A/N: This is part one of this chapter. Spent a long time thinking about this. Hope yall enjoy. Let me know what you think.
Disclaimer: I own nothing BDS.
Chapter 11 : Photograph
I woke up early. I smelled the coffee before I opened my eyes. I was slightly surprised I felt as well as I did, considering the amount of wine I'd consumed last night. Lazily I jerked the comforter back and walked into the kitchen. My hair was a royal mess and my left over makeup didn't help me none, but Dad never judged. He handed me a steaming cup of coffee and held up the paper.
"Not'in in the paper t'is mornin'. Guess te boys are havin' a slow week." I sipped my coffee and sighed.
"That really ain't funny. I said I didn't think what they were doin' was bad...doesn't mean I like knowin' they are out there." I huffed. I could taste the bad breath in my mouth being soured by the coffee and I made a face. Ew.
"I know t'is, but, can't say I'm complaining. The bastards tey kill all deserve it." My hazel eyes found him eying the rosary around my neck. I touched it, I hadn't meant to sleep in it. "If'n God did call em te do t'is, ten he chose right. Those Macmanus boys are more'n handsome faces Amelia. Tey have seen te worst outta life and came out wit a smile on t'ere faces. Eerie how tey always seem to be." I nodded and sighed.
"Got that right. Have you noticed how they seem to speak without sayin' anythin'. Like, they just know?" I was serious, they spoke so little sometimes. And yet they were always on the same page with one another. It gave me goose bumps.
"Aye, I figur'd it'd be somet'ing ta do with being twins. Creepy, but it's worked out in t'ere favor. Obviously." He grinned at me and pushed the hair on his head down. "'Sides, don' t'ink yer complaining too much. When t'os boys are 'round, yer all bright eyed and bushy tailed. Even a blind man would see it." I groaned and started walking to the bathroom.
"I'm going to get ready for church...let's just pray I don't burst into flames the moment I cross the threshold." I called behind me, I heard my Dad chuckle before I shut the bathroom door. I turned the hot water on and scrubbed myself down. It took me a bit, but when I stepped out I felt fresh as a daisy. Thirty minuets later, I was in something I guessed to be church appropriate. It was a plain, white sun dress. It ended just above my knees. I had always loved this dress, it was strapless so I threw on my blue jean jacket. I slipped my feet into my boots and braided my hair off to the side. I didn't want make up.
As I came out of my bedroom, Dad smirked as he looked at me. "One nigh' ye are a heart breaker t'en te next...country bumpkin." I gave him a smile and slipped the rosary around my neck. The cross fit neatly down between my breasts out of view. I slid my cell into my jacket pocket.
"Alrighty, I'm ready." He nodded and dumped the rest of his coffee down the drain. Dad opted for his black slacks and dress shirt with a hunter green sweater vest. He had a weakness for those things.
"T'en let us not waste any more time." I opened the door and he followed, locking. We headed out, the air was chilly. I was starting to regret my dress. Found out we were going to be walking, even better. The church was a few blocks down from our apartment building. It was a gothic looking building, tan stone and pillars. I paused for a minuet, wrapping my arm through my fathers. My heart seemed to speed up, anxiety settling into my bones.
"Jus' church Amelia, come on." He teased, I blinked and followed behind him. The stained glass windows were beautiful, casting various shades over pews and the floor. We arranged ourselves in the back. Dad nodded towards a few people he must regularly congregate with here. I on the other hand, couldn't pull my eyes off the giant statue of Jesus on the cross. My heart was still pounding. I stayed like this for a while, barely keeping up with the prayers and the Latin the priest was speaking. My eyes kept drifting up to the look on Jesus' face. Sadness. Resolution. My stomach clenched.
"Melia? Time te pray." Dad whispered over to me, eyes closed as he held his own rosary between his hands. I grunted and took the rosary from around my neck. I looked at it again. My eyes looked around me, making sure I didn't see any spectators. Coast was clear, I took a deep breath and got onto my knees. I bowed my head and closed my eyes. The rosary was clutched tightly in my hands. What am I supposed to pray for? World peace? Money? No, too selfish.
