Do Not Go Gentle (52 page)

No one spoke for several seconds. “I think you sell yourself short, my love,” Eileen finally said, breaking the silence. “I think you just drew upon our love to give you the strength to fight her.”

Jamie shrugged. “Maybe.”

“No maybe about it,” Hanrahan disagreed. “The witch knew your greatest desire and offered it to you, as well as anything else she could think of that might induce you to give her the statue. If you hadn't been true to yourself, you would have given in.”

“The druid has the right of it,” Lucy said. “Ye are a good man, and your heart is good. Otherwise, the witch would have made ye one of her own.”

Eileen hugged Jamie fiercely. “You stubborn, stubborn man,” she said in a choking voice. “You are worth so much more to me, to your girls, and to your family and friends than just being a ‘good provider.' Being sick hasn't made you less of a man—the way you've handled this adversity has made you more of a man, and I love you more now than ever.”

Brigid, Caitlin, and Riona reached out and touched Jamie as well. “How could you ever think you were letting us down?” Brigid asked with genuine dismay on her face. “Da, you're my
hero
.” Riona and Caitlin nodded in agreement.

Now Jamie did cry. It was something he only had done a few times in his life—and only at funerals. Still, he quickly wiped away the tears and nodded. “I know, my dear ones, I know. It was just how I felt. I may never completely get over the feeling of loss and failure at not being able to be the man I was before all this, but with help from all of you, I know I can get through it. I know I can make peace with it.”

They lapsed once more into silence, listening to the wind howling its icy threats outside and thankful for the warmth and protection they enjoyed within.

January 2nd dawned sunny and cold. The worst of the storm had passed, although winter still held New England in its icy grip. Jamie got up around nine and went through his morning rounds with Finn MacCool. He was exhausted—Jamie could tell that he was going to pay a heavy price for the previous days' events. His headache, which he could normally keep to a dull roar, sent stabs of pain through his eye. Jamie had taken one of his migraine pills. They worked slowly, but they worked. By the time he had finished his second cup of coffee, his head felt better—now it only seemed like someone was running a jackhammer inside his head. His exhaustion, which at best was like a small-to-medium size monkey on his back, felt more like King Kong's big brother today. His balance was terrible this morning. His days of being able to stand on one foot with eyes closed for several minutes without swaying were gone. Now Jamie congratulated himself if he could get a cup of coffee without spilling it or bumping into anything. Worst of all, in a down cycle, Jamie could barely focus. He tried reading the newspaper, but gave up when he realized he had read the same article twice and still didn't remember what it was about. When Eileen got up at eleven, she found him sitting on the sectional, surfing the Web and scratching Finn's belly.

“How are you today?” she asked in a bleary tone of voice. Eileen was disheveled and groggy. She never would be a morning person. She shuffled to sit beside Jamie on the sectional. Finn thumped his tail twice in greeting.

“Well, this is not going to be one of my better days,” Jamie admitted. “I need someone to sic the cops on the demented semi driver crashing around inside my head. I
told
him he could pass—”

“Hey. I heard Mom get up, so I knew it'd be safe to come down.” Riona's cheerful voice preceded her down the staircase. She entered the room with her usual bounce and sunny disposition.

Eileen growled but said nothing. Jamie glared and just held up his coffee cup.

“Ah, I think I'll get you guys coffee. Let's go, Finn,” Riona said, feigning terror as she backed out of the room.

“Wise decision, sunshine,” Eileen said with a grin creeping onto her face.

Brigid and Caitlin came downstairs and settled onto the couch. The dog followed Riona for a moment, then when it was apparent that she did not intend to act appropriately and get him any of the treats he deserved, Finn returned to the living room and settled in between the two girls. Eileen and the girls were all still in pajamas and robes. Jamie was dressed in a comfortable Notre Dame running suit.

The doorbell interrupted their morning bliss. Finn MacCool barked furiously and accompanied Riona to the front door, quieting and sitting upon command.

There was a FedEx delivery person at the door. “I need an adult signature,” she said, grinning at the exaggerated frown that Riona put on her face.

“I'm an adult—I'm nearly in high school.”

Jamie got up and walked to the door, put a hand on top of his daughter's head, turned her around, and sent her back to the living room with a swat on the butt. Riona yelped. and after signing for the box, Jamie came back to sit down beside Eileen on the sectional.

