Keeping 13: Boys of Tommen #2

by Chloe Walsh

"You don't have anything to apologize for," I told her, forcing myself to keep my emotions in check. "You didn't then and still don't. She made a lot of mistakes with you, Shannon. She knew that, baby. She didn't need to hear you say sorry."

  "I'm still mad at her," Shannon confessed. "I love her and I hate her and I want to scream at the unfairness of it all." A small sob tore through her and I couldn't resist pulling her on to my lap a second longer. "I just…" Sniffling, she buried her face in my neck and held onto my shoulders. "I want to go back to when we were little and beg her to love herself more than she feared him. To just love us more than she loved him…"

  "She loved you," I said, trembling now. "She did, Shannon."

  "I don't know –"

  "Well, I know," I told her, tightening my hold on her. "You think I got those kids out of the house? Well, I couldn't have done that without your Ma. She helped me, Shannon."

  "What do you mean?"

  "When I was trying to get the door open," I explained hoarsely, my body racked with grief and guilt. "My hand was shaking so fucking bad, and the kids were crying. I was sure your Da was going turn around and see me there. But then your Ma started coughing, making enough noise to muffle their sobs, making enough of a distraction for me to open that door and get them out."

  "Wh-what?"

  "Yeah." I forced myself to continue. "Your mother did a lot of fucked-up shit, baby, and I'm not excusing any of it, but that night, when it came down to the wire, she looked me dead in the eyes and told me to save her children. That was the only thing on her mind at the end. Making sure you and your brothers were out of that house."

  Shannon's breath hitched in her throat. "You s-spoke to h-her?"

  Guilt-ridden, I looked my girlfriend in the eyes and nodded. "He was sitting with his back to the kitchen door, and there were empty bottles spread all over the table. I just didn't know what they were at the time – or else, I blocked it out." Shaking the horrific image from my head, I focused on Shannon's face as I spoke. "But your Ma saw me, and she nodded her head. I didn't know what to do… I thought for sure she was going to scream at me, but she didn't. She looked at me and nodded. She was telling me to go. And then she walked over to the door, and I –" I cut myself off, struggling to verbalize the night that was haunting me.

  "Keep going," Shannon begged, silently crying. "Please?"

  "We couldn't talk," I choked out, "so we were mouthing words to each other, and she said 'go, go now –" Shuddering, I wiped my cheek against my shoulder and forced myself to keep going. "'Get them out,' she kept saying to me. 'Take them away from here'."

  "Oh god…" Shannon's hands tightened on my shoulders. "D-don't stop."

  "I told her I'd come back for her," I admitted brokenly. "I said 'I promise' and she s-said 'don't come back –" My voice cracked and I had to inhale a shuddering breath before I could finish. "I couldn't understand it. I didn't know why she wouldn't come with me. I begged her to just come with me. I would have protected her. I swear, I would have. I thought she was afraid of him hitting her. I didn't know he was going to do that, but she must have known because she told me to save her children. Those were her exact words – save my children." Sniffling, I croaked out, "And she told me to t-tell all of you t-that s-she was s-sorry." A sob tore through me and I desperately tried to wrangle my emotions into check. "And then she just…she c-closed the kitchen door and I walked away…" I clenched my eyes shut, trying to stop my own tears. "I left her there, in that house with him, and I'm so fucking sorry, Shannon!"

  "Johnny –"

  "I'm sorry–" Shaking my head, I buried my face in her neck and whispered the words, "I'm so sorry," over and over until I felt like I couldn't breathe. She was crying right along with me and I knew I would never fully get over the decision I made that night. "If I could go back I would," I promised her. "I'd change it all –"

  "Look at me," Shannon sobbed and I shook my head. I was too ashamed. "Johnny Kavanagh, look at my face." When I didn't comply, she cupped my face in her small hands and forced me to look at her.

  "I'm sorry," I whispered, feeling tears trickle down both cheeks. "So sorry –"

  My words broke off when her lips crashed hard against mine. Shuddering into her touch, I kissed her back, feeling the dampness of her tears mix with mine.

