Entwined - SF5 (32 page)

He pursed his lips, thinking for a moment about what he brought to the game. "I have no political aspirations, so that’s a good thing, because there’s no clear Democratic nominee for 2000 anyway. Senator Somers wasn’t up for election until 2002, so no one has been gearing up for a run. Putting me in would let a viable candidate focus on running a good campaign. Plus, I’m well liked by Clinton’s people and Davis’ people. I’ve given substantial contributions to both of their campaigns, and they tend not to forget a friend. I also think that I have the kind of foreign relations experience they want from working with so many clients in Europe and the Far East. I know a lot of people who could help get a new trade bill passed."

Hmm…no thoughts about who would be the best person to serve the voters.
I suppose that’s another naïve concept.
"If this is something that you want to do, I certainly hope it comes about for you, Daddy. I’d certainly miss you and Mother if you were in Washington for a year, but I’ll support your decision, no matter what you choose."

He looked a little puzzled at that and commented, "I can’t imagine that your mother would accompany me, Jamie. I wouldn’t think she’d want to give up her life here."

God, that’s sad! I’d never let Ryan go off for a year by herself. Of course, Ryan wouldn’t consider doing it, either!
"Well, then we’ll both miss you," she amended, wondering if her mother had even been consulted about this rather major development. "How do you think your partners would feel about it?"

"Oh, they’d be fully supportive," he declared. "Again, it would undoubtedly be good for business, Jamie. That’s the important point."

"Of course, that’s all that matters," she lied.

Ryan and Conor were slowly making their way back to their seats, and as Jamie got up Jim whispered, "Don’t say anything about this to Ryan, Honey."

Her dramatically raised eyebrow quickly reminded him of the place Ryan occupied in her life and he amended, "I meant, don’t say anything to anyone other than Ryan."

She kissed him on the cheek and whispered, "Thank you, Daddy. I won’t breathe a word."

On the way home, Ryan muttered, "I can’t believe that Conor’s going home with your dad! That’s beyond weird, Jamie!"

She slapped her on the thigh and reminded her, "You make it sound like he’s gonna get lucky!"

"Hey, don’t put it past Conor," Ryan insisted. "I know he’d sell his soul for a classic Mustang. He’d give up his body without a second thought!"

"Well, I’m fairly confident that Daddy won’t fall for his considerable charms. Besides, I thought it was sweet of Conor to ride with him down to Pebble Beach. That’s a very long drive late at night."

"True. And there’s no way Conor would give up the chance to drive the NSX back up to the city tomorrow."

"I thought his eyes were going to pop out of his head," Jamie laughed. "Daddy’s been wanting to bring that car back home so it gets a little use, but Mother has never wanted to drive the BMW all that way alone. This really worked out great." She laughed softly, shaking her head at the persistent mental image that kept popping up. "I can’t get the image out of my mind of the two of them in their jammies, playing CD’s, making popcorn, and talking about all the cute new cars."

Ryan’s head turned, making eye contact when Jamie spared a glance in her direction. "Conor…doesn’t…wear…jammies," she slowly enunciated.

"EEEEUUUUWWWW!" they cried concurrently.

True to his word, Martin attended Sunday Mass at Mission Dolores, since he was sure he would be unable to focus on the service at his own parish with his old friend presiding over it.

During their traditional Sunday morning brunch, Ryan noted that her father didn’t display his usual spark, and she realized that bottling up his anger was taking a toll on him. When the dishes were finished she went into his room and sat on the edge of the bed, gazing at him for a moment as he read the morning paper.

"This is really tough on you, isn’t it?" she asked softly, reaching out to place a gentle hand on his knee.

"What’s that, Love?" he asked, folding the paper onto his lap, his gaze interested.

"Trying to stop yourself from making mincemeat of Father Pender." She tilted her head to maintain eye contact as his head dropped a little.

