Page 79 of Accidental Irish Daddy

Now she’s looking confused. “What is this?”

I just smile at her as I get out of the car. I open her door and the two of us walk up the courthouse steps and into the building.

This day should have come years ago, by my count. Aisling should have never been put through the years of torture that she’s been through…and today, she is about to get the day in court that she’s always deserved.

We get to the door and I open it for her. Aisling looks over at me tentatively, but she walks in just the same. She notices the case going on and, quietly, we sit in the nearest seats by the door.

There’s a man standing at the podium, dressed in prison clothes, his arms and legs shackled. There’s no way to tell who it is from the back of the room, but I already know.

“Mr. Liam Smith,” the judge says, and Aisling’s wide eyes fly to mine before going bac to the people in the front of the room. “You have received two counts of vehicular manslaughter resulting in the deaths of ones Megan and Seamus Sweeney and one charge of conspiracy, evidence tampering, and bribery for your actions after the fact. You have waved your right to a solicitor and have accepted your fate. Are you ready to be sentenced?”

She covers her mouth, stifling a gasp. Tears start welling up in her eyes. We watch as the judge sentences Liam for his crimes. As the gavel comes down, she wraps her arm up in mine and squeezes. The guards come and take Liam away. As he passes by, he spots us. His eyes are heavy with bags…but he’s sober. He gets to experience all this without a drop. The satisfaction I feel is better than anything I dreamed.

When he’s gone, I look down at Aisling, who’s wiping the tears away but smiling broadly.

“Thank you,” she whispers. “That’s probably the best gift you ever could have given me.”

I kiss her on the forehead. “Come on,” I say. “We’ve got reservations to keep.”

***

It’s been five months since Liam was put away. He got twenty-five years without parole…which for a man his age is almost a life sentence.

Even if he manages to get out as an old man, he’ll have to leave the area. Court declared he can’t stay in the same town as Aisling and Bridget, though I hope he breaks that rule. I’m not afraid to confess that the monster in me still wants a shot at him.

We’re back in court again. This time for Bridget’s custody. I’m fairly sure this is just a formality, really, but Aisling has been a nervous wreck all morning.

The judge has been looking over the presented documents for a few minutes now.

Aisling’s leg is bouncing like crazy next to me. She’s rubbing her baby bump as well. Poor thing has had heartburn all morning on top of everything else.

Finally, he clears his throat. “So, Mrs. Duncan,” he says, looking over his reading glasses at her. “You’re no longer working at the gentlemen’s club?”

“No, your honor,” she says. “I’ve been employed as a home care nurse with Angel Palliative Care for a little over three months now.”

He grumbles. “Very well. And Mr. Smith, who former had custody, is in prison right now? What’s the charge again?”

“Driving under the influence,” Turning says, “and vehicular manslaughter among others. As you can see, there are other pieces of evidence showing his violent nature—”

“Yes, yes,” the judge says. I can see why Aisling’s nervous. He seems rather bored with these proceedings.

He takes a look at several other pieces of paper, then sighs and says, “All right, then. First of all, Mr. Turning, I have to tell you that we do not appreciate theatrics in this court.”

I glance at Aisling.Theatrics?

“Mr. Smith clearly has no capability of looking after one Ms. Bridget Sweeney. There is really no need for all this…evidence.”

If I wasn’t in court, I’d balk out loud. We say nothing, however. The judge goes on.

“The court finds that the appropriate guardian for the child is her sister and her husband. Is there anything else you’d like to parade in front of me before we end this?”

“No, your honor.”

“Good. The court finds for Mr. and Mrs. Duncan. Have a good day.”

He slams down his gavel and gets up. We stand as he leaves. Aisling looks over at me, then back at Turning and at me again. “That’s it? Th-that’s all?”

“That’s all,” Turning says. “I told you his arrest makes things much simpler.”

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