Breakaway (37 page)

Until her parents had taken over the B and B, Erin had been fond of Sundays. The family went to Mass, then headed home to make a big afternoon dinner. It used to be the way every churchgoing family did things, but the tradition was dying as fast as church attendance in the country was dropping off. Ballycraig was one of the few villages that could still fill up the pews, but everyone tacitly knew (apart from Father Bill, apparently) that it wasn’t the homilies they were coming to hear; it was the cake hour after Mass, where everyone exchanged gossip.

After walking home with Sandra, Erin had gotten a call from Liam, telling her he was leaving the Oak early because he felt like shite, and if she wanted a lift back to the farm rather than crashing at San’s, which was quite noisy, he’d swing by and pick her up. It worked out perfectly. She really hadn’t wanted to sleep at San’s, nor had she wanted to go back to the pub and horn in on Rory and Jake’s bonding. Sleeping at the B and B was out. She felt bad that Liam seemed to be in the beginning stages of a wicked cold, but it helped her out.

Sandra rang her a little after noon, asking her to stop over. Erin had nothing on today, since her parents were visiting her mam’s younger sister, Josie. They saw each other twice, maybe three times a year. Her mam always came home in floods of tears because they fought, and then for two weeks afterward there would be lots of angry words sizzling down telephone lines. Then it would blow over.

“Hiya.”

Erin used her key to get in. The scene she came upon was the usual one: Oona at the computer and LJ watching a football match on TV. No sign of Lucy or Sandra.

“She’s in the back garden,” LJ said flatly, eyeballs glued to the screen.

“The back garden? Are you sure?” Last time she’d seen San’s back garden, half the plants had met their maker, and a colony of sunflowers and mint had taken over.

“Yep.”

Erin headed through the kitchen to find Sandra sitting on the back stoop, smoking a cigarette. There was a swath cut through the jungle.

Erin urged her to shove over and sat down. “You’re going to start gardening?”

“Fuck, no. I just wanted to cut a path to the back fence. Oona’s gone all green and wants to get a composter.”

“Jake cut it through for you?”

“Nah.” Sandra took a puff off her cigarette. “Mam let me borrow her machete.”

“Her machete? What is it with your mother and objects that can kill, San? It’s getting a little scary, if you don’t mind me saying.”

“I don’t. The cricket bat was to crack Larry’s head if it came to it, as you know. She uses the machete to protect herself in the house.”

“From who? Pirates? Where on earth did she even get it?”

“That’s what I don’t know, and to tell the truth, I don’t want to ask.” She handed the fag over to Erin, who took a puff. Somehow, it still felt illicit when she and San smoked
together. It was great: God knows there were few things illicit these days.

“Where’s Miss Gina?”

“At Mam’s.”

Sandra sounded off: not quite her usual wisecracking self. She looked pensive.

“You okay?”

“No.”

“Tell me what’s going on, San.”

Sandra looked pained. “I was at your Mam’s dead early this morning, like I said I’d be last night.”

“Yeah?”

“I was on the step stool at the end of the second floor, putting linens away, being dead quiet and all so I didn’t wake anyone.”

“And—”

“I saw your Rory coming out of one of the bedrooms.”

“Are you out of your mind?”

Sandra looked on the verge of tears. “Erin, honest. Why would I tell you something like this if it wasn’t true? You’re my best friend. I’d never want to hurt you.”

A thundering began in Erin’s head. “There’s no way.”

“I know what Rory looks like! He was creepin’ down the hall guilty as a cat, leaving the room of that New York smoothie.”

“Couldn’t be him,” Erin insisted.

“Jesus God,” Sandra said, wrapping an arm around Erin’s shoulder. “I swear on the heads of my kids.”

“It doesn’t make sense,” Erin replied. The thunder in her head was turning sharp and painful.
I knew it,
she thought, trying not to let the hysteria she was beginning to feel overwhelm her.
I knew that was the type of woman he really wanted.

“Maybe it was one last hurrah,” Sandra suggested gently. “Or something like that.”

“Before what?” Erin retorted. “He gets saddled with his unsophisticated fiancée? He’s the bastard who wanted me back, not the other way around. He’s spent all summer trying
to regain my trust, and now he does this?” She choked back sobs. “I knew I wasn’t enough for him!”

“Stop being daft.” Sandra twined her fingers through Erin’s. “It’s got nothing to do with you, and everything to do with him.”

“That’s hard to believe.” She paused, trying to get her thoughts in order. “One last hurrah. That’s the only thing that makes sense.” She felt mildly nauseous as she looked at Sandra for confirmation. “Right?”

“It’s gotta be that, love. Nothing else makes sense.”

“Unless seeing her reminded him of what’s available back in New York.”

