Back in the Saddle (Diamond Firetail Farm)

Chapter 22

22

Taylor

C iaron was right. Isabelle jumped at the chance to go dress shopping. And Mum and Mary were all too happy to join us.

“It was so good of Ciaron to give you the day off,” Mary said.

I gripped the steering wheel. She didn’t say how good it had been for me to give him a day off. “The whole day was his idea, actually.”

And I loved him for it. Every day, I loved him more. I’m sure he had doubts about whether we could make it work, but not once did I feel them from him. Every day he gave me more. And when I’d told him how my talk had gone with Isabelle, he’d reminded me that actions speak louder than words. And he hadn’t been accusatory. He’d simply said it to help me, to help us.

“Ciaron has always been a good boy. Always helpful and caring. That’s how you met, wasn’t it? He thought you needed saving?” Mary said from the backseat.

I rolled my eyes and then noticed Isabelle watching me in the mirror. I held my tongue, like always. Ciaron did save me that day because of the person he was, but that wasn’t why we’d met. He didn’t look at me and think I’d needed saving. And I didn’t beg him to help me. I wasn’t some damsel in distress. Unlike her. How many days did she cry when he was leaving, begging him to stay because she couldn’t do it all alone? Perhaps she should have thought of that before she’d had so many children to all those different men who couldn’t, or wouldn’t, step up to the father plate.

How many times had Ciaron been both father and mother to his brothers? When he was just nine, she’d left him alone to look after his one-year-old brother Seamus for weeks. She’d left a nine-year-old to look after a baby. She did the same with Ronan, Billy and Tommy. Ciaron had looked after all of them. And not just on her little trips away, but when she was home as well.

There was no way in hell he was going to let those boys be taken away and separated. He got smarter each time. He’d hide food in the back of the cupboard so they could eat in the time she was away, and he took small amounts of money and put that away too. He was a fucking child looking after children while she went out and had a good time.

He gave those boys more love than he’d ever received. And never received any recognition for it. She’d never thanked him. Nothing.

I needed to let it go. Being judgemental was not helping me.

I took a deep breath and let the silence stretch out. It would be safer if I didn’t answer.

Isabelle faced Mary. “They didn’t meet because Mum needed saving, Mamo. But Mum fell in love with Dad because of it.”

Twice in two days she’d stuck up for me. I don’t know if she’d read her Mamo’s intentions or whether she was simply saying it the way it was, but it was reassuring. It gave me hope that she saw the good in me. I don’t know if Mary never saw the good in me because she was threatened by me or she thought I wasn’t enough for Ciaron. I didn’t have the same issue with his father.

Ciaron and I walked into a large room with grey chairs and tables bolted to the floor. He guided me to a table where a man sat on his own wearing a white t-shirt and blue pants. There were other prisoners in the room dressed similarly. Three guards were standing near the walls.

He looked up and smiled and it was like I was looking at an older Ciaron—same brown wavy hair with a decent amount of grey, cheeky green eyes but surrounded with wrinkles, lips that quirked the same way as Ciaron’s. He glanced between Ciaron and me, a smile emerging.

He stood and embraced Ciaron. “Son, so good to see you.”

His accent was one of the strongest I’d encountered. Before Ciaron had a chance to say anything, his dad pulled me into a hug and said over my shoulder, “And who is this beautiful cailín?”

“I’m Taylor. It’s nice to meet you, Mr Murphy.”

“Call me Patrick.”

So far this was so much nicer than meeting Mrs Murphy. Ciaron had warned me that even though it was a low security prison, visiting rules were tough. We weren’t supposed to have physical contact with the prisoners, but neither Mr Murphy nor the guards seemed to care.

He let me go and cocked his head. “Where are you from then?”

“Australia.”

“Sit. Sit. Tell me everything. Tell me about the lady who is about to steal my son away.”

I considered him. How did he know that?

He grinned. “When you spend time inside these boring walls you learn to notice things.”

Ciaron and I sat next to each other, holding hands.

“First, Ciaron has never brought a girl here before.”

Ciaron’s grip firmed on my hand.

“Second, Ciaron has a new tattoo, a Claddagh, with your name in it.”

Ciaron glanced at his wrist.

“Serious stuff a Claddagh. Next, you are not only beautiful, but brave. You weren’t scared of my arms around you.”

“Ciaron wouldn’t ask me to meet you if it wasn’t safe.”

“Aye.” He pointed to my hand, which was wearing a Claddagh ring. “Serious stuff.”

We spoke about how we met, and Patrick hung onto every word.

“When are you leaving, son?”

“As soon as I can.”

Patrick nodded, his eyes solemn. “Does your mother know?”

“Aye.”

He kept eye contact with Ciaron. “This cailín is your future boy. Do not let your mother take this from you.”

“I won’t, Dad.”

Patrick knew exactly what Mary was like. We found out later the only reason he went back to her every time he was out of jail was for Ciaron. He wanted him to have a father, well, the best father he could be, and wanted him to have freedom. He didn’t go back after Ciaron left.

As we walked into the first op shop, Mary said, “What are we doing at a charity shop? I thought we were going dress shopping.”

“We are Mamo,” Isabelle said. “I bet we find some good ones here.”

Mary’s eyes narrowed. “I can buy you a new dress if your mother doesn’t have money.”

Did she have to be so condescending?

I looped my arm through Isabelle’s. “Isabelle likes shopping at op shops. She often finds things you can’t get anywhere else.”

Mum followed behind. “I think what you’re wearing now came from here, didn’t it, Isabelle?”

Isabelle nodded. The skirt and top she was wearing were a sweet, flowing boho style. It matched her hair, which was haphazardly braided. I had no idea how you could make hair look so messy but perfect.

“Oh yes, that’s lovely,” Mary said.

By the time we’d finished at the third op shop, Isabelle had two dresses and a few other things. She’d chosen a dress for me that she declared her father would love because it was an olive green like the hat I wore the day we met. Mary neither agreed nor disagreed, although she had an almost imperceptible sneer. She didn’t buy anything on the premise that her suitcase was full already.

We finished off our outing with a late lunch of sandwiches at a local park. Although we hadn’t spent much at the op shops, I didn’t want to spend what we could save. A simple lunch was our best option. In good years, we would have gone to a local winery, but this was not a good year. Mary didn’t say anything; although I had the feeling she was less than impressed.

Well, she could stay that way. I wasn’t here to impress her. I was here to rebuild my relationship with the man I loved and the children who were my everything. I hung on to Patrick’s words about not letting Mary take our future away from us. Ciaron had been strong enough over twenty years ago, and I would be strong enough now.