But he paused and came back and took her suddenly by the shoulders, no hint of amusement in his eyes as they met hers.
“If that’s the truth, Moira, don’t go letting anyone know, do you hear me?”
“Danny—”
“Listen to me for once in your life, Moira. Don’t let anyone know that you understand a single word.”
“Danny, what—”
“I mean it, Moira.”
His fingers were hurting her, they bit into her shoulders so deeply. There was something so serious about his face that she felt a strange whisper of fear seep into her.
“Danny—”
“Please, Moira, for the love of God.”
She suddenly realized she had really never known this man.
She found herself nodding. “All right. Damn it, Danny, stop it, you’re hurting me.”
“Sorry.” His hold eased. “Moira, you’ve got to be careful.”
“Of what?”
“People who are too passionate.”
“And what the hell does that mean? You, Michael, old Seamus there?”
“Anyone and everyone. Do you understand me?”
“No, I don’t.”
“Moira, leave it alone. Just leave it alone.”
She suddenly realized that Michael was watching her from the floor. She wanted to get Danny away from her.
“Leave ‘it’ alone? What ‘it’? Leave me alone.” She tried to back away.
“Moira—”
“I don’t really speak or understand Gaelic, Danny. I know nothing more than good morning, good night, please, thank you and Erin go bragh.”
“Then don’t pretend you do.”
He turned and left the bar area. She stared at him as he went out on the floor. Chrissie asked her for something, and she responded mechanically.
Michael came up to the service area. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“Of course.”
“That looked like a very intense moment.”
“Disagreement over drink recipes,” she lied.
“You look…frazzled.”
“It’s a really busy night.”
“I know. I’m worn out, too.”
“I’ll make this all up to you.”
“I’ll hold you to that.”
“What’s your room number?”
He smiled and gave it to her, then added, “Oh, I need three draft beers.”
“What kind?”
“Buds. And I need another one of those bird things.”
“A blackbird?”
“Yeah, that’s it.”
She laughed and made the drinks. She watched him as he delivered the beers, then took the blackbird to the man at the corner table who had been sitting alone for several hours, listening to the band, nursing his drink.
Michael wasn’t as bad at this as he seemed to think he was. He had talked with the threesome who’d ordered the beers, and he paused long enough to exchange words with the fellow in the navy sweater. Someone called her name at the bar, and she gave her attention to the taps.
When she looked up, she saw Danny walking across the room. She realized that he was approaching the man in the corner. The man in the navy sweater, the one who had ordered the blackbird.
A few moments later, Danny got his coat from the hook by the bar and left the pub.
Not five minutes went by before the man in the navy sweater did the same.
She wondered if the man was known to anyone in the pub. She decided to ask her brother if he knew the fellow.
But looking around, she realized that she didn’t see Patrick anywhere.
Nor, for that matter, did Michael seem to be anywhere on the floor, either. In fact, in a few minutes’ time, it seemed that the bar had half emptied; people who had been there throughout the evening had all seemed to vanish into thin air.
“Damn them all,” she murmured to herself. She couldn’t even see her father anywhere.
A feeling of deep unease settled over her. It was Danny again, damn it. His ridiculous temper after she had lied to him about the Gaelic.
Tomorrow, she decided, she would have it out with him.
“Moira, one more Guinness for me old bones,” Seamus said to her. He was sitting alone. She finally saw her father, who had gone to speak with Jeff by the bandstand.
She poured the drink and brought it to Seamus, then set it down with a disapproving frown. “That’s the last, now, Seamus.”
He nodded. “As you wish, Moira.” She started to walk away. “Moira Kelly,” he called, stopping her. She turned back.
“Moira, be a good girl, eh? See how quiet it’s become? Ominous,” Seamus muttered. “Watch the streets of Boston these days.”
“Seamus, what are you on about?”
“That girl was found dead.”
She sighed, then walked to him, leaned across the bar and kissed the top of his head. “I promise not to go out soliciting, Seamus. I especially promise not to solicit using the Gaelic language. How’s that?”
“Stay close to home,” he told her seriously.
“Seamus…”
“There are always troubles,” he said softly.
They’d all gone daft, she thought.
She poured herself the shot of whiskey she’d been debating about ever since her conversation with Danny and downed it in one neat swallow.
It was so hot—it indeed burned like a blowtorch.
Coming home was never easy, she decided.
“Watch out for strangers,” Seamus said. “Don’t go talking to any.”
“Seamus, this is a public establishment. We serve strangers all the time.”
“And friends, even,” Seamus said sorrowfully. “Sometimes friends…can be stranger than…strangers.”
“Seamus, you are definitely cut off.”
“I am not drunk, Moira Kelly,” he said defensively.
“Then you’re talking like a madman.”
Seamus leaned forward, very close. “There are whispers, Moira.”
“About what, Seamus?”
He sat back, shaking his head and looking around uneasily. As if he had said too much. “You take care, girl,” he said again. The he stood up, leaving his drink half finished. “Night, lass.”
