Chapter 23
CHAPTER 23
Tommy
T he scent of metal and motor oil covered the aromas of horses and hay, and I didn’t like it one bit.
But farming in any capacity meant you had to rely on motorized equipment, which meant maintenance.
I wiped my hands on an old rag.
Rory stood beside me, sleeves rolled up, as he studied the engine.
He’d been directing me on how to fix the clogged fuel filter on the old faded red and gray Massey Ferguson tractor.
He was patient in his instructions but didn’t lift a finger to help me, declaring that learning by doing was the best way.
He gestured to a small metal canister with a sediment bowl underneath.
“See that glass bit there? If there’s dirt in it, she won’t run right. Loosen the top bolt and let’s have a look.”
I did as he instructed, working the wrench and carefully detaching the glass bowl before handing it over to Rory to inspect.
“There’s the problem. All kinds of debris in there. Hand me yer rag.”
I passed the cloth over and Rory cleaned out all the gunk.
We then cleaned off the metal mesh screen and following his instructions, I put it all back together again.
“I’d been sayin’ yer good with yer hands,” he said with a chuckle.
“Could be ye’ve got a bit of a mechanic in ye.”
I chuckled, leaning against the fender.
“Doubt that. But I can follow directions.”
Rory smirked.
“That’s more than I can say for most.”
It was a quiet Saturday, one of the slower days at Glenhaven.
The farmhands were tending to the pastures, Fiona had gone into town with Kathleen for groceries, and they were preparing a roast for dinner.
For the first time in a long time, things felt settled.
It had been four days since Seamus stormed onto the property, spitting fire and threats, and three days since Fiona accepted my proposal, an event that Rory and Kathleen had blessed.
Fiona had adjusted to life at Rory and Kathleen’s, happier than I’d ever seen her.
There were still moments when she missed her family, but every day she grew stronger.
She was where she was supposed to be.
And even though we had to keep things respectful now that she was under their guardianship, we still stole what moments we could—kisses behind the stables, her fingers slipping into mine when no one was looking.
We’d figure out the rest.
Rory fiddled with a few things before proclaiming, “Should do the trick. Let’s crank the old girl and see if she’ll run. Ye do the honors.”
I climbed up onto the metal seat, the coolness of it seeping through my jeans.
The steering wheel was large, almost oversized, but familiar under my hands as I reached for the ignition switch just below the dashboard.
The Massey was an old workhorse, a little worn, but still reliable—so long as you treated her right.
“Pump the throttle a bit,” Rory said, watching as I slid the lever up a notch on the right side of the steering column.
“Be gentle with her. Too much, and she’ll choke. Too little, and she’ll sputter out.”
“Finicky lass,” I said in my best impersonation of an Irish accent.
Rory snorted and I pressed the clutch with my foot and turned the ignition key.
The motor groaned before turning over with a deep, throaty rumble.
A plume of gray smoke puffed from the exhaust stack and the entire frame shuddered slightly.
I eased off the clutch and let the engine idle, pleased with the mechanical chug-chug I was hearing.
Rory grinned at me and waved me down.
“Not bad, lad. Not bad at all. Come on… let’s go grab some lunch.”
“Appreciate you teachin’ me all this,” I said to Rory as we walked toward the cottage.
I was hungry, but I was more looking forward to seeing Fiona.
Rory chuckled.
“Well, if yer gonna be part of this family, I suppose ye oughta learn how to fix what breaks.”
My chest tightened.
He’d accepted me.
Despite everything—my age, my background, the fact that I was taking Fiona away from everything she’d ever known—he’d accepted me.
I was about to say something when Rory stopped in his tracks.
I turned to face him, thinking he’d forgotten something back at the tractor.
He stood so still, he looked like a statue.
Then he inhaled sharply, sucking through his teeth while his forehead creased with pain.
His hand went to his chest and my stomach dropped clear to my feet.
“Rory?”
The man swayed, his other hand reaching out to me blindly.
