Rosalind
This story and all themes and ideas contained in said story are the sole
ownership of J.L. Scott. Any copyright infringements can be prosecuted in a
court of law.
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?
John turned right as Grace instructed him. They were in a nice neighborhood, big houses that looked like they were built, and kept up nicely, in the 1800's. Grace directed him to one on the left, on the side of a horseshoe. There were cars everywhere, but there was enough room at the end of the driveway for him, so he pulled in.
"Hope I didn't take one of your brother's places" he said as he put it in park, "So what exactly is the big deal about today?"
"It's Mum's birthday" Grace replied, adopting a slight accent as she said the word. He wondered if she hadn't had one growing up, an accent that is, and had simply discarded it when she'd moved into the career world. He circled the car and opened the door for her. She was wearing one of the fifties style dresses again, the ones she favored, this one with elbow length sleeves and no inciting neck line like many of her others. He supposed she had dressed for the occasion. It was turquoise, another of her favorite colors, and had Celtic knots kind of embossed around the hem and waist. She had told him not to mention the fact that he was German unless specifically asked, and even then to stammer a little and hope for a diversion.
"Why? Your family prejudice?" he had asked.
"No" Grace had answered, "They just prefer the Irish. Especially in men I'm seeing" At twenty four (almost five!) how many men could she have "seen"? Enough for her to know not to bring them home if she liked them apparently.
They made their way between cars up the long drive way to the back door. In the setting sun John saw a well kept lawn and flower patches close to the house, a deck out back where there might be a pool, and more yard that was enclosed and made private by a fence of trees. He could hear people laughing and saw that the room they were about to enter, the kitchen probably, looked crowded through the windows. As they climbed the steps to the back porch, the door opened, letting out a lot of noise, and a man, who John guessed to be Andrew, or maybe Luke. One of the middle ones.
"Hey, Gracie!" he cried as soon as he saw them and embraced his sister, "How's my favorite little sister doing?" This man had a slightly Irish accent, John noticed.
"I'm your only little sister, have you forgotten again?" Grace laughed. More accent. John had the sneaking suspicion that it crept up on her around her family.
"And this must be John, right?" Her brother suddenly turned on him. He seemed much bigger than he had a moment ago. Almost towering in fact. At least as big as Jones. With nothing else to do, John held out his hand.
"Hey, nice to meet you" he said. The man laughed as he pumped his hand with an iron grip. John decided it must be a family trait or something.
"Matt and Mark are going to love him!" he roared. Grace shook her head.
"They get offended by politeness" she told him and rolled her eyes once more, "When you get introduced, just sort of nod like you could care less and you'll be fine" Her brother laughed again and went down the stairs. Grace turned around.
"Hey, where're you going?" she demanded.
"I'm just goin' to the car, Skittle, I'll be back in in a minute, I wouldn't want to miss anything!" he called back.
"Skittle?" John asked.
"Nick name" Grace explained, "They all have one for me. We had better just wait. He'll pout if we go in without him"
"Which one was that, now?" he asked.
"John. Priest"
"That was a priest?" John exclaimed, looking over his shoulder at the man rummaging in his car. He was young, attractive, looked like he worked out, and was wearing jeans and a dark dark green sweater. Not the black with white collar John symbolized with the priesthood.
"Shoot, now I won't even be able to pick those two out" he said quietly and Grace laughed. He had been glad that he would at least be able to tell which one's were Peter and John, the priests, because he doubted he'd be able to get the rest of them. Not that he was horrible with names, it was just that there were so many of them! But he didn't have long to contemplate it as John bounded back up the steps and opened the door so the couple could follow. They stepped into a brightly lit kitchen. It was large, with an island in the middle, but was crowded with six of the nine brothers.
"Hey, look what I found outside!" John (O'Malley) called, bringing all of their attention to the new arrivals. Choruses of "Grace" and "Gracie" went up, each brother crowding closer to give their baby sister a hug, or tussle her hair.
"Will ye leave my hair alone, Patrick!" she scolded a dark haired one. He gufawed.
"Whose this ye brought, Giraffe?" another, red this time, asked.
"Ach, into the living room with everybody else and I'll introduce ye" Grace told him and started pushing them all to the doorway. John had been right. She picked up that Irish accent around her family. They all spoke with accents. Fortunately they weren't hard to understand.
"Mum!" Grace called as they entered the gigantic living room. There was one large couch, sitting four, in the middle facing the fireplace. To it's left was a large overstuffed chair, then a loveseat. On it's right was another chair and then a three seater. They were short one seat to fit the entire family. An older woman got out of one of the chairs to embrace Grace. She was Grace's height, about 5"5, and she had long black hair with some white streaks. She wore it in a single braid down her back. She was lithe and didn't look a day over 50, if she was a day over 50.
