Chapter 10
10
Taylor
M um, the kids and Ciaron looked at me expectantly. What Ciaron had done that night had been simple but effective in winning my heart. I’d never seen anyone stand up to my father like that. Most people were intimidated by his size. That’s probably why he hadn’t lasted with Mum. She wasn’t intimidated by much and he didn’t like that.
I made eye contact with Ciaron as we sat opposite each other. His gaze was smouldering, setting my nerve endings on fire. My fingers itched to touch him, to feel the heat of his skin against mine.
Would this moment be as defining for us as the story I was about to tell?
I stared at the ridiculously hot guy standing in front of me offering to go to my father’s with me. He was rough around the edges with his five o’clock shadow, rugged hands with a couple of scraped knuckles, tight jeans that hugged his muscular thighs and a tattoo on his arm that poked out the bottom of his jacket sleeve.
I almost laughed, imagining my stepmother’s reaction when she saw him. She’d either be swooning or she’d be appalled. Then she’d need to fan herself. It would be worth taking him home for that alone. But even my petty revenge wouldn’t extend to taking some random guy home.
“All good,” I said, dismissing his offer.
He shook his head. “Showing you a good time extends to chasing your demons away.”
I narrowed my eyes at him. “Why?”
“I’m a sucker for a pretty girl who needs help.”
“Look, whatever your name is. I don’t need some man playing hero. I just need to get through three more days, and I can go back home.”
He stuck out his hand. “Ciaron Murphy.”
I studied his hand like it might be contaminated. Funny, since I had no qualms about kissing him a minute ago. I shook his hand. “Nice to meet you, Ciaron.” I looked around the city. “I’m sure you have plenty of girls falling at your feet. Go help one of them.”
He set his jaw. “If I can trump you on the crappy family, will you spend the next three days with me?”
We’d gone from him going to the farm with me to spending three whole days together. Nothing like raising the stakes. What was there to lose? A few more minutes before I caught a train back to hell?
“Fine.”
“My father has been in and out of prison since I was two. The only time he is faithful to my mother is when he’s in.”
I stared at him. Was he telling the truth or making up a story to convince me?
“The only time my mother is faithful is when he’s out.”
I saw the pain flicker across his face. He wasn’t lying. I grabbed his hand and held it tight.
“I’m the oldest child of five. We all have different fathers. Each time she went off with a new man, I had another sibling to take care of.”
I didn’t have firsthand experience of what he was talking about, but the weight he bore was heavy on my shoulders as if I was a packhorse.
“How old were you the first time she left?”
The wind picked up. My hair whipped around my face. I ignored it, concentrating on him and the way his supple lips formed the words.
“The first time I was seven. By the time I was fifteen, I took her shifts at the bar so we could eat whenever she disappeared. It wasn’t legal, but the owner made it work.”
My insides were reeling. This man had grown up way faster than he needed to. What sort of mother does that?
“Is she still like that?” I feared the answer.
“She doesn’t disappear for months or weeks at a time now. Something happened. I don’t know what.”
He reached out and pushed my wild hair out of my face. His fingers were gentle as they brushed my cheek. Tingles followed as if my cheek was being kissed by a unicorn.
He’d trumped me on the crap family. I had no choice but to say, “You can spend three days with me.”
He grinned, and his green eyes creased at the corners. “I thought you’d never ask.”
We walked down the street. The buildings beside us were a mixture of old and modern. The contrast didn’t feel out of place; it suited the dynamic vibe of the city. Cars and double-decker busses passed us. The fumes made me miss the clean air of the farm. Their tyres left dry tracks on the otherwise damp road. I knew why it was so green here. Rain was never far away. I hadn’t seen a blue sky since I’d arrived.
And people, there were so many people. Dublin was nothing like home. Most of my days were spent on the farm. The only people we saw were our workers.
“Ugh, I never want to live in a city,” Isabelle said. “Too many people.”
Mum nodded. “They don’t even smile and they’re always in a rush to get to the next place.”
“Where would I ride my bike?” Callum said. “At least here I can just step outside, get on and go for a ride.”
I nodded. “These wide-open spaces are perfect for riding our horses.”
Was Ciaron going to say something? Tell us about something he liked better here? I held my breath, waiting for him to say something.
“You don’t know what you’re missing,” he said.
My heart dropped. I didn’t dare look at the children.
“Pollution, constant noise, drunk people, traffic. It’s got a lot going for it.”
I breathed a sigh of relief.