“Seamus, wait, I’ll get someone to walk you home.”
“Walk me home? Moira, I’m sober, I swear it, and I’ve been walking meself home from this pub more years than you’ve been alive.”
“Seamus, you’re not drunk, but you have had a few. I wouldn’t let you drive tonight, and I’m not so sure you should be walking.”
He lifted a hand in farewell.
“Seamus!”
But Seamus was already across the room on his way toward the door. She couldn’t help but be worried about him. “Chrissie!” she called. “Can you take the bar, please?”
She didn’t wait for an answer but slipped out and hurried after old Seamus. He had made it to the door already. Moira didn’t have a coat handy, but she followed him anyway.
Once outside, she was amazed to see that he had already disappeared. The streets were deserted and cold. Very cold. The chill bit into her.
The night was dark, clouds covering the moon. Beyond the spill of lights from the pub, the street was cast in shadows.
“Seamus?” she called anxiously.
She started down the street, knowing the path Seamus would take to reach his home. Down the block, she turned to the left, stepping into the shadows.
The cold wrapped around her.
As she walked, she cursed herself for the idiocy of leaving without a coat. Then she cursed herself for running out in the darkness at this hour of the night. The sidewalks were slick with a thin sheen of ice. And yet…
It was more than just the dark, icy grip of the Boston winter night that held her, she realized. The chill was inside and out. She had walked these neighborhood streets for most of her life, and the family knew their neighbors. She knew the cold, and she even knew the shadows
. She had never felt this kind of unease before, never felt as if the chill were inside her, something that would never go away.
She turned the corner to the left. Ahead, the eaves of an old building cast a spill of total Stygian blackness over the sidewalk. Moira moved against the building, instinctively afraid, seeking the protection of darkness.
She was almost upon the two figures before she realized they were there. And she couldn’t help but hear the exchange of low murmurs. Whispers, the words just barely audible in the stillness of the night.
“So it’s definite. Let the blackbird fly.”
“Which piece?”
“You’ll receive it.”
There was a sudden silence; it seemed to stretch forever, but it was probably no more than the beat of a second. She had stopped walking without realizing it.
Blackbird…
It was as if a giant blackbird had suddenly erupted from the shadow, wings sweeping over the street, brushing her. It was as if the wind picked her up, spinning her around. She found herself moving, catapulted forward. Her feet found no grip on the ice. She went sliding, desperately trying to catch her balance, terrified of the dark presence that suddenly menaced her from behind, darkness rising with a stealthy force. Something struck her hard. She found herself falling to the ground, the shadows rising all around her, the stars glimmering in a sky that had been nothing but cloud and darkness before.
8
When she tried to get up, Moira slid again. She was staring at the sky when a face appeared in the cloud-covered night.
“Moira Kelly! What on earth are you doing out here like this?”
Danny. He reached down, catching her hands. He didn’t pull her straight up but hunkered at her side first, studying her eyes. “Whoa, now. Did you hurt yourself?”
“I don’t think so.”
“You’re all right? Nasty spill on the ice? Where’s your coat, girl? It’s freezing out here.”
“I’m well aware that it’s freezing, thank you.”
“What are you doing out here?”
“It’s freezing, Danny. Stop asking questions and help me up.”
“Good shoes for the ice,” he observed. “You’re sure you’re not really hurt? So what was it? Lovers’ quarrel? Were you racing after that beady-eyed Michael?”
“No,” she said indignantly. “Michael and I don’t quarrel, and I don’t think anything is really hurt. I was—”
She broke off suddenly as he helped her up. Pushed. She’d been about to say that she’d been pushed. Instinct kept her from speaking the truth. There was no one out here except Danny. The man who’d been warning her not to let people think that she spoke or understood Gaelic.
Had he pushed her from the shadows, then turned around to help her?
“You were what?” he asked her, eyeing her closely.
“Nothing, I was…I was concerned about Seamus. He’d been drinking quite a bit. I came out after him, and I fell.”
As she spoke, Danny took his coat off, draping it around her. The warmth felt awfully good. She also realized, as she began to thaw a bit, that she was sore from head to toe. “What are you doing out here?” she asked him.
“Saying good-night to a few old chums.”
“Where is my brother? Were you with him?”
“Haven’t seen Patrick in a bit,” he told her. He arched a brow. “Are we all supposed to report in to you these days?”
“I couldn’t find anyone to walk Seamus home, that’s all,” she lied. She wondered why she didn’t tell Danny the truth. That she’d come outside, overheard two men talking about a flying blackbird and been pushed to the ground.
The reason was obvious. She was alone on the street with Danny. As much as she hated to think it, he might have been the one who had pushed her.
“Let’s get in,” she said. “It’s freezing out here.”
He nodded, taking her arm as they turned toward the pub.
“Did you see someone out here?” he asked.
“No.”
“Why are you lying to me?”
“I’m not.” She wasn’t. She hadn’t actually seen anyone. Just shadows. Figures in the dark.
