Catherine knew Eddie Hayes was giving her a rundown on what had been going on at the safe house over the last six months. Her mind was so occupied by replaying Chibs' words over and over, that all she heard was static. To give the illusion that she was at least listening, she would nod and throw in an "okay," or "sounds good," every time he looked at her with concern.
In the back pocket of her jeans, she could feel her cellphone buzzing nearly every five minutes. Knowing that it was Jimmy trying to get ahold of her, only made her less interested in what Eddie had been up to. He could have running a whorehouse and selling cocaine out of there for all she cared at this point.
He took her to the garage to show her the set up he had going on. McKeavy was in charge of hand delivering merchandise to SAMCRO, but it was Eddie's responsibility to make sure their other customers were being taken care of. He also shipped back whatever weapons and explosives he could get his hands on through Jimmy's connection at the nearby Marines base.
At first, Catherine had doubted his ability to keep things running smoothly stateside without his father, Cameron, but she was pleased to find he had proved her wrong.
"Any issues with Port Authority? AFT, Homeland Security? FBI?" she asked.
"As long as McKeavy keeps the Port Authority's hands greased, we've no problems. No issues with the feds either 'cuz we've been keepin' our noses to the ground."
"Good." Her meeting with Putlova was also at the forefront of her mind. "If we were to take on another fairly large distribution, do you think you'd be able to handle it on your own? We'd understand if you don't think you can, and it would only be temporary so we can afford to send over more manpower."
Eddie eyed Catherine suspiciously, trying to figure out what was up to her sleeve. He was afraid it was a test. If he said he couldn't handle it, he worried that he would be sent back to Armagh and put on bitch-duty as a more capable bloke was sent in as his replacement.
"I think I could handle it."
Catherine nodded, annoyed that her phone was ringing for the umpteenth time. Pulling it out of her pocket, she looked at the caller ID and sure enough, it was Jimmy.
Though when it hit her as to what time it was back in Belfast, she mentally slapped herself. This most likely had nothing to do with him lecturing her again on the deal she had made with Clay, and all to do with the fact her boys wanted to talk to her before settling down for the night.
Excusing herself, she headed back into the house and closed the door to the first unoccupied bedroom she found. Flipping it open, she sat on the bed.
"Thank God there's no real emergency here," Jimmy said sarcastically. "I guess you're havin' too much fun to remember you've also got responsibilities back home."
She so badly wanted to tell him to go fuck himself. He knew what was on her itinerary for this trip and the eight-hour time difference only exasperated things. Still, Catherine kept it civil.
"I'm in Lodi, meetin' with Eddie. I just figured you'd want my attention on things here. Are you sayin' I should be worried about what's going on there with Eamonn and Sean instead?"
"They're tough fellas. Gettin' along just fine without their ma breathin' down their necks."
Catherine rolled her eyes. Jimmy, Patrick, and Brien had been on her the last few months about how she needed to let go and let the boys be kids. What they failed to understand, was Catherine felt as though they were all she had left in life and it was difficult for her to loosen her grip. But hearing that they were doing fine without her, planted the seed that maybe it was time not worry so much.
In the background, Catherine could hear Eamonn and Sean banter and laugh.
She picked a loose thread off the quilt, almost embarrassed to ask her looming question. "They miss me?"
"Are you serious?" Jimmy sneered. "Of course they bloody miss you." A small smile crept over Catherine's lips. For a moment there was silence between them before he earnestly added, "Maybe I miss you, too."
"For some reason, I highly doubt that."
"Shut your goddamn mouth. You know I always fuckin' miss ya when you're gone."
"Watch your fuckin' gob around those boys, yeah?" Catherine scolded. "They're retainin' everything they hear from you, my Da and brothers. Just last week I had a sit down with Sean's teacher and Father Ashby because he was callin' kids in his class arseholes."
"Huh. I wonder where else he gets it from."
"Just…just let me talk to 'em."
Telling Catherine to hold on for a second, Jimmy hit the speaker button and handed the phone off to the backseat where little hands immediately began grasping for it. The brothers fought over who would hold it, then they quickly decided they both would.
As he drove the boys back to west Belfast from the Short Strand after their swim lesson, Jimmy listened to their conversation, marveling at how easily Catherine had taken to motherhood. She loved those boys just as much as they loved her and that was clear as day. The bond between the three of them was like none other. They told her about school and how Patrick promised them pizza for dinner. They joked and laughed. Then the boys took her seriously when she reminded them to be on their best behavior.
He had seen more of their dynamic ever since Catherine moved back to the Falls Road. As he now watched Eamonn grow up, it punched Jimmy in the gut when he thought about all the milestones he missed. Crawling, those first wobbly steps. Even Eamonn's first words. The regret he felt for missing three years of Eamonn's life ran deep.
There was no one he could blame but himself and Jimmy knew that. All because his over possessiveness led to aggression he felt like he had little control over. He was determined to make good on the wrongs he's done to Catherine because he desperately wanted to be a part of their family. Like Darragh had stepped up to care for and love Eamonn when he was out of the picture, Jimmy wanted to be there for Sean.
