Tears of the Moon, Page 22

  an accident of fate, are my brother.”

  Humor flickered across his face. “We’ll be all right, Darcy,” he repeated. “It’s for us to work it out.”

  “You’re turning down the assistance of an expert in this particular field of battle.”

  He began to score the dough, measuring it into neat squares. “I’ll hold you in reserve, if it’s all the same to you.”

  “Well, it’s your choice, after all.” She started out, stopped, turned around. “Does she matter?”

  Knowing how well his sister read faces, Shawn kept his head lowered. “Do you think I don’t know what comes out of my mouth goes in your ear, then off your tongue and into her ear?”

  “It won’t. If you ask me.”

  He looked up then. Loyalty was her finest trait, as far as he was concerned. And he knew she’d sooner break her arm than her word. “Then I’m asking you. I feel it’s my life up on a thin and slippery line. Step off one way, the ground’s solid, off the other it’s a bog. You sink in, and it’s over.”

  “Then watch your step,” Darcy advised, and went back into the pub.

  The noise level was already rising. It would be a din, hushed down once the music started, and peaking again at every break the band took. Brenna worked the taps with both hands, even while she listened to Jack Brennan lumber his way through a joke he’d heard about a princess and a frog. Though her heart wasn’t in it, she laughed at the end.

  When the band began to set up, she ordered herself to pay no mind, no mind at all. But her gaze wandered over nonetheless and locked on the blond singer.

  Just the type Shawn would drift back to, she thought. Shallow bastard. What would it take him? A month, a week, a bloody night before he rolled atop another woman?

  “I’m almost afraid to ask,” Jude said as she slid onto a stool. “But can I have a mineral water?”

  “You can.” Brenna got the glass, remembered ice as Jude had that Yank preference for it. “Why would you be afraid to ask?”

  “Because you look as if you want to punch someone. I wouldn’t want it to be me.”

  “It’d more likely be myself, or that blonde over there.”

  “Eileen? Why?”

  “To start, she has tits.” Brenna set the glass down, ordered herself to put the rest aside. “You look well tonight, Jude Frances. Well and happy.”

  “I’m both. I’ve gained two more pounds. I can’t get my trousers hooked anymore.”

  Brenna took orders and coin, continued to work the taps. “So you’ll make use of all those maternity clothes Darcy talked you into. Don’t you want a table—a chair for your back?”

  “No, I’m fine here for now. I’m just staying long enough for the first set, and a bowl of soup.”

  “You want a meal?” It came out as an accusation, making Jude stare.

  “Well, I’d considered it.”

  “You’ll want a table,” Brenna said briskly. If Jude ordered from a table it would be Darcy’s job to go into the kitchen.

  “No, I don’t. I’ve gotten some bits and pieces about trouble between you and Shawn. You can’t deal with it, Brenna, if you can’t so much as open that door and shout out an order for soup.”

  “Maybe I don’t want to deal with it.” When Jude only folded her hands on the bar, Brenna hissed out a breath. “You know, I’m finding married women a pain in the ass.” She finished building a Guinness, pulled a pint and a glass of lager, and exchanged them for the price. “You’ve got fairy tales on your brain,” she continued. “That’s not how it is here.”

  “I might agree with you but for one thing. Well two things. Carrick and Lady Gwen.”

  Brenna snorted and started another pair of pints. “They’ve nothing to do with me. I’ll tell you how I’d end a fairy tale,” she continued, thinking of Jack Brennan’s joke. “In mine, the princess doesn’t kiss the frog, but dines well on frog legs at end of day. I’ll get your damn soup.”

  Spoiling for a fight, she strode to the door, shoved it open. Shawn was at the stove, a wooden spoon in one hand, a spatula in the other. The heat had his hair curling just a bit, and he needed a trim. He hadn’t bothered to shave, which was an odd thing for Shawn. But under the day’s growth on his jaw was unmistakable bruising.

  Before she could speak, the warm, liquid voice of the blond singer drifted into the room. It didn’t matter if it was unreasonable. It didn’t matter if it was uncalled for.

  It just pissed her off.

  “I need an order of soup.”

  “It’s hot and ready,” he said easily, because he gauged her mood. “I’ve my hands a bit full here, if you wouldn’t mind spooning it up yourself.”

  “Everyone’s hands are full,” she muttered, but she got down a bowl. “What happened to your face?”

  He swiveled his jaw. “I wasn’t watching my step.”