  "You don't say sorry," Shannon croaked out, dragging her lips away from mine. "You don't apologize to anyone because you didn't do this. You are good. You saved me. So many times. So, you don't put that on you. Not ever." Sniffling, she wiped my cheeks with her thumbs and blew out a shaky breath. "Are we clear?"

  "Yeah." I nodded, drowning in her words. She didn't blame me. She wasn't mad at me. She didn't hate me. "We're clear."

  "I love you," Shannon whispered, still holding my face in her hands. "For keeps."

  Exhaling a ragged breath, I kissed her swollen lips. "Most in the world."

  "Can I stay in here with you tonight?" she asked then. "I just…I want to be close to you."

  "Yeah." My voice was thick and gruff. My heart was hammering at the speed of light. "You can stay with me."

  I waited for her climb off my lap and slip under the covers before dragging off my clothes and climbing in beside her. "Your skin is always so hot," she whispered when I draped an arm around her and tucked her into my chest. "It's nice." Shifting around so that my other arm was under her head, she nuzzled her cheek against my arm and inhaled a deep breath. "You smell like home."

  Shivering, I curled my body around hers and pressed a kiss to the curve of her jaw. "You are home."

  When I left the house this morning, I'd left Shannon sleeping in my bed. Hours later, I could still feel her on my skin. I was washed, dressed in clean training gear, and far away from the girl, and I could still feel her on me.

  "You can do this, Johnny," her voice filled my mind. "You're going to shine."

  Feeling sick to my stomach, I sat on the bench in the changing room of The Academy training grounds, having passed every medical examination that had been thrown my way this morning, and concentrated on keeping my heartbeat even. Anxiety was gnawing at my gut, adrenalin pumping through my veins at a furious rate, making my knees bop restlessly.

  Shaking my hands out, I inhaled a steadying breath and retied the laces on my football boots before moving my attention to the strapping on my thigh. Blocking out everything around me, I emptied my mind and strapped my body until I was satisfied with the level of support. Standing up, I tested my limbs, twisting from side to side, making sure I was good to go.

  They were waiting for me.

  Right outside.

  This was it.

  You can do this, I mentally chanted to myself. You were born to do this.

  A loud knock sounded on the other side of the changing room door, followed by my coach's voice, "Let's go, Kavanagh."

  "On the way," I called back, unable to suppress the shudder that rolled through my body as my nerves tangled with my excitement.

  Closing my eyes, I blessed myself and threw a silent prayer up to the man upstairs.

  Please, God, don’t let me fuck this up…

  My phone pinged then, alerting me to a text message. Scrambling for my phone, I quickly unlocked the screen and clicked into the message.

  S: You've got this, Johnny Kavanagh. Go show them what you're made of and shine. I'm proud of you. I love you. (A crazy fucking amount.) xx

  Fuck me.

  72

  Lightning Crashes

  Shannon

  Sitting in the front row pew in St. Patrick's Church on a beautiful summer's day in May, with my brothers on either side of me, I felt a mask slip into place as countless faces stepped in front of me, shaking my hand, telling me how sorry they were for our loss. I wasn't sure which loss they were talking about; our mother, who had been murdered, or our father, who had murdered her.

  All five of my brothers looked smart in identical black suits, crisp white shirts, and black ties Mrs. Kavanagh had delivered to the house bef
ore the rosary on Saturday. She had bought me a knee-length black dress and cardigan to wear, with small black heels. In the midst of my turmoil and my world crashing down around me, all that kept popping into my head was that my dress fit. It was the strangest, most inconsequential detail, but it kept swirling around and around in my mind.

  My eyes were glued to my parents' coffins laying side by side in front of the alter.

  His coffin was on the right.

  Our mother was on the left, closest to us.

  Like the steps of the stairs, my brothers and I were lined up according to our age, with Darren sitting at the edge of the pew, Joey to his left, followed by me, and then Tadhg, Ollie, and finally Sean.

  Darren was thanking everyone that sympathized with us, like the head of the family did during these ordeals, while Joey sat rigid, eyes glued to our mother's coffin in a trance-like state, ignoring everyone who shook his limp hand. Ollie was crying softly into his tissue, while Tadhg scowled at anyone who tried to pat his head. Sean was looking around at the Stations of the Cross hanging on the walls, and the beautiful, stained glass windows all around us.

