Been In Love Before: A Novel (18 page)

Chapter Forty-Two

“Where’s the money, Calley?” His voice boomed from inside the bedroom and echoed throughout the small house.

“What money, Phil?” she asked from the living room.

“The spendin’ money we keep in that old metal box in the bedroom. That money. The box is empty. Where is it?” he shouted, his voice now at a fever pitch in the kitchen.

“The grocery money?” she asked fearfully.

“Yeah, that money. Where is it?” She could hear him in the kitchen cabinets, searching the shelves for any other money she may have hidden away.

“I used it to buy groceries,” she said, getting off the couch and turning off the television. Calley had heard that tone in his voice before and knew what it meant. He was going to hurt somebody, and that somebody was usually her. Phil had been drinking again all day, and now he would take out his anger on her.

She could hear Oscar begin to bark in the yard outside, responding to the repeated shouts emanating from inside the house.

“Calley! Damn it!” he shouted.

Run! She ran to the bathroom and locked the door. He was steps behind her. He pounded on the door; it shook violently and barely held him outside. She slid to the floor and began to cry, her back to the door to hold him at bay.

A strange, deep voice chilled the silent air. “I’ll be back, my sweet, and when I am . . . I’m going to take care of you. Do you hear me, girlie, I’m going to take care of you once and for all. I’ve had enough of this . . . and of you.” The floor creaked in the dining room, and she heard him open the drawer there in the armoire—
oh my God, no, now he has the gun
.

Through her tears, she began to pray, something she had not done in years, as her body shook in waves of fear. Then she heard the front door open and shut, the car door slam, and the car tires churn up the gravel in the driveway behind him.

Calley went to the front window and saw the car race away, soon followed closely by a dark sedan. Her hands shook; she could not stop the tremors racing through her body. She knew what she had to do and ran into the bedroom. She grabbed clothes, shoes, her makeup bag, and whatever else she could find, throwing them into her old suitcase. She took the money from her secret hiding place underneath the floorboards and ran for the door. He would be home soon from the liquor store, and then the hurting would begin all over again.

She opened the door, and standing before her was Oscar, his snarling pit bull, guarding her escape exit. He snapped, and then lunged at her as she stepped backward.
Trapped! Oh my God, what do I do now?

Chapter Forty-Three

“Well, brothers, I got my date for the wedding,” said a chipper Ryan. “Eian, you got a date yet?”

The other brothers watched him in anticipation.

“Yes, I do, as a matter of fact.”

“No groupies. Remember what Mary Kate said,” chuckled Robert.

“She’s no groupie. I asked Rose, Rose Gilardo, to come with me. And she said she would be honored to join me.”

“You’re kidding, right? Rose is going with you?” asked Ryan as they all sat on his living-room sofa, the TV on in the background with the sound muted. For once they were more interested in each other than in watching some foreign soccer game.

“I predicted it,” said Robert, stretching out on the couch.

Eian threw a pillow in his direction. “You what? I didn’t even ask her until yesterday.”

“I predicted it right here last week.”

“Like hell you did. You always want to take credit for everything,” laughed Eian.

“Well, one thing I can’t take credit for is my Bobby’s barbecue-grill idea.”

“What’s that?”

Robert sat up on the sofa and turned to them. “He rented the open space next to the store and converted it to a barbecue-grill shop. New grills, books, accessories, the works. At that store, you buy it from us, we assemble it, and then we deliver it to your home, free of charge. It just opened a few weeks ago, and it’s going like gangbusters. The store has all of the newest barbecue equipment. Can you believe it? I’m so proud of him; I can’t begin to tell you. I told him I am going to finally semiretire. At the end of the month he’ll take over running the business.”

The three of them sat there in a rare moment of silence.

Ryan broke the silence by saying what they all were thinking. “Who would have believed this? Our business lives are doing well, Eian is embarking on a new baseball venture that he loves. I’m going to take a long-needed break to France with Alexi. And now Bob is retiring.”

“Semiretiring, bro,” the elder brother quickly chimed in.

“Sorry, semiretiring. And once again, we all have women in our life that we care about. And we can salute Mary Kate for pushing us into action. We can all really celebrate at her wedding.”

Robert was quiet and suddenly withdrawn.

“What’s wrong, bro?” Ryan asked.

“I’m not going to the wedding,” he said darkly.

Agitated, Ryan was on his feet. “Is this because of that Campbell feud stuff? Give me a break, Bob. Get over it.”

