March 2004 - Belfast
Sitting in a pew smack dab in the middle of St. Matt's, Jimmy didn't bother hiding his boredom as Father Ashby gabbed on and on. Over his tenure as a good Catholic, Jimmy had heard the same christening blessings so many times, he could recite them in his sleep. He looked at his watch, groaning, frustrated that he was being forced to sit there when about a dozen other things currently needed to his attention.
Fiona pinched his thigh, roughly whispering, "Quit your fidgeting."
"Why are we even here?" he hissed. "We made it to the first one."
"Because for better or worse, she's my God-daughter and Olivia asked us to come. Filip would be over the moon watching Catherine's babies be baptized."
Jimmy pursed his lips and rubbed his neck to relieve the kink. He bit his tongue hard enough to draw blood so he wouldn't say anything off-putting in the house of the Lord. Looking over to Kerrianne, he rolled his eyes at the joyful smile pulling at her lips. Was he the only one who couldn't care less about the occasion?
Taking a soothing breath, Jimmy tried to focus his attention on what was happening at the altar. He was distracted by the bouncing toddler in Brien's lap, whose giggle echoed throughout the sanctuary every time his uncle tickled his neck.
With the newborn resting peacefully in her arms, Catherine tried to conceal her smile. The sound of Eammon's laughter never failed to fill her heart with joy. She was snapped back to reality as Father Ashby nudged her to hold the baby's head over the basin.
It made Jimmy feel uncomfortable, watching her smile and coo at the newest addition to her family. Having gotten pregnant again just two months after she brought Eamonn home, her four stone weight gain was painfully obvious. She wore the extra weight well and overall looked great for a 25-year-old mother of two. But Jimmy was so utterly repulsed by the sight of Catherine, he wished the council had dismissed her with disgrace and forced her from Northern Ireland after she turned over her beret and Easter Lily pin.
In the two years since Catherine had left the IRA, she and Darragh moved to Andersontown and not a single word had been utter between the former lovers. Jimmy preferred it that way in all honesty, and Catherine did too.
Everyone had been shocked by her sudden decision to no longer fight the cause. Relieved that she had made the right decision for her life, no one bothered to ask what the breaking point had been. Though the downright refusal for Catherine and Jimmy to even be in the same room together had sent gossip flying.
"Sean Christopher," Father Ashby announced, as he began pouring water over the baby's head. "I baptize you in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit. Amen."
As expected, the newborn began to cry the moment the cool water touched his head. Darragh looked over Catherine's shoulder, rubbing Sean's soft, chubby cheek with the knuckle of his crooked index finger. Almost instantly, Sean calmed down, soothed by the warm presence of his father.
After drying off his head, Catherine held Sean close to her chest, mesmerized by his big, blue-gray eyes. With his full lips, button nose, and thick black hair, Sean was the perfect combination of Darragh and Catherine.
It had been a different sense of euphoria that swelled Darragh the moment Sean had been placed into his arms for the first time. He loved and adored Eamonn with his entire heart, but now that he had Sean, he never knew it was possible to love another human as much as he loved his son.
After the service, everyone gathered outside of St. Matt's for their chance to gush over the new baby. Jimmy stood off to the side smoking a cigarette as Catherine passed Sean into Fiona's arms. Feeling rather territorial, Darragh carefully watched every move anyone made with him.
Watching Eamonn reach out to be held by Darragh should have sparked the same protective fire in Jimmy. But he felt nothing towards the boy as those smalls arms tightly wrapped around Darragh's neck. As Eamonn bounced and slapped his tiny hands against Darragh's cheek, he wasn't even fazed as he kept on trucking through his conversation with Patrick.
Fourteen months after his birth, this was only the second time Jimmy had seen his son. The day Eamonn was born, Catherine cried the fattest tears of utter happiness when she saw his features were O'Toole. Ivory skin, piercing green eyes, and a headful of strawberry blond hair, he was nearly a carbon copy of Patrick and Liam. Not a trace of his father to be found.
