Forkhill, Northern Ireland
"You had him right there, knocked out on the floor, and ya didn't bloody shoot him? Hell's the matter with ya?"
Shame seeped into her bones as Patrick dig deeper into his lecture. He ran a hand over the top of his head, trying to make sense of her thinking.
She sat still on a barstool at the breakfast bar as Owen McVeigh carefully placed a butterfly bandage over the cut on her forehead. Catherine looked up at the young paramedic from Dundalk, a foreboding smirk on her face.
"I know the rules, Caitie," Owen assured.
She knew she could trust him, she just liked to watch him squirm sometimes. The youngest son of a Provo commander, Owen more than understood anything he heard on an off-the-clock call was to never be repeated.
"I was more focused on cuttin' Dessie loose and gettin' outta there. I know I fucked up so spare me the lecture, will ya?"
Patrick could tell Catherine was on edge so he decided to back off. He could also tell she was still having a hard time catching her breath. "Make sure ya check her blood pressure there, Owen."
Catherine rolled her eyes.
"Dessie already told me to," he said, not breaking his concentration on lining up the other butterfly bandage on her nose.
She rolled her eyes again. Having Patrick and Dessie all over her about relaxing was having the opposite effect. She has never been more stressed in her life. Though she knew they only meant well, so it was hard to be mad at them.
"How's he doin'?" Catherine asked. Owen stopped blotting the last cut below her eye with saline, looking at Patrick. She knew he was looking to him for whether or not to answer. "Don't look at him, I'm the one who asked - give it to me straight. I'm a big girl."
"Thankfully nothin' in his face is broke. With all considered, it doesn't look as bad as it could've. He knew his name, where he was, what happened. He was a little slow followin' my finger, but his pupils reacted normally to light. I'm not a doc but I do think he has a wee concussion. Just keep an eye on him. He'll be in a fair amount of pain, so also watch him with the booze and pills...you know how he gets."
Inhaling sharply, she nodded. "Aye. Thinks he's bloody invincible."
Catherine set a white teapot in the center of the dining table, slipping into a chair between her father and Seamus Doherty. Patrick reached out for the porcelain pot to fill Catherine's mug. She softly thanked him, tugging her pink knitted sweater tighter around her torso.
Stirring a heaping spoonful of sugar into the golden liquid, Catherine looked around the table at the five men who made up the Army Council of Ogleigh na hEireann. In total there were seven of them, with Dessie being elected chief of staff. It ruffled south Armagh feathers when he chose Catherine as his adjutant, thus making her second in command.
She didn't see what the big deal was when in reality her job was nothing more than a glorified assistant. While Dessie was at work, she answered his burner and wrote down messages, also scheduling his meetings. The way Catherine saw it, if any of the south Armagh volunteers wanted to take control of the appointment book, she'd gladly hand it over along with the title.
Two weeks away from reaching the halfway point of her pregnancy, Catherine was more focused on getting her and the boys out of Belfast and settled into Crossmaglen. She was content enough being part of the twelve-member Army Executive, which only met twice a year.
Schoolyard bullshit was the last thing she needed.
There was one man strategically missing from the emergency meeting Dessie called. Not a lick of information had come up about any man called Martin O'Neill who owned a construction company as Rory claimed. He was being kept at arms distance, but not too much because they didn't want him suspecting they were on to him while they built a case. Dessie already figured out who was going to fill the intelligence officers' chair in the council once Rory was taken care of.
Exhaling smoke from his nostrils, Dessie crushed his cigarette. He was trying hard to keep the right side of his face turned away, but sitting at the head of the table made that fairly difficult. Catherine's heart sank into her stomach every time she saw the fifteen sutures it had taken to close up Jimmy's attempt at a Glasgow smile. His left cheek was sutured too, from the pistol-whipping he took.
She had tried talking him out of staying in Northern Ireland and heading to the Republic for the weekend, but he refused. He wasn't going to leave his home because Jimmy O'Phelan was having a temper tantrum.
"It's time we officially separate ourselves from the True army and the Kings...make it clear the council of Oglaigh na hEireann is the only lawful council of the Irish Republican Army," Dessie said.
His tone was so cold, it sent chills down their spines.