Martin folded his hands together and stared at them as he slowly nodded. "It’s not my usual style," he admitted, in somewhat of an understatement. "But I keep my word." His gaze rose and locked onto his daughter’s. "You don’t ask me for many things, Siobhán. This is the least I can do for you."

"Can I amend my request?" she asked, cocking her head in question.

He nodded and waited, hoping that his daughter would not make the already difficult task any harder.

"I know I asked you not to talk to him while you’re still angry, but you don’t seem much calmer about this than you were on Friday. Why don’t we go over together and speak with him. If I can be there, I think I’d feel a lot better."

He didn’t look very happy with this suggestion, but considered it thoughtfully before he replied, "I’d rather talk to him alone, but if it would make you feel better, I’m willing to do it together."

She sighed in relief and stood, extending her hand to help her father from his battered old chair. "Let’s do it."

Blowing a kiss to Jamie along with a mouthed, "We’ll be back in a few minutes," Ryan scampered down the stairs, trying to keep up with her father’s longer strides. "Take it easy, Da," she warned. "We don’t have to run."

He slowed visibly, albeit reluctantly. His hands were curled into fists, and Ryan wrapped her left hand around his right, silently asking to hold his hand. Martin immediately complied, and she felt reassured to have his large, strong hand clasping hers. "We haven’t held hands in a very long while," she observed thoughtfully. "It’s nice."

"A certain green-eyed lass seems to have taken up permanent residence at the end of your arm," Martin joked, bringing his daughter’s hand to his lips to kiss the smooth skin.

"True," she mused, drawing in a deep breath of the warm summer air. "I remember walking up this hill when I was little, holding your hand on the way to church."

"I had to hold your hand to keep you from darting into traffic," he laughed, only slightly exaggerating. "Your mother gave up the fight when you were around four. She decided to take the easy way out and keep track of Rory."

"Ah, I wasn’t so bad," she scoffed, knowing that she had been every bit as bad as her father had indicated. "But no matter the reason, I have very fond memories of walking to church as a family. Sunday was always special, wasn’t it, Da?"

His eyes misted a little as he nodded. "It was, Darlin’." Memories of his young family attending church together and then returning home for brunch flooded his mind, the sweet tableaux causing a lump to form in his throat.

"I remember sitting at the dining table, talking about the sermon, and the scripture readings for the week," Ryan recalled. "I didn’t understand most of it, but I have a really clear memory of how important it was to Mama that we live what we learned."

"That it was," Martin agreed, a sad smile covering his face as he recalled his wife trying to inculcate the lessons of their faith into their four young ones. "Her faith was truly her rock." Memories of the devastating pain Fionnuala had been forced to bear flooded his memory, and he wiped at his eyes with the back of his free hand as he said, "Thank God that she had it."

"She lived her faith," Ryan said softly. "Even though I don’t have too many memories, that’s one thing that I know." Martin gripped her hand tighter, profoundly happy that his daughter’s memories included such a vital part of his beloved wife. "There’s another thing that I know, Da," she said.

He turned slightly, and was greeted by a confident look on his daughter’s face. "What’s that, Sweetheart?"

"I know that she wouldn’t want you to be too harsh with Father Pender." Her words were soft, so soft that he had to strain to hear her, and his heart clutched in pain as he saw his daughter’s face, but heard his wife’s quiet, yet decisive voice.

Without warning, he threw his arms around his child and gave her a robust hug, whispering into her ear, "You’re so much like her, Siobhán. You are so very much your mother’s daughter."

"That’s the nicest compliment I’ve ever had," she murmured, the emotion of the scene overcoming her. "Thank you, Da."

Releasing her, he pulled his clean handkerchief from his pocket and let her dry her eyes, then he did the same. Sniffing a few more times, he clasped her hand once more to continue their journey. "You sure do know how to take the fun out of a good shellacking," he muttered, his watery blue eyes belying his words.

"If it wasn’t me, you know that Aunt Maeve would have put her foot down," Ryan guessed, knowing that her aunt was quite persuasive when she wanted to be.