"Why is it, on yer mother's birthday, everybody forgets about me?" a strong voice said from behind them all.
"Probably because it's the only day we can forget about you, Da!" one of the boy's replied robustly, and John could've sworn it was the same voice. Grace smiled broadly and parted the sea, so to speak, to give her father a hug as well.
"Well now, who's this young lad ye've brought home to us, Gracie, sweet?" The man turned his attention to John. He was every bit as large and burly as every one of his sons, who were of course all studying John now too. Even Grace's mother emanated a dangerous vibe. Grace crossed the room again to attach herself to John's arm.
"Daddy, this is John Clark" she introduced them.
"Nice to meet you sir" John said, hoping he sounded much more confidant than he felt. He realized that Grace came with a package, and this was it. He had better make a good impression now, while he had the chance. Problem was, how to do that?
"Em" was all the man replied. The rest of the men were arranged in a half circle and Grace started at the beginning.
"This is Peter, the eldest" And the head of the family, after Mr. O'Malley, John noted as he shook his hand. More iron. Definitely a family trait then.
"That one is Andrew" she said about the next man. Another shake.
"Then Matt and Mark" The requested head nod.
"Paul, Luke, and you met Johnny" More hand shakes.
"And then there's Patrick and Michael" That was all of them.
"And this is me Mum" John shook the hand of the solid woman.
"Happy Birthday, Mrs. O'Malley" he said. Ah, he did something right! She looked much more accepting than anyone else in the room.
"Well, now, aren't you a sweet thing?" she patted his cheek with a smile, "Come on, boys, the potatoes are done!" The whole horde moved into the massive dining room with the long table which barely fit them all around it. The Irish believed in family dinners.
The night progressed all right. John was grilled about his job, how dangerous it was, how long he'd lived in New York, where he'd gone to school, his political views, his religious convictions (which he kind of hedged around) and then his family. His father's death drew apologies, though he thought the fact that he had followed "his father's footsteps" was a plus in their book, but the mention of Rosalind kind of stemmed the conversation.
"And the lass's mother?" Mr. O'Malley asked.
"Dead, sir, as is her real father" John answered, "But the family takes an active involvement in her life. Her aunt, Maria Fointez, baby sits while I work and takes her to Church when I can't and her grandparents see her every other weekend."
"Ach, well it's good of you to be takin in the poor thing, ain't it?" Mrs. O'Malley said, allowing for no argument or other view in her ranks, "The name Fointez, it's Hispanic, yes?"
"Ah, yes, ma'am. I'm not sure about Maria's husband, but the Rodriguez's, that's Ros's family, they're Puerto Rican"
"Ah, well the Hispanics make such lovely friends, aye? A wonderful culture" Mrs. O'Malley continued. And Catholic too, John silently added.
"So, Peter, have ye heard from the Bishop? Are they movin' ye?" Mr. O'Malley asked his eldest. The heat was off of John. For now.
It stayed off until the end of the meal when all the men moved into the living room.
"It's almost over" Grace assured him with a kiss on the cheek.
"Aye. But you'll have to go into the living room with the lads while Grace and I do the dishes yet" Mrs. O'Malley added as she gathered up plates.
"Just the two of you do the dishes?" John asked.
"Don't be thinkin it, lad" Mrs. O'Malley said, "They'll only brand ye a coward fer not standin up to them. Why you have to pick me birthday fer this, Grace!"
"I did it on purpose, Mum!" Grace replied, grabbing a stack of plates, "The boys won't rip him apart on account of it!" They disappeared into the kitchen leaving John to face the O'Malley men all by himself. He figured he might as well get it over with and so went to the living room.
"Ah, there ye are, John" Peter said as he entered, "Come, have a tank will ye?" he held a beer out for John.
"Uh, no, thanks, I've gotta drive home" John replied, hoping it was the right answer. No fist in the face. That was a good sign.
"So, John" Mr. O'Malley drawled from his chair, "You've been seein' our Gracie for almost a year now, eh?"
"Uh, yes sir" John answered.
"Well, isn't that nice?" he drawled again in his Irish accent. John felt like a lamb in the center of a pack of wolves.
"She's a wee young, Gracie is. Head filled with fancy things" Peter said, sipping his beer. This was the other priest, John had to keep reminding himself. Surely he wouldn't commit murder?