"We do that, it puts an even bigger target on all our backs, Dessie," Catherine spoke out. "What he did to us was only the beginnin'. Jimmy won't stop until we're all dead. We're lucky we even got out of Belfast alive."
Dessie locked eyes with Catherine as he took another nip from the glass of Tullamore Dew. He was more than halfway to being drunk, which she wasn't too thrilled about considering he had drowned a handful of Percocet not too long ago.
"If we're not gonna claim legitimacy as the rightful army, then what's the point of all of this?" Connor spat at Catherine.
Catherine cursed her hormones as she could feel the tears starting to pound behind her eyes.
"It's too soon! That's what I've been tryin' to tell youse, but you south Armagh blokes won't fuckin' grasp it. Jimmy is a force to be reckoned with."
"She's right," Seamus jumped in. "Whether youse like it or not, she is. Jimmy doesn't believe in the diplomatic approach. He keeps order and control in Belfast not with respect, but with fear. Both Jimmy and the Kings need to be dealt with before we can stake a claim. We all remember how bloody the transition was when we and the Real army split from the Provisionals - let's not make those mistakes again."
Kieran snorted and pointed to Catherine. "If you're so scared of him, why'd ya fuck him?"
Patrick slammed his hand on the table, not taking too kindly to how his daughter was being spoken to. Catherine, on the verge of tears, looked up at Dessie for back up, but he stayed silent.
Pointing his finger at Kieran, Patrick handed out a stern warning. "If I were you, I'd watch the way you speak to her."
"So she's a big enough girl to be sittin' at the table with the big boys, but she's off-limits to the truth. Is that how it's gonna be?" Kieran asked.
"Shut your fuckin' mouth. You've been livin' your wee easy life down here while we put our arses on the line every goddamn day! Without Catherine, there'd be no money fundin' the cause," argued Seamus.
"Wee easy life?" Connor laughed. "You bastards are the ones who have it easy! Without us smugglin' the smokes, there wouldn't be any money for youse to buy guns with! Up until two fuckin' years ago, we were fightin' the Brits from every direction down here." He turned his attention to Catherine. "Christ, while Dessie was busy shootin' down helicopters, you were busily shaggin' your way to the top."
Catherine snapped. She jumped to her feet, placing her hands on the table. "Oh, go fuck yourself. Dessie was only able to shoot down those helicopters because I was the one who traveled to Russia and smuggled in the DShK! I even got the surface-to-air missiles that youse wanted as well, but were too big of pussies to use, so the Kings decommissioned 'em!"
"We didn't puss out!" Kieran defended, standing up as well. "We were bloody told by the Kings not to engage the SAM's! If it were up to us, we would've used 'em!"
Patrick glanced over at Dessie, who was sitting back in his chair smoking as he sipped whiskey just watching Catherine, Seamus, Connor, and Kieran shout at each other across the table. At first, Patrick was fired up that Dessie would let his men speak to Catherine the way they were, but it quickly became apparent why he wasn't intervening.
Dessie was done playing peacemaker between the Belfast and south Armagh brigades. If ONH was going to function as one cohesive organization, the personal grievances they felt towards one another needed to be dealt with. It was only a matter of time before this happened. The way Dessie saw it, better now than in ten years when resentment and bitterness brought them down. Just as it did to the Provos and was doing now to the True army.
He didn't believe in the idea of suffering in silence. They were better off screaming and yelling at one another, because at least then they were being heard. Problems can't be fixed if no one knows there even is one.
"Ya wanna know somethin' else, gobshites? INTERPOL issued a green notice for me and that didn't happen by shaggin' my way to the top!" Catherine exclaimed.
"It happened because -"
"Enough!" Dessie bellowed, startling them. His gaze ping-ponging between the four. "Bloody children, the lot. I've only seen this kind of behavior from Eamonn and Sean, and that's because they're five and six." He closed his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose. "Sit your fuckin' arses down."
Not another word was said as Catherine, Seamus, Kieran, and Connor slowly eased back into their chairs. Catherine dropped her head, feeling mildly mortified. He was right - they sank to the level of primary school children.
Dessie straightened out in the chair and lit a cigarette.
"Jimmy O'Phelan didn't just go after me, he attacked my wife...my pregnant wife. I have to protect not only my family, but my men, too, and I will not sit around like some fuckin' half-wit while that sneaky fuck plans his next strike. As of right now, our only focus is puttin' Jimmy and the Kings in the ground. It's gotta be fast and brutal - fuckin' blitzkrieg."