  Sean didn't seem to understand what was happening and his lack of awareness gave me immense comfort. He had a fighting chance to survive this. The couple sitting behind my brothers gave me hope for all of their futures. John Sr. had his head bent between Ollie and Tadhg, whispering something in their ears, that was amusing enough to draw a smile from Tadhg and a sniffling thumbs up from Ollie, while Edel had positioned herself on the kneeler behind Sean, quietly entertaining him and explaining all the different pictures and statues.

  Beside Mr. and Mrs. Kavanagh sat my mother's sister Alice, her husband, Michael, and my eighty-one-year-old maternal great-grandmother, Nanny Murphy.

  That was it.

  That was all the family my mother had to show for thirty-eight years on this earth.

  I knew mine and my brothers' friends and their families were filling up the pews behind us. I'd seen them all earlier when they had come up to sympathize, and it gave me the strength to not look at the other side of the church, to where his family were sitting, weeping and wailing loudly. None of us knew our father's side of the family, and I had no plans to start now.

  Every time one of his family members sobbed too loudly, I felt Joey stiffen beside me. Darren noticed too because he reached down and placed a hand on Joey's knee to stop him from shaking. Hooking my arm through Joey's, I held onto him for all I was worth, terrified of what he might do if they didn't stop. The Lynch side had caused terrible trouble over the funeral arrangements as it stood, making a big deal of the family plot, and demanding that they both be laid to rest together. Darren had hit the roof, insisting on cremating our mother before he allowed her to be placed with him, before Mr. Kavanagh stepped in with his wallet and organized for my mother to be buried in her own fresh plot. My parents would share a service and a cemetery, but at least she could finally rest in peace.

  "We're nearly there," I whispered in Joey's ear when one of our father's sisters wailed particularly loudly as the priest sprinkled holy water on our parents' coffins. "Another little bit and we're done."

  Joey nodded stiffly, never once taking his eyes off the photograph of Mam that was sitting on top of her coffin.

  Trembling, I leaned back in my seat, seeking the comfort of the hand hooked under the back of my seat and stroking my side. I knew in my heart that the only reason I was managing to hold it together was the boy who was sitting in the pew directly behind mine. Every instinct inside of me was demanding I climb over the pew and seek comfort in my boyfriend's arms, but I held firm, staying strong for my brothers.

  When the mass ended and my father's family stood up to shoulder his coffin out of the church with the second priest on the alter, I reached down and gripped Johnny's hand tightly, needing the connection to build up enough courage to hold my ground. All six of us remained seated and turned our heads away, refusing to watch as our mother's killer was shouldered away by his friends and relatives.

  The emotions I was desperately trying to wrangle in got the better of me and a pained sob tore from my throat, but then I felt him right behind me. I heard the words, "You can do this," in my ear as his lips brushed against my earlobe. Nuzzling my cheek with his nose, he whispered, "I promise."

  Shuddering, I nodded and pressed his hand to my chest, clutching it so tightly that it had to be uncomfortable for him – he clearly had to kneel behind me in order to give me so much of his arm – but I couldn't physically let him go. Not when I'd already lost so much today.

  Finally, when he was gone, and it was our mother's turn to be shouldered from the church, I watched Darren and Joey rise to their feet. Everyone was crying behind us, sobbing loudly as my mother's two eldest children carefully removed her picture from her coffin and handed it to Father McCarthy, before folding the pall and returning that to him, too. But then Darren and Joey just stood there, staring at our mother's coffin, looking completely lost, with tears dripping down their cheeks.

  Exhaling a shaky breath, I let go of Johnny's hand and stood up. Keeping my back straight, I walked up to my brothers and whispered, "What's wrong?"

  "We need six people to carry her," Darren whispered back. "I didn't think –" He shook his head and sniffled. "I don't know what to do…"

  Everyone in the jam-packed church was staring at us. Some in confusion. Most in pity.

  "Johnny?" Darren called out in a hoarse voice, turning his attention to my boyfriend, who was sitting next to Aoife in the second row, and pulling faces at Sean.

