Chapter Twenty-Five
Alannah
I sit at the kitchen table with Grandda’s ledger open in front of me, working my way through the receipts his men left for me earlier.
My tea and the pot sit nearby. Every few lines, I reach for the cup, letting the warmth sink into my fingers.
The weather has been bitter these past few weeks, and even with the range always going, there’s still a chill in the house.
The back door swings open, letting in a rush of cold air before Catríona strides in.
She kicks it shut behind her, unwinds her scarf, and hangs her coat on the hook by the door.
Then she drops into the chair across from me, folds her arms on the table, and lays her head on them.
I write the next figure into the ledger without looking up.
When I carry on as though she isn’t there, Catríona lets out a long groan.
This isn’t the first time she’s arrived like this.
Heck, it isn’t even the first time this month.
There’s no point asking what’s wrong. I already know.
Another of her da’s men must have come by to talk business, his daughter in tow, hoping Finn might take an interest and a match would come of it.
Catríona told me her da had promised neither she nor Finn would ever be forced into a match, but that hasn’t stopped the steady parade of daughters through their front room.
Finn usually finds some reason to disappear, leaving Catríona to entertain the girl on her own.
Lately, she’s taken to coming here afterward to tell me all about it.
I know how much she hates being left with them, but she gets so woeful about the whole thing that I can’t help finding it funny.
The last time I laughed, I had to listen to her complain about that too.
She groans again, louder this time, and I smother a smile. Fine. I get the picture. I finish the line I’m on before setting down my pen and getting another cup from the dresser. When I fill it from the pot and set it beside her, Catríona straightens. “Thanks,” she grumbles before taking a sip.
I nod and pick up my own tea. “How long was it this time?”
Just like that, her sulk vanishes, replaced by a smirk that makes her look far too pleased with herself. “They’re still there. Mam took pity on me and let me go.”
I laugh. “Was Finn home this time?”
Her smirk turns wicked. “Oh, he was. I expect he’s still in the front room entertaining Clare and her da. He watched me leave like I was abandoning him to his death.”
I shake my head, still laughing. “Well, you did abandon him, Catríona.”
She blows a raspberry at me. “Those girls aren’t there to see me, Lannie. Besides, he’s abandoned me twice this month. It was my turn.”
“I suppose that’s fair.” I hide another smile behind my cup. “Though I doubt Finn sees it that way.”
“He’ll survive.” Catríona reaches for the pot and tops up her tea. “After he slipped out the back as soon as Teresa and her da arrived last week, he’s lucky I didn’t—”
The front door bangs open before she can finish, and an angry voice carries down the hall. Catríona looks toward the hallway, then back at me. “That’s Róisín.”
Another voice cuts through hers, loud and rough. Declan. Our eyes meet for a split second, then we push back our chairs and hurry into the hall as their argument grows louder.
“You can’t keep it from her forever,” Róisín snaps.
“It’s not her place to know,” Declan fires back.
Catríona frowns. “What’s gotten into those two?”
I’ve no idea, but I’ve a feeling we’re about to find out. We round the corner and find Róisín and Declan at each other, both red-faced and shouting over one another. They break off when they see us.
Catríona folds her arms over her chest and fixes them both with a look. “Will someone tell us what you’re on about?”
Declan looks away. Róisín doesn’t. “Alannah—”
“Leave it,” Declan cuts in. “This isn’t your business.”
Róisín rounds on him. “She deserves to know.”
Declan runs a hand through his hair. “Keep out of it,” he mutters to Róisín. “And how did you know, anyway?”
“I heard the men talking,” she shoots back. “They weren’t exactly quiet.”
I’ve seen Róisín and Declan row before, but never like this.
My eyes move between them as the argument snaps back and forth until they catch on Declan’s hands, clenched at his sides, the skin across his knuckles split and bruised.
He sees where I’m looking. “Shit,” he mutters, tucking them behind his back.
“What is it?” I ask quietly. Neither of them answers. I look from one to the other. “What’s happened?” I ask, louder this time.
Róisín steps toward me just as Declan reaches out to stop her. “Your husband is here.”
I just stare at her, certain I’ve heard her wrong. “What?”
“Ronin Byrne,” she says. “He came across from Boston.”