“Yeah? I have believed and lived my life all along as a Scotsman and a Macgregor. Always. And no self-respecting Macgregor would go to a Macgregor-Campbell wedding. It’s just not done. It’s like in Ireland during the bad times, unthinkable for a Catholic marrying a Protestant. Or someone in India marrying outside their caste. That’s all there is to it. I’m not going to the wedding, so drop it.”

“I’m not dropping it. What else is going on here?”

He paused and his eyes turned hard. “You don’t remember this because you were away at school, but a Dr. Neidlin Campbell was father’s attending physician. To this day, I think he let him die. I don’t think—I know—he let him die. He gave him too much morphine, and he died within an hour.”

“Father was in so much pain, he was dying of cancer, for Christ’s sake, Robert. I remember the doctor—tall, distinguished, plain face, dark glasses? I’ll never forget him. Well, I think he was only trying to make Da comfortable during his last hours on earth. And his name could have been Macgregor, Murphy, Smith, or Parker, or whatever, but it had nothing at all to do with him being a Campbell.” Ryan paused to look at his two brothers. Silence. Tonight was a night for secrets.

“My daughter and I are expecting this wedding to be a celebration of her marriage and the joining of two families, not about some old Scottish feud.”

Silence.

“I can’t believe this. My one and only daughter is marrying a fine young man, and you’re going to boycott the wedding?”

Eian looked up slowly and spoke softly. “If my brother isn’t going . . . then count me out too. I stand by my brother.”

Ryan’s Scottish temper flared as he attacked them. “Both of you are not going to attend Graw’s wedding? I can’t believe this. How dare you! She loves the both of you. You were there for her birth, and now you won’t be there for her wedding? Unbelievable!”

They nodded in silence as he strode back and forth in front of them.

He stopped pacing. “She will never forgive you . . . nor will I,” he yelled. “What would Tess say about this? Or Alice? They would be ashamed of you, both of you.” Silence.

“Which one of you is going to tell Graw? You?” he asked Robert, who lowered his head. Silence.

He turned to look at his other brother. “Then Eian, I guess it’ll be you, right?” Silence. “And what about Mickey? You’re going to hold his last name against him? I, for one, think he’s a great guy, a better man then either one of my brothers, apparently.”

The brothers were quiet in their shame but remained firm as the youngest of the three paced in front of them. Finally he turned to them, asking them one last time, begging that they reconsider. “I have never asked anything of you two before in my life, but I’m asking now . . . no, I’m begging you . . . please rethink your decision.”

Eian gulped and spoke first. “I stand by my brother. Through thick or thin.”

“I’ve never asked anything of either of you, and now you won’t attend my family’s wedding, Graw’s wedding? I spit on you.” Ryan spit on the floor in front of them. “You should be ashamed of yourselves.” He turned his back on them, his fury spent.

“Aye, younger brother. You don’t know what your elder brother has done for you,” Eian began to say until Robert gently touched his arm. “Quiet, Eian. This conversation is over. Don’t go any further. Let it be,” said Robert.
Please,
his eyes begged him.

“It must be told. He needs to know.”

“What? What do I need to be told?” Ryan asked, glaring at both of them.

Eian started to say something, but Robert interjected. “Nothing,” he said, glaring at his sibling, saying, “Perhaps we should leave now. We have enjoyed the generous hospitality of our good brother long enough. He needs to get on with his life. Thank you for having us as your guest in your home, good brother. We will leave now.”

Ryan stood before them. “Wait. Tell me now what I should know, or so help me God I will . . .”

“Sit down,” said Eian, waving away Robert’s hand as he tried to silence him. “Sit and listen.” He took in a deep breath. “You were young when Father became ill and died. Mum went to work to earn money cleaning houses, and somehow we managed. She worked hard, but she wanted her youngest, her brightest, to go on to college. To this day, I think all those hours killed her. Up at four a.m., and then finally falling asleep at midnight. It was too much for her.”

Robert nearly shouted, “Eian, stop.”

“No, he must be told.”

Robert slumped into his seat, quiet.

“Well, as your mother lay on her deathbed with Da gone, she made the two of us promise that you would finish college. Your brother Robert dropped out of school to work to support the family and put you through college. He bought used clothes at secondhand stores and flea markets. He fixed up old run-down cars with hundreds of thousands of miles on them and then sold them to make money. He bought powdered milk and eggs and mixed it with water to help stretch the budget. Anything to make money, all for your schooling. He believed in you, and he made a promise to Mum and Da to take care of you.”

