-Down at the Anvil-
-Down at the Anvil-
-Technically, a version 2.0, rewritten because this is how I really wanted Líadan and Conner to interact, and it has been nagging at me since I updated the chapter . . . so I made time to fix it. Again: dedicated to dragonzfire and A Hotter Kiss, readers after my own heart. Love, Aoife-
Annabelle brushed her hair in the bathroom, readying herself to go out with the rest of the family. She hadn't been down to see her brother at the "Anvil" since the kids had come home. Líadan watched her mother briefly as she passed the open doorway. She couldn't imagine how the woman must be feeling. One of her children was dead; the other three were now home, but only because two were hiding from American authorities. And to make matters worse, she also had to house the man who'd left her on her own to raise his children, the man who'd vanished from her life without a trace. Líadan ducked out of view before Annabelle caught her, and headed toward the front door. Murphy was coming inside; his wrist had been properly cast for almost a month now. He dropped a kiss on her cheek before she headed out the door. Conner sat alone on the porch swing, a slight creak finding its way to Líadan's ears as he gently swayed back and forth.
Without asking permission, she sat down next to him. Seconds stretched into years as the awkwardness between them slapped them in the face. "I didn't mean it." Líadan's voice sounded strange to her own ears. Her brain took a minute to register that she'd even said the words. Conner now looked at her with sympathetic confusion. "When I said ya didn't miss 'er, I didn't mean it. I know ya miss 'er; probably more'n I do."
"Why won't ya let me apologize?"
"What good's it gonna do? She's gone. Nothin's gonna change that."
"That's not the point, Líadan."
"What is the point?" She stood up and turned to face him, raising her voice. "You want to apologize and have me say that it's alright, that it wasn't yer fault? Well I can't do that, Conner. 'Cause the fact is, it was yer fault! You chose ta fight those guys! You chose ta piss 'em off! You weren't there ta walk us home that night! And you ignored me when half my heart was ripped out and put through a meat grinder!"
He got up from the swing and lifted his arms in helplessness. "What do ya want from me, Líadan?!" His voice held nothing but anger.
"I want ya to not be so fuckin' proud!" she screamed. She reached out and pushed against his chest. It threw him back a step only because he hadn't been expecting it. He quickly recovered, but she wasn't done yet. The side of her fist flew into his ribs. "I want ya ta show me I'm not the only one broken without 'er!" Her fists helplessly pounded against his chest as tears began rolling from her eyes. He stood and took it, clenching his jaw. When her vision was too blurry to see properly, she swung once at the air. He caught her wrists and pulled her into a tight hug, holding her upright as much as he was embracing her.
"I meant ta call ya, I did," he whispered, his voice finally betraying the hurt inside him. "It just kept gettin' harder 'n harder. The more I didn't think about it, the easier it was ta pretend the two 'a ya were fine."
She stopped fighting him and buried her face in his neck. "I'm sorry, Conner."
"Fer what?" He gave a half laugh that told her he was trying not to cry himself.
"I couldn't protect 'er; I wa'n't strong enough."
"Oh, Sweetheart, no." He pulled his sister to him and held her tightly, an embrace that had once belonged to Bridget alone. "It wasn't yer fault. If anythin' it was mine; I shoulda been there ta walk ya home; I shoulda let it go ta begin with."
Murphy pulled his jacket on and grabbed his brother's. His hand reached for the door knob, but then he stopped, thinking about it for a second. He leaned over to look out the window, and the corner of his mouth crept up slightly. Finally.
Inside the "Anvil" was a typical busy night, crowded enough to make it hard to maneuver across the floor and noisy enough to make it hard to hear those around you. The live music didn't help the noise situation either. But, of course, Sibeal dropped what he was doing to meet his sister at the door. He was enthralled to see his niece and nephews home as well; however, his face fell as he saw the one man he never wanted to see again. "What the fuck d'ya think yer doin' 'ere?" Annabelle took her brother aside, not wanting a scene.
"It's alright, Sibeal."
"What d'ya mean 'it's alright?'"
"We've talked, and he brought the kids back, so I'm not gonna start anythin'. That's over 'n done with."
"But, Anna . . ."
"It's done, Sib." Sibeal knew better than to argue with his sister. The sharp tone in her voice meant trouble if he did. "Now go buy yer nephews a drink."
