Chapter Three
M y heartbeat picked up as the airplane touched down at JFK. This was my first time so far from home. Everything was unfamiliar, even the smell. I gave the cab driver Gulliver’s address, ignoring my guilt for breaking my promise to Mum.
The decorated dashboard in the cab looked like a shrine straight out of a Bollywood movie. The cab drivers in Dublin sometimes had the occasional decoration, but I’d never seen anything like this. I couldn’t help but wonder if one of the pieces would go flying in a car crash and impale me.
When I finally drew my gaze away from the colorful deities, my breath lodged in my throat at the sheer size of the city.
The skyscrapers towered over us, obstructing my view of the blue sky and casting shadows on the sidewalks.
The cab came to a stop right before an old church that looked entirely out of place surrounded by skyscrapers.
I paid him, ignoring his pinched look when I gave him a one-dollar tip, and got out, hooking my backpack over my shoulder.
The church looked gloomy in the dark, almost foreboding, yet the brownstone facade and stone pathway smoothed by thousands of walking feet, reminded me more of my hometown than anything else had so far in this too-big city.
Opening the gate, I walked around the building, searching for something that looked like an entrance. A string of honking followed by shouting made me jump. Dublin wasn’t a quiet city, mind you, but New York was an onslaught for my nervous system.
I found a small house adjacent to the church with a bell and a plaque with Gulliver’s last name below: Killeen. I wasn’t sure why seeing the name surprised me. We were family but I hadn’t seen him in so long. Would he welcome me or send me away?
I rang the bell. After some shuffling behind the door, it finally opened.
It took me a moment to recognize my uncle.
In the many years since I’d last seen him, he’d gained about twenty pounds and his hairline had receded, but he had the same fiery red hair like me.
His brows pinched then his eyes widened with recognition. “Aislinn?”
I nodded and smiled awkwardly. “That’s me.” I’d never had a fight with him. Even if Mum was angry at him, and he at her, that didn’t have to mean we couldn’t get along.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, not necessarily in a rejecting way but I was yet to be invited inside. He was dressed in a simple white T-shirt, black dress pants and comfy slippers.
“Can’t your niece come to visit her only uncle?”
He shook his head. “Lying is a sin, Aislinn. You’d do well to remember that, even if your mother lives a sinful life.”
Anger rose inside me. “Mum’s worked hard all her life and managed to raise two children by herself.”
“She wouldn’t have had to if she’d stayed true to our beliefs and waited until marriage.”
I couldn’t believe him. But he was my only option in New York. It was getting late, and I didn’t want to roam the city looking for a cheap place to stay. “You could have helped her.”
“She didn’t want my help, and I wasn’t the one who fled from here.”
I sighed. “I’m not here to discuss Mum.”
“Why are you here, then?”
“Imogen,” I said, not in the mood for chitchat. “She disappeared three months ago, a few weeks after arriving in New York.”
Gulliver shook his head with a sigh. “That’s what I suspected.”
The wind picked up, and I shivered. “Can I spend a few nights with you while I search for her?”
Gulliver seemed torn. He scanned me from head to toe. What he was looking for, I wasn’t sure. I’d expected him to be more welcoming despite his arguments with Mum. Maybe I was too na?ve. “Your sister is too much like your mother. I’m not surprised that she got herself in trouble.”
I watched him expectantly. “Can I stay?”
Gulliver finally stepped back and opened the door.
I stepped inside the narrow corridor, the floor boards creaking under my feet.
The house wasn’t big, a two-bedroom place with a cozy kitchen and a small living room.
Gulliver led me to the second bedroom, which also served as a library.
Every wall except for the bed nook was covered with floor-to-ceiling book shelves in a dark wood.
Most of the tomes referenced religion or church history, and the scent of old paper and dust hung heavily in the room.
“You can stay here as long as you don’t bring trouble to my doorstep.”
How could I possibly cause more trouble than his connection to the mob?
“I won’t. As soon as I find Imogen, I’ll return to Dublin and you can have your home to yourself again.”
“Maybe Imogen doesn’t want to be found. She fled responsibility and her sins, but sin always finds you no matter where you run.”
I dropped my backpack onto the bed. “I don’t know what kind of sins you’re referring to. I hope you’re not talking about Finn, because he isn’t a sin.”
