Chapter One: She's Coming Home
Clay Morrow pondered around the lot of Teller-Morrow, mentally kicking himself for not volunteering to pick his only daughter up from the airport himself. He hated driving cages and knowing the baggage, physical and psychological, his daughter would be lugging with her, he thought it was best to sit the trip out, opting to send his wife instead. It gave him time to gather his thoughts as he hadn't had a moment to do so since he got the phone call at 8 PM the previous night. The ringing of his prepay had startled him as he was busy preparing for church. He was even more surprised when he noticed the +44 dialing code; Belfast. While furrowing his eyebrows and looking down at his cell phone, Clay made the observation that it was roughly 6 AM in Ireland, meaning this wasn't a social call or a call from his beloved daughter with whom he hadn't spoken to in well over a month. Frowning, he frantically answered his phone.
Before Clay could greet his unidentified caller, he heard the raspy tone of a familiar Northern Irish voice;
'I've tried Clay…. She's too much.'
There was a slight pause.
'The flight's booked. Tomorrow 3 PM, Oakland.'
Before Clay could contest, Maureen apologised, sincerely and wholeheartedly, before ending the call.
Clay had no time to process his thoughts or emotions before he heard his VP shouting his name, reminding him that church was starting. Clay sat at the head of the table, scattered and unsettled. It wasn't long before his brothers noticed his lack of concentration. After numerous attempts of trying to get him to focus on the meeting, his Sergeant-At-Arms finally questioned him;
'You okay brother?'
Clay looked to his right, staring blankly at his SAA. Tig's question had knocked him out of his daze and made him focus solemnly on the precarious situation.
Rubbing his hands down his face and inhaling sharply, he finally rested his chin on his palm with his long digits covering his mouth, not looking any of his brothers in the eye.
'Éire'
And as if the name had given him some emotional strength, he lifted his head and diverted his eyes straight ahead. Clearing his throat, he continued;
'She's.. uh.. she's coming home.'
That was a name a lot of the men around the table hadn't heard in months and it certainly had been a long time since it was discussed at church. Ironic, considering it was top of the agenda in the weeks before her departure. Most didn't know how to react. Was this planned or unexpected? Was Clay happy about it? After a sharp subtle silence, his Sergeant-At-Arms eventually began to clap his hands which was followed by an apprehensive round of clapping from each of the men that surrounded him. Except for one.
To his right, Jax was thankful that his President's fingers had been covering his mouth and her name came out as a mumble. He was thankful that it had taken his mind a minute to register what he thought he heard Clay say was what he had actually said. What he was most thankful for was that by the time his step father's eyes collided with his own, Jax had begun clapping his hands.