The family sat at a table while Sibeal flagged down the waitress. The red-haired girl grudgingly made her way over, dreading another smack on the ass from the old man. "Aislinn?" Líadan immediately recognized her old friend. Aislinn's face brightened, and she enveloped Líadan in a warm embrace.
"How are ya?!" Aislinn squealed. "I haven't talked ta ya in months." Both girls knew that the last time they'd spoken had been at Bridget's funeral, but Aislinn wouldn't mention it until Líadan did.
"I didn't know ya were workin' here," Líadan mentioned.
"Well, I wasn't the last time ya were home. Eithne left us fer the big city, went ta university. So I picked up 'er job here 'n finally got off that blasted farm. Cor, I hated those fuckin' chickens."
Líadan giggled. It surprised her family; it was the first time any of them had heard her laugh since her sister's death.
"So, how long ya stayin' fer this time?"
"Not really sure," Líadan answered. "Probably another month, though. We're basically here ta give Murph's wrist time ta heal."
"Oh!" Aislinn finally noticed Murphy's cast. With a sympathetic looked she asked, "Anythin' I can get ya, Love?"
"Besides m' heart back?" Líadan smacked her brother's shoulder.
"She's tryin' ta be nice, 'n ya hit on 'er? Ya don't think she fuckin' gets enough 'a that already?"
"It's alright, Líadan; I'm useda it."
"A round 'a uisca beatha, please, Ash," Sibeal spoke up.
"Sure, Sib." As the girl walked away, both of the boys watched her.
"D'ya see what I'm seein'?" Conner asked his brother, elbowing him. Murphy's eyes followed the path of his brothers'.
"Aye; she sure did grow up, didn't she?"
"Aye." Líadan closed her eyes for a second and sucked in a breath in disgust. Then without them noticing, she stood and approached the twins from behind. With a hand stealthily on either side, she simultaneously smacked them. Sibeal burst out laughing, and Annabelle had to stifle a smile herself.
"What?" Conner asked for both of them.
"First of all, she's too young fer ya. Second, she's already got a boyfriend looks ten times better'n you. Both 'a yas." She looked at Murphy too, to emphasize her point.
Because she knew her boss, Aislinn brought a shot glass for each member at the table, but instead of filling them, she simply included a full bottle of potato whiskey. They would no doubt finish this one and start at least two more. It wasn't like Sibeal would be charging his family anyway, so there was no need to portion it. She had other tables to tend, so as soon as she'd dropped it off, she took her leave of them. Somewhere in the middle of the third bottle, Líadan was finished. They'd be there for another few hours, which would give her enough time to sober up so at least someone would be able to drive. Not that they really needed to drive. The weather was getting warmer, and technically the "Anvil" was within walking distance.
As the time ticked by, Líadan's mother got more and more belligerent, and therefore, more and more hilarious to watch. Her brothers, on the other hand, got more and more annoying. Finally, Aislinn's shift was up, and she was free to hang out with her friend. She tapped Líadan on the shoulder, and the two girls weaved their way out the door to stand in the cool night air. Líadan had forgotten just how many stars there were here; Boston's sky never looked like this. The silence between the girls was comfortable, but Líadan knew that Bridget was on Aislinn's mind as well. So out of respect for her friend's sanity, she brought up the topic. "Ya know, it's funny. I still keep expectin' 'er ta come back from the bathroom."
"D'ya know how hard it's been fer the rest of us ta try 'n keep the books like Bridget did?" Aislinn laughed, trying to bring happiness to the memory of the girl. "Both 'a ya." She nudged Líadan with her elbow. "Ya spoiled the ol' man while ya were here, 'n now he doesn't know how ta do any of it himself anymore."
"She was always so good with numbers." Líadan couldn't help but laugh when she thought of her sister's favorite phrase. "She useda say, 'God gave me this cuz yer gonna need a manager one day.'" Aislinn smiled back at her friend.
"Alright, come on." She looped her arm through Líadan's and led the girl back inside and up to the bar. Then she poured each of them half a shot of poitín, and filled two separate glasses with Sprite(r). The girls raised their shots toward each other, holding the soda ready in the other hand. "To Bridget," Aislinn offered.
"Aye."
