Chapter 15 #2
She nodded sadly. “I know, love, it’s not because I wasn’t here.
Your father had my heart from the day I met him, but you three kids have always been my soul.
You’re the reason I open my eyes every day and breathe air.
One of you being torn away from me took a piece of my soul too. ” I blinked back tears.
“Can’t me and Fionn be enough? Can’t you try for us?” I asked, realizing how bratty I sounded as the words left my mouth. She laughed softly.
“My darling, you and your brother have always been enough, just like Shea was always enough. But I’ve spent the last few weeks trying to understand what I’ve done. Why did God choose my child? Why was I to be punished like this?”
“Mam, that’s ridiculous. No one deserves to lose their child,” I said hotly, frustration rising as I finally understood what had kept that blank expression on her face.
Mam wasn’t particularly religious, but she did have faith, and that faith drove her further into despair instead of comfort.
I silently cursed whatever God might be listening.
“I had an abortion. Before any of you were born,” she blurted, and I stared wide-eyed, unsure I’d heard her right.
She took a wobbly breath and continued, “It was before I met your father. I was working in London and had started doing a line with an Englishman over there. It wasn’t serious, just a bit of fun.
Then I found out I was pregnant. At eighteen, in a different country, with a man I saw no future with. ”
Her voice grew confident as she recounted the story, and I struggled to stop my jaw from dropping.
“So, I terminated the pregnancy. I went to the clinic alone, told no one. Once it was done, I got straight back on a boat home where I met your father soon after. I’ve never told anyone this before…
” She rubbed her hand down her face absently, then sipped her tea.
I quickly stopped gaping and asked, “Why didn’t you tell Dad?”
She sighed. “Because I was ashamed, I suppose. Things were different back then, and the church still had a lot of power here. But it wasn’t just that.
I was trying to figure out how I felt. When I found out I was pregnant with Shea, the terror was crippling.
I kept thinking I’d have a miscarriage as karma for getting rid of my baby.
But he was a perfectly healthy baby boy, and you and your brother followed him.
I started to relax, thinking maybe God wasn’t going to strike my children down for defying him.
But since he stole Shea from me, I’ve been thinking it caught up with me. ”
I shook my head. “Mam, that’s not how it works. You did what you had to do. Surely you know that.”
“I do now,” she replied. “Burying your child goes against nature, Róisín. But Shea left us a little life to help fill the hole in my chest. I don’t regret the choice I made at eighteen, and I need you to know that.
I did the right thing. But that doesn’t make it any easier.
And it doesn’t mean I don’t still think about the little life that could have been.
Maybe sitting here agonizing over a decision I made 26 years ago has been my real penance. ”
I nuzzled into her arms, going lax with relief as I felt them circle me and hold me close. For the first time in weeks, I finally felt a sense of safety within my mothers embrace.
********
Tommy’s hearing came on us quick, and Garda Kelly seemed to fast-track the whole process, considering the speed that everything was happening.
While it would be many months until the full trial and Ella could put this nightmare behind her, today hopefully ensured he wouldn’t make bail.
Sara and Sinéad were coming to stay at mine for the night to support Ella and (hopefully) celebrate with a few drinks afterwards.
Connor was coming to the hearing with Tomás and Fionn.
After seeing what Tommy did to Ella that night, I knew they were just as keen to make sure he wasn’t walking free before the trial.
After the judge had remanded Tommy into custody, we all raised our glasses in Keileys to Ella’s bravery for facing him in court. He had looked exactly like the snivelling coward he was, and I think we all took a mental picture at that moment, keenly aware Ella still had the trial ahead.
Connor came in late with the boys and stood at the back of the courtroom.
We hadn’t spoken yet, but he made sure I felt every heated gaze he sent my way.
Whenever my neck prickled and my body felt like fire ants were dancing across it, it meant Connor was staring at me like he could see through my clothes.
