Chapter 24
CHAPTER 24
Fiona
T he sky wept for Rory.
At least that’s how it felt as I watched the fat raindrops roll off the eaves of the stone church.
They spattered against the uneven cobblestones beneath my feet as we made our way up the steps.
The wind kicked up for just a moment, rustling the yew trees standing guard and causing a shiver to ripple down my spine.
Inside, it was no surprise the church was overflowing.
People stood shoulder to shoulder in the narrow aisle, filling every pew—a testament to how well loved my uncle was.
Rory had been a man of this land, woven into its very fabric, and so they had come for him—farmhands in their Sunday best, neighbors from the village, old friends who had known him since he was a lad, and every employee at Glenhaven.
I could feel the sorrow weighing heavy not just on me, but on every mourner here.
There were sniffles and the occasional sob, and I felt like I was on the verge of an all-out weeping fit.
Their grief mirrored mine in their bowed heads, in the way their fingers clutched their hats or rosary beads like lifelines.
But God, I was tired of crying.
My head hurt, my heart hurt, and I just wanted this to be over.
Kathleen sat beside me in the front pew, pale and motionless, her hands folded in her lap.
She hadn’t shed a tear in public, but grief had carved new hollows into her face.
She looked fragile and that was never a word I would have used to describe the woman.
It’s why Rory loved her so much, because she was such a force.
Yet even in her mourning, she was the strongest woman I knew and that, in turn, gave me strength to barrel through.
To my left, Tommy held my hand, gripping it tight enough to anchor me, but not enough to force me to return fully to the moment.
I floated somewhere outside of myself and tried not to think of Rory’s lifeless body on the ground while Tommy frantically worked to restart his heart.
Twisting in my seat, I scanned the gathered mourners.
So many faces, but not the ones I had been looking for.
My heart squeezed under my ribs and I swallowed against the lump in my throat.
When my fingers reflexively tightened around Tommy’s, he turned to me in question.
“They’re not coming,” I whispered.
My father was not here.
Nor my mother.
Nor Siobhan.
Nor Paddy.
Not a single member of my family had come to bury Rory and that was beyond devastating.
“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he murmured, leaning toward me to press a gentle kiss at my temple.
My chest clenched so hard I could scarcely breathe.
I braced myself, forcing my chin up and my spine straight.
But it was like being stabbed over and over, each realization deeper than the last.
Even in death, my father refused to acknowledge Rory, just as he had erased me from his life.
I was nothing to him, and yet somehow this felt like it was being done to punish me.
Just when I thought Seamus Conlan couldn’t be any crueler, he proved me wrong.
And my mother—God, my mother.
The woman who had birthed me, who had cradled me when I was small, who had tucked me in at night when I was afraid of the dark…
she had chosen silence over standing by my side.
I would never forgive them for this.
Never.
Thankfully, the Mass started and it forced me to let that anger and hurt go as I focused on the priest.
He spoke of Rory’s kindness, of his steadfast heart, of his devotion to the land and horses.
Most of all, to the people he had loved.
That was me and Kathleen, and now we didn’t have that anymore.
The priest’s words became muffled, lost in the dull roar of grief pressing against my ears so that when the service ended, I didn’t even realize it.
Tommy stood, gently pulling me up and then we were walking, the procession moving toward the cemetery behind the church.
The rain fell heavier now, drumming softly against the black umbrellas that sprang up around me.
Kathleen had one for herself, and Tommy and I shared one that necessitated me having to press close into his body.
His warmth was grounding, as was his steady arm around my waist.
The cemetery sat just beyond the chapel, nestled against the backdrop of the rolling hills of Glenhaven.
Generations of Conlans lay beneath moss-covered headstones and now Rory would be buried among them.
The scent of wet earth rose as the grave diggers lowered the casket into the ground.
I barely registered the priest’s final words.
I simply couldn’t find comfort in anything.
“It’s all right, darlin’,” Tommy murmured, his lips brushing against my temple.
“I got you.”
I clung to him, nodding my understanding of his security, and I managed to put on a brave smile.
I kept repeating to myself that it would get better.
The grief would lessen, and I would be able to move on.
?
Rory’s cottage was filled with people, as is the custom, and Kathleen and I spent all day yesterday cleaning and polishing, knowing we’d have visitors.
Neighbors brought food, offering murmured condolences, but I didn’t feel the heaviness that was pressing down at the church.
Stories were told about Rory and there was also much-needed laughter.
Whiskey was passed around along with bowls of stew, corned beef and cabbage and warm soda bread and fresh churned butter.
Tommy, bless his heart, played the part of host so Kathleen and I could talk to all the visitors, and I saw him in the kitchen doling out plates of food with a friendly smile.
Kathleen moved through the room with quiet dignity, accepting embraces, nodding to murmured sympathies, and she spent time reliving memories with others.
I was glad to see some color in her cheeks and maybe this was exactly what was needed.
