“I followed her,” he whispered, “I stopped her to ask her if she was okay. She knew me, but I didn’t recognize her. She liked me, I could tell by her body language dat she’d been watchin’ me for a while. It was so easy. I wasn’t t'inkin’ clearly, I barely remember gettin' back to me flat. But I’d seen her wit’ dose men in de bar, and in me muddled brain it had seemed like de perfect revenge. I wanted to punish dat man in de bar—fuck dem de way dey’d fucked me. It meant nuttin’! It was a mistake, but it was only one night.”
I clenched my jaw, but a raw noise of pain still burst out of my throat.
“One night, but not only once, huh?” I asked hoarsely, looking away from him.
“Forgive me,” he begged. “Please. Please. I love ye, only ye. Forgive me.”
“No.”
I didn’t look at him, but I heard his sob as his head dropped to my knees.
Chapter 35
Patrick
I made my way into the large house silently, the key Moira had given me barely making a sound as I’d unlocked the front door. There was one thing that had to be done before I left Ireland for good.
I’d expected some kind of guards or maybe even a few large dogs, but all I encountered as I made my way through the house were darkened rooms and the low hum of the furnace. I knew he was there because his car was parked in the driveway, and it amazed me how little he cared for his own safety.
I’m sure he believed he was untouchable, and in most circles he was probably considered so… but I had nothing to lose. I was leaving to go halfway across the world in a matter of hours, and in just a few days the only people I cared about would be following behind me. His reputation was no longer relevant. His arms couldn’t reach me.
I moved on silently to Moira’s room and found the bag she’d told me would be under her bed. I quickly located the music box her mother had given her as a child and stuffed it into the bottom of the bag before pulling shirts and pants from her dresser. When I got to her underthings, my stomach cramped. I shouldn’t be touching them. It was wrong. I shouldn’t be touching any woman’s underthings that weren’t my wife’s.
As soon as I was finished, I set Moira’s bag outside the door to Michael’s room and stepped inside.
He was asleep on his back when I found him, his arms tucked under the blankets like a child and his face slack with slumber. The look was almost innocent, and it was hard to imagine that the minute he awoke, he’d look like a completely different man.
I stepped up beside him and quickly hopped onto the bed, pinning his arms to his sides with the blanket he’d so kindly wrapped himself in. The moment my weight hit him, his eyes snapped open and it only took seconds before he realized that the blankets and my legs had completely trapped him.
“Ye’ll die for dis, ye fuckin’ bastard,” he said menacingly, trying to work his arms slowly out of the blankets.
I could feel his every move, but I didn’t stop his almost imperceptible struggle. I wanted him to feel it. I wanted him to know that he was trapped.
“Do ye know why I’m here?” I asked, flipping open my blade before resting it on my thigh.
“I’m guessing me whore of a sister somehow got out of her room,” he growled, his legs beginning to kick at the blankets. It was really too bad that he insisted on having such a tightly made bed.
“Ye almost killed me child,” I said quietly.
“Yer bastard, ye mean?”
I clenched my fist around the handle of my blade and reminded myself that I wasn’t finished yet.
“Did ye set up de blast dat killed me da?”
He froze beneath me.
“It wasn’t meant to kill him.”
“I’d come to that conclusion meself.”
“It was just a warnin.’ ”
“A warnin’ dat would have killed me mum.”
“We’re in a war, Trick. Sometimes—”
“Spare me yer rhetoric!” I hissed through my clenched teeth. “Ye killed me da and ye nearly killed me child.”
“Moira is me sister. It’s me job to punish her for wrongdoin’s.”
He believed it. All of it. I could see it in his eyes. He thought that beating a woman almost to death was an acceptable punishment, that it was alright to kill a person’s spouse as an effective way to keep him in line.
He believed that the end justified the means.
“Immanuel Kant was a philosopher,” I began slowly as he watched me in confusion. “He believed dat people should be viewed as de ends, not de means.”
