Chapter Eight
Michael O’Reagan
My hands don’t feel sore enough, anger still courses through me. I’ve lowered my hands but I’m not done. Not even close.
“Michael, please.” Margret’s soft words have me closing my eyes. They aren’t soothing me, I want to kill him. I take three steps away. I can’t let her see that. Her lip trembles as she stares at me. Her brown eyes glassy and unsure.
There is something in the way she stands that has me nodding at Johnny before approaching Margret.
“Let’s get you home.” She bites her lip and nods. Wrapping an arm carefully around her I walk her back to her house. We are at the bottom of the garden when her mother comes frantically out.
“You were gone for so long…” Her words trail off as her eyes roam Margret before coming to me. I don’t see the disgust I thought I would see.
“Thank you for bringing her home.” She quickly steps up to the other side of her daughter.
“What happened?”
I don’t want to hear what happened. I can already tell what that dirty fucker did to her. I release her as we step through the back door. The small kitchen smells like burnt toast.
“I’m okay, Mother.” Margret’s voice is stronger now.
Her hands try to cover her leg but she doesn’t touch them either.
“I need a bath.” She’s standing not looking at either of us as she vacates the room.
I take a step towards the door. “You stay here.” Her mother’s words are harsh so I remove my jacket as she tends to her daughter. Rolling up my sleeves I start to wash the blood from my hands. Red flecks have dotted my white shirt. It wasn’t enough. Johnny would keep him alive until I returned later. The soft cries have me turning off the tap and moving to the kitchen door.
“Shh baby girl. You’re safe.” Her mother’s soothing words have me leaning against the wall. I’m not sure how long I stay there listening to Margret tell her mother what happened while she cries. The back door opens and I’m face to face with her father. Using my foot I close the kitchen door not wanting the ladies to hear him, as I’m sure by the snarl on his face that he’s going to start.
His eyes widen when they land on the blood on my shirt.
“Where is my daughter?”
“Having a bath,” I answer and his nostrils flair. Setting a lunch bag on the table he removes a tatty old coat.
“Get out of my home.”
“No.” I roll down my sleeves allowing him to see all the blood.
His eyes widen again and he marches from the room. My instinct is to grab the old man and keep him away from Margret, but I remind myself that he’s her father. I’m standing at the door listening, ready to spring if I need to.
“She’s fine.” It’s Margret’s mother who speaks.
“What’s that man doing in my kitchen?”
“David, keep your voice down.”
I grin as Margret’s mother hisses at him.
“I’ll do no such thing woman. This is my home.” His raised voice is making it hard for me to stay still.
“He brought her home.”
“What did he do to her?”
“He stopped something bad from happening. You should be thanking him.”
His gruff huff is loud. “Margret.” The way he calls her is rough. A door opens.
“I’m fine, Father.” Her voice is small but I’m filled with relief at hearing the sound.
“I want him out of my home.” The stamping on the stairs had me stepping back into the kitchen.
“Daddy, please.” Margret follows on her father’s heels, her mother after them, as he bursts into the kitchen.
“Get out of my home.” He’s pointing at the door. Margret won’t look at me and a fear starts to grow. If I leave now, I will have lost her.
“We are getting married,” I say to her father. I don’t look at Margret for approval or her mother I keep my focus on her father. “She’s going to be my wife, David, whether you like it or not.”
It’s only now that I look at Margret. She’s covered her mouth with her hand. Her damp hair hangs around her shoulders.
“We are?” The smile that accompanies her words has me smiling too.
“We are.”
Her mother’s claps are filled with joy. Margret leaves her parents and steps into my arms.
“I love you.” Her words fill me up and make me taller. I’ve never felt so proud. I’ve built an empire from nothing but hearing those words from Margret are so much more.
“I love you too,” I say and she holds me tighter.
I finally look at her parents over her shoulder. Her mother’s crying while her father’s face is set in stone. But he has stopped telling me to get out.
Holding Margret’s face between my hands makes me forget that someone tried to hurt her, or her father who stands behind us with fire in his eyes. Fire that I often see in Margret’s. Right now that look of wonder that I often want to capture sparks and fires in her eyes. Bringing my lips to hers she doesn’t stop me. It doesn’t last long, but it’s enough to leave my mark.
“It’s sealed now.” It’s Margret’s mother who speaks up. Margret turns in my arms and the look of happiness on her face is mirrored in her mothers.
“Sealed with a kiss.” There’s something that passes between mother and daughter that I don’t fully understand but it’s lovely to see.