The room tilts around me. “No. No, that’s not—”
“He’s been here three days,” Róisín cuts me off.
Three days.
I turn to Declan, waiting for him to deny it, to tell me she’s wrong. Instead, he just shakes his head, not looking at me.
“You’re mistaken,” I say, my voice barely above a whisper. “Ronin’s in Boston.”
“No,” Róisín says quietly, her expression softening into something like pity. “He isn’t.”
My stomach turns. “I don’t understand,” I whisper. “Then where is he?”
Róisín opens her mouth to answer, but Declan speaks first. “In the shed.”
My knees go weak, and Catríona catches me by the elbow. “The shed?” I breathe.
“Declan!” Róisín screams.
“What?” he bites out. “You were about to tell her anyway.”
“I wasn’t about to throw it at her like that.” Róisín flings the words back at him, then turns to me, her voice gentler. “Lannie, all I know is that he’s here and Grandda has him in the shed. Truly. That’s all.”
“That’s more than enough,” Declan mutters under his breath.
Róisín whips around and gets right in his face. “For you, maybe.”
“You had no right to tell her!” he shouts back.
“She had a right to know!”
“And what good is it doing her now?”
Catríona lets go of my arm and pushes between them, turning on Declan too.
The argument erupts again, all three of them yelling at each other while I stand there staring, their words blurring together until I can’t follow any of it.
Ronin is here. Ronin is in Ireland. Ronin is in my grandda’s shed.
The words keep turning over and over in my head until they hardly sound like words at all.
Then I hear myself say, “I think... I think I’ll go upstairs. ”
Róisín turns back to me at once. “Alannah—”
“I’m all right,” I say softly, but it doesn’t sound convincing, even to me. “I just need a little time to myself.” No one tries to stop me. I leave them in the hall and go upstairs, closing my bedroom door behind me.
***
I spend the rest of the afternoon in my room with Róisín and Declan’s words circling in my head. Ronin’s not in Boston. He’s here. In Ireland. He’s been here three days. Three days. Dear Lord, what is he doing here?
By the time Grandmam calls up that dinner’s ready, I’m no more prepared to see Grandda than I was when I came upstairs.
I’m not ready to sit across from him knowing what I know, and definitely not ready to talk about it when I still haven’t sorted out how I feel.
Still, I push myself to my feet and leave the room.
Downstairs, the kitchen is warm from the range, and the smell of dinner fills the room. Grandmam is setting the last dish on the table when I come in, and Grandda looks up from his chair. “Just in time, Alannah girl,” Grandmam says. “Come and sit yourself down.”
I manage a small smile. “I’m sorry, Grandmam. I ate with Catríona earlier, so I’m not very hungry.” I hate how easily the lie comes. “I think I’ll go for a walk, if that’s all right. I could use some fresh air.”
Grandmam studies me as though she might say something more, then nods. “All right, pet. Just don’t be long. It’s cold out there.”
“I won’t.” I brush a quick kiss to Grandmam’s cheek, tug on my coat, and hurry out the door before either of them can stop me.
A cold gust of wind hits me as soon as I step outside, and I pull my hat and gloves from my pockets, slipping them on as I hurry down the lane. At the end of it, where it opens out to the water, I climb onto the low stone wall and look out at the dark sea, the tide rolling in against the shore.
It’s always been easier to breathe out here. Easier to think. Since coming home, I’ve spent so much time sitting on this wall turning things over in my head that I’d almost started to believe I was finding my way back to myself.
But that was before I knew Ronin was here.
Just knowing that is enough to make the peace I’ve worked so hard to find feel paper-thin.
I had told myself I was past it, past him, but sitting here now, I know I was wrong.
The truth is, in Boston my whole life had been wrapped up in him, in our families and their plans, in a future everyone seemed so certain I would have.
It had all felt fixed, as though the path had been laid down long before I was old enough to understand where it led, and all I had to do was follow along.
And I did. I trusted blindly and let myself be led where everyone expected me to go, telling myself I was being a good daughter.
A good girl. When really I was losing myself piece by piece and never saw how little say I had in any of it.
And that’s what hurts the most. I did everything that was expected of me, and I called it love.
And when it fell apart, I still sat in that chair at the reception and let them cut the cake.
