Present day
Rory Hennessy
My balls are freezing.
Standing around in a kilt is not my idea of a good time.
Not when there is a cool wind whipping around, and at any given moment, the ladies across from me could get an eyeful.
It’s bad enough that they are sitting there in chairs across the dance floor, eye fucking me as I lean against a tent pole, holding my damn kilt down.
Ignoring them, I scowl at the people dancing around at my best friend’s wedding reception and can’t help but wonder why the hell I’m still here.
Sure, I was the best man, but that duty was done hours ago.
I’m happy for the couple, though. But for some strange reason, part of me is not happy.
I think it’s because Declan announced he was stepping back as Captain of the clan.
As Clan Chief, the second in command, I’m to take his place. Something I don’t want.
“Care to dance?” I turn to see one of the women from across the way, a blonde with fake tits, standing to my right. She’s a brave one.
I shake my head. “I’m good.” Her face falls, and I feel like an ass for being such a jerk. “Fine!”
I take hold of her hand and drag her onto the dance floor. Pulling her into my arms, she bumps her forehead against my chin, and my head whips back. Fuck! I grit my teeth and smile at her. I shouldn’t have done that because now she wants to talk.
“What’s your name?” she asks. I look down at her. I must have a scowl on my face because she says, “Never mind.” Which is fine by me.
We dance in silence, and the song is coming to an end when I feel a tap on my shoulder. I turn to see Ian, the stable hand, standing there, white as a ghost. I drop my arms from around the blonde and turn my full attention to the kid. “What is it?”
“Tomas was out at the barn, and before I knew it, he got into the pasture and climbed onto a cow’s back.”
My brows snap together as I glare at the kid. “I thought you were taking him to the house. How the hell did he get out to the barn?”
“I did. But after he changed into his robe, he insisted on going out there. For an old man, he’s damn quick. Anyway, the cow took off, and he fell, hit his head, blood was everywhere, and for a minute, I thought he was dead.”
“Jesus Christ. Call an ambulance.” My eyes search out Declan. He is dancing with Wren, as if there isn’t another soul in the room, and I make my way over to them as Ian trails behind.
“I already did, they are on their way. I covered him with a blanket, and Charlie is with him right now,” he said.
“Good.”
I tap Declan on the shoulder, and he mutters, “Not now.”
I lean close and say, “Your dad is lying in the pasture; he fell off a cow.”
Declan lifted his head and looked at me. “What the fuck did you just say?”
“The ambulance is on its way.”
∞∞∞
It’s the day after the wedding, and we are standing in the office looking at the security camera footage of Tomas sneaking out into the pasture in his bathrobe. The doctors are claiming that the farm is not a suitable home for Tomas and want to put him into a nursing home.
“You know, this is only going to prove that Tomas was unsupervised,” I say, squinting at the screen.
“Maybe. Just watch. See if either of you can find Ian just out of frame,” Declan murmurs, eyes on the screen.
We watch as Tomas walks over to a watering trough where a cow is grazing. He looks around, and when he sees that the coast is clear, he grabs onto the heifer’s ears and pulls himself onto her back.
“What a sneaky little bugger,” Wren mumbles.
For a full ten seconds, he can be seen kicking his heels into her sides.
She takes a few steps, but then bolts, and Tomas bounces, then flips over her butt, his ass crack and family jewels captured in the still frame as Declan hits the keyboard and turns around to look at us.
I hit the enter key and rewind it, letting it play again and burst out laughing.
“He got some pretty good air there.” I clamp my mouth shut when Declan gives me a murderous look.
“Yeah, and no Ian. We need to find those papers.”
“I don’t understand why you need to prove that you are power of attorney Declan,” Wren said as she moved and began shuffling through a stack of papers on the desk. “He’s your dad.”
I head over to the chair I had vacated to watch the video and sit back down, looking through the box I’d left there while Declan sits behind the desk, rubbing his forehead.
Searching in every box and filing cabinet for the proof that he has a power of attorney is daunting; it’s like looking for a needle in a haystack.
“Doesn’t matter if I’m his son, when it comes to the doctors, I have no say.
He could be placed anywhere in Ontario where the first bed is available.
With that paper, it proves I legally have the say and can bring him home and hire a nurse to care for him. ”
Done with the box, I set it down on the floor beside me and stand, “What about calling the lawyer? Wouldn’t he have a copy?”
Declan pushes his chair back and disappears under the desk. “Thought of that. But he’s long dead.”
“What are you doing down there?” Wren asks as she stacks the papers into a neat pile. I move around the desk, thinking my friend has finally lost it, and see him looking at the underside of the desk. Wren joins me, and together we watch.
“When I was a kid, I would always hide under here. My dad would yell at me and tell me to get the fuck out.”— he runs his fingers along the corners, feeling for something— “I never knew why until one day, I was hiding behind the curtains when he came in. There you are, you little bastard.”
We watch as he presses his finger into the wood as if it were melted butter, and a tiny drawer pops open. He pulls a key from within, and we move back as he crawls out.
“What is that for?” Wren asks as she looks at the key in the palm of his hand.
“A safe,” he said, looking around the room as he slipped the key into his back pocket. “I just don’t know where it is. Start searching behind everything.”
