Page 287 of Keeping 13

“Pity about Lizzie the viper,” Gibsie grumbled, throwing some old boards off to the side. “I hope she’s in good spirits.”

I shrugged, not breaking my stride as I ripped the flooring off the old tree house and tossed the boards down to Gibsie. “Can’t hurt.”

After that, we all worked in silence. I didn’t think any of us wanted to be inside right now. I couldn’t leave her, but I couldn’t fix this, and the guilt I was feeling was drowning me. It was insurmountable and I was close to my breaking point. Throughout the afternoon and evening, Mam popped in and out with trays of sandwiches and flasks of tea, but none of us broke stride long enough to make small talk.

“When’s the funeral?” Feely asked after a couple of hours of working together in companionable silence.

“After twelve o’clock mass on Monday,” I replied, feeling my chest squeeze tight at the thought. “They only got the bodies back this morning—with the postmortems they had to perform and all that shite.”

“So, the rosary is tomorrow night, and the removal is on Sunday?”

I nodded stiffly. “It’s a closed funeral. Obviously, it will be closed coffins, too.”

Feely sighed heavily. “Shit, lad.”

“Yeah.” Wiping my brow with my forearm, I exhaled a heavy sigh. “Throw me up a bottle of water, will ya?” Locking my legs around the limb I was balancing on, I whipped off my T-shirt and tossed it away. “I’m bleeding melting up here.”

“You’re not the only one sweating your tits off,” Feely grumbled, throwing a bottle up to me. “I’m as a red as a lobster.”

I peered down at his bare shoulders and winced. “Ah, lad. You should put some cream on your shoulders.”

“I did,” he growled. “We don’t all tan like you, Cap.”

I glanced down at myself and shrugged. “I’m not that tanned.”

“Yet,” Feely countered. “Give it a week of this weather and you’ll look like you the spent the fecking summer in Oz.”

“Ah now, don’t be jealous, Pa. You have a grand farmer’s tan,” Gibsie offered. “Your arms are lovely.”

“Iama farmer,” Feely growled. “But thanks, Gibs. I appreciate the sentiment. Your arms are lovely, too.”

“I’m lovely all over,” Gibsie corrected, gesturing to his tanned chest. “I’m sallow-skinned,” he added with a wink. “The sun loves me.”

“Good for you,” Feely shot back huffily.

“Someone needs to tell your mother to bring the Child of Prague statue back inside, Pa,” Hughie puffed. “’Tis hot enough and you won’t be doing hay until June.”

“She’s superstitious,” Feely said with a noncommittal shrug. “And they’re at silage this week, so she won’t be taking him out of the field for a while.”

“Great,” Hughie groaned. “We’ll just swelter so.”

“You guys are so fucking weird.” I chuckled. “You seriously believe putting a little holy statue out in a field brings the good weather?”

“You’re damn straight we do, city boy,” Gibsie shot back. “It’s one hundred percent effective. Same as when my nanny lights a candle for me before exams. It’s bulletproof.”

I rolled my eyes. “Culchies.”

“Hey, what about Joey?” Hughie asked then. Covering his eyes from the sun, he looked up at me and asked, “What’s happening there?”

I leaned down and grabbed another board off Gibsie before dragging it up and laying it down on the beams of the tree house. “The treatment place is sending some guys down to escort him after the service on Monday.”

“Jesus,” Hughie muttered, rubbing his jaw. “What the hell was he thinking, getting mixed up with drugs?”

“He was probably thinking his dad was a psycho prick who spent the best of his life beating the living shit out of him and he wanted an escape,” Gibsie snapped, pulling his T-shirt out of the back of his jeans and using it to wipe his brow. “None of us know what he went through, Hugh. We haven’t been in his shoes, so don’t judge him.”

“I’m not judging him,” Hughie replied, holding his hands up. “I’m just sorry for him—for all of them. I remember when Shannon first started hanging around with Claire. He was so fucking prickly and protective of her. I could never figure it out. We didn’t go to the same primary school or anything, but we were the same age and I couldn’t understand why he cared so much about his little sister. I couldn’t fucking stand Claire when we were small, but Joey? He kept Shannon with him everywhere he went. Now I know why.”

“How long will he be gone?” Feely asked.

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