“Sounds dreamy,” Isabelle said, scrunching up her face.
“More like a nightmare,” Ciaron said. “I don’t miss it.” He nodded to me. “Keep going.”
Ciaron held onto my hand like he was never going to let me go.
“Let’s get my car and go meet crappy family number two.”
“You don’t have to do this,” I said. “I’m sure I’ll be OK.”
“If I’m going to marry you, I need to know what I’m getting myself into.”
I laughed and kissed him on the cheek. “You’re crazy.”
But not as crazy as me getting into a car with someone I’d just met. Did serial killer victims feel this safe when they met the person who would take their life? I asked myself this question and yet I still held his hand.
We stopped at an old red Toyota.
“It’s not much, but it’s mine,” Ciaron said.
“As long as we don’t break down in the middle of nowhere.”
“She hasn’t let me down yet. Where are we heading?”
“Killarney.”
He started the car, and we headed out of the city. The only reason I knew we were going the right way was because of the few signs I read.
“What sort of farm are we going to, exactly?”
“A horse farm. My father works there.”
“OK.”
“Do you like horses?”
I pressed my hands together between my legs. His answer meant more to me than it should. Horses were my life. I’d been born into a horse family and so would my future children.
“Haven’t met one.”
Reasonable, I guess. Most city people hadn’t.
“You’re in for a treat. They are the best thing on the farm.”
Excitement grew in me at the prospect of sharing his first horse experience with him.
“You’re not really selling it. It can’t be hard to beat your father and crappy family.”
I laughed. “Not as crappy as yours, though. My dad left my mum and me when I was twelve. Said he was homesick. I think he was sick of not being put first.”
I glanced out the window. Buildings were giving way to more and more green spaces as we left the centre of the city.
“That’s why you can understand my Irish accent. Foreigners usually struggle.”
I nodded. “A year later, he asked for a divorce because his new girlfriend was pregnant. He was so excited about starting a new family. I don’t think he thought how much it hurt me to know I was being replaced.”
“Parents can be arseholes.”
“I didn’t ring him after that. He only called on my birthday and Christmas. Then, out of the blue, he invited me to come and stay for a week.”
“And it hasn’t gone well?”
“No. The children are feral. I try to ignore them.”
“But?”
“Their mother is rude, and my father doesn’t say anything.”
He grunted. “Been there. It’s funny how much my mother’s attitude changes every time my father is in jail. When he’s out, she loves him and he’s the best man in the world. When he’s back in, it’s the opposite.”
I liked his mother less and less every time he spoke about her.
“How do you handle that?”
“It’s easier not to say anything, but sometimes I can’t hold it in, and I drive the point home that she always goes back to him.”
We continued talking the rest of the way to the farm. I told him about my peaceful life in Australia and my mother, who seemed to be the opposite of his. Even after my father had left, she’d kept my life stable, and she managed a successful farm. She didn’t hook up with every man who paid her a compliment. She never shirked her responsibility.
When we got to the farm, we were like old friends learning new things about each other.
“You can park over there,” I said, pointing to the side of the road opposite my father’s house. We parked and hopped out of the car. Behind the house were lush green paddocks with wooden fences. Some of the fences were lined with trees. And dotted around the paddocks were horses.
Ciaron’s eyes were wide as he gazed around at the wide-open space.
“What do you think?” I asked as I stood beside him.
“It’s like a city park but on steroids.” He took a deep breath, like he was savouring the fresh air.
“These are the maiden paddocks,” I said.
His eyebrows drew together.
“Maidens are mares who haven’t had babies yet.” I pointed to a paddock down the road. “That paddock has mares and their foals.”
Some mares were lying flat on their side.
“Are they OK? Why are they lying down?” Ciaron asked.
I smiled at the concern in his voice. This man noticed things that many other people would brush off and wasn’t afraid to ask questions.
“They’re sleeping. Horses can sleep standing up, but to get quality REM sleep, they lie down.”
He blushed.
I didn’t want him to be embarrassed, so I added, “Usually in the wild, other horses will be keeping watch close by to make sure the sleeping horses are safe.”
“None of the others seem to be watching the sleeping ones,” he noted.
“No. They all know they’re safe here.”
Isabelle laughed. “OMG. Dad, you still have a thing for sleeping horses.”
She had her elbows resting on the counter and her chin in her hands.
Callum chuckled. “How many times do we have to stop so you can watch a sleeping horse to make sure it’s OK?”