"So what the plan? Are youse really gonna make us drive to Andytown?" Brien complained.
Catherine took a fussing Sean back from Fiona, hugging her and Kerrianne goodbye.
Darragh joined the conversation now the Jimmy and Fiona were gone. "You do realize it's only a ten-minute drive from here, yeah? We still live in Belfast."
"It's south of Milltown…might as well be the Republic." Liam chimed in.
It had been quite some time since Catherine lived on the Falls, and her brothers were still having a hard time adjusting to her not being within walking distance. Seeing how much they were pushing back against the drive to Andersontown, Catherine didn't have the heart to break it to them that she and Darragh were tossing around the idea of setting down in Donegal.
Darragh wrapped his arm around Catherine, deciding to do a little bartering with them. "You make your sister happy and finish celebratin' the baptism of our son, and I promise you all the whiskey, Guinness, and cake your little heart's desire."
Brien and Liam nodded at one another in agreement. The middle O'Toole sibling slapped Darragh on the back. "I knew I liked ya for a reason."
With the boys sound asleep, Catherine tossed the baby-monitor on the table as she sank into a chair. She wasted no time lighting up a cigarette and grabbed the glass of whiskey Brien had poured for her. For the most part, the party had died down, leaving only the immediate family as stragglers. Her brothers and Darragh were out on the patio with some of her cousins, deep in a conversation about Gaelic football as they drank and smoked. Beside her, Patrick lit his cigarette, affectionately rubbing her back.
"How've you been doin?" he asked.
Patrick couldn't believe the change he had seen in her since she regained her freedom from the IRA. She had gotten a job as a receptionist at a solicitor's office and was thinking of going back to school to obtain her law degree. Even though she was exhausted rearing children who were both under the age of two, everyone could see how much happier she was.
Her relationship with Darragh was strong, though they often butted heads over his continued involvement with the IRA. While she was ready to cut ties to the cause and Belfast for good, he wasn't just quite yet. She never said anything bad about his comrades, but she refused for her home to be used as a stashing place for hot guns or lads on the run.
So, there wasn't anything to complain about. They were all healthy, she and Darragh had steady employment, and most importantly, Jimmy was completely out of her life.
Flicking the ash off her cigarette, Catherine took a sip of her Jameson. "Just tryin' to get Darragh to see he's better off without the Ra. Maybe you could talk to him?"
Patrick warned, "If you push, that'll only make him want it more. It took me over twenty years to leave—when he's ready he'll leave too."
He had found his courage to finally leave the life behind after Catherine bravely did so. His decision was solidified after a mass raid had taken place and several men who Patrick was closely connected to were arrested.
"Aye," she agreed. That was the last thing she wanted. "I'm thinkin' of bringing up the idea of us takin' the boys to Donegal on holiday."
Knowing his daughter, Patrick knew Catherine's intention for a trip to Donegal would be to remind Darragh of the quiet life that awaited them in the Republic. Before Patrick could tell Catherine what was on his mind, a wail crackled over the baby monitor. It was Eamonn.
Stubbing out her cigarette, Catherine excused herself. "Duty calls," she chuckled before jetting up the stairs.
Sitting at the table alone, Patrick finished smoking his cigarette as he listened to Catherine calm Eamonn down. He looked out the kitchen window, his gaze settling on Darragh.
Turning off the monitor, Patrick headed upstairs. In Eamonn's bedroom, he found Catherine attempting to rock the restless boy back to sleep.
"He looks just you." Catherine didn't bother looking up, she already knew was standing in the doorway. She couldn't take her eyes off the little boy who had undoubtedly saved her life.
Closing the door behind him, Patrick then knelt beside Catherine and gently caressed the top of Eamonn's head. "Even if you can't get Darragh to leave, you get these boys as far from Northern Ireland as possible, and never look back."