“Eian . . . ,” Robert started. “Stop.”

“No, Robert, he’s gotta know what you did for him. He put me through school as well, giving up his college dreams so we could have ours. When I went on to play baseball, I sent money home to help out, but at the time, I wasn’t making much money at all in the farm clubs. Brother Bob shouldered most of the burden by himself. Then when you were accepted to medical school, he kept his frugal ways, all to put you through medical school. To make your dreams come true.”

“I never knew. You never told me,” Ryan said, his voice cracking.

“That was Bob’s idea. He didn’t want you to know. You had this idealized dream that Mum and Da saved the money for you and paid for everything. Well . . . Robert didn’t want to shatter your dreams. He wanted to keep your dreams alive.”

“I always thought Dad had set aside money for my schooling. I had no idea that the two of you paid for it all.” He plopped down on the sofa next to them.

“Ryan, you had to know, so for you to say that your brother—”

“Brothers,” Robert interjected.

“Thank you. So to say that your
brothers
have never done anything for you is wrong. Very wrong. If my brother, who I love dearly, is saying he is not going to our wonderful niece’s wedding . . . I have no choice but to defer to his judgment . . . I’m not going; I owe him that for everything he’s done for me.”

Ryan looked at both of them and then stared at the silent television and said, “I’m not going either.”

They all sat there together, in silence, the three Macgregor brothers—always brothers, until the end. How were they going to tell Mary Katherine? Or more important, who was going to tell her? And what about Alexi? Coleen? And Rose? Their dates. The gravity of the situation and their decision settled on their shoulders. They were looking for a way out, but unable to change the truth of the situation. What to do? How to change reality? They sat there in the quiet not saying a word.

The front door swung open wide, and in walked Patti. “What the hell is going on here?” she asked. “Did somebody die and I not find out about it? Come on, will somebody help a pregnant lady out here, or do I have to do this all myself?” she asked, holding a freshly baked pie in each hand. “There are more pies outside in the car,” she said as she disappeared inside the kitchen with the three of them in hot pursuit.

“What’s going on?” asked Robert as Ryan and Eian went outside and soon returned with more pies and two large brown paper bags.

She took comfort on one of the counter stools. “Ahhh,” she said in relief as she settled onto the stool. “This one is an apple pie, and this is peach. All freshly baked. In the one bag are fresh croissants—delicious, I might add—and the other bag is filled with delicious cranberry scones.”

“You baked all of these?”

“Good heavens, no. Coleen baked them. She dropped by the house earlier today, and we had a long girl talk at my place. We drank some coffee, some tea, and she brought plenty of pies. She baked me an absolutely delicious boysenberry pie.”

Patti glanced at the time on her phone and said, “Gotta go. Lots to do before the wedding. Bye for now, guys. Enjoy the goodies.” The brothers crowded around the fresh-baked goods.

She grabbed her purse and started walking for the door when she turned and said, “Oh, Uncle Robert . . . by the way, that Coleen of yours is such a lovely woman. We have so much in common. She’s Scottish,” she said with glee. “Did you know her mother’s maiden name was . . . Campbell? Small world, isn’t it? A Campbell? Gotta go. People to see and places to visit. Watch out, pregnant lady coming through,” she shouted and was gone. As Robert watched her walk to the front door, he smiled.

Ryan poured them each a glass of milk as Eian cut one of the pies and slid the pieces onto plates. As they ate the delicious pies, Robert said to no one in particular, “Hmmm, Mickey’s last name is actually Thompson, isn’t it? So he’s really not a Campbell at all,” he mused before saying, “Delicious pie, isn’t it?”

“Wonderful,” chimed in Ryan.

Eian ate in silence as Robert said, “Eian, they called and said my tux would not be ready until Saturday morning, something about the alterations on my tux taking longer than expected. Since you’re going to be near there with your new baseball league, would you mind picking up my tuxedo for me?”

“No problem, bro. Happy to do it.”

“Should be a grand wedding. A good old-fashioned Scottish wedding,” said Ryan.

“Aye, that it should be, little brother, that it should be,” responded Robert. “Good pie. That Coleen of mine is a great baker. Aye? And Scottish at that, what a bonus. She’s a good lass, that Coleen.”

They all laughed at the irony of the situation.
One crisis averted,
thought Ryan.
Let’s just get through the rehearsal, the dinner, and finally the wedding. Then peace and quiet, hopefully.