She was looking straight ahead, but she could tell that he was watching her suspiciously.
“Fine, then.”
A statement that he didn’t believe her. She was suddenly very anxious to get into the pub.
Danny obliged, moving quickly. She nearly went sliding again. He caught her instantly, keeping her from going down. As they neared the door, she increased her speed.
She felt herself slide on the ice the moment she hit it. This time, not even Danny’s hold could keep her from falling. He tried so hard, though, that even as she flailed in what seemed like slow motion, he lost his footing, as well. He managed to get beneath her as they went down. She wound up sprawled on top of him, staring into his amber eyes. For a moment they just lay there, winded, staring at one another. Then Danny smoothed a stray hair from her forehead.
“Hey, this isn’t bad,” he told her.
She immediately struggled to rise, slipped, then slammed hard against him once again. The breath was knocked out of him, but he laughed.
“Quit laughing!”
“Hey, I’m the injured party here. Throw your flesh and bones down to be chivalrous, and what do you get? A knee in the groin.”
“I did not jab my knee into your groin.”
“Not on purpose. I don’t think.”
She let out a sound of total aggravation, rolling off him. Danny was already up, offering her a hand. She took it. Looking at the door to the pub, she saw that Colleen was standing there, laughing, as well. “If you children are through playing in the snow, it’s much warmer inside.”
Danny’s coat was lying on the ice. She bent to retrieve it, but he had already picked up the garment. “Inside, yes. I guess that would be good. Although, I was rather enjoying myself,” he said with a grin.
Moira went through the door. Danny entered behind her, his arm around Colleen. “And what were you doing, venturing out in the ice and snow?”
“It’s not snowing.”
“Figure of speech.”
“I was wondering how the entire pub suddenly seemed to disappear,” Colleen said lightly. “Even the band has quit for the night, and Jeff took off somewhere. Oh, Moira?”
“Yes?”
“Michael was in a moment ago, looking for you. He said to tell you he was heading back to the hotel.”
“Thanks.”
She’d practically promised to slip out to join him at the hotel, and she knew she should keep that promise. Except that she was tired and sore, and afraid that she would give away the fact that people at her father’s pub were all behaving very strangely. Especially her brother.
And Danny.
Moira saw that Chrissie was behind the bar, picking up glasses, breaking down. Moira took a tray from the bar and went on the floor, where she started clearing tables. Behind her, Colleen and Danny did the same.
“Moira Kathleen!” her father suddenly exclaimed.
She nearly dropped her tray full of glasses. “What?”
“What happened to you?”
“Nothing. Why?”
“You’re bleeding, girl!”
She looked down to discover that her stockings had torn and a thin trickle of blood was seeping from her knee down her shinbone.
“Just a meeting with the sidewalk, Dad. I tripped outside,” she said. “Danny helped me up.”
“You need to take care of that right away.”
“I’ll go upstairs,” Moira said.
“There’s a first-aid kit right in the office,” Eamon said.
“I can just go up—”
“Not on your life,” Danny said. “You might need stitches. We’ll have to take a look at that.”
He was by her side in a moment, golden mischief in his eyes.
“Danny, I skinned my knee.”
“Ah, but you’re the Moira
Kelly. Can’t have scraped knees showing on camera. Let’s take care of it right away.”
He ushered her around the bar toward the back.
“First-aid kit is in the—” Eamon began.
“Top drawer,” Danny finished.
A minute later, Moira found herself seated at the desk, with Danny on his knees before her, digging in the drawer.
“What are you doing?” she asked him.
“Taking every lecherous opportunity I can to get closer.”
She started to rise, but he already had her shoe off. She gave up.
“Let’s get those stockings off, as well,” he said.
“They aren’t stockings. They’re panty hose.”
“All the better.”
“Danny…”
“You’ve got to be careful, Moira. You can’t go running out of the pub after people.”
There was no lightness to his tone. Nor was there a teasing look in his eyes. He was suddenly dead serious.
“Okay, Danny, I won’t go running out of the pub after people anymore,” she said. She lowered her head, speaking softly. “If you had been around, I could have asked you to go after Seamus.”
“That’s right. But Seamus is a grown man.”
“Seamus was acting very strange tonight.”
“Oh? What did he say?”
“I don’t remember,” she lied. “He was just speaking…strangely.”
“Was he afraid?”
“Should he have been?”
“I’m just trying to figure out why you went running after him. Moira, take off the panty hose. I’ll close my eyes. Promise. Not that…”
“Danny, I’ll just go up and take care of my own injuries.”
“You’re that afraid of me touching your leg?”
“I’m not at all afraid of you touching my leg. So apparently what I’m supposed to do now is prove it by slipping out of my panty hose?”
“Well, yeah,” he said, offering a rueful grin.
She was suddenly tempted to reach out and touch his hair. Always a bit unruly and unkempt, it fit him. Like the half smile he so frequently wore.
“You’re trying to ruin my life,” she told him.
“Never.”
“I have a great job and a wonderful relationship.”