Page 78 of Dark Ink

Without saying anything, I rested my hand across hers, the one that she used to stroke my skin. I pressed my hand against hers to still her. To let her feel the pulse of that vein, the blood pumped steadily, if a little quickly, to my wrist, to her fingertips. To let her know the best I could that it was okay. It was all okay.

Eithne relaxed slightly. She sucked in a deep, shuddering breath. She reduced the speed of the windshield wipers. She eased the car round the wide bend of the grassy knoll with control. When she nodded once more, it was because she had a sense of being back in control: the test studied for, the quiz known of well in advance, her answers right there in front of her.

“Family is the most important thing in life,” she continued, more self-assured than before, voice less trembling. “Nothing comes before family.”

“Eithne,” I whispered once more.

She rolled down her own window as she shook her head. She was suffering, too. Something was burning her from inside, just like me. The wind tore at her hair, not gently like that first day, but roughly. As if it meant to hurt her. Long, dark strands lashed at her fair cheeks as she gulped in the whipping, freezing cold air. Rain battered her soft skin like stones, but she didn’t roll the window back up.

“Eithne,” I tried again, pressing my hand tighter over hers.

“Family is blood, you know,” she said, losing control again as her voice quivered. “Blood. And what do we have if not blood?”

Eithne’s hand was shaking on the wheel. The direction of the car no longer steady on those sharply winding country roads. I now felt her pulse through her fingertips. It alighted like the ravens from the old fence post we raced past. Flew high. Swept low.

“We have to be there for our family, even if it hurts,” she said, and I could hear the tears in her eyes more than see them. Her eyes were bound with black silk. “Even if it takes everything out of us and we’re not sure we can go on. We have to be there. We have to endure. We can’t just give up. We can’t.”

Eithne was shaking. Tears were indistinguishable from droplets of heavy rain, but I was sure there were tears.

“Eithne,” I said, breathing deeply, hesitating, “your brother is fine.”

Eithne sobbed.

“He’s fine, okay?”

She nodded.

“He’s alright.”

Eithne’s chin collapsed to her chest and I feared she might send us right off the road.

“Eithne,” I said, eyes darting between her and the faded white line. “Do you believe me?”

Eithne looked up, righted the car as it had slipped out of the lane, and, sniffling, rolled up both windows. Her messied hair she pushed back from her pale face. I watched in concern as she drew the back of her palm under her nose. She pulled her hand slowly from mine, took up position on the steering wheel at ten and two. Her back straightened as if tugged up by a marionette’s string. I was watching her still when she glanced over at me and smiled. It was meant to comfort me, but it proved to do just the opposite.

Had she not heard me? Had the wind swallowed my question? Had her hair lashed out over her ears to block my words from reaching them? Or had she heard me just fine? And decided not to answer?

I was too fearful, in the end, to ask which it was. I positioned myself as comfortably as I could in the seat. Closed my eyes briefly to wait for the painkillers to kick in. Sipped timidly again at the water bottle. Sweat through the back of my shirt, which was thankfully hidden from Eithne’s view. Clasped my fingers together to hide the trembling.

I’d try for Eithne’s sake. I’d try to forgive my brothers, to reconcile, to give things another go. I’d try to make it through the funeral. I’d try to find some kind word for a father who had none for me. I’d try to love him to love her. For Eithne. I’d do it for her.

This could be a new start. Eithne had somehow plucked me from the jaws of destruction. She’d found me. Saved me. Set me on the right path. I would get clean for her. I would let go of anger toward my dead father for her. I would even go find Stewart, help him, help him like his sister had helped me.

We’d get our little life together, my little Raglan Road girl and me. A quiet studio to paint together. A little apartment above it to cook and read and make love. Trees outside that turned the colours I first saw her in, a little reminder of what I had. And how easily it could have been lost.

I could have ended up in the hospital after last night. I could have ended up dead. But I ended up back with Eithne.

And I wouldn’t mess it up.

“Thank you,” I told Eithne in the silence of the car as the windshield wipers moved slowly.

I held out my open hand and Eithne slipped her fingers into mine. My love for her would be enough.

It had to be enough.

I closed my eyes with the comfort of her skin against mine and tried not to think about what I knew was waiting for me in my bag in the trunk.

Eithne

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