Mermaid in a Bowl of Tears (Exit Unicorns Series) (35 page)

Robin tried to speak to him once on the ride, but had been kicked in the ribs for his efforts and so both boys had kept their silence after that.

Casey heard the sea before he saw it and it was then he knew there would be no worry about their bodies turning up somewhere inconvenient. His only satisfaction had been how difficult it would be for Desmond to come up with a plausible explanation for Brian.

The irony of dying in the sea had not been lost on him. The men had followed one of the old coastal paths and brought the boys out on top of Slieve League. The south side of the mountain had been eroded away by the ceaseless movement of the ocean and it was a precipitous drop straight down a sheer face. Under less trying circumstances it would have been a glorious sight, but Casey, viewing the waves crashing against the deadly sharp quartzite boulders below, had not been instilled with an appreciation of God’s handiwork just then.

The moon was three-quarters full that night and so every rock and twig on the pathway was visible. During the day it would have been a dicey walk, but at night, with his knees knocking together, Casey was inclined to view it as purely suicidal. Not that it seemed to matter much at that point.

They had climbed all the way to the summit and then the men made the two boys lie down on their stomachs, noses hanging out into the void. Casey could feel bits of earth crumbling beneath him and falling away to the sea. The men, seemingly relaxed, were talking behind them, but it had been hard to hear over the sound of the waves. The sea seemed like a ravenous beast that was just waiting to devour a wee tender morsel such as himself. He no longer had the presence of mind to pray or spare a thought for anyone; he was in the grip of a sheer, mindless terror. Robin had managed to wiggle a hand over and clasp his own, and he had found that of some small comfort.

“I’ve been told that joy outlines moments in life an’ makes them clear, but myself I think it’s terror that works with the sharpest pencil. When I look back on my happiest moments they seem a bit hazy-like, the day I married you is all gilt-edged an’ soft in my memory. But that night ‘twas like some demon hand had carved every feature, down to the smallest grain of dirt, with a razor line of black ink. Everything was distinct—rock, sea, dirt, even the wee plants that had managed a foothold in the cliff-face.”

“For Christ’s sake Casey,” she burst out, “what happened then?”

“Well I’m here an’ whole, aren’t I?”

“Yes,” she squeezed his hand tightly as though to reassure herself of this fact, “though I don’t see how.”

The boys had lain there waiting to hear the hammers click on the rifles, Casey hoping they would, indeed, have the mercy to shoot him before hurling him into the sea. He had wondered if there would be time to feel the pain, or if it would be so fast it would only be like a light turning off. By this time his hand and Robin’s were welded together like two ice chunks, each the other’s only link to the planet. Then a voice spoke in Casey’s left ear.

“Have the two of ye had enough then?’ it says. My heart started to thump even harder an’ I thought for certain I was hearin’ things, ye know the voice of God or somethin’, I figured maybe we’d already been shot an’ were passin’ over to the other side. Though it seemed an odd question for God to ask, an’ what was even more disturbin’ is that He sounded exactly like my father.”

“I don’t know how long I might have laid there, thinkin’ myself Moses with God Himself chattin’ in my ear, but then a hand that I well knew the feel of gripped me by the collar an’ pulled me back from the cliff an’ said, nice and calm, that perhaps now I’d be a bit more cautious about nosin’ in on events I didn’t have an invitation to. ‘Twas my Da’ of course an’ knowin’ me as he did, he had anticipated Bobbie an’ I doin’ exactly what we did.”

“So the whole thing was a set-up?”

“Oh aye, though certainly no one planned on me plungin’ through the roof an’ landin’ on the table. Had themselves a right good laugh;  they said they hadn’t enjoyed any time as much since they’d all been young lads in the Border Wars. ‘Twas entirely humiliatin’; they lit a fire an’ sat about tellin’ stories from the old days, passin’ the whiskey from lip to lip an’ directin’ a funny remark in our direction now an’ again. Dez sayin’ he thought the two of us lunkheads would never think of the hinges an’ him wonderin’ if he’d have to have Siobhan come whisper instructions through the door to us.”

“Weren’t the two of you angry at what they’d done?”