  “Aye. I heard you got yourself a snootful. Well, that’s no answer.”

  Since she’d decided to snipe at him, Shawn reasoned, she wasn’t going to wallow and brood. Much better all around. “It served at the time.”

  She filled the bowl, set it on a plate. “And now?”

  He wanted to lean over, just lean to her while both their hands were occupied and close his mouth over hers. Instead, he lifted a shoulder. “And now I’ll have to be more careful where I step.” For the hell of it, he began to hum in harmony with Eileen’s lovely voice.

  “You think it’s as easy as that, do you? Well, it’s not. We’ll talk about this after closing.”

  He let her have the last word since it was exactly what he’d intended to say to her. When she stalked out, her face fierce, he went back to work with a lighter heart.

  A couple of tourists from Cleveland overindulged. Brenna helped Aidan steer them toward the B and B, on foot, as it was feared they’d break their necks if they attempted to ride their bikes even that far.

  Gauging his timing, Shawn slipped out. “Ah, well, you got them off, then. I was thinking you might need an extra pair of hands.”

  “No, they should be able to stumble their way into bed.” Aidan watched them lurch and weave down the street and shook his head at their off-key rendition of “Whiskey, You’re the Devil.” “A pair of Yanks straight out of school. Well, but what’s a Grand Tour without one drunken night in an Irish pub, after all?” He caught Shawn’s eye, figured the meaning. “It’s been a long one, so we’ll call it a night. Thanks for helping out, Brenna.”

  “It’s not a problem. Good night, Aidan.”

  “It’s been longer for you and me,” Shawn said when he and Brenna were alone on the street.

  “It has, but it’s not done. I’d like a walk on the beach if it’s the same to you.”

  “All right.” He didn’t take her hand, but walked beside her, his own hands in his pockets. “It’s a fresh night. Full of moon.”

  “That’s lucky. We won’t freeze or fall on our faces.”

  He had to laugh. “You’re such a romantic fool, Mary Brenna.”

  “A fool, from time to time. I was foolish with you, knowing my sister’s feelings.”

  “With or without you, I couldn’t give her what she thinks she wants from me. There’s no getting past that. I’m sorry she’s hurt, and sorrier still that it was you she struck out at. But in thinking it through, I don’t know if there was a way it could’ve been avoided.”

  “I could have waited until her feelings for you faded off, as they will.”

  “So, I’m the forgettable sort.”

  She glanced up at him, then away. “That scores your pride, but it’s the way it is. She’s barely twenty and can’t see through the stars in her eyes.”

  “But there’re none in yours.”

  “I see clear enough. I started this with you, and I’d end it. I was prepared to end it. But that’s not the way to solve the matter. Mary Kate won’t forgive and forget just because I step away from you. If she’s to grow up, she needs to learn how to face the hard things.”

&nb
sp; “So, you’ve decided for all of us, then.”

  Because he stopped, she turned to him. Moonlight streamed at his back, spilling over sand and sea like liquid pearls. And in its light she saw his eyes weren’t calm and easy, but very near to furious.

  “Someone has to.”

  “And it’s always you? Maybe I’ve had enough of you. Maybe I prefer having my life on balance instead of being in the middle of two women who want to bite and scratch.”

  Nearly as shocked as she was offended, she snapped at him. “I don’t bite and scratch, and I wasn’t looking to fight Mary Kate or anyone over the likes of you. It just happened. And as far as you having enough of me,” she added, “that’s a different tune you’re singing than the one I heard only this morning.”

  “I know a variety of tunes. And as you think so little of me, I’d suspect you’d be relieved to part ways in this area. Both of us can find sex elsewhere when we’re in the mood for it.”

  “It’s not just sex.”

  Ah, he thought, finally. “Isn’t it?” He stepped closer, backing her toward the sea. “Isn’t that what you said you wanted from me?”

  “Yes.” What was going on in those eyes of his? she wondered. They were black as night, with thoughts and feelings she couldn’t read. “But we have a caring for each other. I won’t have you cheapen what’s between us that way.”

  “But you’ll say what I’ll have and won’t, what I’ll do and don’t?” He snatched her up seconds before she backed into the surf. “Why would you want a man touching you who could be so easily ordered about?”

  “Shawn.” He had her up, her feet dangling inches above the ground. Her heart began to boom. “Set me down.”

  “You want me to touch you. Even now, thinking you can point and I’ll go here, or I’ll go there, you want my hands on you.”