All he craved was a place to belong. And for Jimmy, that place was beside Catherine.
After Catherine told Eamonn and Sean about a thousand times that she loves and misses them, and would be home soon, Jimmy took the phone back.
When she heard the rain start beating against Jimmy's car, it all became too much for her. She missed her boys, she missed the rain. She missed Belfast. Before Jimmy could sense anything was wrong, she quickly squashed her tears and cleared her throat.
"Just pulled up to your parents, so I'm gonna run 'em inside. Keep your phone on ya. We've still gotta talk about that deal ya made with Clay."
Catherine pinched the bridge of her nose and closed her eyes. She had been hoping that would blow over. To make up for the mistake she made taking fifty-thousand off their usual payout, she wondered if the information she got from Chibs would make up for it. But she stopped herself from saying anything. If her suspicions were right, she wanted to get in front of the issue before Jimmy caught wind.
God forbid her gut feeling was wrong. There's no way she could save Liam if word got out that she thought he was a tout.
"Aye. Hug my boys for me."
"You know I will," he said, feeling the melancholy of her absence set in. "Keep your head up. It won't be long until you're back."
After their goodbyes, Catherine pulled herself together before rejoining Eddie in the garage and getting back to business.
Unsure of what exactly brought her to Charming, she ended up at the only diner in town, taking a seat in a back booth that was secluded from most patrons. When the waitress came by, she ordered a bacon cheeseburger and fries, feeling silly when she almost referred to the fries as chips.
As she stirred a couple of packets of sugar into the iced tea, Catherine dialed a number she knew by heart. Much to her pleasure, PSNI detective Ian Wright answered on the third ring.
"It's never good news when I get a call from you," he joked.
"I didn't know you considered a thick envelope of cash to be a bad thing."
"Ya got me there. How can my services be of use to you?"
Giving the diner a quick scan, Catherine wanted to make sure no one could overhear her conversation. With everyone in their worlds, she lowered her voice and cut to the point.
"Do you have access to old RUC records on informers? And current ones for the PSNI and MI5?"
The pause worried her at first. Was he backing out now? Was this the request that finally made him realize the agreement he had with the IRA wasn't worth it anymore? When she heard him rustle papers on his desk, no doubt looking for a pen and scrap paper, the anxiety slid off her.
"What years?"
"The last twenty, if possible. Otherwise, since 2000 should work," she said, doing quick math in her head.
"I'll see what I can dig up. This better not blowback in Belfast, got it?"
"It hasn't yet, and I promise it won't. Such little faith ya have in me, Ian."
He heard what she said, but decided not to entertain it. For nearly ten years he managed to stay clean and not turn dirty like some of the men he worked with. That all changed a year ago when Jimmy discovered Ian was having an affair with Catherine.
She thought he would certainly have her excommunicated and kneecapped. But he didn't, only because that relationship proved to be beneficial to him. Unlike her, Jimmy wasn't above extortion. To make sure his Protestant wife didn't find out about his fling with the young suspected IRA member, Ian agreed to stop seeing Catherine carnally, and give them information when they asked.
There wasn't much for him to complain about with the arrangement. He was compensated handsomely for the intelligence he passed along, and his reputation at work was still intact.
"When do ya think you'll be back in town?"
When the waitress dropped off her burger and fries, Catherine wasted no time digging in. It was her first meal in a day and a half. She answered him in-between bites. "I'm hopin' within the next couple' days. I may have some business to take care of right away when I get back, so let me know when you're ready to meet. No rush."
Ian sighed. "Caught a case yesterday afternoon on Sandy Row. Of course no one's talkin', so it may be a week before ya hear from me."
She envisioned him looking worn-out; running a hand through his blond high and tight haircut. Being on the Serious Crimes Branch never left him with much free time, which was the driving force for his never-ending marriage woes. Catherine felt for him. Despite how hard he worked, she never understood why his wife chose to nag him, rather than make his home life comfortable. That, in turn, was what drove Ian to Catherine in the first place.
After long tense hours at work, she would fix him a hot and proper meal and just listen to him vent about his day.
If it weren't for Catherine being a Catholic and of course a member of an illegal organization, Ian would have left his wife for her years ago.
"Aye. You been takin' care of yourself?" She was genuinely concerned about his overall wellbeing. The last time she saw Ian, he looked ghastly.
"As best I can. I'll have time to breathe, eat, and sleep when the Prots stop killin' each other. And when youse quit puttin' explosives under our cars and throwin' pipe bombs at our stations."
Catherine pushed her plate away. She lost her appetite when the guilt of making Ian's job far more difficult set in. She'd never apologize for it because if she did that would mean admitting to her involvement.
She did use it as an opportunity to be a ballbuster. "Tellin' me that does ya no good. I've never been nor ever will be part of that God-awful Republican Army. Typical English though, thinkin' all Irish run with those animals."
"I'm only half-English. So quickly you've forgotten that."