“Not so much, more like relieved to be alive. An’ we’d deserved it; we’d no business followin’ Dez up there in the first place.

“We behaved ourselves after that, acted like Jesuits for the next two weeks, was no wonder once Dez an’ Siobhan left for New York we went pure barmy.” Casey paused, sniffing the air suspiciously.

“Are ye makin’ dinner, Jewel?”

“Oh God the stew!” She flew off his lap and into the wee kitchen. She pulled the lid off the simmering pot and a puff of smoke emerged.

Casey peered dubiously over her shoulder. “Stew, is it?”

“Stew it was,” she said mournfully. “Do you fancy fish and chips tonight?”

AFTER THEY RETURNED FROM DINNER, refreshed, fed and slightly damp with rain, Casey took out his carving tools, unfolding the leather pouch carefully upon the table. Each tool was tucked in its own grouping and wrapped in a clean flannel cloth. The tools had been a gift from his father, and he cherished them accordingly.

He pulled out a gouging tool and set to work on the pair of mating doves he had been carving these last few weeks.

Pamela sighed and surveyed her knitting basket. In a misguided attempt at domesticity, she was teaching herself how to knit. Thus far her efforts had resulted in a spectacular increase in both the variety and quantity of her personal store of curse words, and a small red square of wool, that looked as though it had been to the wars. She poked the ball of wool disconsolately and then gave it up to watch Casey detail the tail feathers.

“Did your Daddy ever meet Melissa?”

Casey looked up, a smile of amusement creasing his whiskers. “I did wonder when ye’d get back round to Melissa. Didn’t suppose ye were goin’ to let me off that easy.”

“Well, did he?” she asked impatiently.

“Only the once. He was charmin’ an’ polite to her as he was to any woman, an’ he never said a word to me after other than to mention she reminded him of one of those Siamese cats, which I knew meant he’d no likin’ for her.”

“Because she reminded him of a
cat
?”

“Well my da’ had no great fondness for cats bein’ that he was allergic to them, made him sneeze like pepper’d been flung up his nose, though ‘twas the Siamese bit that said it. Pretty to look at but temperamental as hell an’ spoiled as all get out. I remembered him sayin’ once that those creatures were fit for little but sleepin’ on silk cushions an’ eatin’ from wee crystal dishes.”

“Ouch,” Pamela said sympathetically.

Casey nodded. “He’d the wisdom to let me figure it out for myself though, knowin’ that was the only way I’d believe it. So for the most part he let me have my fun, even after I came back to Belfast partway through the summer an’ she followed, takin’ up residence in a posh hotel that was miles away from my neighborhood in all senses. ‘Course I knew the scales wouldn’t stay on such an even keel with my Da’ for long, an’ I kept waitin’ for the boot to drop.”

“So what was the thing that finally tipped the balance for him?”

“Well, ‘twas the car, I suppose, that was the final straw.”

“She bought you a car?”

“Mmhmm,” he nodded, “she did, an’ not just any car either, but a real sleek little Porsche. Half the people in our neighborhood didn’t have a car; some didn’t even have a relative with one. A car was a luxury not a necessity in those streets. ‘Twas red, like them candy apples we had at Coney Island that one time.” Casey sighed dreamily, “The thing moved like water over stones, smooth an’ sweet. I thought I was somethin’ in that car, everyone an’ his dog stared as I went by. I took it home, parked it right in the street, and strutted round it callin’ Pat an’ Daddy out into the lane to see it. Pat oohed an’ aahed appropriately an’ at first I didn’t notice that Daddy was more quiet even than usual. Finally though he says to me, ‘Casey, a word if ye please’ an’ indicated that I was to follow him into the house. I followed but not before takin’ a glance back to see if the neighbors were out lookin’, an’ tellin’ Pat loudly to keep an eye on my car.”

He paused to lay down his knife and blew the fine-grained sawdust from the long, delicate tail feathers that had miraculously emerged from the wood in the last few minutes. He eyed it critically before returning to his narrative.

