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It was late. He knew he should be in bed, asleep next to his wife, but he wasn't. He had spent another fucking great evening with his family (and Juice). Kerryanne had helped him make dinner, and they had spent hours and hours playing cards, talking, and laughing. Fiona had tried (and failed) to beat him at chess with Kerry and Juice offering a running commentary of the matchup. It had been, pretty much, a perfect night. He should have zero energy left, especially after the carnal entertainment he and Fiona had engaged in after going to bed. Instead, he was wide awake, sitting on the cold, pebbled roof of the rectory, chain smoking. He had a lot on his mind.
He wasn't sure what he had been expecting when he came over here. This time he was spending with his family was completely perfect, in his opinion. His wife and his daughter, who he had thought lost to him forever, had welcomed him with open arms. Fiona still wanted him, still washed and folded his laundry, still kissed him, still loved him. He was just now getting to know his daughter, but everything he had seen so far, he loved. She reminded him of himself and Fiona, all wrapped up with a completely unique element of amazing all of her own. She talked to him, asked him things, treated him like….a father. These were things he had always hoped for, but never had the audacity to expect.
But now he was here, and he had seen and experienced every sort of wonderful thing his girls had to offer, and he was faced with something he did not expect. He didn't want to leave. If he had his way, he would stay here in this tiny rectory with Fiona and Kerryanne, frozen in time forever and ever. No, he didn't want to leave, but he knew that he would. He owed too much to the club, to Charming, to leave them behind and stay here, blissfully unaware of anything outside his family. He would have to go back to America, sooner rather than later, and he didn't know how he was going to do it.
Right now, he hated the idea of them being out of his sight. He was terrified that every time they were, he would never see them again. He knew he would feel at least slightly easier once Jimmy was dead, and he was now more than ever determined to make that happen. That was actually near the top of his to-do list. Whether they were happily together in the tiny rectory or miserable on separate continents, his number one priority was making sure his girls were safe, and he knew for a fact that until Jimmy was dead, they would not be. He knew that Jimmy would never stop coming for them.
What he didn't know was what life would look like after Jimmy was dead. In his ideal world, they would come back to Charming with him; turn his little house into a home. Fiona would be waiting for him when he got back from long, annoying runs. Kerryanne would go to school in Charming, make friends who were in no way affiliated with the IRA, and be happy. She would get her first job working at Teller-Morrow in a few years. He would be there to terrify the living shit out of any boy she even considered bringing home. Eventually, she would go to college, graduate, be successful at whatever she chose. And he and Fiona would be there, together, supporting her every step of the way.
He could see it all, the way you could sometimes remember a very vivid, realistic dream upon waking up. But he knew that's all it was- a dream. Kerryanne had been very, very clear his first night here. She had no desire to leave Ireland. Her friends were here, everything she knew was here. He was pretty sure that no amount of love he had for her, or her for him, would change her mind. And he understood, he really did. He knew what it was like to be pulled from your life and transplanted into another one, and he wouldn't wish it on anybody, especially not her.
But what did that leave him? He didn't know what he was supposed to do. Was he to kill Jimmy, pack his bags, and just go back to Charming, just like that? Maybe he would get a ten minute phone call from Kerryanne every other Sunday, updating him on her life. Maybe they would send each other Christmas cards and visit every couple of years. Was he supposed to just let his love for Fiona completely fade away and die, once and for all? Wait to get a phone call from her, asking earnestly for a real divorce, because she had met some accountant or something who could make a nice life for her? Was he supposed to go back to fucking random Croweaters and pretending he didn't wish to see her face on each and every one of them?
He didn't think he could do it. He had spent just a week with them, going through really, really fucked up shit, but still really happy. He just couldn't picture going back to how it was before, with them not knowing each other. He likened it to giving a small, starving child a taste of the most delicious chocolate in the world and then telling him he could never have it again. It would be literally the only thing the child would want, for the rest of forever. He wanted them, his girls, for the rest of forever. He just had no idea how to make that happen.
There was a part of him, a large, juvenile, stereotypically male part of him that was screaming at him to run away as far and as fast as he could. Every second that he spent here with them, he fell more and more in love. This part of him was begging him to just go, because he knew that the longer he stayed, the more it would hurt when it was actually time for him to leave. He was ashamed to admit it, but he was tempted for a moment to give in to this side of himself, but he knew that he would never do that again.
All those years ago, when his baby son had been born and died all on the same day, he had given in to this part of himself. There was too much pain to be dealt with, he couldn't handle it. He couldn't look at his daughter without seeing his son that was gone; he couldn't look at Fiona without taking all of her pain on himself. It was just too much for him to take. So he had taken the coward's way out and just distanced himself, not physically, but emotionally from the whole situation. He didn't grieve, he didn't talk about it, he didn't cry. He just refused to face what was happing to his family and pretended that the pain he was feeling didn't exist. Nothing positive had come from doing that. Which is why he would never, ever let Fiona to blame herself for their current situation.
He would not allow himself to handle this situation the same way. He took one last, long drag from his cigarette before putting it out and flicking it away. He said a silent prayer to whatever God was listening that he would find a way where everybody could be happy. He promised himself that he would try to do what was right this time. He had no idea how to do that, be he figured that actually talking to Fiona was a decent place to start. But not tonight. Tonight, he would go back inside and lie next to her and just watch her sleep.