The Last Bride in Ballymuir (37 page)

“
You’ve grown into an
ungrateful woman. Hard and ungrateful.” He curled his lip at the
“help wanted” sign in the hardware window and turned in the
direction of O’Connor’s.

As Kylie watched him walk away, she recalled
those childhood days when she’d thought her father gloriously
strong and perfect, and believed that he could save her from death
itself. She sighed, feeling melancholy and wholly inadequate to
deal with Da as he really was. Likely, as he always had been.

Far down the hill, a
uniformed man stepped from a doorway and stopped her da. Whatever
the man
was saying, Da didn’t seem to like.
He was all puffed
up and thumping the Garda
on the chest with one index finger.

She needed to move closer. The narrow stretch
of street was lined with the cars of those who lived above the
shops, so she left hers where it was and stepped out. She’d walked
no more than a quarter-block when she realized it was Gerry.

“
Da, not trouble so soon,”
she whispered. “And above all, not with Gerry.”

She knew she should rescue her father. Still,
she hesitated. It would be so simple—so painless—to turn back and
pretend she saw nothing. After all, Gerry might go away all on his
own. She winced at the path her thoughts had taken.

Might.

For too long, she’d let
what
might
happen
rule her life. If she had talked to even a single boy in her time
at university, she
might
have been attacked again. If she had stood up for
Michael in O’Connor’s Pub, she
might
have risked her job. And for
all those
mights,
all
those illusory disasters, she had
let herself become less than the person she knew she could
be.

“
You must have learned by
now,” Kylie told herself. “Jump in with both feet.” Then she
did.

“
Da,” she called as she
jogged toward the pair, “I was wondering if you could pick up a few
bits for dinner.”

They turned to watch her. She pulled in front
of them and rounded her eyes into what she hoped was a look of
surprise.

“
Oh, Gerry, it’s
you.”

“
And who did you think it
would be giving me this welcome,” her father snapped. “His Holiness
all the way from Rome?”

Gerry’s cheeks were mottled crimson. He
looked somewhere past her and gave a curt nod.

Kylie ignored the unpleasant undercurrents
and focused on moving her father along. “Well, Da, you’d best be
heading toward the market. Mr. Spillane is in there early enough
that you shouldn’t have to wait long.”

“
Young Mr. Flynn and I need
to finish our talk.”

“
Perhaps another time would
be better.” She brightened as she glanced down the walk. “Besides,
isn’t that Mr. O’Bannion down the way? I heard he got a job at the
dog track in Tralee.”

“
Really, now? Working at the
track...”

Johnny took off at a fine clip, leaving Kylie
and Gerry alone. There was no fleeing now. And there was no
pretending she could just skirt past the ugliness between them.
Not without failing herself.

“
About the other night,” she
began, with no idea where she might end up. Seeking a better
handhold on diplomacy, she paused, then started again. “I know that
it’s going to be difficult, seeing each other after what
happened—”

Gerry frowned. “What are you talking
about?”

Kylie felt as though the world were slipping
from beneath her. While she’d imagined hostility, outright denial
had never been a possibility.

“
At Breege Flaherty’s
barn?”

“
I think you’ve finally gone
over the edge.” The red flush hadn’t left Gerry’s face, and his
eyes never once met hers. “I haven’t been there in
years.”

Tears of pure rage burnt at her eyes. “You
want to pretend the other night never happened? Fine then, add it
to your list, right after the night of my eighteenth birthday. But
before you march off all full of yourself, answer me this. Do you
even know the truth when you meet it?”

He shouldered his way past her. “Quite a
question from someone who’s sleeping with evil.”

Kylie tucked her hands into her pockets,
tipped her face to the ground, and walked back to her car. She’d do
whatever it bloody well took to get away with Michael. And with any
money she had left, she’d put up a new sign at the village limits:
“Ballymuir, Finest Accumulation of Loons West of Bedlam.”

Fifteen minutes before the children arrived,
Kylie sorted through papers she’d graded.

“
Morning, Kylie.”

Mairead Corrigan, the school principal, stood
in the doorway.

“
Morning,
Mairead.”

“
Two things we’re needing to
discuss.”

Kylie nodded.

“
First, I’ve decided to give
the children a holiday
on Monday before the
art exhibition opens. A chance
to get a bit
of rest before the premiere—which I’m sure will be brilliant.” She
flashed a distracted smile that quickly faded away. “And as for the
next, well, it’s not exactly as cheerful as all that. I’ve heard
your father is back in town.”

Kylie fought off a sense of impending doom.
“He is.”

“
I’ve had a number of calls
on the matter—starting about the time his bus pulled into town,
from what I gather. The parents have been told it’s not their
concern.”

Which was as it should be.

The principal cleared her throat, then
scowled at the clock. “It’s also being said that you’ve been seen
about with Vi Kilbride’s brother.”

Thankfully, Mairead didn’t seem to be seeking
comment, because the words forming in Kylie’s mind weren’t the sort
to assure long employment.

“
If this job were about
educating children and had none of the parents’ nonsense, it would
be heaven. Unfortunately . . .” Mairead trailed off, massaging the
bridge of her nose between thumb and index fin
ger. “Well, I feel a fool for saying this, but here it is.
If
you are involved with Michael Kilbride,
I have to be sensitive to their concerns. I don’t know the whole of
his past, but what I do know—”

Kylie’s stomach roiled. “Are you demanding I
choose between my private life and my position here?”

“
No... no, I don’t mean
that,” Mairead said, though the way her eyes darted away from
Kylie’s sent another message. “If it is true—and I don’t want to
know whether it is—please be careful. Emotions have a way of
getting out of hand around here, and whether it’s his fault or not,
Michael Kilbride has become a walking reminder of matters people
don’t want to even admit still exist.”