Erin put her head in her hands, succumbing to her misery. “I can’t believe I have to go through this again.” She looked down at her engagement ring. “I’m stuffing this down Rory’s throat if anything happened.”

“No, you’re not! Did you know women are under no obligation to return an engagement ring to a fella when she breaks things off? Or come to think of it, even if it’s him who breaks things off. That ring was a present to you. Sell it back to the effin’ jewelers. Or have it redesigned and call it your ‘Go feck yourself, Rory Brady’ ring.”

Erin sniffled, managing a small smile. “You’ve always been able to make me laugh. Even when some wanker turns my whole life to shit. Again.”

“It’s his life that’s turnin’ to shit, girl. Mark my words,” Sandra lit another cigarette. “I’d cut his dick off with my mam’s machete if I could.”

“Maybe she’ll let me borrow it,” Erin replied glumly.

“Look, you know I’m here for you in whatever way you want me to be. If you want me to go with you when you kick him in the pants, I will. Anything.”

“Thanks, Sandra.”

“Now what, Er?”

“Now I throw up, square my shoulders, and walk over to his gran’s cottage.”

“And then you come back here, right, and we’ll pal around with the kids, yeah? Get your mind off that loser.”

“Yeah,” Erin whispered. She was afraid if she succumbed to the waves of tears building inside her, she’d never be able to stop.

Sandra hugged her. “I’ll be here.”

“I know. Right now, it’s the only thing keepin’ me going.”

“Thanks for the ride, Da.”

Erin wasn’t sure where to go or what to do when she left Sandra’s. Her first impulse was to walk to Rory’s gran’s cottage, but it quickly became apparent, even though she was in a state of increasing devastation, that confronting Rory with his gran there was completely inappropriate. It wasn’t like she could ask her to leave.

The Oak was out as well, for obvious reasons. Ditto Aislinn and Liam’s. She had to see him alone. She walked up and around the streets surrounding the High Street for a while, alternating between feeling dazed and feeling like she was being flayed alive. Finally it came to her: she’d meet him at the rowan tree, private enough for her to scream her guts out at him. He sounded baffled when she told him she didn’t need him to pick her up because her dad would be driving her there. But ultimately, he didn’t question.

Her mother was near delirious with joy when Erin showed up at the B and B unexpectedly to catch a ride with her dad. “Now, don’t tell me you can’t be here for tea later,”
she gently admonished. “You and Rory both.” Erin smiled weakly, assuring her she’d try to do her best.

Rory was already there when they arrived, sitting against the thick trunk of the tree. The sight of him canceled Erin’s devastation, replacing it with black rage. She knew that if she couldn’t contain it, the unleashed energy of it would decimate him. Maybe it was his turn to see what annihilation felt like.

“Rory’s gonna drive you home, yeah?” her father checked.

“Yeah, Da. No worries.” She was fibbing: after Rory left, she was going to walk down to the road and call herself a cab.

“All right, then. Here, give your old man a peck on the cheek.” Erin complied, trying hard not to burst into tears as the crushed child within her silently begged,
Da! He hurt me! Go hurt him, please!

“Right, off with you now. Give my love to Rory.”

“I will.” Erin was reminded of working at the jeweler’s as she flashed her father her best fake smile.
Best get used to it. There’d be no real smiles today.

The closer Erin got to him, the more the dark energy inside her pushed, desperate to burst out. He was a liar, a cheat, a selfish bastard. How could he have this kind of lack of respect for her? He had a happy smile on his face she wanted to slap off.

“Hey, you.” Rory stood up to hug her.

Erin’s face hurt as she forced a second fake smile. “Hey, you, too.” When he leaned over to kiss her, it took every ounce of energy and self-restraint she had not to shove him away and tell him to go screw himself.

Who the hell did he think he was? Who the hell did he think she was?

“How’s your morning been?” he asked.

“Fine. Yours?”

“All right.” He rubbed a spot above his right eye. “Though I do have a bit of a headache. Me and Jake tied one on. Had more than a few after you and San left, I have to confess.”

“Uh-huh.”

Erin folded her arms across her chest, staring out over the graying horizon. Clouds were moving in. What a cliché. Maybe Rory would get hit by lightning. She could only hope.

Rory looked concerned. “You okay, Er?”

“I’m fine.” She couldn’t look at him.

“You just seem in a bit of a black mood.”

“You’d be in a black mood, too, if you found out your fiancé slept with another woman.”

“I don’t understand.”

She whirled to face him. “Don’t play the innocent. It doesn’t suit you. It never has.” Look at him, she seethed, pretending to be mystified. “Look, I know what you did, right?”

He looked even more confused. “Er…”