I paused and watched as he tried to understand the conversation’s change in direction. He was nervous and afraid and began to shake beneath me.
“For dat reason alone, I’ll allow ye to pray.”
“What?” he asked in horror.
“Beg forgiveness.”
His eyes widened in fear as he lay frozen for a long moment.
“Our Fadder,” he sobbed, “who art in heaven—”
I cut his words and his neck with a deep slash of my knife from ear to ear. Then I climbed off the bed and wiped my blade down on the corner of his sheets.
For the first time, I didn’t feel an ounce of remorse, and I wondered briefly when I’d become such a monster. Then I made my way back outside, locking the front door and climbing onto my motorcycle so I could go home.
***
I sat alone in the silent house for a long time after I got back. I’d fucked up so badly that I knew any chance of righting my life was completely gone. I’d never again step foot in my own country, I had little money to start a new life, and both my mother and my wife hated me.
I couldn’t blame Amy for her anger. One poor decision, one mistake, and I’d broken all trust between us. It didn’t matter that we hadn’t yet made any promises to each other. I’d known the morning after my night with Moira that I’d made a horrible mistake, but it had been too late then to right it.
I wondered if Amy would have forgiven me if I had told her after it had happened. Perhaps she would have fought me, but eventually forgiven me—I’d never know. But I did know that if I had the chance to go back and tell her, I still wouldn’t have.
She wouldn’t have married me. She would have allowed me to work back into her good graces, but it would have taken time, time we didn’t have. Because Moira showing up at my door, pregnant with my child, was inevitable. And when that happened, I would have lost Amy forever.
I took comfort in the fact that Amy and I had already spoken our vows. I had a hold on her that was unbreakable. It made me a bit nervous that we were headed to the United States, where people seemed to divorce on a whim, but I didn’t think she could get one without my consent, so I tried not to worry.
I had more pressing matters to worry about.
I was leaving the country of my birth to build a life in a place I’d never been, with a woman I barely knew but was carrying my child, and I had to leave my wife and my mother behind. I’d barely slept.
Amy and Mum were sleeping together in my mum’s room and Moira was asleep in the bed I’d only ever shared with my wife. That knowledge made my guts clench in shame.
My wife hadn’t deserved to be pulled into this mess. I’d kept so much from her trying to protect her that she’d unknowingly climbed aboard a sinking ship, and the most horrible part of it was that I wouldn’t have gone back to change it.
I knew she deserved more, but I’d never give her up.
“Mum,” I called, walking slowly into her room. “Wake up, it’s time.”
I made my way to Amy’s side of the bed, and brushed her hair away from her face. Dried tears had made a few strands stick to her cheeks, and as I pulled them away, I leaned down to kiss those spots.
She wouldn’t have let me that close if she was awake, and I didn’t feel one ounce of shame for taking what I could.
“What time is it?” she asked sleepily, before stiffening where she lay.
“Goin’ on t’ree. We need to leave,” I answered, the
words like invisible razorblades in my mouth.
It felt wrong to leave her. All of it felt wrong. I couldn’t tell if it was just because I hated to be away from her or if my instincts were trying to tell me something. The anxiety was making me sweat.
“Is she awake?” my mum asked as she climbed out of bed, her tone a clear indication of which “she” she was referring to.
“Not yet.”
“Better go wake her.”
I nodded, but couldn’t force myself away from Amy’s curled up form. It felt wrong. My head was screaming at me to do something, but I didn’t know what. Christ, I felt like I was being torn in two.
Amy scooted to the edge of the bed, and I had to take a step back so she could climb out from under the blankets. When she got to her feet, she mumbled something about getting dressed and grabbed a stack of clothes off my mum’s dresser before moving around me and walking into the bathroom.
I brushed my hair away from my face and followed her out of the room. I needed to get moving. The ship we were riding on wouldn’t wait because I hadn’t given Moira enough time to get ready.
“Hey, wake up,” I said gently, reaching out to gently shake Moira’s shoulder. “It’s time to go.”