  “It’s nothing to be proud of.”

  He jerked her up another inch. “Fuck pride.”

  And when his mouth crushed down on hers, it was rough and ruthless. She might have resisted, might have shoved and struggled. But she did none of those things.

  She gave, because he so rarely demanded. She gave, because she needed to. As her body began a fevered quaking, she said his name.

  “I could have you, right here and now.” He dropped her abruptly on her feet. “Think about why that is. I have.”

  She couldn’t think at all, not with her insides churning and the blood roaring in her head like the sea at her back.

  “I’m going home.”

  “Go, then. I won’t stop you.” He tucked his hands back in his pockets so he wouldn’t be tempted to do just that. “Mind this, Brenna. I won’t come to you. Once you work out what’s inside you yourself, you know where to find me.”

  She walked away. Shawn could say what he would about pride, but she needed herself. She didn’t start running until her boots hit the street.

  “That’s the way you charm the ladies, is it?” Carrick stood in the shallow surf and lifted the silver pipe he held to his lips to play a quick tune. “What strange ways you mortals have.”

  “I know what I’m about here.”

  “I’m sure you think you do. You pea-brain. If you love the woman, why do you let her wiggle away like that?”

  “Because I love her.” The fury he’d barely held in check broke out now as he rounded on Carrick. “And you didn’t do so very well in your own time with your own woman, did you?”

  Carrick’s eyes flashed, a wild blue that matched the lightning that split the star-strewed sky. “You’re looking to take on the likes of me now, Gallagher the younger?” He stepped out of the surf on boots that were soft and dry. “Didn’t your dear mother ever warn you about what comes of challenging the Good People?”

  “You don’t worry me, Carrick. You need me. It’s come down to you, with all your power and all your tricks, needing a mortal man. So hold your threats and your light shows. They don’t impress me.”

  Temper simmered, settled. “Hah. The woman thinks she knows what’s in you, but she’s yet to dig deep enough. Have a care you don’t show her too much too quickly and scare her off.”

  “Go to the devil.”

  Carrick flashed his teeth. “He won’t have me,” said he, and faded away to the tune of his pipe.

  SEVENTEEN

  BRENNA WENT TO early Mass. The little church with cool morning light coming through the glass smelled of candle wax and holy water. It always seemed to her that holy water carried a faint metallic scent. When Brenna was a child Mollie told her it was the blessings in it. She often remembered that, found comfort in that, whether she dipped her fingers in the church font or the water of Saint Declan’s Well. A baby was fussing in the back pew, little fretful squawls that his mother tried to hush with murmurs and pats. Brenna didn’t mind it. It was rare to sit at Mass and not hear a baby whimpering or wailing, or children squirming, starched clothes scratching against worn wooden pews.

  She liked the familiarity of it, as much as the ritual. It was a fine time and place for thinking, which to her mind was the same as praying half the time.

  She had choices to make. And if she wanted to repair the damage that had been done, she had to make them quickly. When there was a crack in something it only widened if you didn’t tend to it. Let it go long enough, a crack became a break, and you had a hell of a mess on your hands.

  There was damage now to her relationship with Mary Kate, a split that could undermine the foundation of blood and heart. She’d had a part in causing it. Left as it was, that damage could run through and fracture the bond of her entire family. How it was repaired would determine whether that bond held firm or showed the scars.

  The same was true of Shawn. There was a foundation there, built over a lifetime of affection and shared memories and friendship. She wouldn’t stand aside and watch it crumble.

  Choices, she thought, of where to begin the repairs and how to go about them. Each choice took steps, and only she could take them. Best if she began now.

  She slipped out a few minutes before the service ended. That way she avoided anyone who wanted to chat or gossip or ask after her family. She drove home, a bit nervous in the stomach regions, but with her mind made up as to which step to take first.

  “There you are.” Mollie, dressed for church, met her at the door. “I heard you go out earlier.”

  “I’ve been to Mass.”

  “Oh, well, the lot of us are about to go ourselves.”

  “Mary Kate’ll have to go later.” Brenna moved in and started up the stairs. “She can use my lorry.”

  “Brenna, I want no fighting in this house on the Lord’s day.”

  “There won’t be,” Brenna promised. She had a mind to fight elsewhere, should it be necessary.

  She got to the top of the steps just as her father came out of his room. His face was red and glowing from his shave, his hair showing the forks of his comb like little furrows in a sandy field. Her heart all but broke with love for him.