“Rory—” I exclaimed, trying to grab onto him as he collapsed to the ground.
I was able to get my arms around him enough that I could lower him down and I could tell from just that momentary touch that something was seriously wrong.
“Hey, hey, c’mon now,” I said, shaking him lightly.
His eyes were half open, but distant.
“Talk to me.”
Nothing.
“Rory,” I said, giving his shoulder a slight shake.
“You’re scaring me here.”
His eyes rolled into the back of his head and panic surged through me.
“Fuck,” I muttered, shoving the fear aside.
Years of lifeguarding at the community pool back home had taught me one thing—panic never saved a damn person.
I pressed two fingers to his neck, searching for a pulse.
I couldn’t find one.
“No, no, no.”
I tilted his head back, checking his airway.
Nothing blocking it.
I pressed my ear to his mouth—no breath.
Shit.
I moved fast, clasping my hands and pressing down hard on his chest.
“One, two, three…” I started compressions, counting under my breath.
I looked up, saw a few grooms at one of the barns about fifty yards away.
“Help! Someone call an ambulance!” I shouted.
They stopped, stared at me in disbelief for only a second as they took in the scene and then they bolted—hopefully for the nearest phone.
I didn’t know how these things worked in Ireland, but I assumed they had basic emergency medical services.
One of the stable hands appeared.
“What can I do?”
“Go get Kathleen,” I ordered as I continued compressions.
He took off toward the cottage, shouting at the top of his lungs.
I didn’t stop.
Couldn’t stop.
I alternated pumping his chest with blowing into his mouth, trying to force life back into him.
“C’mon, Rory. C’mon, don’t do this.”
Footsteps crunched over gravel and I barely registered Kathleen’s cry before she dropped to her knees beside me.
“Rory!”
Fiona was right behind her, breathless, eyes wide with terror.
“What—”
And then she saw him.
Her knees buckled, and she caught herself against the dirt, her hands shaking as she reached for him.
“Uncle Rory,” she whispered, her voice breaking.
I didn’t stop.
Kept pushing.
Kept counting.
But I knew.
I fucking knew.
He was gone.
I kept going anyway, my arms burning, my breath ragged.
Kathleen was sobbing, pressing kisses to Rory’s forehead, whispering desperate prayers.
Fiona clutched his hand, her head shaking as if she could will him back to life.
The ambulance finally arrived.
The medics rushed in, pulling me away as they took over.
Fiona released a broken cry as they tried to revive him, but I could see it in their faces.
They knew too.
They loaded him onto the stretcher, Kathleen sobbing into Fiona’s shoulder.
I didn’t hesitate.
“I’m drivin’,” I told them.
“Let’s go.”
No one argued.
I drove like a madman to the hospital, Kathleen and Fiona crying in the back seat, the wheels spitting gravel as I tore out of Glenhaven.
I prayed the whole way.
Please, God.
Please.
When we got to the waiting room, he was already being worked on somewhere where we couldn’t see.
I paced, periodically asking for updates.
Fiona and Kathleen clung to each other.
Their tears had dried, but I saw the anguish left behind.
It felt liked we’d been there a long time, and maybe that was good news.
But when a set of double doors opened and I saw a doctor walking toward us with a grim expression, it only confirmed what I already knew.
He didn’t have to say it.
Kathleen stood stoically, Fiona clutching her hand.
My arm went around her waist.
“I’m so sorry,” the doctor said gently.
“There was nothing we could do.”
A sound ripped from Kathleen’s throat, raw and broken.
Fiona swayed, and I pulled her in tight to me.
She turned into my chest, her fingers digging into my shirt, her body shaking with silent sobs.
I held her tighter than I ever had, pressing my lips to her hair.
“I got you,” I whispered.
“I got you, Fi.”
She’d lost everything.
Her father.
Her home.
And now Rory.
The only real father she’d ever known.
She shattered in my arms.
And all I could do was hold her together.