Uh, God? I know I haven't kept in great touch lately, but surely you can see what's been going on. I apologize for my drinking and being aggravated. I'm sorry for my cussin'. I'm definitely not a model citizen, but I wanna also thank you for helpin' out there a few weeks ago. I know I owe ya for that. Murphy and Connor are a pretty big thing for me. I can't imagine not havin em around. Even right now, I miss the he...I miss them really bad. Again, sorry. Dad used to tell me you always have a plan, and I try to really believe that. It's just, where do I fit in to all this? I think I am in need of your direction. That's about it I guess, oh and jus' please keep a couple of ballsy angels watchin' out for our boys. Thanks, amen.
When I was done praying, I lifted my head and crossed myself. Dad was still on his knees, eyes closed. Maybe I should have spent longer? I sighed then stood, sitting myself back into the pew. Surely God doesn't need a bunch of hail marys and a book worth of words said to get it. He see's it all, right? I let that comforting thought circle through my mind. My eyes looked out at all the people still bowed, and the few who were getting up to leave. My mouth twisted as I put the rosary back around my neck. Again, my eyes found the statue behind the podium.
It must have been hard to be Jesus. Everyone always doubting you. I gave the figure a small sympathetic smile. My fingers rubbed the cross on my rosary. I wonder how Murphy and Connor felt when they looked upon this statue. Did they feel clarity, responsibility, guilt? I didn't know how I felt totally. I had kinda hoped for clarity about my life and where I was supposed to go from here. Maybe he'd give me a sign, point me in the right direction. Kinda hoped I'd see the boys here, praying and waiting for me. But they weren't here either.
I elected to stay seated there waiting for Dad to get out of confessional. He was in there for a bit, but he came out looking a little better. I stood and walked to the aisle, linking our arms together. It had to be around noon now, the sun was high and the morning chill had given away to a pleasant warmth. I shivered as the sun warmed me through my jacket.
"'S gotten pretty t'day." Dad spoke softly, he tilted his hat down to better shield his eyes. I smiled, enjoying the sunshine.
"Indeed. Boston needs prettier days." I felt better in the sun light. All and all, I didn't mind church so much. Mass was cathartic to a point. I still had the pesky feeling in the back of my brain, but I felt as if the stone in my heart was lightened a bit. I don't think even Jesus can make me miss the boys any less. We started back towards the apartment, I noticed how quiet Dad seemed. "Everythin' alright Dad?"
He shrugged and patted my hand that was resting on his forearm. "Aye, jus' kinda disappointed te boys weren't t'ere. Tho't maybe tey'd show up.." I felt the same way. "Don' get me wrong, I'm plenty cross at em...but how can I argue when m'girl looks at em as if she's found er heart 'n soul?" I shook my head and blushed. I knew my Dad wanted me happy, but I was worried for more reasons than them being out there killing the bad guys. When they do return and this mission from God is done, then what? I commit to both? They draw straws? They take turns taking me out? I shivered. Maybe I wasn't ready for them, not like that anyways. Surely they would be changed with so much blood on their hands. Wait, stop! I growled at myself. They aren't just anyone, they are them.
"Jus' make sure yer careful when tey come back, Melia." He smiled and stuck his free hand in his pocket.
We took a right and he abruptly stopped. His grip on me tightened and before I could really react, he hissed. "Act calm. I need ye to walk to te other side of te street and try nota lose sight o' me." I blinked and didn't have much time to ask questions before he pushed me away. I took a deep breath and steadied myself as I did as he asked. Once my boots hit the side walk, I looked over and seen him turn around. So I did the same, started walking back the way we came. The lunch time crowd was piling onto the side walks, people in suits and places to be. I was short so I was trying to dodge people to keep my eyes on my Dad.