But a good wife stays. But how could I have stayed after what he did to me?
I can’t make myself believe he ever truly loved me.
Not after the wedding. Not after what he did.
So why is he here? Maybe he’s come to ask for a divorce. Maybe he means to marry that woman instead. The thought turns my stomach, but not as much as knowing Grandda has had him in the shed for three days. Three days is a long time to be in my grandda’s shed.
I’ve never questioned my grandda. I know what sort of men are in my family, and I always have.
In Boston, it was no different. The violence of it, the lawlessness, the things that were done and never spoken of out loud, all of it was simply part of my life.
I never looked at it too closely because it never felt like it had anything to do with me.
But Ronin isn’t one of Grandda’s men. This isn’t some bit of business that has nothing to do with me. No. This has everything to do with me because Ronin is my husband. The word twists painfully in my chest.
Part of me wants to know why he came all this way.
Another part wishes I could go back to this morning, before I knew he was here at all.
Then Declan’s knuckles flash in my mind—the bruising, the split skin, the way he tried to hide them when he caught me looking.
I squeeze my eyes shut against the image, but it stays with me.
I can’t go back to not knowing, and I can’t sit out here forever wishing I could.
By the time I climb down from the wall, I’m frozen through, and the only thing I’m sure of is that I need to speak to Grandda. The clouds shift overhead, letting thin slices of moonlight fall across the lane as I make my way home.
When I step inside, I follow the low murmur of voices into the sitting room, where Grandda and Grandmam sit across from each other by the fire.
Grandmam’s knitting rests in her lap, her needles clicking as Grandda says something too low for me to hear.
She gives a quiet laugh as I reach the doorway, and they both look up.
“There you are,” Grandmam says, setting her knitting on the table and patting the space next to her on the sofa. “Come by the fire, pet. You’re frozen.”
I go over and sit beside her, leaning in to kiss her cheek before I turn to Grandda, my heart beating too hard. “Grandda,” I say quietly, “I was hoping to ask you something.”
He leans back in his chair, considering me. “Of course, Alannah girl.”
I look down at my lap and swallow, trying to find the words. Neither of them rushes me. “Róisín came by earlier,” I say at last. “She told me Ronin is here.” I lift my eyes to his. “That he’s in the shed.”
Grandmam draws in a sharp breath beside me. “Malachy! Don’t tell me you have that lad out in the shed. What were you thinking?”
Grandda keeps his eyes on me as he answers her. “I told him not to come, Maura,” he says evenly. “What was I to do when he did anyway?”
I turn that over in my head. Ronin came all this way even after being told not to. But that still doesn’t tell me why. “Did he say why he’s here?” I ask, hoping Grandda might know.
He gives a small shake of his head. “No, my girl. All I know is he wants to speak to you.”
Grandmam reaches over and takes my hand, giving it a light squeeze. “Whatever happens, pet, we’ll be right here with you.” Then she looks at Grandda, and something passes between them before she says, “I still don’t think him talking to her is a good idea.”
I let out a tired breath. “I don’t know what he could possibly have to say to me, or why he’d come all this way to say it.”
“Maybe nothing that matters,” Grandda replies. “Still, he says he came to speak with you.”
I think it over. I really don’t want to hear anything Ronin has to say, and I certainly don’t want to give him another chance to hurt me. But I don’t think I can turn him away and be left wondering what he wanted to tell me. At last, I say, “I think I need to speak with him.”
Grandda doesn’t try to talk me out of it. “If that’s what you want, I’ll manage it.”
My eyes fill, and before I can think better of it, I cross to him and sink to my knees beside his chair, resting my head in his lap the way I used to when I was little. His hand settles gently on my hair. “Thank you, Grandda,” I say, my voice small. “I don’t know what I’d do without you.”
He slowly brushes his fingers through my hair. “Ah, Alannah girl,” he says softly. “Your Grandmam and I are here. We’ll see you through it.”
His words only make me cry harder. I close my eyes and press closer. “I’m so scared,” I whisper, hating that after all these months, I still am.
His hand stills on my head, and I lift my face to look at him, finding his expression gentler than most ever see. “I know, girl,” he says quietly. “But at least after this, you’ll know.”
I nod and lower my head again, holding on to his words as best I can. For now, they’ll have to be enough.