Page 7 of Simply Perfection
“Okay.”
Niall stood and paced a few feet away before turning to see Matt settled back into the sofa cushions, waiting with a sceptical look on his face.
“I never knew my father. He died before I was born. Upon receiving notification of his death, my mom moved in with her in-laws. That’s the way things are done in our tribe.” He stopped pacing and looked over at Matt. “In case you hadn’t figured it out, I’m Native American. A member of the Mohegan nation, to be exact.”
Matt nodded. “You have darker coloring, and your facial structure suggests Native American ethnicity, but with a name like Niall I admit to a few moments of uncertainty.”
Niall smiled. “Yes, it is unexpected, I know. I take after my father’s side of the family. I’ll get back to that in a moment. Where was I? Oh, right … so Mom moved in with my grandparents while she was still pregnant with me. However, right before my first birthday, she took off. They told me I reminded her too much of my father or something. Who knows? I never saw her again. From that moment on, mynokunáhsakandnánu, my grandfathers and grandmother, raised me.”
Niall saw Matt’s eyebrows slant with his use of syntax.
“Mytwograndfathers and grandmother. Who all lived in the same house … and slept in the same bed.”
“You mean they—”
“Were a threesome?” He nodded.
Matt appeared interested, but Niall wanted to make sure Matt wanted the full story. “You want the full story or just the abstract?”
“Are you kidding? This is great stuff. Not only do I get to learn more about Native culture, but I get an insider’s guide to the building blocks that shaped you as a person. You have to know the psychiatrist in me is all but salivating right now.”
Niall rolled his eyes. “Okay—you asked for it. Despite Ireland’s neutrality, my grandfather, Patrick Farrell, was one of thousands who volunteered for the British Army during World War II. My grandmother, Bridget, was a civilian volunteer who went to Britain to fill manpower shortages during the war. That’s where they met. After the war, they married and immigrated to America. They spent several months in New York City, but the exploding population and hectic pace were too foreign to them. They both originally came from Dublin, which had maybe half a million people to New York’s seven and a half million. After several months, they made their way north out of New York. They settled in the small river town of Montville, Connecticut. As fate would have it, they both fell in love with a sculptor named Greg Roberge who lived on the reservation.”
“Patrick and Bridget moved onto the reservation with Greg, since with other tribe members they were less likely to run into trouble over their living arrangements. You see, in the Native American tradition, there's a term we use called two-spirits. Traditionally, a two-spirit was one who had received a gift from the Creator—who we Mohegans refer to asManto—to house both male and female spirits in their bodies.We believe that a two-spirit can see the world from two perspectives simultaneously. This greater vision is revered by tribes, and often two-spirits hold crucial leadership roles. They are treated with the greatest respect, and hold important spiritual andceremonial responsibilities.” Niall looked over at Matt to see if he was following along.
“I had heard of the two-spirit tradition before, but never had it explained to me quite like that. It’s a shame the traditions and beliefs of your people did not survive once the Europeans took over. Society would be a lot different today.”
Niall nodded. “Sorry I went off on a bit of a tangent. Back to my grandparents. Mostly, the Mohegan tribe members considered my grandfather to be a version of a two-spirit. His love for both a man and woman was needed in order for him to find peace. My father was the biological child of Bridget and Greg but all three were his parents.”
“So you grew up in a home where three individuals shared love, and as an adult now seek what is familiar.”
“Yes, and no. It’s more than a child searching for his security blanket. I am two-spirit, andMantohas given me more than the gift of greater vision.Mantohas answered my prayer, and shown me my destiny.” Niall then told Matt about his entreaty as a child and his dream of several weeks earlier, then sat while Matt processed the fact that Niall believed they were destined soul mates—who only needed to find their third before their lives became whole.
Matt stood and walked over to the windows looking out over the Boston downtown skyline. Niall’s condo was in a converted warehouse dating back to 1895 in the Seaport District near his gallery. He watched as Matt traced the mortar sandwiched between the red bricks. Likely his mind needed to sort and analyze all the information Niall had presented.
"I've never entertained the thought of having a soul mate out there in the universe waiting for me. But, I can't discount the instant connection I feel with you. While many would call that animal lust, I wnt to believe there is more to it than that."
Niall stood with his hands shoved in his jeans, trying to give Matt space despite the fact that he stood on the balls of his feet, waiting anxiously for Matt’s answer.
"I don't know if I can believe in yourMantoor the vision? But I won't deny your heritage or the long held beliefs of your people. The bottom line is we both want the same things in life, so what does it matter?"
Matt opened his arms, and Niall rushed into them. Niall’s head fit perfectly against Matt's neck. He sighed as Matt ran his fingers through Niall's long hair.
"It's like cool silk. Do you think we’ll find him?” Matt asked.
“Yes. I’m not sure when or how, but I know he’s out there waiting for us.”
Trevor stepped off the elevator and showed his ID badge to the officer posted near the entrance to the lab. The evidence processing demanded that the area remain secure. The Boston police headquarters—where Trevor worked—had a forensic DNA lab, a trace evidence analysis lab, the ballistics lab where Logan worked, and across the hall was Trevor’s little slice ofheaven known to the plebeians as the flick shack. Trevor paused in the glass doorway to survey his kingdom.
Fifteen monitors measuring between seventeen and twenty-eight inches occupied the space. Some sat side by side, and others were installed at isolated stations. Each station had its own CPU tower that was capable of speeds the average household user would gawk at, and had software that would cause a sci-fi geek to drool. He kept his audio analysis stations on the left side of the room and the video analysis in the center. He reserved the right side of the room for a nine-foot by twelve-foot wall-mounted screen. When he chose, Trevor could send any image from one of his linked stations up onto the wall from a projector with the click of a few keys.
Dark gray soundproofing material covered three walls of the room, which served two purposes. The first was to corral the sound when Trevor was working on detailed audio analysis and had to use the installed surround-sound speakers, and the second was that the dark gray color prevented any glare on his monitors when looking at video. The glass wall on the hall side kept the room from being too cave-like.
“Trev, do you need a moment with your toys, or is it safe to come over there?”
Trevor turned and saw Logan leaning against the doorframe to the ballistic lab with a cocky smile on his face.
“Laugh all you want, but I’ve seen you caress those guns of yours when you think nobody’s looking.”