I seen him take a corner and I stayed parallel to him. I slowed just enough to study the crowd he was walking through. There they were. Three guys in suits and sunglasses. My heart sank and I focused back on Dad. He was stiff as a board as he dodged the endless stream of people. My eyes found the men again, I thought maybe they could be agents of some sort...but Dad was in good with them. So, who are they? My heart was pounding in my chest, my ears ringing with the rush of blood. Fear and terror were working it's way back into my chest. I am so done with these kind of situations.
I was so focused on keeping my Dad in my sights, I didn't see the woman standing on the corner with her purse sat beside her. I tripped right over it. I yelped and rushed to my feet, ignoring the skinned palms and knee. I sucked in a deep breath, trying to jog ahead to catch up to my Dad and hi pursuers. I wanted to ask for help, but nobody wanted to get involved in South Boston. I groaned and sped up. My boots were making a distinct sound on the pavement. I could feel sweat dotting my eye brows and collecting between my shoulder blades.
Dad looked over in my direction and spotted me, giving me a guarded look. I was terrified and he looked about the same. I whimpered, tears stinging my eyes as my lungs started burning. I swallowed it down. I didn't even know where we were. He sought me out again and then took off at a run. I gasped, seeing him dart over to my side of the road and grab my hand. We took off like bats outta hell. My heart pounding and my lungs burning. I could hear my Dad wheezing.
"We gotta split up Melia." He said, dodging between buildings and into an alley way. "Tho'se are Yakavetta's men. Tey've seen ye now. Ye need to keep running until ye get anywhere t'ats gotta Irish name. Run in and yell 'Sanctuary'. They'll hide ye. Wait a bit den call Doc." I was about to have a panic attack until Dad slung us behind a garbage dumpster when he thought we had a second. "Please, be careful. I'll meet ye at Docs tonight. I love you." He was heaving and there was a terror in his eyes, frantic. I shook my head but he kissed my forehead and pushed me in the opposite direction.
"Dad.." I choked out, he pointed in the direction I was supposed to be running.
"GO!" He barked, and I shook. He stood there, saying so much in his eyes. I blinked and nodded. I turned around and took off. My boots echoing through the ally until I hit another crowded area. The people around me were a blur as tears spilled down my cheeks and I fought the want to collapse. I had to get somewhere safe. People started to take notice of me and began moving out of my way. I was too terrified to look behind me, just kept running. I was scared for Dad. He knew this city better than I, surely he'd find somewhere to hide out.
Nothing around me was familiar. After how ever long I had ran, I looked around me more attentively. Dad said look for an Irish name. I didn't want to break out of the lunch crowd but the farther I went, the more sparse it was becoming. I spotted a crown outside a cafe. I slowed to a jog, using the cover of the men and women drinking latte's as cover so I could catch my breath. After a second, I took off again and took another corner. What the hell? I felt sick to my stomach. I needed to find my father's people, my people. Then I heard it. At first it sounded like thunder. That sound had became a constant in my life. I shook it off. I quickened my pace and took a sharp right into a nook in the wall. Above me an old wooden sign was swinging. The Green Isle. There was a rowdy commotion coming from within, tears of relief filled my eyes. Thank you, God.
The outside didn't look like much with it's blacked out windows set into old rotting wooden windows. I took a shaky breath and opened the metal door that clashed with the wood and brick exterior. I felt the tears slowing on my cheeks, I knew what I needed to do. Through the clouds of smoke and the large burly bodies of plant workers, I seen the Irish flag on the wall behind the bar. Slowly the patrons stopped and seen me. The rugby game on the television was forgotten for a moment as I excused myself through the crowd. Definitely a rougher crowd than what congregated at Doc's.
The tender was also a rough lookin' man. Tall, dark black hair tied back behind his head. He wore a white tee shirt and a goatee. My eyes were puffy from crying and my voice was rough. He looked me over and set the beer he'd been pouring down.
"Can I 'elp ye lass?" His brogue was heavier than Doc's or the boy's. I nodded and felt my eyes watering again as fear went through me. I needed lots of help. I needed my Dad. I needed Connor and Murphy. I was shaking as he shouted for the bar to shut up. I flinched and met his dark green eyes.
