by Jamie Pope
“You’re like our mum,” Maeve said. “I used to watch her work all day. Washing clothes, cooking and cleaning, helping out the neighbors. It looked exhausting to me, but she never seemed to mind and even as a wee girl, I knew that I could never be like her. She said she needed to feel useful. I sometimes wonder if she had stayed alive would she have burned herself out with all that giving.”
“I’m sure your mother worked much harder than I ever have. I have had people taking care of me my entire life. Before it was housekeepers and tutors. Now your brother takes care of me. At first, I bristled at the idea of having him so involved in my life, but now . . . He’s gotten to me. I think I need him to take care of me as much as I want to take care of him.”
“I would gag at the sweetness of that statement if you didn’t make my brother so damn happy.” Maeve grinned at him. Her cell phone beeped. Her screen lit up with a text message. “It’s Liam.” She picked up her phone. “Wants to know where the hell I am. I don’t get good reception in my little cottage. It’s better here.”
“Yes. We made sure the main house had the best reception,” Cullen said. “Isn’t it one AM there? You should see what he wants. He’s probably worried.”
She nodded and dialed their brother. “Liam. I told you where I was going. I’m here with Cullen and his girlfriend. Did you think I went falling off the face of the earth?”
“It’s Dad.” Cullen could hear the graveness in his voice through the muffled phone. Maeve put the phone on speaker. “He’s taken a turn. The care home thinks he has another week or so in him.”
“Oh.” She looked up at Cullen. “Are you with him?”
“No. Not yet. I think we should be there. I’m catching the train in the morning.” Liam paused. “I know I shouldn’t ask you to come, but I want you to come see him. I don’t want to go alone.”
“I’m here with Cullen. It’s his birthday. You should see all the trouble his girlfriend went through to bring me here.”
“I know. And I know what our father did to him, but he’s our father and I think if we don’t see him before he dies, we’ll not forgive ourselves.”
Wyn’s hand slipped into his. At first, he was too shell-shocked to feel it. It wasn’t the fact that his father was dying. That wasn’t a surprise. Cullen thought the man would have died long ago. It was Liam’s voice. He sounded just like the old man. At least, the version of him that Cullen remembered when he was a boy. He hadn’t seen a picture of Liam. He didn’t know how he looked, but there must be some of their father in him.
Just hearing his voice took him back to their small home in Belfast. That feeling returned. That tight ball in his stomach that made him want to black out and forget the world.
“I don’t know what to do.” Maeve sounded helpless.
“Don’t let my relationship with him play any role in your decision. I will support you in whatever you want to do. If you want to go, I’ll pay for your flight.”
“You really don’t want to see him, Cull? Not even to tell him to rot in hell?”
“I’ve said everything I had to say to the man the day I left him drunk and blubbering on the floor.”
“I would like to see you, Cullen,” Liam said. “I can’t get stateside, but I would give just about anything to see you.”
Cullen looked down at Wyn. “Will you be all right here for a few days if I go back to Ireland to see my brother?”
He didn’t say to see his father. It wasn’t why he was going. He was going so Maeve wouldn’t have any regrets. He was going so he could see his brother.
“I’m going with you.”
“What? I don’t know if you should be traveling.”
“I’m going, Cullen. There’s nothing you can do that will make me stay behind.”
He couldn’t tell her that he was worried about her safety. Or that reporters might catch on if they made too many moves. He wanted her with him. It was as simple as that. He wanted her with him when he returned home. It would be too hard to step back in time without a lifeline to his present with her to keep him grounded.
* * *
It felt odd leaving the island, Wyn thought as she boarded the private flight that Jack had arranged for them. The scenery had soon changed. The lushness of the island had disappeared and all she was left to look at was clouds. There were times when she had wanted to return to some kind of normalcy, but leaving now didn’t feel good. They were going to see a dying man and the warmth she had felt on the island had vanished. Maeve was full of nervous energy. She talked a lot on the flight. About everything. About nothing. Wyn knew it was to take her mind off the reason behind this trip.
Cullen, on the other hand, was silent. He had morphed back into the man she had known before they had come to St. Thomas. The one who showed no emotion. The one in all black. The one who only spoke when absolutely necessary. She hated that.
She hated that he could only be comfortable, reveal himself, in one place. The rest of the world would never see him how she knew him. Maybe she didn’t want the rest of the world to have that part of him, but she hated knowing that he must be feeling so much and wouldn’t give away anything about it.
She got up from her seat and sat in his lap. He looked at her, slightly surprised, like he had forgotten everything that had transpired over the past month and he was just her bodyguard again. But he wasn’t. He was the man she loved.
She took his face in his hands and kissed him. It took him a moment to respond, but he did. He buried his fingers in her hair and prolonged their kiss. “I’m here with you,” she told him when he let up. “Don’t forget that.”
“No, love. I won’t.”
It was raining and cold when they got off the plane a few hours later. She didn’t know much about Belfast. She had only been to London when she was in the UK, but she found the part of the city they were in to be surprisingly beautiful.
“It’s changed,” Cullen said as they drove to their hotel. “I nearly don’t recognize it.”
