The Parting Glass (33 page)

“You like Cleveland?” Niall asked.

“I’ve never lived anywhere else.” She lifted a hand to wave to a neighbor, but the woman turned away quickly, as if she hadn’t seen Clare. When Clare was alone the neighbors were friendly, but they knew better than to draw attention to themselves when any of McNulty’s men were with her.

“You’d like Chicago. It’s bigger and better. Lots of speaks. Lots of fun. I could show you a good time.” He winked.

“I don’t think our idea of a good time is the same.”

“Yeah? What d’ya like to do?”

“Reading. Opera. Attending Mass.” She wasn’t as stuffy as she made herself sound, but she didn’t elaborate on the finer points.

“I like a classy sheba.”

She stopped on the sidewalk. The lake was just ahead of them, a small strip of beach, then choppy water as far as anyone could see. They might as well have been standing at the edge of the Atlantic. Overhead, a seagull cawed to complete the illusion.

“Mr. Cassidy, you have the wrong idea about me. I don’t know what you and my father have discussed, but I’m not looking for a boyfriend or a husband.” She tried flattery. “There have to be a dozen or more girls in Chicago who would be thrilled to take a walk like this with you.”

“I like a sheba who plays hard to get.”

“I’m not playing anything.”

“What, I’m not good enough for you?”

There was a dangerous edge to his voice, and he was a dangerous man. She knew better than to be blunt or even honest if she wanted to survive the evening unscathed. “Of course that’s not it. I’m not good enough for
you,
” she said. “We’re not the same kind of people, you and me. I’m dull. You need a girl who likes the things you do. Somebody who can help you get ahead.”

“I can find other girls to have my fun with. I want a wife who does what she’s told, a natural born mother.”

“I’m neither of those things. I’m just trouble for you. For both our sakes, let’s part as friends. You can find someone so much better.”

He grabbed her arm and spun her around. His eyes were dark with anger. “You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You think you’re something special, and I’m nothing? A nobody?”

She was afraid, but she was also angry. “I do have some say in this, you know. It’s 1925. Women have the vote. And if I ever marry, it won’t be to a man who doesn’t listen to me. Now let go.”

Instead he jerked her closer. “You know what your problem is? You never been kissed by a real man. Maybe some pansy’s been kissing you.”

“Let go!” She tried to wrench her arm free, but his grip tightened. One moment she was in his arms, trying desperately to avoid his lips and the grinding of his hips against hers, then suddenly she was free.

“The lady said to leave her alone.”

Through a blur, Clare saw Glen Donaghue knock Niall to the ground. He was up in a moment, rushing toward Glen headfirst, but Glen stepped aside as a matador might with a raging bull. She jumped back just in time. Niall turned and rushed him again, and this time Glen moved just slightly, bringing up a knee.

The air left Niall’s lungs in an audible whoosh, and he doubled over, moaning. For a man with a dangerous reputation, he wasn’t much of a street fighter.

She didn’t know where Glen had come from or why. She wanted to warn him that Niall was probably armed. Only rarely did her father’s men go out on the streets without a gun. A man like Cassidy would consider himself undressed.

A car pulled up beside them, and two men got out. One flashed his badge. “You Niall Cassidy?” he asked.

Niall moaned in answer.

“We got questions for you. Like where you were last night, and why there’s a false bottom in the floor of your car.”

“Come on, Miss McNulty,” Glen said, gently taking her arm. “I’ll escort you home.”

She watched in horror as the two other men searched and disarmed Cassidy, then unceremoniously dumped him in the back seat of the car and drove off.

“He’ll kill you,” she said. “He’s not a man you can humiliate like that, Glen.” She drew back, and he dropped his arm. “You were following me?”

“I wish I could follow you, but no, we were looking for Cassidy. Your house was the logical place to start, and we’ve been parked down the street all evening. We saw the two of you come outside.”

And none of her father’s men had been watching, because Tim McNulty had wanted to give Cassidy time to woo his daughter. The irony wasn’t lost on her. “He’s an ape. I hate him. My father wants me to marry him.”

“And you’re going to go along with it?”

“No!”