“There’s nothing wrong with being observant,” I remarked. Even though I found his sleeping horse antics amusing.
“If I wasn’t observant, I would never have noticed your mother drifting down Liffey River.”
“And you two wouldn’t exist,” Mum said.
“And that would be a tragedy,” Ciaron said, smiling at them both.
“A big tragedy,” I agreed. “We would have no one to tell this story to.”
Not kissing Ciaron would have been a tragedy. Missing out on loving him would be a tragedy. And missing out on sex with him?—
“Keep going, Mum,” Callum said. He and Isabelle shared a look.
I shifted in my seat. I needed to keep my mind on the task at hand.
Running footsteps approached. I turned to see Laoise, my eight-year-old half-sister, a red-haired girl with pigtails, running up to us. My seven-year-old half-brother, Sean, was right behind.
“Who are you?” she asked Ciaron.
I tensed. Did she have to be so rude? OK, maybe I was overreacting. Kids were always curious and forthright with their questions.
“This is my friend Ciaron,” I said.
She looked him up and down with a screwed-up mouth, like she had tasted something sour. “Who said you could bring friends to my house?”
I wanted to screw my face up at her. Rude little shit.
“I’m not just Taylor’s friend. I’m her boyfriend.”
She shot off hollering for our father. Sean followed her lead.
I stared after her, not moving my feet to follow. “That was my sister Laoise. Pleasant, isn’t she?”
He rolled his eyes, then took my hand. “Best we go meet my future in laws.”
I chuckled and led him towards the house. Dinner would not be boring with him there. And playing the game of being an engaged couple would add some excitement.
“This is going to be a shit storm,” I said.
He shrugged. “It depends on them.”
My father, a big, burly, brown-haired man, came out of the house. He puffed his chest out as he strode towards us. Orla, his wife, was in his wake, struggling to keep up with him, her face red and patchy. Orla’s eyes narrowed at the sight of Ciaron, and her brow furrowed. Their eyes flicked between me and Ciaron and then our hands. My father was much better at hiding his distaste than Laoise was. But his tight lips gave him away.
“Dad, Orla, this is Ciaron Murphy. Ciaron, this is my dad, John and his wife, Orla.”
Ciaron stuck his hand out. “Nice to meet you, sir.”
Dad shook it gruffly and then addressed me. “Your sister said he’s your boyfriend.”
I nodded and smiled at Ciaron. He squeezed my hand and gave me a wink. It lit me up from the inside. This man gave me the first bit of comfort and joy I’d felt since I’d arrived in Ireland.
“She wants to take it slow, but she will be my betrothed by the end of the week.”
Orla’s mouth dropped open. She recovered quickly and snapped it shut. Dad grunted and turned on his heel. So typical. I wanted to roll my eyes, but saw that Orla was studying us closely. Her gaze lingered on Ciaron’s jacket and boots and then strayed to his old car. She smirked. I clenched my teeth. Judgemental bitch.
“Come in, Ciaron. Any friend of Taylor’s is a friend of ours.”
She led the way into the house, her chin high. A shit storm was coming alright.
“Come, sit at the table. I was just about to serve up dinner. Taylor, set a place for Ciaron.” Her eyes strayed to Ciaron again. I knew they would. He was just that type of guy; he caught your attention. But the way she cocked her head while studying him was weird.
Dinner started benign enough. The normal get-to-know-you questions.
“Where do you live, Ciaron?” Orla asked.
“Sheriff Street.”
“Oh.”
“Do you know it?” Ciaron asked.
“Everyone knows Sheriff Street.” Her voice was disparaging. She held her hand to her chest. It must have been a rough part of Dublin. I suspect she already knew that by the way she had catalogued everything about him earlier.
I snuck a glance at Ciaron, who was resting against the back of his chair, relaxed. He smiled at me.
“Where do you work?” Orla asked.
She studied his tattoo. I could see it clearly now that his jacket was off, and his sleeves were pushed up his forearm. Reaching from above his wrist was a mixture of Celtic knots, vines and clovers that stretched up and around a Celtic cross that was showcased on his mid-forearm. The cross was like delicate ironwork with a green shamrock at its heart, where an emerald would sit.
“At one of the local pubs, The Shamrock.”
Orla nodded, her eyes calculating. “Mmm.”
What was she up to? Dad downed a beer and got another one. He didn’t offer one to Ciaron.
Laoise piped up. “Do you have horses?”
Ciaron shook his head.
