indescribable. It was almost as if she’d been spending years dreaming in black-and-white, but now that it was finally here, the real event was in Technicolor.

  Time didn’t exist: there was no fast or slow, just the two of them, the words, the connection. They finally belonged to each other, heart and soul. And nothing would ever, ever tear them apart again.