He stepped into the shadows, and she went willingly after him. He took her in his arms. “He’s your father,” Glen reminded her. “Honor thy father and mother.”

“You can honor somebody, but that doesn’t mean you should do what’s not right just to please them.”

“This is crazy,” Glen said, right before he kissed her.

She kissed him back, her arms threading naturally around his neck, her hands into his hair.

She stepped back at last, and the world seemed like a different place. Not filled with menace, with deceit and arrogance, but filled with possibilities.

“I can walk home alone,” she said. “I
have
to walk home alone. My father can’t know about you.”

“What will you tell him?”

“I’ll tell him the truth. That three men stopped us and took Niall away.”

“Will you tell him Cassidy roughed you up?”

She smiled sadly. “He probably expected it.”

“Will I see you at church?”

“And anywhere else you name.”

He lifted her hand and kissed it. Then he stood on the sidewalk and watched her walk home alone.

chapter 21

P
eggy and Bridie wore shorts, both with legs as pale as the whitecaps of Clew Bay. Wind blew in gusts, but the August sun was hot enough to make up for it. Bridie turned her face up to the sky and closed her eyes in pleasure.

“I love sunshine. I want to pour it in a bottle and keep it for rainy days.”

“Me, too. When you live in a place where sunshine isn’t guaranteed, you learn to treasure it.”

“Kieran likes it.”

Peggy looked over at her shorts-clad son, who was sitting in a sandpile with a bucket and toy shovel. He was surrounded by wooden blocks, but so far he had only showed interest in the patches of light filtering through tree limbs. Banjax lay in the shadows, guarding him and enjoying the summer heat.

“At least he’s not afraid of the wind, the way he was when we first arrived.”

“He learns things.” Bridie paused. “Just not very fast.”

And that, thought Peggy, was the reason she awoke every morning with a heavy heart. Because Bridie was right. Kieran’s progress was so slow that she had run out of improvements to report to her sisters. She almost dreaded their phone calls and the inevitable questions about her son.

“I’m glad you could spend the day with me.” Peggy motioned for Bridie to move closer, and when she did, Peggy unplaited an unsuccessful braid, combed it with her fingers and plaited it again. The gesture was nearly automatic. She and Bridie had grown even closer over the summer, and now small affectionate intimacies were commonplace.

“My mom used to do that,” Bridie said. “Daddy tries, but he’s not very good. And I don’t think he likes it.”

Finn’s stiffness with his daughter concerned Peggy, but it was a subject they had never discussed. She knew he loved Bridie and that Bridie loved him, but the two were like strangers walking through the same forest on parallel paths.

“No one teaches boys to braid hair.” Peggy wrapped the elastic band around the end and patted Bridie’s shoulder. Bridie didn’t leave, she just snuggled against Peggy, and Peggy put her arm around her for a companionable hug. Bridie needed an adult who could show her love, and Peggy needed a child who could return it. The relationship was mutually fulfilling.

After a moment Bridie flopped down on her stomach. “When I grow up, I want to live far, far away.”

“Do you? Away from Ireland?”

“Why should I stay? This is where bad things happen.”

For a moment Peggy didn’t understand; then she realized Bridie wasn’t talking about politics or the country’s history of repression and famine. She was talking about herself and her family.

“Your daddy’s here,” Peggy said. “And he would miss you.”

“I don’t think so.” Bridie rolled to her back. “He doesn’t notice me very much.”

Peggy would rather have heard anger in the little girl’s voice than resignation. Clearly Bridie saw little chance of affecting the way her father felt.

“It may seem like it.” Peggy felt her way. “When sad things happen, the way they did to your family, everyone’s affected. Sometimes people don’t know how to go on, what steps to take, how to act or even how to think.”

“Is that how you felt when Kieran was born? Because it doesn’t seem that way. I think you love him more just because things didn’t go quite right with him.”

“Your daddy loves you, Bridie. Maybe he’s just forgotten to show it as often.”

“What are we going to do with Kieran today?”

Peggy had a lesson plan. She’d brought her son outside to work on nonverbal imitation skills. Having a schoolroom was important, but Kieran needed to be taught how to block out distractions and learn in other places, as well. So she’d chosen the sandpile, and she’d made a list of behaviors for him to copy. If he learned to imitate nonverbal behaviors, then other behaviors might follow more naturally.