“I was feelin’ a mite too cocky, as ye may imagine, an’ asked Daddy how he liked my new wheels. Well the man put the humility back into me right quick. Said I was no more than a gigolo, takin’ Melissa’s money, though I tried to explain that it was her choice to give me the gifts an’ I was only bein’ polite in acceptin’ them. Well I tell ye Jewel he gave me a look that froze the blood in my veins an’ said that my definition of politeness had rather broad an’ dubious borders an’ that he’d not raised me up by hand himself to have me plyin’ my wares on the streets of Belfast for the tourists.”

“He was fairly straight with his words, wasn’t he?” she asked, firmly suppressing the desire to laugh.

“Oh aye, Daddy never left ye in doubt as to what he meant, an’ if he thought the words weren’t achievin’ results he made certain the feel of his hand on yer backside would get his point across. Dear God,” he closed his eyes suddenly, and she could feel the surge of emotion that shook him, “but I miss the man.”

She took his hand, giving what comfort she could, knowing it was small in the face of the grief that lingered for a lifetime from the loss of a parent. Especially one who had meant as much to his sons as Brian Riordan. Casey opened his eyes and smiled at her.

“It was the first time I saw real disappointment in his eyes. I’d exasperated the man often enough, bein’ somewhat stubborn in nature, an’ even made him sore angry at me on several occasions, but I’d never seen anything like that in his eyes before. It hurt in a way I’d never known to be possible.”

“Did you break it off then?”

Casey bit his lower lip, “Well not exactly...”

“Shame didn’t run quite
that
deep, eh?”

“I gave back the gifts, even the car, which I tell ye hurt as few things had in my life at that point, but I can’t say I gave up the silk sheets altogether.”

“What did your Daddy have to say about that?”

“Not so much, it was more the way he looked at me. He’d a way of makin’ a man sweat that was purely unnatural. He’d sit at the dinner table an’ be pleasant as a honey-lipped calf, too pleasant by half if ye’ll take my meanin’. ‘Will ye have a bit more of the potatoes Casey? Another glass of milk maybe?’ An’ I tell ye the sweat would start to bead on my forehead for I knew he only got that pleasant when he was entirely furious with me. Generally speakin’ it would only last until the end of the meal an’ then he’d light into ye but good. This time he was polite for two months, an’ the more civil he got, the more stubborn I got. Pat said ‘twas like livin’ in a refrigerator, cold an’ silent as things were. It got to the place that I more or less moved out, livin’ rough with Bobbie or stayin’ at Melissa’s hotel. Comin’ home to change clothes in the day when I knew my Da’ wouldn’t be about.”

Round about the end of September things had come to a head. Melissa’s vacation was coming to a close and she had asked Casey to go back to the States with her.

“I’d not given her an answer as yet, but I was home one day, talkin’ with Pat, tryin’ to pretend that I wasn’t half crazy with missin’ him an’ Da’, when my Da’ came home. He said hello real stiff like an’ then told Pat to get off his rear-end an’ help him with the dinner. ‘Twas somethin’ about the way he said it, there was love in the words, an’ I got angry, wishin’ he’d say somethin’ gruff to me. So I said, ‘Patrick, will ye come an’ visit with Melissa an’ I next summer in Texas?’ I only wanted a reaction, but I didn’t get the one I was lookin’ for.”

“What happened?”

“Well Da’ turned to Pat real calm-like an’ said ‘tell yer brother that he can go straight to hell an’ take up permanent residence for all I care, but under no circumstances will you be joinin’ him there’, an’ then he started peelin’ potatoes, cool as ye please, whistlin’ the theme song from
Brigadoon.
”

“What did you do?” Pamela asked, breath held, the tension of the story having caught her entirely.

“Well I got mad, as angry as I’d ever been, an’ I said I’d rather roast in hell than stay another minute under his roof where I wasn’t welcome. Then I packed all my things that were still there an’ left. Pat ran out after me, tried to talk sense into me, said Daddy was just hurt, but I was so angry I wouldn’t have known sense if it’d knocked me in the face. I was still angry when I got back to the hotel, it got me through tellin’ Melissa I’d come with her an’ packin’ up all my things, but then I was listenin’ to her make the reservations for the flight the next day, an’ the anger just melted away, leavin’ me with nothin’ but a belly full of fear. But I thought I’d backed myself into a tight corner an’ would have to brazen it out.”