Gulliver regarded me closely. “Your sister followed in your mother’s footsteps, becoming pregnant at only sixteen. I see you managed to spare yourself the same fate. I hope you’re waiting for marriage.”
I gritted my teeth against a scathing comeback.
How would he know if I had a child back home in Dublin too?
As if he could see “sin” in a person’s face.
Ridiculous. Yet Gulliver was still a priest, and I’d been raised to respect members of the church.
He’d probably dance of joy if I admitted to still being a virgin.
“I’m not better than Mum or Imogen, because they aren’t bad for having sex before marriage or having a child at a young age. ”
The word sex obviously made Gulliver feel uncomfortable as he averted his eyes from me. “You must be hungry. Come into the kitchen. I have some leftover pumpkin soup for you.”
I was hungry so I followed him silently. Once I was seated on the wooden bench with a steaming bowl of soup in front of me, I continued my argument, “You shouldn’t condemn Mum and Imogen. They didn’t hurt anyone. They created life and acted out of love.”
“More likely lust,” Gulliver corrected as he sank down across from me with a Guinness. He took a sip and leaned back, still watching me as if he was trying to spot sin deep within me.
“Can I have a Guinness as well?” I asked, nodding at the can.
“Drinking age is twenty-one here.”
I rolled my eyes. “I’ve been drinking beer since sixteen, Uncle. I won’t get drunk from a can of Guinness.”
“While you’re under my roof, you abide by my rules, Aislinn. If you can’t do it, then you can look for another place to stay.”
“And what are your rules?”
“No men, no alcohol, no parties.”
“That’s fine with me,” I said. There wasn’t time for parties, and now that Patrick had broken my heart, I had no interest in men either.
And the occasional after-work Guinness hardly counted as alcohol.
“I’ll spend all my time looking for Imogen.
” I narrowed my eyes thoughtfully as I ate another spoonful of the bland soup.
It lacked seasoning, and the slice of white bread stuck to the roof of my mouth.
A pinch of salt, maybe some nutmeg and cinnamon, a bit of acid for the soup, and a trash bin for the bread would do the trick.
If I found some time, I’d bake a soda bread.
“Has Imogen approached you while she’s been here? ”
“She appeared on my doorstep just like you did, looking as if she had every intention to work the streets.”
“She’s a model,” I said sharply. “So she was here, but she didn’t stay with you?
” Imogen had never mentioned talking to Gulliver, so I just assumed she hadn’t tried to see him.
Our few phone calls the first couple of days after she had arrived in the States had been very short and lacking information.
“I sent her away. I could tell she was in with the wrong crowd already.”
“What kind of crowd?”
Gulliver got up and began to clean the soup pot. “I only heard rumors that she was looking for sponsors for her childish dreams.”
“She has potential. Everyone has always told her she could be a successful model.”
Gulliver didn’t react as if my argument wasn’t even worthy of a reply.
“Where was she looking for sponsors?”
“You better not follow in her steps. What you might find isn’t for the faint of heart.”
“What does that mean?” I got up and carried the bowl over to the sink. “If you know anything, you have to tell me. Please, Uncle. We’re still family. Help me find my sister.”
Gulliver took the bowl from me and washed it with a stoic calmness, which drove me up the wall. I knew he was testing me, especially my patience, so I reined myself in and waited for him to tell me whatever it was he had to say on his own terms.
“Your sister chose the easy way, as expected. Instead of working for her money she chose to go looking for it in Sodom.”
“Sodom?” I barely managed to stop a scoff. Was he really going to use bible references for everything Imogen had done?
Gulliver shook his head. “That’s the name of the place where Imogen went.”
I’d never heard of that place before. “Is it in New York?”
“It’s the name certain individuals use for a city not too far from here. A city of sin, not a place I’d go by choice. I heard your sister sought her luck in the Doom Loop there. It’s a place of lost souls.”
“Lost souls who attend your worship?” I asked scathingly.
Considering he lived in the oldest Irish neighborhood of New York, one that was ruled by the second oldest son of the Devaney clan, I doubted he had stopped being the Irish mob’s confessor. I wished Mum had been more forthcoming with information. I didn’t like to go into a situation blindly.
Gulliver’s expression became wary. “Many people attend service. You should too. It would do you good. Your mother avoided church way too often.”
“I’ll attend church tomorrow, all right?” I said, hoping to get in his good graces. Uncle Gulliver had contacts that might help with my search.