Standing around one of the wooden crates she’d brought down with Daniel the day before, were members of Daniel’s family: his brothers, Kilian and Liam, stood on opposite sides of the box, while Rory Kelly, the patriarch of the Kelly family, stood with his arm looped around Noah’s shoulders. Despite the clear shock on everyone’s faces, no one moved under Caitlin’s gaze. They each waited for another to make the first move, but it was Noah Murphy who stood perfectly still under his daughter’s disbelieving glare. It was evident from the vibrant red of his cheeks that she’d caught him in something he never thought he’d had to explain.
“What is going on here?” she asked into the room. With the way the rest of the group stayed silent, it was evident that they knew she was only really expecting an answer from her father. The grave concern on Noah’s face made her turn back to the crate that the group stood around—she suddenly remembered how much heavier they’d seemed, how often the Kelly boys had been around to carry in the deliveries for her. With a deeply-set frown, Caitlin stepped into the circle of men around the crate. She smacked the wooden lid away from the top of the box, letting it fall to the floor around the feet of her father. He didn’t bother trying to dodge the heavy lid; his eyes were glued to Caitlin’s face as she looked down into a case of spiced nuts for the bar. As if reading the truth directing from their faces, Caitlin reached her hand inside of the case.
The men watched as her hand moved around in the crate of bar snacks; each of them froze when her hand stopped rummaging around in the second layer in the crate. She turned her hand, wrapping her palm around the handle from something metal, cold—she was surprised by the serious weight to the object as she pulled it free from the crate.
To her complete horror, Caitlin had pulled out a sleek handgun. She let the gun fall to her side before digging her free hand into the box once more. With a violent swipe of her hand, she threw the layer of bar snacks to the far wall, revealing the rest of the crate to be expertly packed with an arsenal of weaponry.
“What the hell is this?” she asked. Her voice was grave as she looked from the box of illegal firearms to her father. She was immediately reminded of her mother in that instant—she found herself longing for the days when her mother would chastise her—and even through her anger, wondered if her father had gotten the same, grief-stricken chill down his spine. Caitlin wasn’t sure how her mother would even react to something like this. She wasn’t sure that her mother would even recognize her father in his new element as an arms dealer.
“Dad,” her voice was softer now. His face flinched at the sound of her voice. She looked around at the other people who had been hiding out in the pub’s cellar; the boiling anger in her stomach reached an unstable level as each of the men looked away from her without an explanation for their actions tonight. In the younger men, she found it almost excusable, but she felt her breathing quicken when Rory Kelly refused to make eye contact with her. For such a proud man, he had a hard time owning up to his actions in the heat of the moment.
Most of all, Caitlin felt betrayed by the red-haired man across from her. The shame that framed his face aged him a few years, giving his face a ghastly, pasty sheen. “Dad, what is going on?”
“I warned you about this,” Rory shot at his old friend. “You should’ve just told her to avoid all of this… female drama.”
There was a sense of relief that flooded Caitlin’s system when he spoke—as if someone had burst a large boil and released some of the pressure. After what had seemed like an eternity, Caitlin didn’t feel alone in her discovery. The relief was quick-lived, however, because as soon as the weight of Rory’s words came down around her, she took a final look at her father.
The red-faced man stared back at her helplessly, with a sheen of sweat clearly visible on his forehead and his upper lip. His mouth fell open. Caitlin waited to see what he was going to say—she could practically see the words poised on the tip of his tongue—but his eyes averted from hers in the next second.
It was clear to Caitlin that she wasn’t going to get the kind of explanation that she needed from her father tonight—not in this room. Ignoring Rory’s attempts at jabbing at the wounds of her relationship with her father, Caitlin set down the handgun she’d retrieved from the crate on top of the others. Wordlessly, she retreated from the pub’s cellar without meeting anyone’s eyes—she walked by Daniel without even acknowledging his presence.
Unsure of exactly where she was marching off to, Caitlin knew that she wasn’t going to stop at the top of the stairs. The light over the entrance to the pub was still on; she took this as a sign to keep walking.
“Caitlin!” Daniel’s voice called from behind her as she crossed the street in front of the pub. There weren’t many cars on the road this late at night, so she hadn’t bothered to check both ways before crossing. She could tell by the quick falling of his footsteps that Daniel had broken into a jog to catch up to her.