As soon as we arrived at Keileys and sat at our usual table, he claimed the seat next to me.
He didn’t seem bothered that I’d ignored almost every message he’d sent since the funeral checking in on me - and at least he wasn’t handling me like I was fragile, the way Ronan seemed to be.
If anything, he seemed to enjoy showing me how determined he was, especially as he pressed his thigh against my leg under the table and kept purposely brushing my bare skin with his knuckles every time he put down his pint.
I tried not to catch my breath, but I wasn’t fooling him; my traitorous body erupted in goosebumps.
By our third drink, I was jumping out of my skin in anticipation every time he took a slug of his pint. He finally turned to me.
“You coming for a smoke, Róis?” he asked in a low voice.
I blinked in surprise, assuming this game of cat and mouse would last all night.
“Yeah, grand,” I swallowed, nervous to be alone with him. He smiled, seeing my trepidation, and guided me to the smoking area, his hand on the small of my back. It felt sinful, like he'd slipped his hand down my bra.
It was still early, since we had come straight from the courthouse. The place was empty except for the soft background music of Amble playing.
I lit a cigarette and sat down. He took the seat right beside me on the bench, almost on my lap.
“So, how’ve you been?” he asked, chocolate eyes drilling into me.
I shrugged. “Grand, just flat out studying. Keeping an eye on the family and the girls, I suppose.”
“Ella did brilliantly today,” he smiled softly, “Niamh holding up okay?” and I shrugged again.
“Up and down. She’s finding out a lot she didn’t know, but she hasn’t gone into detail. She’s convinced he’s someone new and that’s what caused the breakup.” I kept my eyes pinned on him, knowing he was more likely to have heard rumours as Dermot's cousin than we would as Niamh’s friends.
He shifted uncomfortably. “I’ve heard it going around.”
I nodded, lips pressed together. Poor Niamh.
“I don’t want to talk to you about what that scumbag's been doing behind Niamh’s back, Róis,” he cut in.
“Oh?” I quirked a brow. “What do you want to talk about?”
“Maybe how you’ve been dodging me since you lost Shea?” he deadpanned, and I snorted. His bluntness was oddly refreshing, I’d been getting used to everyone tiptoeing around me.
“Doesn’t seem like you got the message.”
“The message that you’re keeping me at arm’s length because you’re scared. That since that night in my car, you realised you’re still in love with me?” The smile slid off my face at that. My feelings for Connor ran deep, but he hadn’t taken my love seriously before.
“Looks like you’re very lost in translation, Connor. In what language does 'leave me alone' translate to 'I love you.'”
“In Róisín language, it does. You’re terrified of your feelings for me, so you keep pushing me away.” I scoffed and stubbed out my cigarette.
We’d talked, he’d said his piece, and it was over. As I stood, he suddenly jumped up and blocked my way.
“Have you been seeing him?” His voice was low and dangerous. I knew he’d clocked Ronan at Shea’s funeral, but I hadn’t expected him to confront me about it.
I didn’t bother denying it. “It’s none of your fucking business, Connor,” I snarled.
“He’ll never be able to give you what you want, Róis. He doesn’t know you like I do, scars and all.” He leaned into my space, every breath laden with that citrusy scent only he had.
“And who gave me half those fucking scars, Connor?” I spat, matching his invasion of my space. His eyes shuttered, jaw ticking.
“I’ll always regret what I did, Róisín. But every scar you carry makes you more beautiful, even the fresh ones from losing Shea.” My chest heaved with a thousand emotions. We stood locked, glaring.
Suddenly, he grabbed the back of my neck and claimed my lips.
I gasped, ready to push him away or knee him, but he parted my lips with his tongue and all thoughts fled.
I grasped his strong shoulders, pulling him close.
His grip didn't lessen; one hand cupped my face as he owned my mouth.
He spun me and pinned me against the door into the pub, his body moulded to mine.