"She's got great dreams, I think" John replied, "She's great with kids"
"Oh, aye. But all that dreamin, ye know, it makes her a little....oblivious....to things" Mr. O'Malley commented. The rest of the men seemed content to let the two heads handle the conversation. They just watched. With dark sparkling eyes and drool hanging from their fangs. Or maybe it was blood.
"I've never been witness to Grace missing a thing" John said. O'Malley and Peter exchanged a look.
"She's been known to bring home the occasional tramp" Peter told him, "The wild, dirty kind what weren't no kind of pet" Pet? He was comparing her former interests to pets? John was not a pet!
"Good thing I wash daily then" he said. He waited for some kind of explosion. And he got it. An explosion of laughter. All ten of the men gufawed at his comment.
"Aye, boyou" O'Malley thumped his knee, "Aye you smell like soap, ye do! And ye're still wet behind the ears from all that washin' I expect!"
Nothing more was said and indeed the entire atmosphere of the evening lightened so much that John ended up really enjoying it. The O'Malley's were a curious lot, over protective of their youngest member and eager enough to do anything for her. Never once did she get up to get herself a drink or fetch her purse for her chapstick. Neither, for that matter, did their mother. The boys had fun telling John embarrassing stories about each other, though John noticed they only told cute anecdotes about Grace's childhood, nothing that she might consider "mortifying" or crude. All in all, they seemed a happy and considerate family. John would have to get used to that, though he thought he'd enjoy it. He couldn't speak for Rosalind.
"Well, that weren't too bad" Grace said as they drove home again. She gave John a winning smile.
"You got Mum with that happy birthday bit, and Daddy and Peter took ye in" she told him, "That's all ye need. The rest of the boys'll follow their lead"
"So I don't need to sleep with my gun under my pillow tonight, then?" John joked.
"Nay!" Grace laughed. He knew where she got it now. Her entire family laughed. It was like some sort of disease or something.
"I'll have to introduce them to Rosalind in smaller groups" she continued, "So as not to frighten the wee thing"
"Do you know you adopt an accent when you go to your parents' house?" he asked, just in case she didn't.
"Aye!" she laughed, and then laughed because she'd said 'aye' instead of yes.
"It'll wear off by mornin'" she promised him. John reached for her hand and kissed the top of it.
"I love you" he said, just for good measure. Grace's eyes smiled warmly back at him.
"I love ye, too, John Clark"
To borrow a phrase: NYPD Blue no mine......no permission..no money, no sue, please?
John turned right as Grace instructed him. They were in a nice neighborhood, big houses that looked like they were built, and kept up nicely, in the 1800's. Grace directed him to one on the left, on the side of a horseshoe. There were cars everywhere, but there was enough room at the end of the driveway for him, so he pulled in.
"Hope I didn't take one of your brother's places" he said as he put it in park, "So what exactly is the big deal about today?"
"It's Mum's birthday" Grace replied, adopting a slight accent as she said the word. He wondered if she hadn't had one growing up, an accent that is, and had simply discarded it when she'd moved into the career world. He circled the car and opened the door for her. She was wearing one of the fifties style dresses again, the ones she favored, this one with elbow length sleeves and no inciting neck line like many of her others. He supposed she had dressed for the occasion. It was turquoise, another of her favorite colors, and had Celtic knots kind of embossed around the hem and waist. She had told him not to mention the fact that he was German unless specifically asked, and even then to stammer a little and hope for a diversion.
"Why? Your family prejudice?" he had asked.
"No" Grace had answered, "They just prefer the Irish. Especially in men I'm seeing" At twenty four (almost five!) how many men could she have "seen"? Enough for her to know not to bring them home if she liked them apparently.
They made their way between cars up the long drive way to the back door. In the setting sun John saw a well kept lawn and flower patches close to the house, a deck out back where there might be a pool, and more yard that was enclosed and made private by a fence of trees. He could hear people laughing and saw that the room they were about to enter, the kitchen probably, looked crowded through the windows. As they climbed the steps to the back porch, the door opened, letting out a lot of noise, and a man, who John guessed to be Andrew, or maybe Luke. One of the middle ones.
"Hey, Gracie!" he cried as soon as he saw them and embraced his sister, "How's my favorite little sister doing?" This man had a slightly Irish accent, John noticed.
"I'm your only little sister, have you forgotten again?" Grace laughed. More accent. John had the sneaking suspicion that it crept up on her around her family.
"And this must be John, right?" Her brother suddenly turned on him. He seemed much bigger than he had a moment ago. Almost towering in fact. At least as big as Jones. With nothing else to do, John held out his hand.
