Epilogue II
Ronin
The yard is full of colour now, autumn bright in the maples and carried across the grass every time the wind comes off the water.
Inside, the house is warm and smells of fresh bread, roasted meat, and the apple cake Alannah insisted on making because she knows my mother likes it.
She’s been on her feet since first thing this morning, moving between the kitchen and the dining room with her sleeves rolled to her elbows, checking on the food and making sure the table is exactly how she wants it.
More than once, I’ve seen her press a hand to her lower back, but every time I tell her to sit down, she finds one more thing that needs doing.
When I finally come up behind her and rub the spot myself, she lets out a quiet sigh and leans back against me.
“Terrible thing,” I murmur near her ear, “having a husband who wants you to sit down for five minutes.”
I know she only wants everything just right because she’s nervous.
Both of our parents are coming to visit today, and it’ll be the first time she’s seen any of them since the wedding.
When she came home, my da offered to handle business for a while so we could have time to ourselves, and I didn’t argue.
We took it. A honeymoon on Cape Cod. A month later, a few quiet days in the Berkshires.
Mornings in bed, walks by the water, evenings where no one needed anything from us but each other.
It’s been good for her. Good for us. But I hate that she’s working herself tired trying to make today perfect.
We were meant to do this sooner. She hadn’t planned to go this long after coming back to Boston without seeing them, but after the wedding, while I was at my da’s handing things over before we left for Cape Cod, she called her grandparents in Ireland.
I didn’t even know she’d been thinking of doing it.
When I came home, she scared the hell out of me.
I found her curled up on our bed, crying so hard she could only get the story out between sobs.
She’d managed little more than hello before her grandda stopped her.
He told her he loved her, but she’d made her choice, and it hadn’t been them.
Now she’d have to live with it. Then he hung up.
After that, she got cold feet about seeing everyone. I couldn’t blame her. For a while, every time we talked about inviting them over, she’d find a reason to wait a little longer. Then, a few days ago, she told me she was ready.
I glance at my watch, then toward the front door. They should be here any minute. As if the thought summons them, a knock sounds at the door.
Alannah is setting out the water glasses when she turns sharply at the sound, a glass still in her hand.
She makes no move to put it down, so I cross the room and take it from her, setting it on the table before pulling her into my arms. “We’ve got this,” I murmur into her hair.
Another knock comes, louder this time. Impatient fuckers.
I let her go, take her hand, and lead her toward the door.
Her fingers tighten around mine as she gives the room one last nervous look, checking that nothing is out of place.
I barely have the door open before Siobhán hurries inside, already crying as she pulls Alannah into her arms and holds on like she’s afraid Alannah might disappear.
Alannah stiffens at first, her wide, startled eyes meeting mine over her mother’s shoulder.
Then her face crumples, and she clings to her mother just as tightly.
I leave them to it and step aside to let everyone else in.
My mother comes through with tears already running down her cheeks, her hands clasped tightly in front of her like she’s holding herself back from reaching for Alannah too.
I kiss her cheek before shaking Seamus’s hand.
My da comes in last, giving me a pat on the shoulder as he passes.
By the time everyone is inside, Siobhán is wiping Alannah’s cheeks with both thumbs.
The moment she lets her go, my mother gathers Alannah into her arms. “I’m so sorry, my girl,” she whispers as they sway slightly. “I’m so sorry.”
Alannah turns to Seamus. He opens his arms without a word, and she goes straight into them. He holds her tight against his chest and kisses the top of her head. “I’ve missed you, Alannah girl,” he says, his voice gruff.
When Seamus lets her go, my da steps forward and hugs her. Alannah looks as surprised as I feel. My da has never been a man for displays like this, but he kisses her cheek before stepping back. “Good to have you home, lass,” he says quietly.
Alannah comes back to my side, wiping at her face with one hand while the other goes to the pocket of her apron.
She comes up empty, and I pull a handkerchief from my own pocket before she can start looking anywhere else.
I’d known she would forget. She takes it with a small, watery laugh and dabs beneath her eyes.
“Come on,” I say, looking around at all of them before nodding toward the sitting room.
“Let’s sit before we all spend the whole afternoon crying in the hall. ”
Alannah nods. “Yes. Dinner’s nearly ready, but we can sit for a while first.”
We move into the sitting room together. I’d already set out tea on the coffee table because Alannah’s been drinking it by the pot lately, though her mam and mine both ask for wine.
Alannah pours herself tea while I go to the bar cart and fix drinks for everyone else.
Once everyone is settled, I take the seat beside her on the loveseat, close enough that her side rests against mine.
At first, everyone talks about the house and the drive over, anything but the wedding.
Siobhán hasn’t touched her wine. She keeps looking at Alannah until she finally says, “I’m sorry.
” Once she starts, the apologies come pouring out.
Alannah listens with both hands wrapped around her teacup, crying quietly as they tell her how sorry they are.
For the wedding. For not standing by her when it mattered.
For leaving her feeling like the only thing she could do was run.
When they finally fall quiet, she shakes her head.
“I forgive you,” she says. “All of you. I just want us to move forward now. As a family.”
