Page 92 of Three Irish Kings
“You need her here, Da. Remember your stroke?” I sit down across from him, and my father’s blue eyes, so much like mine, narrow.
“My stroke?”
“Yes, Da. Remember you were in the hospital, and they only let you come home if you had a nurse with you?”
He frowns. “Oh, aye. Fine, I’ll suffer her presence. For now.”
I don’t think he has any recollection of it, to be honest, but the doctors say it’s good to keep reminding him.
Cillian leans against the wall near the door. “You’ll be in ship shape in no time.”
Da looks at him for a long moment, a blank look on his face. Then he lights up, and gives Cillian an ear-to-ear smile. “Cillian. Son, it’s been months. Where have you been?”
Cillian was with my father just a week ago. Still, he shrugs. “Just working.”
My da points at me with his thumb. “Aye, wish this one was more like you.”
The words used to sting when I was growing up. Now, I’ve grown numb to them.
Cillian has always been the golden child, despite being adopted. He’s always listened to exactly what Da says without questioning him.
Not me. I was always the one who demanded answers, the one who questioned orders, the rebel. I’m the black sheep in my own family.
You'd think being raised as the second best, the unwanted kid, would make me grow to resent Cill. Nothing could be farther from the truth.
Having Cill in my life allowed me the freedom to be imperfect, to screw up. It took the pressure off me because everyone expected me to fail, to slack, to be less.
And when I succeeded, because I did succeed, it was always because I wanted to, and I did it for me.
Cill is my brother in everything but blood, and until we took him in, he never had anyone to back him up, so I had no problem handing the spotlight to him when it came to Da.
I’m grateful we found him, channeled the darkness inside him into work. We gave him a chance at life. And I can’t even think about what would happen if we had never crossed paths.
“We have an update about our target.”
“Penelope? Where’s she gotten off to now?”
I startle.
Mixing up Maggie’s name with my mother’s is quite the slip-up, even for Da.
“Maggie.” I try to keep my voice patient. “Maggie Sullivan, Da. The one who was leaking information to Cormac.”
“Aye, Maggie, that’s what I said, isn’t it?” He waves a hand dismissively. “You need to find her and find hernow. If Cormac gets another whiff of what we’re dealing in?—”
“I've got it handled, Da. Only me, you, and Cill know about the next shipment.” Well, and Dare, but I don’t tell Da that. Why bother if he is just going to forget it as soon as we leave this room?
Da nods. “Good.”
“There’s an update, sir.” Cillian comes and sits beside me, his forearms on his thighs. “Maggie Sullivan was admitted at Burberry hospital an hour ago.”
“Then what are you still doing here?”
“We came to inform you that Cillian is going to personally follow that lead. He’ll leave as soon as we end here and come back in a few days.”
“Well, what are you here for? Go and get Cecily. You know she can’t be gone too long. I... I’m lost without her.”
His voice cracks at the end, and even though he’s slipping back in time, I think part of what he said is right. Heislost without Ma, and it’s getting increasingly worse.