Their glasses clinked as each girl said, "Slaínte." Though one technically was not supposed to shoot poitín, they sucked down the soda after their half-shots to dilute the potato moonshine in their stomachs. The band had started a slower song, trying to help wind the people down for the night. An arm wrapped around Líadan's shoulders from behind, startling her; Aislinn's face had not given away the fact that someone was behind her. She could instantly tell that it was one of the boys, but she couldn't tell which one until his chin plopped onto her shoulder.
"How much have ya had?" she asked.
"Oh, I'm still fine; I haven't drunk nearly as much as th' others." She smiled as her brother kissed her cheek.
"Dance with me."
"What?"
"Mind if I steal 'er fer a bit?" he asked Aislinn.
"She's yer sister," Aislinn conceded.
He pushed Líadan out to the open area in front of the band where a few other couples were drunkenly making themselves dizzy. He took her right hand in his left and placed his right on her back. She then laid her left hand on Conner's shoulder and looked him in the eye as he eased them into a turning motion. They locked eyes for a minute before Conner spoke. "Ya know, I always envied Murph." She shot him a confused look. "He never had ya watch out fer ya like I had ta keep track 'a Bridge."
"How d'ya mean?"
"You were always so self-sufficient; we never had ta worry about ya. If ya needed somethin', ya got it yerself; if someone was pickin' on ya, ya stopped it." He paused to let out a deep sigh. "Bridget always depended on us so much."
"Murph once told me that's why ya left fer Boston."
"In the beginnin', aye. We were plannin' on coming back after a couple years, but Bridge never seemed to start dependin' on herself. Then the two 'a ya moved out there with us."
"Is that why ya didn't talk to us much? Cuz ya were tryin' ta get 'er ta stop leanin' on ya?"
"Aye." He laughed a little as his mind strayed to thoughts of when the girls first came to Boston. "It killed Murph though, ta have ya so close 'n not see ya all the time." He pulled her a little closer, and she laid her head against his shoulder. "I'm sorry we didn't talk ta ya more; especially those last few months."
"Funny ya should say that; cuz it was that last few months when she started spendin' time away from me."
"What? Seriously?"
"Seriously. She started datin' Dylan. They'd been goin' on half a year when she died."
"Hunh."
She couldn't help but laugh at the noise her brother made, which in turn, made him smile. "It's nice ta hear ya laughin' again." The song ended, and another started, so they stayed where they were. He pulled back from her a bit and asked, "Who's Dylan?" His suspicious tone amused her.
"Dylan's one of the bartenders at the 'Faerie Queen.'"
"Not the one I met when I was there the other day?"
"Nah, that's Brannon; he's the owner. Dylan just works fer 'im."
"So then, Bridget had a boyfriend; why didn't you?"
One corner of her mouth turned upwards. "That's nice ta think about, but we all know Bridget got all the looks."
"Excuse me if I don't believe that." They finished the rest of the song in silence.
Aislinn patiently waited for them to return; and they did, climbing up onto stools next to her at the bar. The three talked and laughed until the pub emptied; the only bodies left were staff and family. Annabelle steadied herself on her brother as they all stood, and the MacManuses got ready to leave. The boys' father, though he had drunk just as much as the others, showed no signs of it. He did, however, drop the keys into Líadan's hand before helping Annabelle and Murphy into the back seat. Líadan and Conner assisted their brother into his bed, and then Conner kissed Líadan's forehead before retiring himself. Obediently, Líadan made sure to give her mother a kiss before the woman passed out for the night. Her newly-dubbed father then walked her to her own bedroom. Outside the door, he pushed the hair away from her right cheek and lifted her chin with a finger. "Ya shouldn't hide yer face like that, Dear."
She didn't know what to say.
"This scar is nothin' ta be afraid of. Don't let it control ya." He sent her through the doorway with a kiss on the cheek, and made his way back to Annabelle's room. Líadan closed her door, and looked over at Bridget's bed. Then she went over to the mirror, picked up her brush, and pulled her hair back into a pony-tail for the first time in almost a year.
Translations:
Aislinn Irish name, pronounced "ASH-lynn"
Eithne Irish name, pronounced "EN-ya"
"uisca beatha" Irish, potato whiskey, pronounced ISH-ka BA-ha ("water of life")
"poitín" Irish, potato moonshine, pronounced PA-cheen. Fun Fact: for many years, it was illegal to brew this kind of alcohol in Ireland, and it still is in the US.