Quinn's Deirdre (17 page)

“Aye, in the bar,” the old man answered.

“
Where’s
Eileen, Neal, and the wanes?”

She caught up in time to hear the reply.
“I took them back to their hotel for the night.
 
They were all in, the wee ones
fashed
.
 
I’ll fetch them back in the morning for their
last day here, never fear.
 
What’s amiss
with
ye
?”

“What are ye
blatherin
’
about?” Quinn said. “And hand me a glass.
 
I’m sore of need of whiskey this night.”

“I’m no fool, lad,” Des said, his voice
gentled with emotion.
 
“I may not have
the Sight like ye do, but I’ve eyes
in
 
me
head.
 
Something changed and ye started sulking
worse than a spoiled child.
 
And that
after she saw the fella at the airport and after the woman on telly came asking
round about our Deirdre.
 
I know ye’ve
felt something and it’s never something good.”

Quinn sat on one of the stools and
reached for the bottle.
 
He poured a
drink and downed a healthy portion. “I didn’t know ye knew I’ve a touch of my
mother’s gift or curse,” he said. “Da told
ye
?”

“He did, long ago, when yer grandda
died.
 
Thanks be to God I don’t have a
bit of the fey, but I’ve seen it oft enough to know it when I see it.
 
I’ve not seen you with it before now,
though.”

Without waiting for an invitation,
Deirdre reached for a glass and poured a drink.
 
The smooth whiskey eased down her throat as she listened.
 
Quinn patted the stool beside him and she
climbed onto the seat.
 

“It’s rare it comes on me,” Quinn said.
“But it has and I’m worried.”

“Ye were troubled before, since she
spotted yer man at the airport.”

“Aye, I was.”

Deirdre had listened long enough. “So am
I.”

Desmond snorted. “I’ve got
ye
backs, the both of ye.
 
And it may be that or not.
 
There’s no tellin’ what yer fey ways portend.”

Quinn heaved a long, suffering sigh. “I
know.”

“We’ll meet any trouble lad, together,”
Des answered. “For now, though, I wouldn’t say a word to yer sister or she’ll
stay.”

“How can they? Don’t they have to get
back to their jobs and such?”

“Ye know Eileen better than that,
Quinn.
 
Aye, they do, but if she smells
trouble, she’ll stay to do her part.”

“That’s the last bloody thing I’d need,”
Quinn muttered as he poured a second glass. “I don’t need her and her family in
harm’s way.”

His uncle yawned. “Aye, well, I can’t
argue that but what I need is bed so I’m off.
 
God knows what tomorrow may bring so I’d rather meet it well
rested.
 
Good night to
ye
both.”

“
Oiche
mhaith,”
Quinn said and Deirdre echoed it in English.

“Good night
,
 
Uncle
Des.”

Once alone, silence filled the space
between them until Deirdre put her hand on Quinn’s arm. “Sweetheart, we should
go to bed too.
 
I know you’re worn out.”

“One more drink, then I will.”

Deirdre worried he might drink too much,
but he kept his word and stopped after his third.
 
In the flat, he headed for the shower and she
put the place to rights.
 
The small rooms
smelled of talcum powder and children, overlaid with the aroma of beer.
 
Neal’s beverage of choice, she
remembered.
 
Although the weather
remained chilly, she opened the window long enough to let in fresh air, then
closed it.
 
She changed into her nightgown
before Quinn came out of the shower and lay down beside him.
 
He wore a troubled expression, lips folded
into a frown.
 
Worry etched lines into
his face and as she lay facing him, Deirdre traced them with her finger.

“It’ll be all right,” she said although
she had no guarantee but hope. “We have too much to be happy about for things
to go wrong now.”

“I hope ye’re right,
acushla.
 
Go to sleep if ye can. We’ll have a big day tomorrow, and I promised
Eileen we’d take the wanes down to see the Christmas lights at the Plaza.”

“Good night, Quinn.
 
I love you.”

He kissed her forehead. “Aye, I know.
‘Tis the one thing keepin’ me from
losin
’ me
mind
all together. And I love
ye
,
Deirdre dear.
 
Remember it, no matter
what happens.”

Despite his dire words, fatigue crept
over her in a pervasive fog and she drifted into a light sleep.
 
She slept uneasy and woke after less than
a
hour by the clock beside the bed.
 
Quinn’s side was empty.
 
Deirdre rose and without bothering to put on
slippers or robe, she walked into the front room.
 
Quinn sat there, the ancient
rumpsprung
arm chair pulled up facing the window, and
stared into the darkness.

“Couldn’t you sleep?” she asked.

Without turning around, he answered.
“Nay.
 
I’m wound
tighter than a clock spring.”

His brittle tone hurt to hear.
 
If I
hadn’t ever gone, he wouldn’t be suffering now.
 
Talk about cause and effect.
 
Deirdre wished she could take away every bit of his anxiety, but she
realized it would be impossible.
 
“Come
back to bed,” she said, her hand resting on his shoulder.

“I’m not in the mood for lovin’,” he
said, which told her how terrible and heavy his burden was.

“I’ll give you a massage and back rub,”
she told him, tears sliding down her face. “I did, before.
 
Remember?”

Quinn released a long, slow breath. “Aye,
I do, more than once.”

“The first time, you’d hurt your back a
bit,” she said. “The other times I did it after you’d had a hard day.”

“That’s right.
 