She screwed her nose up. “Why would she want to marry you?”
I took Ciaron’s hand. “Because he’s nice.”
He didn’t seem bothered by their questions or their attitude. But I was.
“Oh, I’m sure he is,” Orla said. “And strong. You have to be coming from Sheriff Street.”
“Dad always said if horses could marry, she’d marry one,” Laoise said. “Same as her mam.”
Orla smirked. I shifted in my seat.
“Lucky for me, you can’t marry horses,” Ciaron said. “Looks like she’s stuck with me.”
“Sounds like you have the Longmire curse,” Dad said. He downed half his pint in one gulp.
“The what?” Ciaron asked.
“Your dick is under a spell. Like mine was with her mother. But it will dry up pretty soon and the fantasy will be over.”
My potato lodged in my throat. I coughed to loosen it. My face was burning with embarrassment.
Ciaron placed his knife and fork down. “That’s not a polite way to speak about Taylor or her mother.”
My father shrugged. “Just stating the truth.”
“John, not in front of the children,” Orla said.
He took another swig of his beer. “We’re all fucking friends here, aren’t we?” He guffawed raucously. “Ha Ha. Get it. Fucking?” He stared at me. “Didn’t take you long. Just like your mother.”
I flinched. Bile rose in my throat.
Ciaron stood up and shoved his chair away. “I’d like to say it was nice to meet you, but that would be a lie.” He grabbed my hand and pulled me up. “Taylor, go pack your things.”
I nodded and made my way to the room near the stairs, listening to the conversation behind me.
“You can have her, but mark my words, you’ll be back in Ireland soon enough.”
I poked my head out the door between throwing things into my suitcase.
Ciaron was glaring at my father. “You know what your problem is? You’re a loser. You couldn’t stand being with a well-respected, successful woman.” He glanced around the table. “So, you had to settle for second best. You can keep your wife and your little brats.”
Orla gasped.
Holy shit! My heart raced as I grabbed the rest of my things, still watching as much as I could. I needed to see this family put in their place.
Ciaron turned on Orla. “Don’t try to pretend you’re better than me.” He lifted his lips in a knowing smile. “How many times have you been to the Shamrock Pub?”
She opened her mouth and closed it without uttering a word.
I checked the room one last time before I made my way back to the dining room. I must have set a record for packing, which was probably a good thing, as it was getting tenser by the minute.
Ciaron turned as I approached. Then he gave them all one last look. “Don’t expect an invitation to the wedding.”
He met me and we walked out hand in hand. We shoved my suitcase in the back and hopped in the car.
I leant over and kissed him. “Thank you.”
“I hope this car will start.”
“She hasn’t failed you yet.” I laughed until I cried, probably from relief. We drove into the village.
“How about some dinner and a room for the night?”
“So you can show me a good time?” I joked.
“Anything would have to be better than that.”
At the conclusion of the story, Mum smiled broadly at Ciaron. “When Taylor told me that story, I knew you were the man for her.”
The kids beamed with what I could only describe as pride. In all their lives, they’d only seen their dad angry a handful of times. When he was angry, he meant it.
Like the day we’d argued, and he’d left.
I snuck a look at his tattoo. At his wrist was the traditional Claddagh—two hands embracing a heart adorned with a crown—the symbol of love, loyalty and friendship. He got it in the three days we spent together before I returned to Australia. It matched the ring he gave me, which I still wore on my finger.
Love, loyalty and friendship. As if that man would ever cheat on me. His loyalty and love had never wavered.
I raised my eyes to his. He was watching me. My heart leaped.
We chatted through and after dinner. It was like old times, laughing with Mum and the kids. I missed this—our togetherness. It’s amazing what you appreciate after it was gone. Perhaps that was a problem the world over, that people didn’t appreciate what they have enough.
Ciaron stood up. “I’m heading to bed. Got an early start tomorrow. Caslicks are coming out.”
Mum set her wine glass down. “I’ll meet you down at the crush. Seeing I’m here, I may as well help.”
He smiled. “You sure are earning your keep. First dinner, then getting the kids to do chores and now farm work.”
“Is that elderly abuse?” Callum asked.
Mum’s head whipped around. “Who are you calling old?”
Callum shrugged.
Mum stood and put her wine glass in the sink. She shook her head at Callum. “I’ll remember this, Callum.”
Isabelle laughed. “I’m back to being the favourite.”
Callum frowned. “Nanna doesn’t have favourites.”