I’d explained our plan the day before on one of the rare occasions that Moira had been awake to discuss it. She seemed to sleep a hell of a lot, but Doc assured me that it was normal. Between the pregnancy and the beating she’d taken, she needed the extra rest. So far the baby had held fast, and after the first twenty-four hours I’d begun to feel a mixture of relief and… I couldn’t say it was disappointment. That wasn’t right.
I would never be glad for my child to die, no matter how it was conceived. However, when she’d continued on with no sign of a miscarriage, I’d finally realized that there was no turning back. This woman who had seemed so nice and smart and beautiful when I’d first met her was actually going to have my child… and I didn’t love her. Not even the slightest bit.
And the woman that I loved more than life would not give me my first child the way we’d dreamed.
“Patrick?” Moira answered as I continued to pat and shake her shoulder. “Is it time to go?”
“Soon,” I answered, looking over her bruised face as I turned on the light. “How are ye feelin’?”
“Like absolute garbage,” she whispered, rolling onto her side before gingerly pushing herself up. “I’m so sorry for all of dis, Patrick. I didn’t know ye were married or I wouldn’t have come.”
“Not yer fault,” I reassured her, dropping down to sit on the edge of the bed. “I wasn’t married when I met ye. Hadn’t even proposed yet.”
“Ye work fast.”
“I would’ve married her de day I proposed.”
“What are we goin’ to do?”
“I’ve no idea.” I rubbed my hands over my tired eyes. “Let’s get to Oregon, we can sort it all out den.”
I didn’t realize how close we were sitting or how it would look, until I heard my wife clear her throat from the doorway.
“I just forgot a sweatshirt,” Amy mumbled, averting her eyes as she walked into the room.
I jumped from my spot on the bed, but the damage was done. She didn’t look at me once as she pulled her clothing out of our half-empty dresser drawer. Her hands were shaking, but she ignored us as we watched her shuffle through her things until she found what she was looking for.
I’d already packed my things into a duffel that rested at the end of the bed, and as she walked back out of the room, I picked it up and slung it over my shoulder to follow her.
“I brought ye de t’ings ye asked for,” I told Moira, who was looking at me in apology. “We’ll have to buy ye some new clothes once we get where we’re goin.’ Ye’ll not fit in dose for much longer.” I gestured to the bag by the door.
“T’ank ye,” she whispered. I nodded once and tried to smile, but I was sure it looked more like a grimace.
When it was finally time for us to go, my entire body was tight with tension. A part of me wanted to tell Amy to pack a bag—that she’d be going with us. But I couldn’t leave my mum alone, no matter how much I wanted Amy with me.
She was across the room with Vera and they were hugging each other goodbye with low promises to see one another soon. I was glad that she’d made such a good friend, and even more glad that her new friend would be in Oregon with us as we tried to settle in.
“I’ll walk Moira out,” Mum said, glancing at Charlie, who was standing at the open front door. Then she turned fully to me and used both hands to pull my face down to hers. “I’ll see ye in a few days. I love ye, even when yer bein’ an eejit.” I felt a lump form in my throat as she kissed me quickly on the lips, and I pulled her into a tight hug. “It’ll all turn out in the end,” she whispered into my ear. “Ye’ll see.”
With a quick pat on my back, she let me go and led Moira, Vera and Charlie out the door, leaving me alone with Amy.
We stood awkwardly facing each other and I didn’t know how to cross the gap between us.
“I’ll see ye in a week, yeah?” I asked her, breaking the silence.
“Yeah, it’ll be nice to be on home soil again,” she replied uncomfortably.
Fuck this.
I stepped forward and gripped her arms, pulling her against me before she could protest. Wrapping one hand securely around her waist, I moved the other to the hair at the base of her neck so I could tip her face toward mine.
“One week,” I said, my voice raspy. “I’ll see ye in one week, and den we’re goin’ to figure dis out.”