  Snapping his attention to us, Johnny straightened up, looking like he'd been caught red-handed doing something he wasn't supposed to. "Yeah?"

  "Will you shoulder our mother with us?"

  Clearly taken aback, Johnny sank back in his seat. "Are you sure?" His uncertain blue eyes flicked from me to Joey before settling on Darren. "You want me?"

  "There would be four white coffins up here if you hadn't done what you did," Darren replied, gesturing to our brothers and me. "We want you, and she would want you, too."

  Emotions flooded Johnny's eyes and he quickly rose to his feet. He didn't have his jacket on, just his white shirt and tie, as he stumbled out of the pew and walked up to stand beside me at the side of my mother's coffin.

  Our aunt's husband walked over to us then, shaking hands with Darren just before Alex, who'd driven down from Belfast on Saturday, joined us in front of the alter. "I'll stand with you, baby," he whispered in his ear. Ignoring the priest who was giving them a peculiar look, my brother's beautiful boyfriend leaned in and kissed Darren right on the lips. "Always."

  Darren sniffled and gripped Alex's hand. "We just need one more."

  "Gussie," Joey said shakily, pointing to Gibsie, who was sitting in the third row with our friends. "I need a favor, lad."

  "Say no more, buddy." Gibsie rose from his pew and walked straight up to Joey. "Gussie's here," he said, patting him on the shoulder.

  Trembling, I returned to Tadhg and Ollie, clasping their hands tightly in mine as the undertakers carefully raised her coffin onto their shoulders and then quickly reorganized the boys by height before giving them the go-ahead.

  Father McCarthy walked down the aisle and everyone got to their feet. With their arms banded around each other, Darren and Joey shouldered our mother's coffin from the front, with Alex and Michael in the middle, and Johnny and Gibsie at the back.

  Sobbing quietly, I slowly trailed after the coffin as they slowly walked my mother out of the church and into the glorious sunshine in the adjoining cemetery. "Sean," I mumbled to Tadhg when we stepped outside. "Oh, god, we forgot Sean."

  Glancing around me, I looked through the crowds, frantically searching for my baby brother, only to find him a few feet behind me swinging happily between Johnny's parents, blissfully unaware of that fact that we were about to lay his mother to rest. My eyes landed on Aoife then and her golden hair as it blew around her face in the light summer bree
ze. She wasn't looking at me. Her entire focus was on my brother as she watched him like he was a precious jewel that could vanish at any moment.

  "Mammy," Ollie sobbed, burying his face in my side.

  "Shh. It's okay." I tore my gaze from Aoife and wrapped my arm around his small shoulders, holding him to my side, keeping Tadhg's hand firmly in my other hand. I continued to walk us after the coffin, keeping my eyes trained on Johnny's white shirt – the only white shirt in a sea of dark jackets.

  When we reached the freshly dug grave in the far corner of the graveyard, I watched numbly as they shifted my mother onto the boards next to the plot. Wordlessly, Joey and Darren returned to stand beside us as Father McCarthy continued to pray over my mother's grave.

  Johnny was standing so close behind me that I could smell his aftershave and feel the light movement of his shirt against my back as he breathed in and out.

  Slow and steady.

  In and out.

  Thump, thump, thump.

  I allowed myself to lean against him, taking all the comfort he was offering me, allowing him to be my strength in this moment.

  When Father McCarthy finished the final part of the service, I watched as Patrick Feely stepped up to the microphone the priest had been using and gently strummed on the guitar strapped to his chest. Father McCarthy had asked if there was a song we would like to be played during the service, and Johnny had mentioned to Darren that his friend played the guitar and would be honored to play for us. With the help of Feely, Darren had picked some lovely songs for the ceremony but it was Joey who had chosen the song to be played when Mam was being lowered into the ground. He was adamant that it had to be that specific song.

  When Feely began to sing the words of Live's Lightning Crashes, his voice so beautiful and haunting, the lyrics so cutting and deep, I lost the battle with my emotions. Knowing that Joey had chosen this song for Mam made it almost unbearable to hear. The pain in my heart was too much to handle.