1
Caitlin
“Her life has been taken,and I’ll never know why,” Noah Murphy’s smooth yet sorrowful voice crooned, echoing through the pub.
The small group of patrons remaining in the pub, mostly American tourists, finished their drinks and listened intently to the portly red-haired man’s final song of the night. “But I feel, in that moment, that a part of me died.”
Noah pulled his fiddle out from where it had been perched under his chin and placed it carefully on the bar stool beside him. He looked up at the crowd before directing his gaze at his daughter at the other end of the room behind the counter, smiling warmly at her, a hint of sadness in his soft green eyes.
Scattered applause broke out in the now-emptying bar as Noah nodded in appreciation. Caitlin clapped loudly for him from behind the counter, grinning proudly at her father’s emotional rendition of her late mother’s favorite song and wiped a tear from her eye, unexpectedly sentimental at the tragic tune.
The Shores of the Swilly was a tragic, haunting song, and one that her mother had adored. Her father didn’t cover the song very often, but when he did, it was a truly mesmerizing and poignant experience. Every time he finished singing the last verse of the track, Caitlin swore she could hear her dad’s voice, a normally deep, comforting baritone, crack ever so slightly, as if just barely holding back a pained sob.
When he looked up from his fiddle and locked eyes with his daughter across the room, they exchanged a knowing melancholic look.
“Have a wonderful night. Hope we see you again soon,” Caitlin called as she walked over to the door and flipped the “OPEN” sign to “CLOSED.”
Noah rose from the bar stool and shuffled over to where Caitlin stood behind the door, leaning down slightly to give her a gentle kiss on the forehead. “You’re a lovely girl, Cait,” he said, his voice still tinged with a hint of sadness from the memories dredged up by the song he had played. “She’d be proud of you, you know. You look and sound more like her with each passing day.” He sniffled and wiped tears from his eyes.
Seeing her father so emotional was a rare sight, and she wasn’t quite sure how to comfort him. Usually, he was the rock that supported her, while she was an emotional wild child that needed his guidance. As they both aged, however, her dad was becoming more sentimental, while Caitlin more often took the guiding role.
“I know, Dad,” she whispered, “I miss her a lot, too.” She sighed deeply. Although Caitlin’s mother had died when she was young, she remembered her vividly, and the memory of the auburn-haired maiden burned as brightly in her mind as the memory of her father singing just moments before.
He cleared his throat as he stood straight and attempted to compose himself. “Hey, don’t forget about the dinner tomorrow, okay?” He patted Caitlin on the head, tousling her long mane of wild red hair. “We’ve got the Kellys tomorrow.” Her father, Noah Murphy turned away from her and began sliding chairs under tables.
Understanding how the memory of her mother haunted him, she allowed him to change the subject. The loss of his beloved Margaret had truly broken him, and though he’d done his best, it had left him a shell of the man he used to be.
“Of course,” Caitlin smiled, her eyes bright, “I’m excited to see Sophie, I’m sure she will have plenty of ideas for fall dinners and themes for the tourists. I’m so excited for the season. I just love this time of year.”
Her father nodded excitedly, a toothy grin stretching across his round, freckled face. “Oh, yes, my girl,” he rubbed his hands together as he plopped down onto one of the bar stools nearby. “And we’ve gotta get ready for the Galway Oyster Festival, too. I think it’s going to be a very good year.”
They continued to wipe down tables and slide in chairs as the soft autumn rain began to drizzle down the glass panes, and gradually increased until it pelted audibly against the clay roof and the pavement outside. Caitlin loved the rain on evenings like this; although it was a pain to travel through and always ended with her being soaked from head to toe on the walk home, the sound was comforting.
“Is anyone else coming?” Caitlin wondered aloud, surprising them both.
“To what, Love? Dinner? It’ll just be us and the Kellys,” Noah replied, resting his elbows on the counter for a moment and scratching his head before letting out a long, exhausted yawn.
The Kelly Clan had been in Galway for generations. Some would argue that they were one of the earliest families some 800 years ago, but Caitlin knew better. The Kelly name was one of the most prevalent in Ireland, and there was no real way of knowing if Rory Kelly, the Patriarch of the proud Kelly Clan in Galway had any relation to the earliest of his name. Despite the ridiculous amount of pride the males felt for bearing such a name, she couldn’t deny the love she felt for the man who had been her second father, the woman who had become a mother to her after she lost her own, nor the three boys who’d tormented her like good brothers do; and finally, her most beloved friend, Sophie, the angel of Galway.
“Goodness me. I’ve got to get some rest. I think that song took a lot out of me...it always seems to. Are you okay to finish up here, Love?”
Caitlin nodded, looking up from the sink at her father’s sleepy, weathered face. “Go home, Dad,” she said playfully, fighting back a yawn herself. “I know how to close up just fine on my own now.”
“Ah, are you sure?” Noah said tiredly, frowning slightly at the idea of leaving his daughter to close up the pub by herself. Caitlin frowned, she hated when he doubted her abilities. “All right, all right. I know, I baby you sometimes. Just finish up the dishes and don’t worry about much else, ‘kay? It’s starting to rain hard out there, and I think there’s a storm coming. Hurry home when you’re done.”
As Caitlin turned off the sink and dried her hands, she walked around to the tables and collected stray bottles to toss into the pub’s recycling bin. Without another word, Noah trudged towards the back door before turning to face his daughter. A silent exchange occurred as his eyes softened and she blew a gentle kiss goodbye.
As Caitlin gathered the last few bottles and wiped the sticky, boozy residue off each table, Caitlin thought about the upcoming dinner, excited to see her best friend. Her expression quickly soured, though, as she remembered the Kelly family included the man she had been trying so hard to forget about, the bane of her existence since he’d tormented her in childhood. Daniel, devilishly handsome and sharp-tongued, liked nothing more than to taunt her to tear--
Before she could finish her train of thought, the front door swung open and slammed against the wall. She jumped at the impact, and scowled as rain water trickled onto the floor she had recently mopped clean.
“Hey there, Midget.”
Caitlin grimaced, speak of the devil and he appears: Daniel Kelly, “Oh, Christ, are you kidding me?” She groaned, scowling at the handsome man who’d invited himself into the clearly closed establishment. “We’re closed, Daniel,” Caitlin said through clenched teeth; she hadn’t even known he was back in town.
“Yeah, I saw the sign,” the rain-soaked man replied casually, tossing his umbrella onto a table Caitlin had just painstakingly cleaned. “Hiya, Cait.” He grinned at her, his muddy boots leaving a trail of water and sludge with each step he took.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Caitlin growled, stomping across the bar to meet him. “Thanks for ruining everything I just cleaned, by the way,” she hissed sarcastically, her voice full of venom.