“I’m not sure there’s anything—”
I refused to listen to her tell me that we couldn’t be fixed and I stopped her words with my mouth. She stiffened as my teeth bit into the fleshy part of her bottom lip, but I didn’t stop, and soon she was relaxing against me and sliding her hands under the back of my coat to grip the t-shirt underneath.
“I love ye,” I said harshly before pressing my tongue into her mouth. “We will sort all of dis as soon as ye get to America.”
Tears began to roll slowly down her cheeks, and I shuddered. How the hell was I supposed to leave her?
“We’ll sort it out,” she agreed, bringing her hands up to cover my cheeks. “I love you so much.”
“I love ye, too. Me beautiful wife,” I groaned back, thanking God that whatever I’d said had finally gotten through to her.
I’d find a way to earn back her trust. I had to. There was no other option.
I loved her more than anything else on earth—more than my mother, more than myself. I’d do whatever it took, jump through whatever hoop I could, beg on my knees if I had to.
I would not allow her to pull away from me.
“You have to go,” she whispered achingly, running one of her fingers over my eyebrow. “I’ll see you in a week.”
“Be careful. I took care of Moira’s brudder, but ye still need to be careful, yeah?” I kissed her hard. “I don’t want to leave ye.”
“It’s only a week,” she reassured me, and I wasn’t sure how our roles had become so reversed that it was as if she was comforting me. “That’s not so long.”
“Trick, we need to go, man.” Charlie called, popping his head inside the front door.
“I love ye,” I said again hurriedly. “If I get dere before ye leave, I’ll call ye.”
“Okay,” she said, nodding even as I kissed her. “Now go.” She planted her hands against my stomach and pushed me away, but I immediately grabbed her hair in both hands and pulled her back, kissing her harshly.
“Trick! Let’s go.” Charlie called again.
I tore my mouth from Amy’s and dropped my hands from her hair. I knew that if I held her for a second longer, I wouldn’t leave. I’d fuck everything up worse, because I’d refuse to take one step from her side.
I grabbed my duffel from the floor and threw it over my shoulder before looking back at the woman who held my entire world in her hands. Her arms were
wrapped around her waist, and her shoulders were bunched up nearly to her ears as she huddled against the wall, watching my every movement. I wanted to go back to her. Everything in my body was screaming for me to reach for her again, but I knew I couldn’t.
Instead, I nodded at her and pursed my lips in a kiss before turning my back and striding toward the door.
I didn’t look back again. I didn’t have the willpower.
Years later, I wondered what I would have seen on her face if I’d glanced back just once.
Chapter 36
Amy
It was my last shift, though no one in the pub knew it. Three days had passed since Patrick had left, and though I missed him, I also felt a little numb about it all. I had to pull all that numbness in around me like a cloak. Thinking about Patrick alone with Moira made me want to scream and rip my own hair out. It was agony… so I didn’t think about it. Late the next night, Peg, Doc and I would be headed for the steamer that would carry us to the US and my husband, who I was sure was waiting impatiently for our arrival.
I wasn’t nervous, not really, but I’d had this weird energy running through my body that entire night and it made me feel like I was going to jump out of my skin. Intuition? Maybe. But I couldn’t tell if it was because we were going to be on a freaking boat in the middle of the ocean for days, or if it was because I was so anxious to see Patrick again.
I was still so angry with him.
I’d had so many different emotions since he’d left. I was angry, sad, confused, nervous…jealous. God, it felt as if the jealousy would completely eat me up from the inside.
I hated Moira for taking away the one thing that I’d known I could give Patrick, the one thing reserved for me and me alone. She was having his child. His child. And here I was after months of marriage with nothing in my belly but a seething mass of emotions. It wasn’t fair.
I knew that life wasn’t fair, of course I did. But the whole situation with Moira was just too much for me to handle. I wanted to cry and scream and scratch at the hives that had become a constant reminder of my husband’s infidelity every second of every day. Instead, I just kept living like nothing was wrong and I pulled that cloak of numbness tighter around me.