Community reminding each other why we were mourning—because of how wonderful Rory was.
It was warm in the cottage and I decided to slip outside for some fresh air.
The afternoon held a chill, but it felt grand against my heated skin.
The rain had slowed to a fine mist and I drew in a deep breath.
“It will all be okay,” I promised myself, and I actually believed it.
I was made of stronger stuff and Rory had had confidence in me.
That didn’t die with him.
I wrapped my arms around myself, staring across the darkening fields that stretched toward the horizon.
Fog rolled in and the wind blew gently.
I oddly loved the eeriness of it.
“Fiona.”
I turned sharply, my stomach twisting.
Beyond the low stone wall of the garden stood my father.
A dark silhouette with a rigid posture.
He stepped closer and I saw that his expression was completely unreadable.
A different kind of cold washed over me, one that had nothing to do with the rain, because I didn’t know what to expect.
I didn’t know this man anymore.
I glanced back toward the house, the door open to let in a cooling breeze.
People milled about, but I couldn’t see Tommy or Kathleen.
I guess it didn’t matter.
I had nothing to fear from this man, so I turned back to him and lifted my chin.
“What do ye want?”
His voice was smooth, practiced.
“I want ye to come home.”
A sharp, humorless laugh burst from my throat because there was no love or regret in his tone.
He wasn’t beckoning me to rejoin the family because he’d made a mistake or because he missed me.
I could tell…
this was still business.
“After everything?” I asked softly.
“After abandoning me? After refusing to come to Rory’s funeral?” My voice cracked, but I did not falter.
“Ye have some nerve.”
His eyes darkened at my blatant disrespect, but his voice remained calm.
“It’s time to stop this nonsense. Ye need a proper home, a proper future. Rory’s gone. Ye don’t have an adequate guardian anymore.”
“Kathleen will be my guardian,” I countered.
“She’s not blood and I’ll oppose it.”
“I don’t care.”
“Ye can’t support yerself,” he said evenly.
“I’m offering ye a good option.”
I snorted with genuine amusement.
“I won’t tell ye again, marrying Brian is no option at all. And besides…” I screwed up my courage and I let him have it.
“Tommy proposed and I accepted. I’ll be marrying him and not Brian, and that’s that.”
A muscle ticked in his jaw.
“Like hell ye are. Ye don’t have my permission, nor will I give it. Get that notion out of yer head.”
“I don’t need yer permission.” Although I actually did, but at this point, I wasn’t going to agree with him on anything.
His nostrils flared, his voice ice cold.
“Then ye leave me no choice.” His next words stole the air from my lungs.
“If ye won’t marry Brian, then Siobhan will.”
The world tilted beneath my feet.
I could feel the blood drain from my face and my ears started ringing.
“What?”
Seamus stepped closer, lips curled in a vicious smile.
“Ye don’t care about my authority or Glenhaven. But do ye care about yer sister? Do ye care enough to save her?”
The bastard.
I am not prone to violence but Jesus have mercy on my soul, I wanted to punch him square in the nose.
“Ye wouldn’t,” I whispered.
His head tilted slightly.
“Wouldn’t I?” He exhaled, feigning disappointment.
“Siobhan is of age for an arrangement. Sixteen is the legal age for parental permission in Northern Ireland and I’ll gladly give it for the right match. It would only take a quick phone call to Michael Kavanagh.”
Bile rose in my throat.
I couldn’t even believe he would think of doing that, but then again, he was ready to auction me.
I honestly didn’t know if I could bear it if Siobhan inherited my mess because I refused.
Tears burned at the edges of my vision, but I refused to let them fall.
I kept my mouth shut because my mind was spinning far too fast for me to speak with any competency.
My father exhaled through his nose, brushing imaginary dust from his sleeve.
“Ye think about that.”
Then he turned, disappearing into the mist like a ghost I wished I’d only imagined.
I stood there, frozen, my breath shallow for I don’t know how long.
I rubbed at my arms, staring at Conlan Manor with its glowing lights just visible through the fog.
It would only take for me to walk across the field and into that home, agreeing to do everything my father asked and Siobhan would be free to live her life as she wanted.
Warm hands settled on my shoulders and my entire body relaxed under Tommy’s touch.
“Fi?” His voice was soft, concerned.
“Are you okay?”
I shook my head.
“My da was just here.”
Tommy came around so he could look me in the face.
“What the hell did he say to you?”
“He told me to come home.”
Tommy’s head whipped toward my house.
“Like hell you are.”
I was silent and he looked back to me.
“You’re not thinking of going back, are you?”
I gaped at him in desperation.
“I don’t want to. But… he said he’d make Siobhan marry Brian if I didn’t.”
A torrent of curses came out of Tommy’s mouth.
I wanted to comfort him and assure him that I’d never do as my father demanded, but I just didn’t know.
I had no clue what to do.