  “Dad.”

  It was awkward, and he imagined it would be so between them for a little while yet. But there were tears swimming into her eyes. That he couldn’t bear. “Your mother’s gathering us up for Mass.”

  “I’ve already been.”

  “Ah, well.” He shifted his feet. “I’m after an early start in the morning. Those back steps of O’Leary’s finally fell through, as we’ve been telling them they would. Of course, O’Leary fell through with them, which is no more than he deserves for letting them rot as he did. We’ll start there first thing.”

  She understood that either of them could have dealt with the job alone. That he was having them work together healed the widest crack in her heart. “I’ll be ready. Dad—”

  “We’ll be late for Mass if you don’t shake out the lead,” Mollie called up.

  “Tomorrow’s as good as today,” was all Mick said, and touched his hand lightly to Brenna’s arm as he passed her.

  She took a deep breath. “Not fo
r everything,” she muttered, and pushed open the door to her sisters’ room.

  Alice Mae sat patiently on the side of the bed, her good shoes polished, her hair brushed to a rose gold gleam. Mary Kate primped in front of the mirror, adding a coat of mascara to her lashes. Her eyes were still a little swollen from weeping, but her mouth formed a thin sharp line when she saw Brenna.

  “Alice, darling, Ma’s calling. Go on now.”

  Mary Kate gave her hair one more toss. “I’m coming with you, Alice Mae.”

  “No, you’re not,” Brenna corrected and stepped in front of the doorway. “You’ll have to make a later Mass.”

  “I don’t have to do anything you say.”

  “You can come with me and have this out away from the house, as I’ve promised Ma there’d be no fighting in it. Or you can sulk day and night like a child. If you want to be a woman, Mary Kate, I’ll be in my lorry waiting.”

  It took less than five minutes for Mary Kate to saunter out of the house and climb into the lorry. She’d added lipstick, Brenna noted as she zoomed out into the road. She couldn’t understand why so many females saw paint as a kind of shield or weapon.

  Then again, she knew her ancestors had painted themselves blue before screaming into battle.

  As she figured it as neutral turf, or if anything leaned a bit toward Mary Kate’s side, she drove to the cliff hotel and parked. She got out and began to walk, knowing her sister would follow.

  “And where are you going?” Mary Kate demanded. “Somewhere you can toss me off a cliff?”

  “Somewhere I think the both of us will respect enough not to start pulling hair or punching.”

  They followed the path, crossing the cliffs, where the air still had a bite. It seemed winter wasn’t quite ready to surrender to spring. But there were wildflowers beginning to show their faces and tuneful birds that sang out as high and loud as the crying gulls.

  She passed the ruin of the cathedral once built in the name of Saint Declan and moved beyond his well, beyond the three stone crosses, toward the ground that held the dead and their markers.

  “This is holy ground,” Brenna began. “And I’m standing on it when I tell you I wronged you. You’re my sister, my blood, and I didn’t consider your feelings, not as I should have. I’m sorry for it.”

  It threw Mary Kate off, and that alone was enough to stir her temper again. “Do you think that makes up for it?”

  “I’m thinking it’s all I can say.”

  “Are you giving him up?”

  “I thought I would,” Brenna said slowly. “That was part pride. ‘I’ll give him up for her,’ I thought. ‘Then she’ll see how I’d sacrifice to keep her happy.’ The other part was guilt that I’d done something to hurt you, and ending things with Shawn would be my penance for it.”

  “I’d think you’d have more guilt than pride in the way you’ve behaved.”

  Temper flashed once, a bright warning in her eyes. Then Brenna snuffed it. She knew her sister, and she knew just how clever Mary Kate could be in inciting anger to overpower her opponent’s reason.

  “I’ve no guilt over what’s been between myself and Shawn, but only that what is between us has hurt and embarrassed you.” The cool delivery only added impact to the words. “And for that I was prepared to turn from him, as a lover, and perhaps as a friend as well. Then, reconsidering, it seemed to me that doing that would be something akin to giving in to a child’s tantrum, and that’s hardly treating you or your feelings with respect.”

  “You’re just twisting it all around so you can have what you want.”

  Suddenly the four years separating them seemed like forty. And made Brenna unbearably tired. There were tears in Mary Kate’s voice, hot and spiteful ones that reminded Brenna of times they’d squabbled over a new toy or the last biscuit in the tin.