"Luckily, the good Lord blessed me with levelheaded women to keep me on the straight and narrow," he smirked. "And I couldn’t be happier."

"I’m proud of you, Da," Ryan said as they returned home after their visit with the parish priest. "I thought you handled yourself beautifully. You didn’t even raise your voice."

He smiled at her, rather proud of himself, but still unhappy with the resolution. "I’m still angry with him," he said quietly, "but I suppose I have to let our 29 years of friendship count for something."

"I think his explanation was rational," Ryan decided, even though she had her doubts as well. "I hadn’t come out to you yet, and I don’t think I would have been very happy to have him do it for me. I mean, ideally, he would have come to me first, but it’s at least believable that he told Sister Mary Magdalene because he thought she would be the best person to control the situation if the rumors got out."

"But that one act caused you so much pain, Siobhán! It destroyed your dreams of playing soccer, it nearly ruined your academic career…so much happened because of it."

"All true, Da," she agreed, "but you can’t look at it like that. I’ve said this to Jamie before, but I think it bears repeating. Everything that happened to me culminated in my being at Cal last year. Losing the scholarship, being too depressed to play for Stanford, my reluctance to get involved in a long-term relationship–all of it led me to Jamie."

They were nearing the house now, and as they drew closer, Ryan could see a pair of sneakered feet resting on the ground, obviously coming from the stairway to her home. The owner’s body was hidden, but the big black dog sitting patiently next to the feet gave Ryan a pretty good idea who they belonged to.

They were on the opposite side of the street, and as they crossed 22
^nd
Martin said, "I’m going to stop at the Necessaries to pick up a few things." Seeing the longing in the deep blue eyes, he playfully swatted her on the seat and ordered, "Go on with ya. Your lass is waiting."

Ryan placed a quick kiss on his cheek and took off running, covering the short distance in a few long strides. As soon as Jamie caught sight of her, she stood on the second step, throwing her arms around the strong neck when Ryan approached. Duffy jubilantly jumped up and tried to finagle his way into the hug, and his human companions welcomed him, both of the young women rubbing his head affectionately as his big pink tongue peeked out in a happy doggy grin.

Martin paused at the door of the convenience store, unable to tear his eyes away from the scene. His daughter looked as happy as he had ever seen her, and he knew that the young woman who stood on the step, gazing at her with loving eyes, was a very large part of her happiness.

Ryan was speaking animatedly, her hands gesturing as they only did when she was immensely pleased about something. Jamie’s arms were draped loosely around her neck, and she followed Ryan’s words intently, seemingly hanging on every one. A small smile was firmly settled onto her face as she gazed into Ryan’s eyes, and even from across the street Martin could see the love and affection that flowed between the two.

As Ryan finished her tale, Jamie released her hold and brought her hands up to gently cradle Ryan’s smiling face, placing soft kisses everywhere. The look on the taller woman’s face was nearly identical to the one on Duffy’s when he was being praised for some particularly good bit of behavior, and when Jamie was finished, she reached down and grasped Ryan’s hand. They walked up the stairs together, their bodies unconsciously drifting close. Their gentle laughter lingered in the air as they disappeared from sight, yet Martin stayed right where he was, letting the scene warm his heart.

The lass is right
, he admitted.
No matter what has gone before, she’s terrifically happy now, and that’s the important point.
Looking up at the sky in a familiar gesture, he smirked and addressed his late wife, a habit that had helped to keep him sane through his devastating grief.
I know you don’t have the power to make the world turn, Fi, but knowing you, you’ve worked your charms on a guardian angel or two.
He laughed softly to himself, knowing that his wife could charm a celestial being as easily as a human.
There’s just something that tells me that you used your influence to bring those two together.
He sighed heavily as he pulled open the door to the store, thinking,
Whoever is responsible, Fi, I think our little one has been blessed by the heavens
. Gazing skyward once again, he winked and asked,
Give my thanks to the proper authorities, won’t you, Love?