Reminded of how he’d called after her in the pub, Caitlin quickened her pace. She turned towards the wind, letting it push her mess of red curls away from her face—the salty air cooled her stinging skin. “Leave me alone, Daniel,” she warned. “I need to be alone right now.” She was fighting back the tears that welled up in her eyes and thickened her voice.
“Caitlin.”
She paused at the surprisingly sweet tone of his voice, and her heart ached. It felt as if the world had once again tumbled upside down. Without thinking, she made herself turn around, and pressed herself into his chest. She wept against his jacket, letting the murky tears fall against the navy blue of his sweater. “You shouldn't go walking off. Come back to my place and we can talk about this… I’ll…” He hesitated, “I’ll tell you everything I know.”
Fresh tears spilled over Caitlin’s cheeks at his words; each of his consolations only made the situation more real in her eyes. “I don’t understand,” she sobbed, wiping at the dark tears that spilled over her face. “I don’t know why he would do this—my father is a good man!” She lifted her head from his jacket, pleading with him to understand that she’d never known about this side of her family before.
There was a depth of understanding in his eyes that she hadn’t expected. He nodded, smoothing her hair as it whipped around her face in the wind. “He is a good man,” Daniel reassured her as he wiped a tear away. “And this doesn’t change that.”
16
Caitlin
Caitlin's armswrapped tightly around her waist as she stalked back and forth through Daniel's flat in downtown Galway.
“I don't even know how to process this,” she gasped. Her mind reeled at the idea of her father having anything to do with mafia mobs, let alone smuggling weapons. “Whenever I pictured a criminal mastermind-”
Daniel snorted out a laugh and received a damning look from her before he closed his mouth tight.
“Whenever I picture a mob boss, a capo, or whatever the hell they're called, I never once pictured a cheerful, graying redhead, pub owner whose favorite pastime is fishing! For Christ's sake, my father spends more time reading traditional Irish poetry than he does doing anything remotely dangerous. I don't even think I've seen him hold a gun before.” For some reason, that made her feel worse. “How well do I actually know the man who raised me if I don't even know what his real career is? Do I know him at all? What else has he lied about? Is this some kind of passing trend or is this a lifelong thing he's been doing with your father? And Jesus, Daniel, how are you so calm about the entire thing? Don't you understand what this means? What the implications are? Your entire family is involved! What if the police found out? Can you imagine losing both your parents and your brothers? Oh dear God,” she gasped and pressed a hand to her heart. “What about Sophie? Sophie has to know, otherwise she wouldn't have been so weird about the truck that night!” Hot tears began to burn behind her eyes, threatening to spill as one of her worst fears came crashing down around her: the possibility of losing even more family.
“Okay, okay,” Daniel said, jumping up and holding his hands up as a sign of peace. “I know that you're having a hard time processing this, but I need you to know that our fathers are good people. They really are. They're good men,” he said as she rolled her eyes. “Sometimes good men do things that go against what is considered socially acceptable. He knows in other parts of the world dealing in handguns isn't a crime at all. Not really,” he said as an afterthought. “I mean, in America, for example, lots of people own guns. Twenty-one year-olds can walk into pawn shops and purchase handguns. Eighteen year-olds can purchase rifles,” he added as she scoffed.
“Yes, but we aren't Americans, and this isn't the United States, which is exactly what they will be told right before they’re hauled off to prison,” she said, her voice thick as she swiped stubbornly at the tears that slowly trickled down her cheeks.
“Okay,” he murmured, as he rose from the overstuffed leather couch. He crossed to her, pulling her in close and inhaling deeply. “I know that you're worried, but I promise you nothing bad is going to happen.”
“How can you possibly promise such a thing?” she asked in accusation. “How can you know that nothing bad is going to happen?”
Daniel swallowed hard as he began to slowly massage up and down her back. He tried not to enjoy too much the way her body melted so easily against his. “I suppose I can't promise you anything Cait, but I can tell you that I have full confidence in our family. They have their reasons for the life they lead and no amount of shame or begging on anyone's part will change their ways. And frankly, I don't think they need to be changed. What you have within you is the moral code that was ushered on to you by society, but moral codes change. Popular opinions change in a hundred years. Who knows what will be considered legal or illegal in our country then? The important thing that we need to focus on is that we have two parents who love us and that your father in particular has gone out of his way to shield you and protect you from what he knew would ultimately hurt you.”
She shook her head, pulled away from him, and began to examine his surprisingly empty apartment. “How long have you known?” she asked, her voice hollow.