"Hey, nice to meet you" he said. The man laughed as he pumped his hand with an iron grip. John decided it must be a family trait or something.
"Matt and Mark are going to love him!" he roared. Grace shook her head.
"They get offended by politeness" she told him and rolled her eyes once more, "When you get introduced, just sort of nod like you could care less and you'll be fine" Her brother laughed again and went down the stairs. Grace turned around.
"Hey, where're you going?" she demanded.
"I'm just goin' to the car, Skittle, I'll be back in in a minute, I wouldn't want to miss anything!" he called back.
"Skittle?" John asked.
"Nick name" Grace explained, "They all have one for me. We had better just wait. He'll pout if we go in without him"
"Which one was that, now?" he asked.
"John. Priest"
"That was a priest?" John exclaimed, looking over his shoulder at the man rummaging in his car. He was young, attractive, looked like he worked out, and was wearing jeans and a dark dark green sweater. Not the black with white collar John symbolized with the priesthood.
"Shoot, now I won't even be able to pick those two out" he said quietly and Grace laughed. He had been glad that he would at least be able to tell which one's were Peter and John, the priests, because he doubted he'd be able to get the rest of them. Not that he was horrible with names, it was just that there were so many of them! But he didn't have long to contemplate it as John bounded back up the steps and opened the door so the couple could follow. They stepped into a brightly lit kitchen. It was large, with an island in the middle, but was crowded with six of the nine brothers.
"Hey, look what I found outside!" John (O'Malley) called, bringing all of their attention to the new arrivals. Choruses of "Grace" and "Gracie" went up, each brother crowding closer to give their baby sister a hug, or tussle her hair.
"Will ye leave my hair alone, Patrick!" she scolded a dark haired one. He gufawed.
"Whose this ye brought, Giraffe?" another, red this time, asked.
"Ach, into the living room with everybody else and I'll introduce ye" Grace told him and started pushing them all to the doorway. John had been right. She picked up that Irish accent around her family. They all spoke with accents. Fortunately they weren't hard to understand.
"Mum!" Grace called as they entered the gigantic living room. There was one large couch, sitting four, in the middle facing the fireplace. To it's left was a large overstuffed chair, then a loveseat. On it's right was another chair and then a three seater. They were short one seat to fit the entire family. An older woman got out of one of the chairs to embrace Grace. She was Grace's height, about 5"5, and she had long black hair with some white streaks. She wore it in a single braid down her back. She was lithe and didn't look a day over 50, if she was a day over 50.
"Why is it, on yer mother's birthday, everybody forgets about me?" a strong voice said from behind them all.
"Probably because it's the only day we can forget about you, Da!" one of the boy's replied robustly, and John could've sworn it was the same voice. Grace smiled broadly and parted the sea, so to speak, to give her father a hug as well.
"Well now, who's this young lad ye've brought home to us, Gracie, sweet?" The man turned his attention to John. He was every bit as large and burly as every one of his sons, who were of course all studying John now too. Even Grace's mother emanated a dangerous vibe. Grace crossed the room again to attach herself to John's arm.
"Daddy, this is John Clark" she introduced them.
"Nice to meet you sir" John said, hoping he sounded much more confidant than he felt. He realized that Grace came with a package, and this was it. He had better make a good impression now, while he had the chance. Problem was, how to do that?
"Em" was all the man replied. The rest of the men were arranged in a half circle and Grace started at the beginning.
"This is Peter, the eldest" And the head of the family, after Mr. O'Malley, John noted as he shook his hand. More iron. Definitely a family trait then.
"That one is Andrew" she said about the next man. Another shake.
"Then Matt and Mark" The requested head nod.
"Paul, Luke, and you met Johnny" More hand shakes.
"And then there's Patrick and Michael" That was all of them.
"And this is me Mum" John shook the hand of the solid woman.
"Happy Birthday, Mrs. O'Malley" he said. Ah, he did something right! She looked much more accepting than anyone else in the room.
"Well, now, aren't you a sweet thing?" she patted his cheek with a smile, "Come on, boys, the potatoes are done!" The whole horde moved into the massive dining room with the long table which barely fit them all around it. The Irish believed in family dinners.
The night progressed all right. John was grilled about his job, how dangerous it was, how long he'd lived in New York, where he'd gone to school, his political views, his religious convictions (which he kind of hedged around) and then his family. His father's death drew apologies, though he thought the fact that he had followed "his father's footsteps" was a plus in their book, but the mention of Rosalind kind of stemmed the conversation.
"And the lass's mother?" Mr. O'Malley asked.
