Never Never (18 page)

S
haun looked
around his new home
.
The fridge and cookstove—both useless—took up a third of the kitchen. The table and chairs had long been stolen and fed to some campfire somewhere, probably soon after the first EMP had gone off.

He would have liked a fireplace but he wasn't in the mood to go scouring the countryside looking for a better place. Besides, this cottage was close to the castle. It made it more convenient for the daily castle handouts he and Saoirse had become accustomed to in the last two weeks.

He sat on an upturned tree stump in front of the cottage and felt the sun's rays on his back through his jacket. Saoirse had had plenty to complain about, of course—not the least of which was the “charity” being forced on them by Donovan.

Is there something wrong with me that his handouts don't bother me?

Like so much in life, the things he resisted or dreaded the most…became his greatest gifts.

He glanced around the frontcourt of the cottage to catch a glimpse of his sister. She was usually talking so he didn't normally need to try to find her. He grimaced.
Did I say talking?
Make that shrieking, complaining, and snarling at varying volume levels.

He sighed and looked at the animal trap at his feet. Its teeth were stained rust brown with evidence of its last use. Donovan had brought it the day before.

Something about
feed a man a fish or teach him to fish
.
Bugger.
He supposed he was going to have to learn how to use the damn thing and hope it didn't take his arm off at the elbow in the process. He would need to break down and ask Donovan how to set it but he wasn't ready just yet to further embarrass himself in front of the man.

I still have some pride.

Besides, Donovan said he'd bring a couple of rabbits today. There was no hurry on the whole trapping thing.

He spotted Saoirse coming from the woods where she was doing God knows what. His heart felt heavy when he saw her. All his life he'd done his best to watch out for her—or watch out for whatever unlucky soul got in her way. Now that he thought about it, that was how he became master of Henredon. Well, that and the fact that it was where his mother had worked for fifteen years. But after so many years of carrying the weight of Saoirse's special needs on his shoulders, it felt like a natural progression to care for the rest of them too.

In a flash, a vision of Ava filled his mind. Beautiful, sweet Ava. Shaun was under no illusions there. If it hadn't been for the Crisis, he'd never have had a chance with her. First, because she went to university and he only aspired to. Second, because she was beautiful and in love with her husband, Danny. Poor lad. He'd had an “accident” early on and widowed Ava leaving her with little Keeva. Shaun hadn't known Danny well but he couldn't say he'd been sad to see him go.

Especially not since…well, no use thinking of that. The fact that Ava had turned to Shaun—and his bed—after Danny died was all that mattered.

“Has the bastard shown up yet?” Saoirse said, tromping heavily over to where Shaun sat. She was filthy, her hair a rats nest and her face streaked with dirt.

Whatever was she up to in there?

“Not yet.”

“He's later and later. Pretty soon he'll stop coming.”

“Maybe.”

“If you're thinking I'll change me mind and accept whatever fiendish punishment he has in store for me—”

“No, Saoirse. I'm not thinking that.”

“Good. Because I'd rather die of starvation or be torn apart by wild animals.”

“I know. You've mentioned that.”
Nearly every day since we came to live here.

“It makes me want to rip her face off with me bare hands just thinking of her in there all warm of a night, laughing at us, eating hot soup…”

Shaun frowned. “Who are you talking about?”

Saoirse made a face to indicate her astonishment at his stupidity.

“That bitch Nuala, of course. It's because of her and that brat of hers that we're here.”

“It's not really,” he said but he knew it was an argument he'd never win. Just like every other dispute he'd ever had with Saoirse.

“Bollocks!” she said. “And you know we
have
to get back inside, Shaun. You
know
that.”

“I don't know, Saoirse,” he said tiredly. “What's the worse that could happen if we don't? We die of starvation, as ye say?” He nudged the trap at his feet and then jumped when it made a pinging noise. “We'll master this bastard and Bob's your uncle.”

“The feck he is,” she said as she turned to go into the cottage.

He was grateful when she left. Not that she'd stay inside long once Donovan showed up but he appreciated whatever brief moments of peace she gave him.

The quiet of the countryside was truly astounding. Living in the castle he'd never noticed it before. He'd spent some time looking at the stars from the catwalk and he often enjoyed an evening walk around the courtyard of an evening. But the sounds of the castle—women laughing, talking, children crying—always obliterated the perfect stillness of the countryside.

It was true that it was harder living here outside the castle walls. Even with Donovan providing them with food, he and Saoirse still had to work for every drink of water and every moment of warmth or comfort. And there was never a feeling of safety. Not even for a second.

So how was it that while he was always in a constant state of exhaustion and insecurity, he'd never felt better? He shook his head with wonder. There could be no doubt it had to do with the sudden removal of responsibility for the care of the others.

For the first time in a long time, he didn't have the weight of the world on his shoulders.

Let Donovan have the worry and stress of feeding all those people and of arbitrating their petty dramas—especially a community of all women. Let him listen to their complaints and their ungrateful whining.

If Shaun had known two weeks ago when Donovan was pressing him so hard to
pledge his allegiance
that he'd feel this way he'd have signed up in blood on the spot.

A crash from inside the cottage reminded him of why that could never have happened.

No matter how he felt or what he wanted, he'd
always
have Saoirse to take care of.