"Sanctuary." I choked out. All those within earshot trying not to eavesdrop so obviously, snapped their faces to me. The bartender looked around at the men closest to the bar.
"Aye, come t'is way little one." I stumbled and shook. A hand caught me and I looked up to see a younger man holding me up. He had glasses, a round face and big blue eyes that looked concerned. I nodded my thanks and let him escort me around to a small table in the furthest corner of the pub. The bartender took a second to get to me as he stopped to say something to a few men. I lost sight of them as they moved towards the door. I blinked and tried to calm myself.
The dark haired man came up to me, he had to be at least 6 and a half foot tall. He was almost scary, but the look in his eyes was reassuring.
"Name's Shannon, 'tis my boy Michael. Tell me lass, what's got ye shaken up an' scared?" The sudden softness of his voice reminded me of my father.
"I'm Amelia Doyle. I was walkin' with my Dad out of church and he made us split up. There was guys followin us...then he joined up with me and told me to find the first place with a Irish name and ask for sanctuary.." I coughed, covering my mouth as Shannon handed me a napkin. I wiped my face and shook. "I'm sorry to come in here." Shannon snorted and waved it off.
"No worries lass. Who's yer Da? T'eres a lotta Doyles in South Boston."
I licked my lips and looked at Michael, wondering how old the boy was. Maybe 15 or 16? His face was still round with age. "Carrin Doyle. He's a teacher." I blinked, and looked back to Shannon. He scratched his goatee.
"Short feller, wears a hat everywhere?" I nodded and his face was impassive for a moment, but softened.
"Aye I know ye Da. Used ta play cards together on occasion. Shark 'e is." He paused and patted his son's shoulder. "Get the lass a drink would ye, ice water." Michael nodded and left. I sniffled and Shannon looked around. I stared at my hands, trying to will my body to stop shaking so much. I needed to be strong. Everything was going to be alright. "Ye said men were chasin' ye two?"
"Yeah, Italians." I tried to be vague, but it didn't help. Shannon's eyes widened slightly and crossed himself.
"Fuckin' bastards tey are, no better'n those Russian piece of shit's that bit it." Shannon's voice rose slightly and I heard something I'd never forget. The pub broke out in unison.
"AYE, SAINTS!"
I felt my eyes sting as I swallowed down more tears. Everyone loved them, especially the Irish community. They were doing good work, giving folks hope. I was oddly proud of them but right now I needed them. I needed to see them. I needed their strength. My saints. Michael returned, giving me the cold ice water. I took a gulp of it, soothing the fire in my chest.
"Thank you Michael." I said and the boy smiled, holding his hand over his chest.
"Nota problem, miss. Any'ting else I can bring ye?" His voice sounded on the edge of puberty. All in all, he was a handsome young man. I shook my head and he excused himself. Shannon watched after him and then looked back to me, patting my hand.
"Ye can stay as long as ye need ta. Got m'boys watchin' the door. Any trouble and tey will redirect it immediately." I gave him a small smile and took a shaky breath.
"I'm gonna call someone, have him come and pick me up. Sposed to meet up with my father at McGinty's tonight." Shannon gave me a thoughtful look.
"Alrigh' girl, ye callin Doc I guess?"
"Yeah, he's like family." I would be happy to see the old man. Shannon looked at the clock and then back to me.
"I know Doc, funny fucker. Tellem me an' my boy'll get you back to McGinty's after night fall. I'll have a fewa my boys come too, jus' in case lass. I don' know ye troubles, but I do know if the Italian's are gunnin' fer ye..." Shannon trailed off and shook his head. He snapped his fingers and walked away to give me some privacy.
With steadier hands I took out my cell phone and called the old man. It rang twice before his voice boomed in my ear.
"Amelia?" His voice sounded frantic and worried. I nodded to myself, free hand clutching the rosary. I sniffled.
"Doc..." I breathed out and cursed myself for all my damn crying. I needed to keep myself in check.
***Ed Sheeran - Photograph***