“Yeah,” Maeve said. “Belfast has changed a lot since you left. It’s got a big cultural scene. Fancy restaurants, museums, cafés.”
“You might be too little to remember, but they used vans as bombs. Two explosions in less than twenty-four hours. I was walking somewhere with my mates when one went off. We were too far away to get very hurt, but I remember the heat of it. So intense. Hotter than any fire you could imagine. And the glass . . . Little shards of it flying through the air. A piece of it struck my cheek, slicing it open. Mum was out of her mind when I got home that night. She told me to stay out of that area. She didn’t know that two weeks later she would be the one to succumb to the violence.”
Wyn’s throat burned with unshed tears. Cullen’s pain was so acute. His face remained that same cool neutral that she had known, but she could hear it in his voice, feel it radiating off of him. She had grown up so sheltered. Alone in many ways, but he had grown up in a war zone. And then he spent his adult life in them.
She grabbed his hand and lifted his fingers to her lips. What else could she do, but let him know that she loved him? Let him know that his pain was no longer his own.
“You’re not allowed to cry,” he told her.
“You can’t tell me what to do,” she retorted.
He leaned over and kissed her forehead. Wyn wished she could get a glimpse inside of his mind, but it might be too scary in there. She might not be able to handle what he was thinking.
“I’m sorry, Cull,” Maeve told him. “I didn’t realize how this would be for you.”
“I’m fine,” he said. “It’s just odd seeing this place so different. It’s like leaving your house for a day and coming back to all new furniture. It’s still home, but none of it is what you’re used to.”
They all went silent for a moment as they pulled up to their hotel. Wyn had booked the rooms. She knew how hard this trip would be for him when he allowed her to do so.
“Ah, Wyn. This is swanky.” Maeve’s eyes went big. “
I didn’t think college professors made so much money.”
“They don’t. I translate documents for the federal government as well. Plus, Belfast is surprisingly affordable. If this was New York or D.C. this would have cost five times as much.”
“Still the nicest place I’ve ever stayed,” she said. “Liam texted me and said he was here already. He’s waiting in the lobby.”
Cullen nodded and stepped out of the car first. He looked back and reached for Wyn’s hand. She took his hand and walked into the hotel with him. She was anxious for him, but in a way she felt blessed to be with him, to experience this important event with him.
Chapter 16
Cullen spotted Liam immediately as he walked into the lobby. He was sitting in the plush seating area in the lobby. He could tell his brother was nervous. Liam hadn’t spotted them yet, but he was sitting in his chair, his leg bouncing up and down. Cullen was afraid he would look just like their father as he remembered him, but Liam didn’t. There was no doubt that Liam was his son—their features were nearly the same—but looking at Liam, Cullen could see no sickness in his soul. No bloating in his face. No drunkenness in his eyes. Liam was healthy and alert. There was nothing trashy about it. He looked like a nice young man who didn’t live through violent conflict, a man who wasn’t plagued with demons every waking hour of the day. Liam wasn’t his father and Cullen felt relieved.
He walked up to him and Liam jumped out of his seat. “You look all right,” were Liam’s first words to him. “I was afraid I wouldn’t be the better-looking brother. Glad to see that I am.”
Cullen blinked at him for a moment and then smiled. That cheeky grin had spread across Liam’s face and he remembered that his brother was the funny one in the family. A joker. A kind lad. That was the thing that had struck him the most when they had gone. How quiet the house was. How void of laughter and lightness it was.
He grabbed his brother and gave him a tight hug.
“I’m taller. Women like that,” Cullen retorted.
“That’s what you think.” He pulled away from Cullen and the soberness returned to his face. “I’m happy to see you, Cull. I’m glad you are well.”
“I am.” He nodded. He glanced back at Wyn, who was standing quietly at his side. She had semi-returned to her old clothes since it was so damn cold in Ireland. She wore her cream-colored wool coat and a pair of sensible slacks. Her hair was still in the wild curls he loved and she was wearing the earrings he bought for her on a whim. They were cheap and she deserved something more precious touching her ears, but she put them on every day since he had given them to her.
He wanted to do something special for her, but he didn’t know what could be big enough to thank her. She had been there for him in a way no one else had been, in a way he never allowed anyone else to be. He trusted her. He could lean on her. It was a wholly new feeling for him.
“This is Wyn.” He grabbed her hand and presented her to Liam. “She’s special to me,” he said, not knowing how else to describe her. She was no longer just his principal. She wasn’t his friend.
Girlfriend wasn’t the right word. It wasn’t strong enough. Wyn was the kind of woman a man made his wife.
He wanted to be that man, but he knew he wasn’t enough for her.
“It’s nice to meet you.” Liam shook her hand. “One of the things I remember about my brother is that he always fell for the most beautiful girl in the neighborhood. I see he hasn’t changed. You might be the most beautiful woman this town has ever seen.”
“What an outrageous lie,” she said, laughing softly, “but thank you. You are very charming.”