As for their mother, well, Beryl was a born teacher with a brand new audience. He had no doubt she was fine and perhaps some day they'd all be together again. But meanwhile someone had to look out for Saoirse.

He spotted Donovan coming over the rise of the adjacent pasture. Even from this distance he could see the bulging saddlebags on either side of him.

The last time Donovan came he'd brought cornbread—compliments of his American wife. It had a very strange texture and was unlike anything Shaun had ever tasted.

Shaun hoped he brought more today.

T
he afternoon sun
had disappeared behind a bank of clouds by the time Mike left Shaun and Saoirse. He felt a little less guilty about leaving them today because he knew it was only a matter of time before he'd bring them back to the castle. He wondered, was it his own stubbornness that hadn't done it before now?

If you asked Sarah, she'd say yes.

The cottage was less than an hour's walk from the castle through the western woods and across two pastures. Mike had been relieved to find a place so near. Other houses had either burned to the ground or been trashed so thoroughly they were uninhabitable. Even so, the same trip to the cottage from the castle took nearly as long on horseback as on foot because there was no bridle trail through the dense woods.

Halfway into his visit today, as he was asking Shaun about his system for castle garbage removal, his crazy sister had joined them. As she'd only ever cursed Mike before, he'd found himself thinking this was a step in the right direction.

Until she squatted on the trap at Mike's feet and urinated.

Shaun pulled her away and Mike began to see the kind of stress the man was under trying to control his sister. Sarah was right about that, too. The girl wasn't mentally right and as much as Mike dreaded bringing her craziness back inside the castle, she couldn't be left out here with winter coming on.

Would Shaun come back? Would he accept Mike as leader of the castle?

Mike's horse picked its way across the pasture.

He would if he had any brains at all. That man no more knew how to set a trap than organize a rocket to orbit the moon.

T
wenty minutes later
, as Mike turned down the main road leading to the castle a long curl of smoke was visible high above its walls. Mike imagined all the fireplaces were likely going strong—as cold as it was—and if Gav and Tommy were as lucky hunting today as they'd been lately, all the roasting spits were probably full too. His mouth watered at the thought.

Even Sarah had relented on her
my husband is dead to me
game plan as far as he could tell and had actually smiled at one of his jokes at dinner the night before.

He wasn't sure what it would take to make her feel truly safe—probably a lot of time passing without major mishaps…
and somehow getting John back home again
.

Thinking of major mishaps, his thoughts strayed to Declan. He would always blame himself for what happened to him. He knew in his heart that he'd really lost his best friend the day he and Sarah rode away looking for the lads last fall. It had taken a long year and a longer list of tragedies, but it was clear that Declan would never be himself again. The weight of Mike's sorrow—for himself and for Fiona—pressed heavily on him.

He concentrated on the castle ahead, growing closer with every step. Even his horse seemed to hurry. Some day there would be a mill inside the castle, a storage bursting with food, and even a school for the bairns. It would be a life of ease and enjoyment, of plenty and fellowship. Already he and Terry were mapping out the planting of the garden for next spring.

Yes, it would be a good life—and, please God, the one he'd promised Sarah on their wedding day.

He saw the lanterns moving along the top of the castle wall as he approached. He hadn't expected to visit as long as he had with Shaun. As Mike watched the drawbridge descend, he caught glimpses of activity within. One woman—it looked like Catriona—was hurrying across the courtyard with a child and a long bow in her arms.

The image made Mike smile. The smell of dinner cooking filled the courtyard as he entered. A child's wail in one of the distant rooms made him think how it would likely be another five years at least before the sounds of crying babies didn't herald him home. He handed the reins to Gavin and dismounted.

“Made it back before dark,” Gavin said.

“Just.”

“How were the Morrisons, then?”

“I'm thinking about inviting them back in.”

Gavin nodded. “Sarah said you would.”

“Did she now? Where is she?”

But Gavin was already leading the horse back toward the stables.

After washing up, Mike made his way to the great hall. The fact that it had been a tourist attraction before the bomb meant this room above all others was well furnished. The reproduction tapestries hanging on the stone walls muffled the sounds of voices and utensils clinking against metal plates.

He stopped to kiss Siobhan who was in Jill Donaghue's arms tonight. Nuala sat with her two boys and her baby. She looked tired. Probably rethinking the sanity of volunteering to head the nursery, he thought with a grin.

Gavin and Tommy sat with Beryl between them, their heads together. Sophia and little Maggie sat beside Gavin.

As Mike walked by he stopped to kiss his granddaughter and gave Sophia a reassuring squeeze before taking his place at the head of the table.

Sarah was at her place at the head of the table waiting for him and, saints be praised, she was smiling. While she hadn't moved out of their rooms during their recent cold war, she might as well have for all the contact they had. Tonight, however, it looked like detente was in the offing.

“Good visit?” she asked.

“You were right. They need to come back.”

She raised her eyebrows. He dropped a hand to her knee.

“And yourself?” he asked.

“Pretty good. I spent time with Ava today. She was a paralegal before the bomb.”

“Now
that's
useful,” he said. One of the men handed him a platter of roasted rabbit.

“I would've thought
you'd
think so what with your fascination with laws.”

He glanced at her and saw she was teasing. It had been so long he almost didn't recognize it. He put down the platter and turned in his chair to face her.

“Can I trouble you for a private conversation tonight, Sarah,” he said lightly, “where every ear in the castle can't hear?”