“Whatizzit, Dad? Whatizzit?” Riona demanded.

“Who votes for applying some duct tape?” Caitlin said, raising her hand.

When everyone else immediately raised their hands, Riona sat in a huff beside the dog, who had found a nice patch of sunshine coming in through the front windows. “Finn loves me,” she complained in a quiet voice.

“We all do,” Jamie replied, “but Mom and your sisters are not awake, and I'm fighting another migraine.” He looked at his youngest daughter with a weak smile. “Please just keep the Riona-meter to no more than a 5.0 on the Richter scale, okay baby?” Riona nodded, and Jamie opened the box.

“It's from Timmy O'Neill,” he said in a sad voice. They had learned of O'Neill's suicide yesterday afternoon, which had only added to their somber mood. Daphné had called yesterday with an update on Darcelle. She said that Darcy was going to lose her right eye, but otherwise, had come through the surgery in good shape.

“What in the world is all that?” Eileen asked as Jamie removed three thick, brown accordion file folders and a box of CDs/DVDs.

“Dunno,” Jamie replied, then opened an envelope atop the file folders. He took out a three page, typed letter. As he scanned the letter, his face sagged, and Eileen saw tears starting to form in his eyes.

“What, love? What does the letter say?”

Jamie said nothing until he reached the end of the letter. Brigid, Caitlin, and Riona looked on with apprehensive eyes. Timmy O'Neill had been like an uncle to them. Finally, Jamie handed the letter to Eileen, and then rubbed his face several times. “I can't believe it,” Jamie said in a sad, shaking voice. “I'm sure I'll have no choice,” he added, pointing at the materials, “but I just can't believe it.”

“What?” his girls asked in a chorus.

Jamie stood, levering himself against the arm of the sectional. Eileen reached up and steadied him. “Apparently, Timmy was head of the Mazzimah, Sedecla's criminal operations.”

Eileen looked up from the letter with tears in her own eyes. “It's not possible.” The girls sat on the couch and floor with stunned expressions.

Jamie reached back and gave his wife's hand a hard squeeze. “I'm afraid it is, love.” He shuffled from the room and started up the stairs.

“What are you after?” Eileen asked, looking up again from O'Neill's letter.

“I'm going to get a shower and clean up,” Jamie called back. “I'm going to have to call Da and Sully and take this in to them.” Jamie continued up the stairs with heavy steps and a heavy heart.

* * * *

They had been home maybe an hour from a lengthy, often heated meeting, where Jamie had reviewed O'Neill's materials with his father and Bob Sullivan. They were just discussing dinner plans, when the telephone rang. As usual, Riona answered it. No one dared to get in her way when the telephone rang. “Griffin residence,” she answered, in her best British servant accent. After listening for a moment, Riona took the cordless handset to Jamie. “It's for you, Da.”

“Hello?”

“Hi, Jamie, it's Maggie Walsh.” Maggie was Jamie's disability attorney.

“Maggie. Happy New Year to you. How are you doing?”

“Jamie, I am doing absolutely wonderful. Fantastic. In fact, I am ecstatic this fine afternoon.”

Jamie sat forward with a jerk. “Maggie—” he said, not daring to continue.

“Jamie, I am holding a letter that we just received via fax. We won your long-term disability, Jamie. We won.”

“Ohmygod,” Jamie said. For the third time in just over twenty-four hours, Jamie felt himself tearing up. “Oh, Jaysus, Maggie—” Jamie could barely hold the telephone. “You're serious.”

“You bet your ass I'm serious,” Maggie Walsh replied with glee. “I buried those assholes in enough paperwork and citations that they reversed their initial decision.”

“I thought you said it'd be months before we got a response,” Jamie said.

“I didn't think we would,” Maggie said. “That estimate was based on experience, nothing hard and fast. The fact that you were a decorated detective, with family connections high up in the Boston Police Department didn't hurt. Once they realized that you weren't going away, someone higher up the food chain at the insurance company must have decided to make this go away sooner rather than later.”

Eileen and the girls watched Jamie with fear, especially given recent events. As Eileen started to realize what Jamie was discussing, she began to cry herself.

“What?” The three Griffin girls could barely speak. The past few days had seen too much bad news. Even Riona deflated like a punctured balloon.

“I'm sorry,” Jamie said, handing the phone to Eileen, who took it and began interrogating Maggie in an excited voice.