Of course, in one way or another they had been doing imitation exercises for months with little success. On his best days he paid attention and cooperated, almost seeming to enjoy the activity. More often he became annoyed or frustrated and refused to follow along.

“Why don’t you see if he’ll follow you today? He’s tired of me.” Peggy’s morning alone with her son hadn’t gone well.

“What should I do?”

“Let’s start by putting toys in the bucket. You put one in yours and see if he’ll put one in his.”

“And I’ll praise him if he does it.”

“You’re very good at this.”

Bridie went over to sit across from him. Kieran objected, because she disturbed the shadows that had so fascinated him. Bridie sat her ground, guessing, Peggy thought, that if she didn’t, Kieran would be so engrossed in watching the shifting light that nothing she did would get his attention.

“No,” he said.

“Yes,” Bridie answered. She picked up her bucket and put a block inside it. Then gently she lifted his hand and closed it over a block. When he grasped it at last she moved his hand over the bucket and waited for him to drop it in.

Kieran snatched his hand back and threw the block at her. Then he grabbed handfuls of sand and began to hurl them at Bridie’s face.

Peggy was up like a shot, but before she could get to the children, Bridie picked up a handful of sand and tossed it back at him. The sand landed in his lap. Kieran looked down, then up at her. He picked up another handful, but this time instead of hurling it at her face, he dropped it in her lap, exactly the way she’d done to him. He followed that with a giggle, the giggle of any child engrossed in a new game.

This time Bridie tossed a block in his lap. Kieran fished for another and tossed it to her.

Peggy was so fascinated by this turn of events that she didn’t hear footsteps until Finn was nearly on top of her.

“What next? Firebombs and grenades? The activity of the day is exploring the troubles in Northern Ireland?” He lowered himself to the ground beside her.

Peggy’s breath caught in her chest. She and the children weren’t the only ones wearing shorts today. Finn’s long, muscular legs were bare and, unlike her own, tanned. The hours he spent outside showed on his sun-kissed face, too. Her gaze fell to his lips, and she smiled. “Hello.”

“Hello to you.” His gaze was warm, but he didn’t touch her. As far as Peggy knew, she and Finn were the only people in the world who knew their relationship had blossomed into something more than tolerance. In the month since he had kissed her at the overlook, their intimacy had increased steadily. They found excuses to see each other whenever they could. The sexual attraction that had simmered between them almost immediately was rising to a slow boil.

“Don’t tell me you came to take Bridie home.” She raised her gaze to his. “You can’t. Who’ll throw things at Kieran?”

“She’s going to Dublin with Sheila’s cousin’s family for a week. Didn’t she tell you?”

“I forgot she was leaving today.”

“We’re meeting them in town later. They’re stopping by Shanmullin on the way from Westport.”

“I’ll miss her.”

Finn didn’t respond in kind. She remembered Bridie’s earlier comments about her father and wondered how he could be so oblivious to the little girl’s needs.

The children were still happily tossing blocks in each other’s laps. It was unorthodox, but it was definitely imitation. Eight out of ten times was the standard, and Kieran had already exceeded the maximum. It was time to go on to something else, but Peggy had no energy for a change.

“Did you come to see Irene?” she asked.

“I stopped in to let her know I was here, but she waved me away. She’s watching something on the telly. I really came to spend some time with Bridie before she goes off for the week.”

That pleased her. He wasn’t oblivious to his daughter after all. “I guess I can lose my helper for a good excuse like that.”

“Not at all. I thought we’d stay here and work with Kieran, and you could go inside and spend some time with Irene. I know how she loves to have you to herself occasionally.”

She wasn’t certain she understood. “You’re going to work with Kieran?”

“Work may well be inaccurate, since I doubt I can accomplish the lofty goals you have for him. But tell me what you planned to do with him today, and I’ll give it a try. Bridie can help.”

She understood so much. That Finn wanted to relieve her of some of the burden of Kieran’s therapy. That Finn wanted to spend time with his daughter. That Finn needed a project he and Bridie could do together. Without one, he wouldn’t know what to say or how to treat her.