"Half…may as well be full-blooded in my opinion."
"Ya didn't seem to have much of an issue with it when I was shaggin' your brains out." In the empty warroom at the Musgrave Police Station, Ian leaned back in his chair and threw his feet up on his desk. He used his shoulder to hold the cellphone against his ear as he loosened the knot of his tie. "Speakin' of which, when are ya gonna let me back those knickers of yours?"
She knew at some point that question would come up. When she ended all casual communication with him over five months ago, Catherine thought Ian would take the hint that part of their relationship was over. He didn't.
They were both well aware of the fact that nothing serious could develop between them. Not only did they live on opposite sides of the law, but they also live on opposite sides of the peace walls, which often made things morally difficult in their eyes.
It pained Ian to know that one of Catherine's chief objectives was to prevent the functioning the normal policing operations in Northern Ireland. If the PSNI succeeded, that would put them on similar footing with the rest of the United Kingdom. After a coffee jar bombing at one of the stations in Belfast, Ian warned Catherine that if the targeted attacks continued, the crown forces wouldn't think twice about putting the army back on the streets. He had no idea that she too wanted them to stop, and was just following orders by authorizing the operations.
Every time a bomb was tossed over station gates, or mortars and guns were fired in the direction of officers, she prayed like hell that Ian was never caught in the crossfire.
On Tuesday mornings when all members of the Serious Crimes Branch gathered in a secure room to discuss their progress on the paramilitaries, it made Ian sick to his stomach to look at Catherine's current driving license photo thumbtacked to the IRA corkboard. Below it was her first mug shot. She was sandwiched between Jimmy and Donny because they didn't know just how high she climbed in the ranks.
"Ya know we can't be doin' that anymore. Or else you'll be addin' my name to the list of Disappeared."
There was a tense pause. Catherine was sure she could hear Ian's heart-shattering.
He cleared his throat, turning back to business. "Right. So, I'll give you a bell after diggin' up the paperwork you're lookin' for."
"Thank you." She wasn't sure how to end the conversation from here. "Make sure you're takin' care of yourself, yeah? You're workin' yourself ragged."
"Aye. You too."
And with that said, Ian ended the phone call.
Snapping her phone shut, Catherine tossed it on the table and then rested her forehead in her palms. It became obvious that Ian hadn't stuck to the agreement of things staying casual between them. Him garnering feelings wasn't something Catherine ever saw coming. Besides an itching need to get laid, they had nothing in common. In between rounds of mindless screwing, there was nothing to talk about.
Though on several occasions he had made the mistake of telling her about the cases he was working on. Never once did she divulge any information about what was happening in the Ra, leaving Ian to wonder if she was back. Or just running around doing Jimmy's bitch work.
What struck deep fear in Catherine was the unknown of whether or not Ian would attempt to use their affair to pressure her into touting. She paid him in cash so there was no way to prove he took money from the IRA. His job would more than likely be safe, while on the other hand she would be done for if he leaked word.
An Irish woman falling into an affair with an Englishman was one thing—it happened quite often. But it was another for said Englishman to be a police officer, and she an IRA volunteer. There was little chance the Internal Security Unit would believe Catherine if she said she kept her mouth shut. Not with the PSNI foiling so many of their operations.
Only a few seconds later, her phone started vibrating. Thinking it was Ian calling back, she scrambled to pick it up. Looking at the caller ID, her heart sank when she saw it was Jimmy. Not in the mood to deal with him, she sent him straight to voicemail. Once upon a time, she would never dare to do that, but at this point in her life, she couldn't care less.
Deciding to head back to Oakland and prepare for her meeting with Putlova the following day, Catherine rummaged through her wallet for money to cover the cost of her meal. Gathering her phone and purse, she scooted out of the booth and headed outside.
When the hot afternoon sunlight beamed down on her, Catherine stopped to dig for her sunglasses. Slipping them over her eyes, she looked up, stunned to see who was at the curb. Immediately, she slapped her hand over her mouth. Seeing him there felt like a dream, leaving her unsure if she was still in reality.
Nonetheless, there he was, leaning against his Harley. Toothpick in his mouth, shades over his eyes.
"Chibs told me you were in town. I almost didn't believe him." Grabbing the helmet that was dangling from the handlebars, Happy took a couple of steps forward. He held out the helmet for her to take. "C'mon, let's go for a ride."
Catherine's heart was beating so fast in her chest; she was certain it would explode. Seeing Happy standing there in front of her, the last six years felt almost non-existent. Still, she wasn't sure if it was a good idea, remembering the consequences of the last time she mixed SOA business and pleasure.
Just as she was about to decline and offer to buy him a slice of pie instead, she felt a cool breeze blow through her hair. Something—someone—telling her to let go, to have fun. Enjoy her brief freedom away from the conflict back home.
Her freedom from Jimmy.
In her hand, her phone began to ring. This time she didn't just send the call to voicemail, she turned it off altogether. Catherine smiled wide and took the helmet from Happy.