“What is it, Da?” Brigid asked.

“Don't worry. It's good news, lass,” Jamie said, holding out his arms to his daughters. “It's wonderful, excellent,
fantastic
news. In fact, we're going to go celebrate. Maggie Walsh called to tell me I won my long-term disability.” Looking at his daughters' stunned faces, he added, “That includes back benefits from when I first got sick. We're going to get through this.”

“Papa Gino's,” Riona shouted.

“No, Sonny's,” Caitlin said.

“No,” Jamie said. “This is a
big-time
celebration—we're going downtown to the Black Rose.”

“Woo-hoo,” Brigid shouted. “I'm gettin' cleaned up.” All three girls dashed out of the room, winding up Finn MacCool with their whirlwind exit, each yelling for dibs on one of the showers.

When Eileen finally got off the telephone, she grabbed Jamie into a fierce hug. “Oh my love.”

Jamie hugged back just as hard. “I can't believe it,” he murmured.

“Believe it, boyo.” she replied. “Maggie says we should have the initial settlement check by the end of next week, and sweet Jaysus it's going to be a big one.”

“Even after her fee and taxes?”

Eileen nodded, wiping away tears. “Aye, but it's only Maggie's cut we have to give up. Since you paid the premium each month for the long-term disability insurance, it's not taxable.”

“Seriously?” Jamie asked.

“If the Boston PD had paid the premiums, your benefits would be taxable, but since it was taken out of your paycheck, it's tax free.”

“Damn. I always hated those deductions.”

“Not so much now, hunh?”

“Indeed. Will it be enough to put back the insurance money we had to use?”

“More than. We'll be able to dig our way out of the hole we're in and start rebuilding our lives.”

After looking in wonder at each other for several seconds, Eileen said, “Go get your stinky arse in the shower, man. You take far less time to get ready than I do, and I need you out of my way if we're going to the Rose.” They made their way upstairs amidst the music of their daughters' preparations.

* * * *

Saturday morning dawned bright and warmer, much to everyone's relief. Jamie and Eileen sat at the dining room table, both regretting the extent to which they had celebrated at the Black Rose the previous evening. Jamie had called his parents and siblings with the great news, so they had been joined at the Rose by Frank and Nuala and Jamie's brothers and sisters. Jamie had lost the argument with Frank over the check. Even though it had been Jamie's idea to celebrate and Jamie's invitation, Frank insisted, and none of the Griffin children said no to their Da.

They were finishing their second cups of coffee when Riona crept down the stairs to her parents. “How bad are your heads?” she asked in a quiet voice.

“Bad enough that you get major brownie points for being so soft,” Jamie said with a smile. “Not so bad that you'd have been skinned alive if you hadn't.”

“Good.” She whirled on her heel and marched to get some breakfast.

“So what's next, my love?” Eileen looked over her coffee cup—it was a look Jamie knew well.

“Well, you're the money manager, dear heart.”

“Don't sham me, boyo,” Eileen warned. “You know damn well what I mean. Not only do we have your settlement, but we'll be getting our share of the reward money from Cal's family.”

Jamie sighed. “I don't know, love. We get to rebuild your business and get on with our lives.”

“What does that mean for
you
, Jamie?” Eileen took his hand in hers. “You can't just sit here day in, day out with the dog.”

“True—he'd probably wind up biting me ass to have the place to himself again.”

Eileen laughed, but maintained her meaningful look.

“Okay, I just don't know for sure what I
can
do.”

“Fine,” Eileen allowed, “but you worked well with Louie and the twins.”

Jamie made a wry face at his wife. “Yeah, I wondered how long until you'd bring that up.”

“What's wrong with that?”

“Me? A private investigator? You know my opinion of PIs.”

“Aye, and I know you're not going to be able to work any job that requires you to be available on a set schedule. You never know day-to-day whether you'll even be able to get out of bed, love.”

“The thought has crossed my mind. I have to admit, but even PI work requires a pretty regular commitment of time and energy.”

“True, but that's where Louie and the twins come in.”

Jamie looked thoughtfully at his coffee. “I'm not sure they'd be interested,” he said. “Especially the twins. I don't know how Darcy is going to handle losing her eye.”

Eileen nodded in reluctant agreement. “Mayhaps, but if I know those two young women, her injury won't take the wind out of her sails for long. They might surprise you.”