So, will ye now, then, love?”

“I said so, didn’t I?”

“Oh, aye.”

Deirdre offered her hand and he took it.
 
She pulled him up from the chair and led him
to the bedroom.
 
He laid face down on the
sheets and she sat on the edge of the mattress, close.
 
As she kneaded his taut muscles, he
grunted.
 

She began at his shoulders and worked
her way down, sometimes manipulating his flesh, sometimes caressing and
rubbing.
 
As she worked, his tense body
eased and after a long time, his breathing changed.
 

Her hands and fingers ached from the
task, but she continued for a few minutes more until she could be certain he slept.
 
She kept on until she dozed upright, her
hands still touching Quinn.
 

Sometime during the long night, he
awakened and roused her.
 
“Come to bed
or
 
ye’ll
catch yer
death of cold,” he mumbled.

Shivering in the chill room, she
did.
 
Her bare feet felt frozen as she
slid beneath the blankets and curled against Quinn.
 
His warmth radiated outward and she savored
it.
 
No matter what happened, she vowed,
they would come through it whole and happy.
 
They had it too far for any other outcome to be possible.
 
As she relaxed, Deirdre did something she
hadn’t for a long time—she recited the familiar Catholic prayers of her
childhood, the Hail Mary, the Our Father, and the Glory Be in her mind.
 
The repetition slowed her thoughts and
distracted her from all else until she, too, slept.

Chapter Eleven

Quinn needed what sleep he could get so
Deidre took care not to wake him when she rose.
 
He’d slept fitful, thrashing about and sometimes mumbling things she
couldn’t quite decipher.
 
Although the
worry lines in his face had relaxed, they hadn’t vanished.
 
She dressed in the dark and crept down the
stairs, her tread light.
 

Someone stirred in the kitchen with a
slight sound and she jumped, startled.
 
Deidre peered around the corner and saw Desmond with the morning paper
spread out across a work space.
 
She took
a deep breath and pasted what she hoped was a carefree smile on her face. “Good
morning.”

“Good day to
ye
,”
he said. “There’s tea made and scones left if ye’re hungry.
 
If ye’re hungry enough, I’ll fry bacon but if
not, I won’t.”

“Scones will
do,
thanks.”

“Quinn up yet?”

She shook her head. “No.
 
He didn’t sleep very well.”

“I wouldn’t think he would.
 
Do ye want part of the
newpaper
?”
 
He handed her the front section and they sat,
drinking tea and catching up on the world outside.
 
The quiet moment soothed some of the
uneasiness in her soul and Deirdre savored it.
 
She had begun to nibble on a second scone when a clatter at the back
door opening onto the alley brought both she and Desmond to their feet.
 
He reached into the nearest utensil drawer
and pulled out a pistol, then held it down at his side.
 
“Who’s there?” he
called,
a bite in his voice.

“Eileen.” Quinn’s sister
answered,
her voice high and cross. “Why ever didn’t ye
answer the bloody phone? I called to see if you or my brother would come fetch
us over, but no one picked up.”

Des replaced the weapon and glared at
Eileen. “I didn’t hear it, that’s why.
 
It’s early yet.
 
I planned to come
at eight or so. How the hell did ye get here?”

“We took a cab.
 
Neal’s comin’ right behind me with the
kids.
 
So ye don’t answer the phone now?
Have ye gone deaf in yer old age?”

“The ringer’s off and has been,” Desmond
said. “I get tired of the bloody thing
ringin
’ off
the hook.”

He glanced at Deirdre and shook his
head.
 
He mouthed, “Don’t say a thing”
and she realized he’d turned off the phone so no one, whether it was the women
who’d asked about her or someone else, could get through.

Neal
entered,
Nuala in his arms and the other two children in tow.
 
“I told her to wait but no, she had in her
mind to come now and there’s no stoppin’ her.
 
I tried to get her to have an American breakfast at the hotel, but she
wouldn’t do that either.”

“Oh, we’ve enough food to feed the lot
of
ye
,” Desmond said. “But pipe down, would
ye
? Quinn’s still asleep.”

Eileen’s eyebrows lifted toward her
hairline. “He’s still asleep? Jaysus, how much did he drink last night? He’s
normally up with the dawn.”

“Aye and he’s up now since ye made such
a
feckin
’ racket,” Quinn said as he joined them.
 
Bleary-eyed and unshaven, he glared at his
sister with fierce eyes. “Is there tea?”

“Yes, I’ll get you a cup,” Deirdre
said.
 
His expression softened as he
nodded in her direction.

“Thanks, love.” He leaned against the
counter and sighed.
 

“Ye look like something dead the cat
dragged home,” Eileen said. “What’s with
ye
? Ye look
pig sick, no doubt about it.
 
Are ye?”

Quinn snorted through his nose with
force. “I’m fine.”

She didn’t lower voice but she gentled
the tone. “Do ye have the flu, Quinn? I can see now ye’re not
hungover
but ye look awful.”

“I didn’t sleep for shite, that’s all,”
he said and sipped the tea Deirdre handed him.
 
He cradled the mug in both hands. “What are ye doin’ here so early
anyway?”

Eileen picked up the discarded ads from
the morning paper and rifled through them. “I thought I’d like to do a bit of
shopping.
 
This Black Friday thing has me
intrigued.
 
So I came to see if Deirdre
might want to take me.
 
Would ye?”