"Blitzkrieg?" Connor asked, raising his eyebrows. "I think you're playin' too much Call of Duty there, Dess."
"Fuck off. The point is, we need to act faster than them. For that to happen, we all need to be on common ground. Can't be bickerin' with one another. Do I need to bring youse on some goddamn retreat in the woods where we do trust exercises and sit around a fire, passin' around a stick as we talk about our feelings?"
The five of them broke out laughing.
"That sounds oddly specific," Catherine noted.
Kieran was the only one to put the puzzle pieces together. "Oh, shite! That's what Eilish dragged ya out to Cork for, innit?"
Dessie was too embarrassed to outright admit his ex-wife had forced him into marriage counseling. He just pointed his finger to Catherine, getting defensive when he didn't need to be. "It was a complete waste of money and time, and I'm never doin' it again so don't get ideas."
They all just started laughing harder.
Catherine put her hands up. "Besides, what would an IRA trust exercise be?"
"I was gonna separate youse into two holes...Belfast on one side of a field, south Armagh on the other. Then youse hurl grenades at one another, hopin' the other didn't pull the pin."
"You seriously considered this, didn't ya?" Catherine snickered. "Look, lads, we've Camp Counselor Dennehy over here!"
Dessie pinched the bridge of his nose again as the others started up with their smart-ass remarks, too. He guessed he didn't have much to complain about. Because for as long as they were making fun of him, they weren't at each other's throats. Maybe now they could finally get some fucking work done.
"This is bullshite!" Dessie groaned, flopping onto the bed. "All I wanna do is take a goddamn shower but I can't even fuckin' do that because I can't get me face wet."
Laying on her side next to him, Catherine supported her head in her left hand. She suggested, "I can give you a bath."
"Only if I can have playtime."
He rolled over to face her. A mischievous smirk was plastered on his face.
"Why do I a wee feelin' your playtime includes me naked in the tub with you?"
"Because I'm a perv and I can't keep me hands off ya?" he guessed.
"Aye," Catherine giggled. She circled her hand over her belly. At eighteen weeks she was starting to take shape. "Exhibit A. However, give it a few more weeks and you most certainly will be able to keep your hands off me."
"Catch yourself on. Why the hell would ya say that?"
Catherine froze, having not expected that reaction from Dessie. She stammered, "It's just...Darragh - he...when I was pregnant with the boys, I could tell he lost interest. Don't get me wrong, he was very attentive and always there to help me, but he wouldn't touch me when my belly started to get big. Especially with Sean. Can't blame him, because I still carryin' all the weight I gained with Eamonn."
"Darragh was a stupid boy," Dessie said. "You were a bleedin' stunner; really filled out."
"I was not a stunner. I gained like four stone through both pregnancies."
"Aye," he chuckled. "Ya were a wee pudger, but Mother'a Christ. When we were at Mass for Sean's baptism, I was literally on me knees prayin' for my chub to away before Communion because you were lookin' so fuckin' sexy. I was waistbandin' half the goddamn day."
"Nuh-uh! You're full of shite."
Dessie pushed Catherine onto her back and climbed on top of her. He held the side of her neck. He couldn't believe she was talking such nonsense, and he couldn't believe he was hearing how Darragh made her feel anything but enticing during such a transformative time in life.
"I don't care how crass it makes me sound, but I'm in heaven watchin' you grow bigger and bigger every day with our baby, Catherine. Your body deserves to be worshiped for what it's goin' through. I haven't been able to keep my hands off ya since we started datin', and I still won't be able to in five months when you're all swollen and bloated...and fuckin' psycho."
"That's the sweetest thing you've ever said to me." Catherine smiled. She lifted her head, gently kissing his mouth. She was terrified of hurting him. "How are ya feelin'?"
"Since the Percs kicked in, I'm feelin' pretty damn good." He took a deep breath, looking away from Catherine as he spoke. "I can't get it out of my damn head, though. It's like a horror film playin' over and over, and it won't stop."