After that, the questions come quickly. About Ireland.
About coming home. About our trip to Cape Cod.
I only half listen while I’m talking with my da about what’s been happening at the docks and when I mean to come back properly.
Alannah answers each question, taking little sips of her tea between them, until Seamus asks if she’s spoken to his parents since returning to Boston.
I feel her stiffen beside me, and I step in before she has to answer.
“She spoke to them after the wedding,” I say.
“And they made their feelings clear. Let’s not ruin today by talking about them. ” My tone leaves no room for argument.
Before anyone can say anything more, the timer goes off in the kitchen.
Alannah sets her teacup down and gets to her feet.
“Dinner’s ready,” she says. “If you all want to head into the dining room, I’ll bring everything out.
” She starts toward the kitchen, and both our mothers follow, insisting they’ll help.
My da, Seamus, and I make our way into the dining room.
A few minutes later, Alannah and our mothers start bringing in the food she’s spent all morning preparing.
With the last dish on the table, she takes the seat beside me, and we all help ourselves.
I look around the table at both our families, Alannah beside me, and it hits me all over again how lucky I am to have any of this back. I wasn’t sure we ever would.
Everyone compliments the food, and Alannah’s cheeks go pink from all the praise. Once everyone has finished eating, she asks if anyone wants coffee or tea with dessert.
Siobhán looks to Seamus. “Oh, the cherry pie. Will you get it from the car?” Then she smiles at Alannah. “I made your favourite.”
Seamus pushes his chair back. “I’ll get it.”
I follow Alannah into the kitchen and help her bring everything out for dessert. We’re setting it on the table when Seamus comes back in with the pie.
Siobhán cuts a generous slice and sets it in front of Alannah. “Here you go, darling.” Alannah starts to thank her, but the colour drains from her face before she can get the words out. One hand flies to her mouth as she pushes back from the table and hurries from the room.
Everyone looks at me. I take a sip of coffee. “Don’t worry. She’ll be all right. It’s been happening off and on for a bit now.” A moment later, I hear water running upstairs, then her footsteps on the stairs.
When Alannah comes back into the dining room, I stand and move to her side.
“I’m sorry,” she says, looking around the table.
“I had no idea cherries would set me off like that. Some smells have been making me sick lately.” She turns slightly toward me, and I realize she must have taken her apron off upstairs.
There’s nothing hiding the small curve of her stomach now, more noticeable on her slight frame, and I hear both our mothers draw in sharp, surprised breaths when they see it.
Alannah looks up at me, a question in her eyes. I nod, and she turns back to the table, nervous and smiling all at once. “Congratulations,” she says softly. “You’re going to be grandparents.”
Then Siobhán is on her feet, both hands covering her mouth as she starts to cry. My mother follows a heartbeat later, and everyone seems to move at once as both women hurry around the table.
Alannah laughs through her tears as they reach for her, one hand resting on her belly. My da pulls me into a hug and claps me on the back. “Congratulations, son.”
Seamus reaches for my hand, then pulls me into a hug too. “Congratulations, lad,” he says, his voice thick. “And thank you for bringing her home.”
I look over his shoulder at my wife. “That was all her.” She’s standing between our mothers with tears on her cheeks, smiling like she can hardly believe the joy around her. Looking at her now, I know there were days I wasn’t sure we’d get here.
Not because she didn’t love me. Not because I didn’t love her.
But because love doesn’t wipe away what happened just because you want it to.
Since she came home, there have been moments when the past has found its way back into the room with us.
A word. A look. Some memory I put there with my own hands.
And every time, she’s had to decide whether to let me stay close while it hurt.
She has.
We’ve talked when it would’ve been easier not to. I’ve answered questions I deserved to be asked, even when the answers shamed me. She’s cried. I’ve held her. Some days ended better than they started, and some didn’t. But she never had to carry it alone again.
Then there was Mick. I told her as gently as I knew how that her brother was dead.
He’d left Boston, like I’d expected, and found his way into an outfit in Chicago.
There, he’d done the same thing he’d tried to do here.
Crossed the wrong person. Thought he was clever enough to get away with it. Instead, he caught a bullet for it.
She’d never been close to Mick, but hearing he was gone still hurt her.
By the time everyone leaves, both our mothers have already made plans to come back later in the week and take Alannah shopping. Baby things, they say, and a few new dresses, because she’s reaching the point where she’s going to need them.
When I close the door behind everyone, I let out a relieved breath. The house is quiet again after a day full of preparations, nerves, and company. But it went well. Better than well. And I know Alannah is relieved to have it behind her.
Then music starts in the sitting room, the familiar opening of our song drifting through the house.
You Belong to Me. I follow it and find my wife waiting for me.
She opens her arms, and I go straight to her, taking one of her hands in mine while the other settles at her waist and pulls her closer.
I kiss her deeply, and when we finally pull apart, she rests her cheek against my chest. “I love you, Ronin,” she murmurs.
I press my mouth to her hair. “I love you too, doll.”
We sway together, slow and close, while I quietly sing the words that have belonged to us from the beginning. “You belong to me.”