“Sit down,” he said to me. “Right here.” He tapped the spot next to him.
His voice was cold and hard, and even though my first reaction was to resist his tone, I gave in to the plea hidden behind the demand. After I took my seat, I slipped my hand under the table, resting it on his leg.
“Is this where your father hid you both?” Saoirse said, looking around at the house and then at her sons in equal turns. She only got an answer from Killian, though.
“We lived here with Gran and Granda after we were told that you were dead. He took us to New York, after, like I’ve told you.”
“So you have,” she said.
The three of us turned to Cash as the envelope crinkled when he opened it, but the sound was like a bomb going off. He pulled out numerous pictures of his father, Ronan Kelly, and numerous newspaper clippings and reports. He spread them out so he could look them over. His eyes scanned the words that described whatever his father had been doing at the time.
Some of the words stood out like deadly debris flying through the air.Nationalist. Wanted man. Dangerous. On the run. Radical.
“We were young.” Saoirse picked up her tea, slowly putting it to her mouth, because her hands trembled. The porcelain clattered against the saucer when she set it down. “Some say stupid. But we believed in a cause that, at the time, felt worthwhile.”
Cash’s eyes lifted from the paper he’d been reading to look at her, but they quickly went back to the words in front of him after they did.
“Ronan was an exceptionally smart lad, and when he was passionate about something, he committed himself wholly to the cause. The man who originally brought him in became a hero to him. Patrick was all he could see.”
Cash’s eyes flew up at the name. They must’ve crashed intoSaoirse’s because she closed her eyes, nodded, and one tear fell, then another.
Patrick. Patrick. Patrick…who…?
“Patrick and Ronan were as close as twins. We formed a group, and for a time, the cause seemed worth it. Then I got pregnant. You both came along, and it wasn’t as easy as it was before. We would have to run on a moment’s notice. Maybe with one babe, it would’ve been easier, but with two…it became tiring.
“I started not being able to sleep. I was running behind the both of you, and headaches would plague me day and night. I told Ronan that I couldn’t keep up, that I couldn’t do it any longer. Ireland was doing just fine as it was, but I was on the brink of losing my mind. Our family was in trouble.
“My priorities shifted once you two were born, but Ronan was as focused as ever. Patrick—” she opened and closed her hands around the teacup “—started to see the burden. He fell for you boys and had taken a vow when you were born to watch over you both. He considered you blood, as close as two nephews. He tried talking to Ronan, but there was no changing his direction.”
At this, she looked up and met Cash’s eyes. “Ronan started to rebel against us because he didn’t want to hear the truth. He stopped coming home for long stretches, and then he’d make frequent trips to America. The headaches only grew worse, and after going to the doctor, he found that I have an eye disease. Glaucoma. The only thing that helped ease it was cannabis. Patrick had read something and started bringing it to me. We started to grow closer.”
She broke eye contact to look into her tea again, and I couldn’t help but wonder what she saw. Maybe she could read them like my mam.
She took a deep breath and then lifted her eyes and her chin. “Patrick and I fell in love. Your father walked in on us one day after we hadn’t seen him in a month. I suspected, you know, that he had a mistress in America, but the love between us couldn’t be saved at that point. I justified my sins as right because he was committing the same.
“Ronan and Patrick got into an awful fight.” She put a hand to her temple and massaged. “I couldn’t stop it, and for the sake of you boys, Patrick left. I wasn’t sure if I’d ever see him again. But after the fight…” She sighed. “The stress. The headache. I thought I was dying. I swore—I swore then and there, I would never touch another drug again. It had gone further than the cannabis. I had become addicted to other drugs. Harder drugs. I’m sure you remember me that way.” A lone tear fell from her eye then, but she swiped it away before it could run down her cheek.
“Ronan took me to the hospital, accusing me of having an overdose while he drove me. He dropped me off, and that…that was the last time I laid eyes on you, until today.” She dug around in the pocket of her cardigan and pulled out a photo. She passed it to Killian, who passed it to Cash, who stared at it.
It was a picture of five people—Ronan, Saoirse, Cash, Killian, and the man by the name of Patrick—sitting at a dinner table. The man. Patrick. FatherPatrickFlanagan.
“That picture was all that was left when I returned home.” Saoirse pulled out a tissue from her pocket and wiped her nose. “My parents died when I was young. I had no siblings. I had no one to help me find you. I tried. I looked every place I could remember. So many places like this one.” She looked around, and then her eyes met Cash’s. “He left me that picture out of spite.” Her tone turned bitter. “His only rule. We always ate dinner as a family, even before you boys came along.”
My grip on Cash’s leg grew tighter, and the muscle under my hand was taut, so tight that I thought it would pop like a vein in the head.
Tears slipped down her cheeks in a controlled flow. “He left me with that memory because he knew it would hurt me the most. He stopped eating dinner with mefirst.” Her hand balled into a fist and she lifted it, like she was going to slam it against the table, but instead it made no noise when it made contact with the wood. “I lost my boys, my husband, and my lover. He never came back for me, either, did Patrick Flann.”
“He thought you were dead,” Killian said. “Then he was forced into joining the priesthood to atone for his sins. To be able to have the right to see us. Everyone was punished. You. Patrick. Me.” Killian stabbed a finger at his chest and then looked at his brother. “Even you.”
“But you couldn’t remember. You couldn’t seem to remember anything that we lost. All you saw was the great Ronan Kelly. You dedicated your life to him, to his cause, without question. You were his perfect specimen—an animal that would attack on command. You’re still fighting for a cause you can’t win. A cause that he gave you to take on because he knew you’d do it in her honor.” He nodded toward Saoirse. “You’d do it because you would remember the worst of her, because all you believed was the best in him.
“He told you she died of an overdose to give you something worthy to fight for while the rest of it was as dirty as sin. He made it okay to kill and steal because he put it in your head that the original cause was honorable. He gave the animal steak to chew on, telling it that it needed to eat, and blood was part of the hunger.”
Killian stuck a finger to his chest again. “I remembered, though, Cash. I remembered leaving the hospital, being told that my mother had died of an overdose. That we would be starting a new life soon. I remembered her screaming about a headache, but she was not unresponsive. I remembered the day Patrick Flanagan showed up and stood watch out of guilt.
“I remembered the conversation between them. He wasn’t allowed to see us unless he made a promise to never touch another woman again.” Killian stopped for a second, trying to catch his breath. “Even though Molly warmed Ronan’s bed every night.
“I pieced it together after I lost my legs and you went to jail. I pieced it together because I was fucking allowed to think about it, Cash! You never would. You would never even consider him anything less than a hero! The end always justified the means.” He wheeled himself back, showing Cash his legs, legs that would never work again. “What’s the cause now, Cashel? What’s it worth? The price on these?” He punched his leg.
