Page 58 of Lucky Strike

My heart softened. If anything, I was overwhelmingly grateful for her. “I guess not.”

Mom and Dad had taken the news of Rachel’s pregnancy a lot better than I’d expected. They didn’t love that we were having a kid “out of wedlock” and that there would be no wedding, ever, but they liked Rachel and respected our choices. Mom’s only regret was that she and Liam lived on a different continent.

“It’s not right for him to grow up so far away from you,” she’d said, more than once.

“You want me to move back to Belfast?” I asked, tired of having the same conversation over and over. I mean, fuck. We were making the best of a rough situation.

No, she didn’t want her little boy overseas, even if it meant he had to take turns with his own little boy. Over time, my sense of duty had evolved into a desire to know the baby I’d helped make, so I’d gone to Belfast every couple of months since Liam had been born last year. Rachel had brought him for Christmas as promised to meet my family, too. My parents wanted her to come more often, offering to pay for the flights, but Rachel was busy, trying to juggle motherhood and her career witha bare-bones support system. Hopping a trans-Atlantic flight was not high on her list of priorities despite my mother’s wishes.

But now Liam was a little over a year old. Rachel’s band had representation now, and they were ready to work on their first studio album. She called me, all stressed out because she wasn’t sure if she could balance Liam with the long hours of writing and recording. She didn’t feel right leaving him with a nanny or sitter, so I told her I’d take him for a while. I’d offered before, even to set her and Liam up nearby if she wanted, but she refused. She knew what my family was about and wanted no part of it. But also, she loved Belfast like I loved Boston.

She did, however, finally agree to let Liam come. My flight was in two days. I would spend a week in Belfast, getting Liam reacquainted with me while his mom was nearby, and then we’d fly back to Boston together.

Leaving Mom to her compulsive nesting, I went down to the kitchen of my brand-new townhouse and grabbed my laptop. I had a demanding client whose portfolio needed review, and I wanted to get that done before flying out. Dad came by a little later with dinner from a local restaurant. We ate around the island and then they went home, leaving the house peaceful and quiet.

It was late when the call came in. I didn’t recognize the number, but I knew from the area code that it was Belfast, so I picked up right away.

“Hello?”

“Con, hey. It’s, ah, Ricky.”

Ricky was Rachel’s older brother. We weren’t that close, and he had some opinions about the way his sister and I were coparenting, but we got along okay.

I stilled at the shaky grittiness of his voice, my heart thumping hollowly. “Hi, Ricky. Is everything all right?”

He paused, and I could hear the tremor in his breath before he even spoke. “Rachel’s gone.”

Momand I took the first flight we could find to Belfast. She didn’t think twice, dropping everything to come with me, knowing I neededher now more than ever. I was Liam’s only remaining parent, and I had no idea what the hell I was doing.

To say I was emotionally overwhelmed might’ve been an understatement. I had legal custody, so that wasn’t the issue—besides Ricky, there wasn’t anyone else. What I was freaked out about was the fact my kid’s mother had driven off a cliff along the Coastal Causeway in Antrim, and it might not have been an accident. The investigation was ongoing, the authorities tight-lipped due to “the suspicious nature of her death.”

All I was told was that it had been late, the weather so foggy it was difficult to see. But Rachel hadn’t been drinking. There were no skid marks on the road. There were other details, too, things they wouldn’t tell me, but Ricky had his own theories about what’d happened that night. Their father had run with the CIRA, or the Continuity Irish Republican Army, since its inception. Rachel had eschewed any association with them and anyone like them—it was a sharp point of contention between us when she found out about my own family’s history on both sides of the pond—but Ricky was actively involved in the group’s current activities.

I had no idea if any of that was related to Rachel’s death, but I wasn’t naïve to the possibility. I just didn’t want to think someone would target her like that. Thing was, the CIRA wasn’t above extortion, smuggling, or violence to finance its operations, so they had plenty of enemies. Ricky’d had his share of run-ins over the years with both loyalists that disagreed with the cause and fellow freedom fighters who thought it was now time to move on. Living in Belfast had given me an idea of how fresh old wounds felt for some people, though I’d never fully get it as an American. I got the impression that most people, like Rachel, wanted to coexist peacefully. But there were still die-hards, like Ricky and their father. Honestly, I could understand both sides.

Meanwhile, I was grappling with the reality that I was now a full-time dad. It was one thing to send money, to visit, and now have Liam for a couple of months, quite another to be his sole guardian. Seeing him this time around, knowing he didn’t have a mom anymore, would be beyond difficult.

We landed and headed straight to Ricky’s flat in Stranmillis, where he and his girlfriend Priya were temporarily taking care of Liam. My mother clasped my hand as we waited for them to answer the door,squeezing it, and the fear started melting away. No matter what happened, I had my family. Liam and I wouldn’t be alone.

If Rachel could do this, so could I.

Ricky opened the door. “Hey there, Conlan. Mrs. Kelly.” Ducking his head, he stood aside to let us into the small, cozy, apartment. It smelled like roasted chicken and freshly baked bread, and a sense of peace washed over me as Priya brought Liam to me.

I thought I understood love, and purpose, but in that moment, I was hit with a deeper recognition of both. Nothing else in the world mattered like this tiny, precious life in my arms. He grinned up at me, patting my face with his little hand, and I grinned back, my heart breaking and mending in the space of seconds.

“Jeez, he’s the image of his da,” Priya whispered, her voice thick with tears.

After dinner, and promises we’d be in touch, we took Liam to our hotel near the airport. He slept fitfully, asking for his mother like he knew something was wrong. Ignoring the cot that the hotel had provided, I kept him by my side in bed, cuddling him whenever he stirred. I loved him so much it made my chest hurt.

Mom, Liam, and I left the very next morning. It was a quick turnaround, made grueling by the long flights and differences in time zone, but we wanted to get home as soon as possible.

The house was just as we had left it, but it felt different now that Liam was here. Maeve took time off so she could help out, and Dad and Tristan came over every day after work. Mom was a permanent fixture. It was chaotic and busy, and I was chronically underslept, but it was a special time. My family rallied around me like they always had, bringing my son into the fold as if he’d always been there.

I thought about Rachel a lot, overwhelmed with gratitude that she’d given me this beautiful baby, and respect that she’d raised him on her own up until now. But I also understood her in a way I never had before—despite the exhaustion and hard work that came with being a new parent, there was nothing I would rather do than care for this kid.

The days passed in a blur as we settled into our new routine. My entire world revolved around Liam; even when I finally went back to work, he was on my mind. Was I doing enough? Would he ever stop crying for his mother? Did I want him to? She was worthy of beingmissed. But his anguish triggered my own. It was hard feeling like I’d never be enough.

But time soldiered on. Liam turned two and then three. I looked back one day and realized he hadn’t asked about Rachel in ages. He was a curious, happy kid, doted on by everybody. He liked animals and dinosaurs and space. He was clever and silly, and he named one of our new puppies after one of his favorite foods because he was “the same color as bacon.”

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