Mum squeezed Isabelle’s shoulders as she headed for the door. “I’m going home now, Callum. You better think of a way to make this up to me.”
He nodded. I could practically see the cogs turning.
We all bid each other goodnight. I followed Ciaron to our room. My hands were sweating again. I imagined him turning on his heel, stalking towards me and kissing me like that first day. I’d wrap my legs around his waist, and he’d push me against the wall, kissing me. His tongue would stroke mine, eliciting a whimper from me as I begged for more.
He didn’t.
He continued to our room and stood beside the bed. I made my way around him and grabbed my PJs from where I’d thrown them this morning. I glanced at Ciaron and then at the bathroom. “I’m going to get changed.”
For over twenty years, we’d gotten naked and dressed in front of each other. I’d loved sneaking a look at the man who’d won my heart. When did I stop doing that? And why? I didn’t find him less attractive. He may have been less toned now, but he still had nice muscles and a nice arse and strong broad shoulders and a big dick. Big.
I shook my head, blushing furiously, even though I was alone. Enough with the dick thoughts. Having sex was not going to fix things. It might not even ease the tension at this rate.
I brushed my teeth, killing time so Ciaron could get changed. The vanity was full again now. His things next to mine, where they belonged. I’d hoped our origin story might reawaken his senses. The way he looked at me suggested it did, but he didn’t act on it. I spat my toothpaste out.
When I went back out, Ciaron was sitting on the bed in his PJs. He looked in my direction without making eye contact and then made his way past me. He was so close I could reach out and touch him. I could pull him towards me, if only to feel his touch, his warmth. To remind myself he was here with me. To remind him I still loved him. That our love hadn’t dried up.
I didn’t. He stepped into the bathroom and shut the door.
When he came back and he hopped into bed, I avoided making eye contact. We were lying so far apart there may as well be an electric fence separating us. But jeez, that fence was powerful. Electric current jumped the gap, sparking across my body.
I let out a nervous laugh, which was more like a bark. “The first night we spent
together was easier than this. At least we knew our boundaries then.”
Quietness. Nothing. No response. Was he going to say something?
“You telling me that if I tried anything you would handle me like a 500kg horse probably had something to do with it,” he said.
I smiled. “You were so cocky when you whispered ‘define anything’ into my ear.” I spoke to the ceiling instead of turning to him. It felt safer that way, not too personal, even though we were sharing a fond memory and a bed. Even though I wanted to touch him.
He laughed. “And then you ‘handled’ me so quickly I didn’t understand how I landed on the floor.”
“But you weren’t fazed at all. You got straight back up, wrapped your arm around me and went to sleep.”
“It was the best sleep I’d had in years.”
I knew now it was because he always slept with one ear open to protect his family. But when he was with me, that pressure disappeared, and he felt serenity. Would he feel that serenity tonight?
I wanted to reach my hand out to his but kept it still against my thigh. Sharing memories could be just that. We couldn’t reconnect unless we spoke about our problems. If only we hadn’t lost our way. If only I hadn’t thought the farm was more important. Do I work backward to address my failures? Would it even make a difference? I had to try. I had to fight. For us.
“Ciaron?”
“Aye.”
I stared into the darkness. I wanted to face him, but if he rejected me, I wouldn’t be able to hide my pain.
“I’m sorry I accused you of cheating.” I inhaled deeply and ploughed on. “I could tell you at least ten reasons why I did it. But nothing excuses it.”
In my peripheral vision, Ciaron turned his head to me. He deserved the same from me. I bit my lip before facing him.
“Out of all the things you have done, that has hurt the most.”
Tears welled in my eyes. “I know. I’m sorry.”
“Can you tell me one of the reasons why?”
“When I saw you so happy and free, I was scared that I’d lost you forever.” My voice trembled. It was at that moment, when I said those hateful words, that I’d lost him completely.
“Thank you for apologising.” His voice was flat. He rolled over, his back turned to me.
I let the tears fall silently.
I’d broken his heart and his spirit. I wouldn’t blame him if he wanted to go back to Ireland. He said he didn’t. And I had to believe that, because our reconciling should not be because of my fear that he might leave. It wasn’t, though. I loved Ciaron. My life was empty without him. As empty as his shelves were when he left.
I closed my eyes and imagined Ciaron embracing me like that first night when I’d felt safe and had no concerns about our future. His hands hadn’t wandered that night, but I wouldn’t stop them now. I wouldn’t stop him from doing anything.