His hand traced my collarbone, down my body, exploring every inch of skin. His other hand slid under my skirt, fingers skimming my underwear edges. I moaned.
“I’m going to ruin you, Róis,” he whispered. Suddenly, he grabbed my arse and lifted me, my legs circling his waist automatically.
“It’s me and you, Róisín,” he growled. My eyes snapped to his. “We’re endgame.”
“Connor, I...” I stuttered, heart pounding a wild drum solo. I tried pushing him away, but my body betrayed my head. My hips arched into him as I stayed pinned to the wall, feeling his raging boner digging in.
“Say it, Róisín. I want to hear you say it,” he demanded, nose to nose. I was lost, so many feelings swimming inside me, Connor Donnelly looking at me like a deity he’d claimed.
“We’re endgame,” I breathed. His knowing smirk came just before his lips consumed mine; biting, teasing, tattooing himself across my heart.
The sound of barrels shifting outside interrupted us and my senses came screaming back in.
I took the opportunity and slipped free of his hold, escaping quickly back into the pub where I fumbled around to gather my coat and bag.
I said a rushed goodbye to the group before making a sharp exit before Connor could follow me back in.
I couldn’t stay, not when my mind was spinning from our exchange.
Butterflies swooped at my forced proclamation that we were endgame.
But the guilt curdled when I thought of Ronan.
Ronan, who handled me like damaged goods.
. but I still had feelings for him. Connor just muddied those waters even more.
********
Despite everything, I couldn’t stop the beaming smile spreading across my face as I exited the O’Connell building a week later; minus my bound thesis.
The sense of achievement from finishing and submitting it (on deadline) was incredible.
I was proud of how it ended, especially thanks to Professor Walsh’s constant support.
I started home, not wanting to linger in the crowded college today, even with my celebratory mood.
Most people were still dragging the hole out of Paddy’s Day and judging by the group of international students nursing pints of Guinness outside the Stables wearing shamrock hats, the saying was true: everyone really was Irish on St Patricks Day.
I hadn’t felt like seeing anyone, so I’d kept a low profile since returning to college, mostly being around the girls or by myself.
Cian shared all his notes from the lectures I’d missed, so I wasn’t any more worried about exams than usual.
As I made my way past the library, I spotted a familiar outline ahead of me.
Ronan was a few feet in front of me walking in the same direction, and I automatically slowed my pace, wanting to avoid him at all costs.
He’d been more than diligent lately with messaging me, always letting me know he was thinking of me, and he hoped I was okay; yadda yadda yadda.
I hated it. Ronan had been my happy space, just talking to him made me feel lighter and my mood better, but now he just reminded me that I’d changed.
This damaged, broken, version of myself where the old me used to be.
As if sensing my gaze on him, Ronan looked around, spotting me behind him.
I huffed in frustration as he smiled and stopped, waiting for me to come level with him.
“Hey, sweetheart,” he said gently, leaning in to put his arm around me. Even that set my teeth on edge, no teasing glint or promise of a kiss. Just his arm bracing me like a frail old woman needing support.
“Hey,” I shook him off. His eyebrows rose but he let me step away.
“How’ve you been, Róisín?” he asked, same gentle tone.
“Grand. Just handed in my thesis. How about you?”
He smiled. “Great news, well done! But that’s not what I mea-”
I cut him off. “I know what you meant, and I said I’m grand.” He looked at me again, but I slowed, “Actually, I think I left my keys after me...” I mumbled, turning away.
He grabbed my arm. “Róisín, don’t do that, don’t run away.”
“Then don’t treat me like a broken doll,” I snapped.
He froze in surprise, “I’m not, I just want to make sure you’re okay.”
“Of course I’m not okay, Ronan. But I’m getting on with things, and I’d appreciate if you stopped pussyfooting around me and let me do that.” I lifted my chin, jaw clenched, watching him absorb it.
He nodded. “Okay, sweetheart, whatever you need.” He leaned down, kissed my forehead, then walked away.