She trailed off, then after a sigh, squared
her shoulders, seeming to smooth out the mantle of authority. “I’m
sorry,” she said. “I’ll let you get on with your day.”

Kylie stared at her desk. The papers on it
wavered with the sheen over her eyes.

Mairead paused at the door.
“I want you to know that I trust your judgment, and I’ll support
you the
best I can. But I can’t be
guaranteeing my best will be
good
enough.”

Kylie nodded. After Mairead left, she dug
through her desk for a tissue, and wished herself anyplace but
Ballymuir.

Michael bolted upright at the sound of
someone clearing his throat. Daylight shone through the window at
the top of the steps. He scrubbed a hand over his face, then looked
at Pat, who stood at the end of the bed.

“
What time is
it?”

“
Just past ten.”

“
Jesus.” He couldn’t recall
the last time he’d slept that late. Not that last night counted as
sleep.

“
We’ve made you breakfast.
And Vi, she’s brooding about like a mother hen. She’s been up here
twice to check and see whether you were still
breathing.”

“
Barely,” he muttered,
nerves jittering just beneath his skin. He’d made some decisions—or
more accurately, faced the inevitable—sometime before the sun
rose.

“
Well, c’mon down and eat
when you’re ready.”

When he made it downstairs,
the twins were hud
dled in front of the
stove. Vi sat at the kitchen table, a
concerned expression tugging at her mouth.

“
They’re feeding me?” he
asked in an undertone.

She nodded.

“
And did you witness them
preparing the meal?”

“
No.”

On a morning when he least needed it, he’d
been presented with a test of nerves. After the lesson he’d given
Pat and Danny last night, eating whatever they’d cooked up would be
a nasty gamble. But he also knew he had to show them trust. He just
hoped they’d earned it.

“
What’s going on?” Vi asked.
“Why were the boys
sleeping on the stoop
when I got home?”

“
We’ll talk about it later.”
Assuming he survived breakfast.

Resigned to his fate, Michael sat. “Bring it
on, boys.”

Danny settled a plate in front of him, and
Pat provided the cutlery. Though his stomach objected to the
thought of food, he tucked into his eggs and rashers. The boys were
doing anything they could to avoid looking at him.

Between bites he said, “I’ll be leaving town
today for a day or two.”

“
Short notice, isn’t this?”
asked his too-perceptive little sister.

“
The opportunity came up to
do some business in Galway. Guess I forgot to mention it
yesterday.”

Her eyes narrowed. “You did. And what sort of
business might this be?”

“
Furniture and room repairs
for a hotel,” he lied. “It’s one of those old townhouses all fitted
out for paying customers. They’re friends of Jenna Fahey, and got
my name from her. Anyway, I had hoped to
be
here to help Kylie finish setting up for the art
exhi
bition, but I can’t. Boys, I need you
to fill in for me.”

“
Sure,” Pat said. Danny
nodded his agreement as he set toast and juice in front of
Michael.

“
And Vi, keep an eye on
Kylie, if you could. Her father’s not going to make life any too
easy on her.”

“
Only a few days gone, you
say?”

He did his best to feign nonchalance. “I
think I’m allowed to worry over the details. After all, I haven’t
traveled much.”

“
Fine, then. We’ll carry on
for you.”

“
Grand,” he said, ignoring
her skeptical tone. He raised his juice glass, thinking to take a
sip, then paused and set it back on the table. Last night’s call
had made time precious, and certain words needed to be spoken.
Before it was too late.

“
Pat... Danny, I know you
think I’ve been hard on you, and maybe I have. But I want you to
know I’m proud of you, and glad you’re my brothers.” He
hesi
tated before going the full distance.
“I—I guess all this
is my roundabout way of
telling you I love
you.”

The boys coughed and stammered, but words
didn’t matter because Michael already knew they felt the same way,
too. Embarrassed after pitching all that messy emotion into the
open, he concentrated on his juice. The glass was nearly to his
mouth when Danny sent it flying.

At Vi’s outraged howl, the twins bolted.

Michael cocked one brow at
the mess before him. “My payback for last night. Something more
than oranges
in that
juice, I’d be guessing. We’ll leave the boys to do the
cleaning.”

Navigating around the spill, he led his
sister from the kitchen. “Before you start interrogating me, I
promise everything’s fine. I’ve written out the name and number of
the hotel.”

“
Now, that’s big of you.
This is nothing but business?”

‘
Nothing but. And I love
you, too, sweet Violet.”

Neither of which was a lie.

Michael reached Galway by
mid-afternoon. He parked
his car in a
garage a block from the City Centre hotel he’d lied to Vi about,
booked a room to calm any sus
picions,
should she call, and then set out on foot. He
bargained with himself:
“Thirty
minutes, just thirty last
minutes of
freedom, then down to business.”

Though it was early in the
season for any tourists but the most avid, the sidewalks were full
to spilling. It was a day he considered obscenely beautiful—
skies blue, breeze fresh—too pure for the ugliness
he
faced. Bargained minutes ticking down,
he walked past the shops and bars along the pedestrian area of Quai
Street, through the “suits, ties, and cell phones required”
business district, then to Eyre Square.

Hands jammed into his pockets, Michael
focused on the details of his surroundings long enough to recognize
that he stood in front of a jeweler’s window. The irony was
acid-sharp. If this moment had spun out just twenty-four hours
earlier, he might be seeking an engagement ring.

His unwilling gaze swept
past the Claddaugh rings, a Galway tradition of two hands clasping
a
crowned heart. Just before he turned away
forever, he
saw a ring with a center stone
the silvery blue of
Kylie’s eyes. It was an
elegant thing, no flash about it,
just deep
and quiet substance.