He nodded his head and then turned to Maeve and greeted her with a big hug. “I know you all must be tired from your flight. Go rest up for a while. We can meet down here in a couple of hours for a meal. We need to talk about our father.”
“I’ll be with you during the conversation, but the decision is up to you. I want no part of it.”
“You’re the most important to him,” Liam said. “You’re the only one he really cares about.”
Cullen shook his head. “He only cares about himself. We’re going to check in. Let’s meet back here later.”
They checked in and went to the room that Wyn booked for them. It was the nicest hotel room he had ever stayed in. He hadn’t been paying attention when she booked this trip, but he knew it must be costing her a small fortune. She had refused to take his credit card, but he would find another way to pay her back.
“You booked a suite?” He looked out their window, high above the city. They had a view of the river before them. It was all lovely, but surreal. He couldn’t get over how odd it was to be back here when he swore he would never return.
“I did. I booked ones for your brother and sister as well.”
“That was too much, Wyn. You’re going to allow me to write you a check for this.”
“You know I won’t take it. Besides, I used my father’s money. Do you think this hotel has any five-thousand-dollar bottles of champagne?”
He sat on the edge of the bed. “Do you think your father would notice or care if you are using the money out of your trust fund? You don’t go on vacation. You don’t shop. You’re driving a ten-year-old car. I think he would want you to use it. He’s also a billionaire, love. He has dinners that cost more than this.”
“Don’t ruin my rebellion for me.”
“You call being overly generous to my family a rebellion?”
“I do. I also want them to like me.”
“Why do you care if they like you?” He grabbed her by the waist and rested his forehead on her stomach.
“Because you are the most important person in my life and I want the people who are important to you to like me.”
How could she be so sweet? He should have refused this job the moment he met her. It was like he had willingly walked into this trap and he never wanted to break free from it. “They like you. They’d like you if you didn’t do anything at all. They’d like you for the same reasons that I like you.”
“Why do you like me?”
He looked up at her, choosing his words carefully. “Because you are you and being with you makes me feel good.”
“How are you feeling?” She ran her fingers through his hair. “Being back here can’t be easy.”
“I’d rather be back in Afghanistan.” It wasn’t an overexaggeration. His purpose there was clear. He was there for his queen and country. Here he felt useless, unable to take any action.
“Isn’t that where you got shot?”
“Yes.” He had been more than shot. He nearly died. Wyn made a soft noise. “Is there anything I can do for you?”
It felt selfish to ask more of her, but he couldn’t stop himself. “Take a nap with me. The only time I sleep well is with you beside me.”
“Is that true?”
He pulled her down on the bed so that they were face-to-face. “I wouldn’t lie to you.” He had demons that threatened to strangle him every time he closed his eyes. But not with her. He knew where he was with her, even as he slept. It was hard for those dark thoughts to interfere when he had lightness beside him.
He wasn’t sure he could go back to sleeping alone. But that wasn’t a thought he wanted in his head at the moment, so he closed his eyes and drifted to sleep, trying not to think about anything except how good it felt to be with her.
* * *
The next morning Cullen met his siblings in the lobby. They were to have a simple breakfast before they set out to see their father one last time. Cullen knew this was the last time. The man was dying and even if he weren’t, Cullen wouldn’t see him again.
The mood was understandably tense as they sat at the table. Wyn had tried to inject some lightness into their conversation that morning. It helped with Maeve, who was visibly nervous. He could tell she was torn between being a good daughter and a loyal sister. Cullen appreciated it, but he didn’t need her to be loyal to him. He didn’t want his father’
s treatment of him, or Cullen’s feelings for the man, to color her memories of him. He had stayed quiet last night, like he promised he would, as Maeve and Liam discussed their father’s future. There would be no church service. No big funeral. No long line of mourners. He would be cremated. His ashes spread in the countryside, where he had met their mother. Liam had tried to contact their father’s family, but he had alienated most of them. It was just the three of them there—really, only two—to care about the fate of Seamus Whalen.
They had gathered into a taxi and ridden in complete silence to the care home. Cullen had turned his thoughts off as the numbness spread through him. He felt like a boy again, in those days after Liam and Maeve had gone and his father was at his drunken worst. It was easier to go numb than to feel pain. He wasn’t sure he would have survived the pain. It would have eaten at him, swallowed him whole. He didn’t know where he would have been now if it had. Probably dead or in prison. There had been no future for him here. He was afraid that if he came back, he would feel some sort of longing, some deep pang of regret for leaving his home, but he didn’t.
He did not regret leaving. He just wished he would have left sooner.
The taxi pulled to a stop. They all piled out in front of the modest facility. Wyn took his hand, her fingers locking with his as they walked in. She was quietly reminding him that he wasn’t facing his father alone. He wouldn’t have been able to make it through this trip without her. He considered himself a strong man, but he had needed her. He had needed her to sleep, to soothe him, to keep him calm when the raging beast that he used to be threatened to come out.
Everything had gone out of his head as he walked through the care home to the unit where their father was kept. Cullen couldn’t make sense of anything he saw or heard. It was all just white noise and bright, unforgiving lights. He did take note of the smell: Antiseptic. Sickness. Death.