"I'm sorry for what he did to you. It never would have happened if I didn't ask you to-"
"Don't apologize for what he did, or blame yourself. I knew it was comin' the moment I decided to steal the shipment. I can take whatever it is he wants to do to me, but when he starts knockin' you around..."
Catherine brushed it off. "Don't get too worked up over it. That was tame compared to what he's done in the past."
Feeling the raw fury radiating off of him, she realized she probably should have kept her mouth shut.
"A man is supposed to protect his woman. I didn't do that."
"There was nothin' you could've done. He had you tied up."
"If I had gone with you to your brother's, this never would've happened. I let my guard down...fecker clobbered me as I was comin' out of the toilet."
"He's a wee shite. He waits until you're at your most vulnerable then strikes. We have to be on our A-game at all times now." Catherine paused, unable to hold back her tears. Her voice grew thick, strangled with torment. "I'm so scared for the boys, Dessie. What if he tries somethin' with Eamonn?"
Dessie hadn't even thought of that possibility. The worst part was, he felt Catherine's fear was bona fide. Jimmy was on the warpath to destroy her in any way he possibly could. Taking Eamonn and vanishing would be the easiest way to make that happen.
Wiping the tears from her cheeks, Dessie then maneuvered himself so his back was resting on the headboard. She settled between his legs, coiling hers with his. He crossed one arm over her chest; placed a hand on her belly.
"I know my word probably means shite after what I let happen to you, but you can be damn sure he'll never lay a finger on your boys."
Catherine rested the back of her head in the crook of his neck and shook it.
"Our boys," she said. "They're just as much yours as they are mine. They love ya, more than you think. And they idolize the hell outta ya, so they do." She placed her hand over the one he had resting on her belly. "And this wee boy, he'll worship the ground you walk on."
Dessie was too busy getting lost in the comforting honey and almond scent of her hair to comprehend what Catherine said.
"Wait, what? What did you say?"
Catherine chuckled. She turned around and propped up on her knees in front of him. Grabbing his hand, she placed it on her belly again. "I said, this wee boy will worship the ground you walk on."
Dessie was at a loss for words as he soaked it all in. Catherine watched as his eyes filled with tears and he lit up brighter than Christmas morning. It broke her heart when he tried to smile, only for it to quickly drop because the movement irritated the sutures.
"We're havin' a boy?" he asked, barely over a whisper.
She nodded and without warning, he tackled her into a hug. They both fell onto the mattress as he smothered her face in kisses.
Crossmaglen, Northern Ireland
Swearing under her breath, Catherine nearly tore apart Dessie's flat looking for the left gym shoe Sean had managed to lose in a matter of five minutes. It was a new record, and she'd be lying if she said she wasn't impressed with her son's ability to make things just disappear.
Dessie was in the Republic for the day doing God knows what. When he left Forkhill in the early morning, he hadn't told her what the plans were, and she figured that was for the best. The less she knew the better.
To keep life seeming normal for the boys, Catherine decided to meet up with Kieran's wife Hannah at the small playground in town so Eamonn and Sean could play with their middle son who was around the same age.
Sweeping her hand under the couch for the third time, coming up with nothing again, Catherine rested back on her ankles. She crossed herself then folded her interlocked hands, quickly muttering,
"Saint Anthony, please come around, somethin' is lost and it cannot be found."
"I found it!" squealed Eamonn as he came running into the living room.
She had a mini heart attack as her eldest boy cocked the ADIDAS shoe back and chucked it at his brother, who was sitting on the floor. Thankfully it landed short, not hitting Sean in the face as she predicted it would.
"Where was it?" she asked.
"In the toilet!"
Catherine placed her hands on her hips, glaring at Sean in confusion as he put the shoe on. "What would possess ya to bring it into the toilet with you?"
"I couldn't remember how to tie it! Dessie said that's where he does his best thinkin' so I thought it would help me, too."
Catherine buried her face in her hands. "Jesus, Mary, and Joseph."
"See, it worked!" Sean exclaimed, proud of the knot he tied.
Standing up, Catherine picked up the tiny zip-up sweatshirt off the couch and helped Sean into it. "You'll have to tell that to Dessie when he gets home. I can assure ya he'll be proud."
After helping Eamonn with his zipper, Catherine grabbed her keys and opened the front door. She came face-to-face with the last person she ever thought she'd see at her doorstep.
Fiona.