"Dead, sir, as is her real father" John answered, "But the family takes an active involvement in her life. Her aunt, Maria Fointez, baby sits while I work and takes her to Church when I can't and her grandparents see her every other weekend."
"Ach, well it's good of you to be takin in the poor thing, ain't it?" Mrs. O'Malley said, allowing for no argument or other view in her ranks, "The name Fointez, it's Hispanic, yes?"
"Ah, yes, ma'am. I'm not sure about Maria's husband, but the Rodriguez's, that's Ros's family, they're Puerto Rican"
"Ah, well the Hispanics make such lovely friends, aye? A wonderful culture" Mrs. O'Malley continued. And Catholic too, John silently added.
"So, Peter, have ye heard from the Bishop? Are they movin' ye?" Mr. O'Malley asked his eldest. The heat was off of John. For now.
It stayed off until the end of the meal when all the men moved into the living room.
"It's almost over" Grace assured him with a kiss on the cheek.
"Aye. But you'll have to go into the living room with the lads while Grace and I do the dishes yet" Mrs. O'Malley added as she gathered up plates.
"Just the two of you do the dishes?" John asked.
"Don't be thinkin it, lad" Mrs. O'Malley said, "They'll only brand ye a coward fer not standin up to them. Why you have to pick me birthday fer this, Grace!"
"I did it on purpose, Mum!" Grace replied, grabbing a stack of plates, "The boys won't rip him apart on account of it!" They disappeared into the kitchen leaving John to face the O'Malley men all by himself. He figured he might as well get it over with and so went to the living room.
"Ah, there ye are, John" Peter said as he entered, "Come, have a tank will ye?" he held a beer out for John.
"Uh, no, thanks, I've gotta drive home" John replied, hoping it was the right answer. No fist in the face. That was a good sign.
"So, John" Mr. O'Malley drawled from his chair, "You've been seein' our Gracie for almost a year now, eh?"
"Uh, yes sir" John answered.
"Well, isn't that nice?" he drawled again in his Irish accent. John felt like a lamb in the center of a pack of wolves.
"She's a wee young, Gracie is. Head filled with fancy things" Peter said, sipping his beer. This was the other priest, John had to keep reminding himself. Surely he wouldn't commit murder?
"She's got great dreams, I think" John replied, "She's great with kids"
"Oh, aye. But all that dreamin, ye know, it makes her a little....oblivious....to things" Mr. O'Malley commented. The rest of the men seemed content to let the two heads handle the conversation. They just watched. With dark sparkling eyes and drool hanging from their fangs. Or maybe it was blood.
"I've never been witness to Grace missing a thing" John said. O'Malley and Peter exchanged a look.
"She's been known to bring home the occasional tramp" Peter told him, "The wild, dirty kind what weren't no kind of pet" Pet? He was comparing her former interests to pets? John was not a pet!
"Good thing I wash daily then" he said. He waited for some kind of explosion. And he got it. An explosion of laughter. All ten of the men gufawed at his comment.
"Aye, boyou" O'Malley thumped his knee, "Aye you smell like soap, ye do! And ye're still wet behind the ears from all that washin' I expect!"
Nothing more was said and indeed the entire atmosphere of the evening lightened so much that John ended up really enjoying it. The O'Malley's were a curious lot, over protective of their youngest member and eager enough to do anything for her. Never once did she get up to get herself a drink or fetch her purse for her chapstick. Neither, for that matter, did their mother. The boys had fun telling John embarrassing stories about each other, though John noticed they only told cute anecdotes about Grace's childhood, nothing that she might consider "mortifying" or crude. All in all, they seemed a happy and considerate family. John would have to get used to that, though he thought he'd enjoy it. He couldn't speak for Rosalind.
"Well, that weren't too bad" Grace said as they drove home again. She gave John a winning smile.
"You got Mum with that happy birthday bit, and Daddy and Peter took ye in" she told him, "That's all ye need. The rest of the boys'll follow their lead"
"So I don't need to sleep with my gun under my pillow tonight, then?" John joked.
"Nay!" Grace laughed. He knew where she got it now. Her entire family laughed. It was like some sort of disease or something.
"I'll have to introduce them to Rosalind in smaller groups" she continued, "So as not to frighten the wee thing"
"Do you know you adopt an accent when you go to your parents' house?" he asked, just in case she didn't.
"Aye!" she laughed, and then laughed because she'd said 'aye' instead of yes.
"It'll wear off by mornin'" she promised him. John reached for her hand and kissed the top of it.
"I love you" he said, just for good measure. Grace's eyes smiled warmly back at him.
"I love ye, too, John Clark"