Chapter One: She's Coming Home

Clay Morrow pondered around the lot of Teller-Morrow, mentally kicking himself for not volunteering to pick his only daughter up from the airport himself. He hated driving cages and knowing the baggage, physical and psychological, his daughter would be lugging with her, he thought it was best to sit the trip out and so sent his wife instead. It gave him time to gather his thoughts as he hadn't had a moment to do so since he got the phone call at 8 PM the previous night. The ringing of his prepay had startled him as he was busy preparing for church. He was surprised further when he noticed the +44 dialling code. Belfast, he mused. While furrowing his eyebrows and looking down at his cell phone, Clay made the observation that it was roughly 6 AM in Ireland, meaning this wasn't a social call or a call from his beloved daughter, considering he hadn't spoken with her in well over a month. Frowning, he frantically answered his phone.

Before Clay could even greet his unidentified caller, he heard the raspy tone of a familiar Northern Irish voice;
'I've tried Clay, she's too much.'
There was a slight pause.
'The flight's booked. Tomorrow 8 PM your time, Oakland.'
Before Clay could contest, Maureen apologised, sincerely and wholeheartedly, and then hung up the phone.

Clay had no time to process his thoughts or emotions before he heard his VP shouting his name, reminding him that church was starting. Clay sat at the head of his table, scattered and unsettled. It wasn't long before his brothers noticed his lack of concentration. After numerous attempts of trying to get him to focus on the meeting, his Sergeant-At-Arms finally questioned him;
'You okay brother?'
Clay looked to his right, staring blankly at his SAA. Although it was clear from the beginning of the meeting that his mind was elsewhere, elsewhere happened to be anywhere but the problem which had just arisen. Tigs question had knocked Clay out of his daze and made him focus solemnly on the precarious situation.

Rubbing his hands down his face and inhaling sharply, he finally rested his chin on his palm with his long digits covering his mouth, not looking any of his brothers in the eye.
'Éire'
And as if the name had given him some emotional strength, he lifted his head and diverted his eyes straight ahead. Clearing his throat, he continued;
'She's.. eh.. she's coming home.'
After a sharp subtle silence, his Sergeant-At-Arms eventually began to clap his hands which was followed by a deceptive round of clapping and cheering from each of the men that surrounded him. Except for one.

To his right, Jax had been thankful that his Presidents fingers had been covering his mouth and her name had come out as a mumble. He was thankful that it had taken his mind a minute to register what he thought he heard Clay was what he had actually said. What he was most thankful for was that by the time his step father's eyes collided with his own, Jax had unintentionally begun clapping his hands.