“If you saw that he had the key, wouldn’t you have seen where the safe was?” I ask as we spread out, each heading to a picture on the wall. He shakes his head as he looks behind a painting of his dad.
“No. He saw the curtains move and kicked me out of the room.”
“Then what makes you think it’s for a safe?” Wren asked as she lifted a mirror off the wall, only to find nothing.
Declan shrugged. “I don’t, but what else could it be for?”
With that thought, we checked behind every obvious place. After a few minutes, I stand there with my hands on my hips, eyeing the room as Wren and Declan roll up a Persian rug. I turn and look at him.
“Declan, what has been in this room since you were a kid?” He stands up and glances around.
“That gold horse and that fake plant,” he points at each of them.
Wren takes the plant, and Declan and I go over to the horse, the size of a Shetland pony, and knock on it.
“This thing is solid! Is it real gold?”
“I don’t know,” Declan shrugged. “The story I was told growing up was that it was from some heist in England back in the ’80s. The bars were melted down and poured into animal-shaped molds. My dad was a liar too, so it’s hard to tell really.”
I take the head of the horse and lift it. It barely comes off the floor. “Fuck me, it has to weigh close to four hundred pounds. How the hell does he move it?”
Declan shrugged. “No clue. He never asked for my help.”
“If it is real, this would be worth—”
“In the billions,” Declan nods. “And that’s why it’s still here.” He grabs the ass end and looks at me. “Ready?”
I take hold of the head and nod. “How the hell did Tomas get this here?” I say through gritted teeth as we lift it.
Declan grunts. “Knowing him, he built the damn house around it.” Winded, we set it aside. And right there under the golden horse is the door to an old safe.
Squatting, Declan pulls the key out of the pocket of his jeans and fits it into the keyhole.
He turns it and pulls on the handle, and the door swings open.
He pulls out a bag of diamonds, and they twinkle in the daylight as he sets them on the floor, and I have to wonder how many years it’s been since sunshine played along their surface.
Next, he pulls out a manila envelope, and Wren takes that from him. She sits on the floor and starts going through each paper. “Aha! Here it is,” she grins as she hands it to Declan.
“Thank you!” he says, as he grabs her and pulls her into his arms. While they get down and dirty, I clear my throat because, clearly, they forgot that I am in the room, and they pull apart, looking guiltily at me.
Wren giggles. “Sorry,” she says, smoothing her hair in place. “What about the rest of the stuff in the safe?”
“Might as well go through it,” Declan says, handing me a box with flowers on it. “See what’s in that, while I count how many piles of cash the old man had hidden in here.”
I lift the lid of the box to find a stack of photos.
The one on top is of a young teenage girl staring up at me with boxing gloves on, standing in a fighter’s stance.
Pulling them out, I’m halfway through looking at them when I realize they are of the same girl.
I hold out the latest photo to Declan, “Who is this?”
He takes it from me and studies it. “Hell, if I know. Is that all that’s in the box, pictures of this girl?”
I shake my head as I look at a stack of letters. Looks like love letters, if the flowery scent is any indication.
“These.” I hold them up.
Wren wrinkles her nose. “What’s that smell? It smells like Chantilly Lace.” She takes the letters from me and starts sniffing them. “Oh my god, it is! My mother used to wear this perfume. What else is in there?”
I shuffle through the box and start calling out everything I see. “A receipt from Sears, a copy of a Katrina George’s birth certificate, a paternity test—”
“A what?!” Declan and Wren say at the same time.
I start to repeat myself when Declan says, “We heard you the first time. Let me see that.”
He takes the box from me and starts going through it. I watch as he takes the paternity test out and begins to read it. He looks right at me.
“Sonofabitch. You know what this means, don’t you?”
Wren shakes her head as I say, “No?”
He looks stunned. “It means that this girl is my half sister. My dad is her father.”
“That’s awesome!” Wren claps her hands. “Now I have a sister-in-law.” Declan shakes his head. “No, it’s not Wren. It’s not awesome. It means that she’s blood, and she can take over the spot as Captain.”
“How? She looks like she’s sixteen and knows nothing about the family,” I say in disbelief.
“It’s an old photo.” He flipped it over and read the date written on it.
“‘Katrina, 2008, 16 years old’. She’s the same age as me, and she’s blood, Rory,” he says.
“It always passes to blood if they want it. None of my cousins did, and I don’t blame them; they all have successful careers, and no one wanted it.
That’s why it will pass to you or would if she doesn’t want it. ”
Wren takes a paper from the box and holds it up. “Her mother’s name is Dahlia, and here’s her phone number.”
I snatched it from her and pulled out my phone from my back pocket. I didn’t want the position of Captain, but sure as shit, I wasn’t allowing an outsider to take over, especially a woman.
I punched the number into my phone and waited, hand on my hip, for her to answer. She picked up the fifth ring. A soft, “Hello?” sounded in my ear. “Dry as a Bone, how can I help you?”
“Who the fuck is this?”
“Excuse me? Who the fuck is this? You are the one who called me!”
“That’s beside the point. Now tell me who you are.”
“Go fuck yourself.” The phone made a noise, and I looked at it, scowling. “She hung up on me!”
“Give me that!” Wren stood up and snatched the phone and paper out of my hands. “Do you blame her?!”