Page 29 of Southie
The calls got relentless, forcing me to shut the phone off, which I should’ve done earlier instead of letting them affect me.
“It doesn’t matter how often I change my damn number,” I muttered. “They seem to always get it. I don’t understand how they’re doing it.”
Not only did the ridiculous amount of phone calls have me on edge and interfere with my sleep, for the past few weeks, I sensed as though someone had been following me. I never saw a person; however, I’d seen the same black Audi around our home a few times. By the time I reached school, it was there too.
Chalking my paranoia up to my thoughts getting the best of me, I prayed I was seeing a problem when there was none. Well, at least, I hoped it was just me being preoccupied with everything else. There’d be only one reason for anyone to follow me. It would mean Franklin Scott was in Boston coming to make good on all his threats. I wondered how long it would take before he tried to finish what he started.
I stepped off the bus into the cool morning air to make the short trek to Mrs. Daugherty’s for our early morning coffee, inhaling and releasing the cool air. These past few months, Mrs. Daugherty had become a genuine friend. The only friend I’d made since moving to Boston. She’d become a bright spot in my life, and I enjoyed the time I shared with her. It was something I tried to do as often as possible.
During what was becoming our weekly get-togethers, Mrs. Daugherty told me stories of her growing up in Ireland before she came to live in Boston. She spoke fondly of her time in Ireland and how, when she was younger, she cried for months, wanting to return before she realized Boston was her home. Now, she couldn’t dream of growing up and living anywhere else. She also spoke highly of her late husband who’d passed away from a heart attack.
When she found out I was single and had a rough go at relationships, she pleaded for me not to shut love out of my life based on the terrible things that had happened. She swore the man of my dreams would come into my life when I least expected it.
During the conversation, the image of the man from my father’s office had flashed in my mind. The more she spoke of love and the future, the more I thought of Liam.
She compared that kind of love to what she shared with the man she called the love of her life. It was instant love that had her marrying a man after knowing him for only a week and against her parents’ wishes. She spoke of how deeply she was still in love with him although he’d passed away years ago, and how she couldn’t wait to see him again. Their sixty plus years of marriage was something I never envisioned for myself because Frankie had ruined anything like that for me.
I couldn’t lie; listening to her describe her love for her late husband had me wishing I’d have the same love she experienced.
Unconditional. Faithful. Lifelong.
Angelica Daugherty had a kind spirit that drew you to her. The more time we spent together, the more her spirit pulled me in. She made me laugh with her vulgarity, and she made me cry, especially when she acknowledged how she’d let Liam down by not stepping in during his terrible childhood.
She didn’t go into detail about what he’d endured, but the pain reflected and the unshed tears that pooled in her eyes told me it must’ve been terrible for him. The happy and sad stories she told made me miss my mother, but it also helped me connect with her.
It was crazy how small the world was. What were the odds I’d see him again? Shock and fear had coursed through my body at the sight of the imposing man who’d invaded my dreams every night since that night in my father’s office. The way he’d looked at me with pure desire and adoration, while I sat at the dinner table with Mrs. Daugherty, had been both unnerving and exhilarating all rolled into one.
How my body physically reacted to his presence was mind-boggling to me. It repeated the same sensations I’d had during the meeting in my father’s office. My palms started to sweat. My skin flushed as my stomach fluttered, and my heart pounded against my chest. How could he be related to the sweet but lively elderly lady who’d befriended me, a stranger on the city bus?
My surprise had shifted quickly to fear.
He’d threatened my life. My mind screamed I should be afraid of him, no matter how damn attractive he was and despite my body’s reaction to him. While driving me to school, he’d tried to squash my fear of him, and it had waned some. But conflicted emotions still swirled, confusing me on how to take him.
The promise he wouldn’t hurt me and his explanation of my father’s situation helped. However, I knew there was more to his story. Liam was leaving something out. I could sense it. And whatever it was, it was big. Big enough to keep it from me.
I wasn’t sure if he was leaving out the part about what he did for Paddy O’Connor or if it dealt with my father, but I believed the missing pieces to his story had to do more with him than my father. If that was the case, I could understand why he wouldn’t speak on it. He didn’t know me, and I was in no position to ask about whatever it was.
I had some idea what he did for his boss, but I didn’t want to jump to any conclusions. I wasn’t sure how I’d react if I was right, and why it mattered.
Traffic this morning in Southie was bustling more than usual. It could have been because it was no longer a bone-chilling twenty degrees during the morning commute but a cool fifty-five degrees. The snow had finally melted, and it covered the sidewalks in dirty slush. Cars splashed the icy water onto the sidewalks as they passed.
This, I could handle. I’d still dress for the weather, but at least with these temperatures, I wouldn’t die from hypothermia from riding the bus or walking to class.
The giddy sensation I’d had this morning left the moment I reached Mrs. Daugherty’s home. Something seemed off. Unable to put my finger on why or what was out of place, a shiver ran through my body.
I stood, frozen, at the end of the cobblestone path that led to her home. Normally, I would shrug it off as my overactive imagination getting the best of me, mainly because of all the phone calls from Frankie, but not today. Today, that wasn’t the case. I couldn’t shake the feeling something was wrong.
My skin prickled, and the tiny hairs on the back of my neck stood on end. The shiver that snaked its way down my spine forced a queasiness in my gut I’d barely had enough time to push back down. My body quivered from the sensation as fear settled in the pit of my stomach.
I stopped and looked around, gauging to see if anything was out of place before moving down the pathway. Cars were parked up and down the side of the street, people were going about their lives, and nothing seemed different, but the sensation of someone watching overwhelmed me.
I inhaled a deep breath of the cool morning air, forced it out of my lungs, and moved closer to her small brick home, trying to shake the fear. Except, my uneasiness increased the closer I got to her front door.
Steps sluggish and my skin-crawling underneath my lightweight pullover, I rubbed my arms roughly against the thin fabric with shaky hands, trying to stifle my reaction. To no avail, though. It remained, which only got stronger as my trembling hand reached for the doorbell.
“Something isn’t right,” I muttered into the chilly morning breeze.
I rang the doorbell and waited a few moments, giving her enough time to open the door. The sensation of being watched had almost become unbearable as I shifted from foot to foot, checking my surroundings. My eyes darted around, searching for anything or anyone out of place. Still, nothing seemed out of place, but the feeling remained.
