1978
That spring after finals, Dylan and Greg hosted a party in their dorm room. So many people showed it spilled out into the hallway and down to the floor below. Reilly pushed her way through the throngs of inebriated partiers until she came to their room. Dylan sat on the window ledge sharing a bong.
"Hey, R-train!" he called out. "You made it. Wanna hit?" He held the bong out but she shook her head no.
"Where's Greg?" she asked.
"He's on the roof talking to Faye. Told me he'd do me a solid with her. I am so fucking in love with her, R-train."
Reilly smiled tightly and nodded. She pushed her way through to the entrance to the roof. Opening the door, she sprinted up the stairs. She knew how Greg was going to 'talk' to Easy Lay Faye. He complained about her and her flakiness. He felt she was sending Dylan mixed signals and was going to take care of it. Silently, she opened the door and stepped out onto the roof. She could hear Greg moaning and she felt anger course through her veins. She crept over to the corner and leaned back against the wall. The sound of a zipper being pulled up floated on the cool spring air.
"So, how do I get the money from him?" she heard Faye ask. "I know a guy who has some primo weed and I really want some for my trip."
"Tell him you need bus fare to visit your sick grandma," Greg's voice held a hint of laughter. "You're a scholarship kid like me and Reilly. He'll believe that. Ask him for a hundred. I guarantee he'll give it to you. But once he does, he's off limits. Got it?"
"Sure thing, Greg," she giggled. Shoes crunched on the gravel covering the roof. Reilly darted to a new hiding space and watched as Faye went back into the building. A moment later the sweet, cloying scent of marijuana drifted toward her. She stood and walked over to where Greg leaned against the high ledge of the roof. He looked up at her and then looked away.
"Why?" she asked.
"Does it matter?" he asked. "It worked. She'll leave him alone and he'll fall in love with someone else later tonight."
"After she's gotten money from him."
"Eh, he can afford it."
"Why did you have to fuck her?"
He laughed. "I didn't. She blew me. There's a reason she's called Easy Lay Faye, you know. She'll have sex with an amoeba if she can score a hit."
Reilly leaned over the ledge. She looked out over the campus. "You're changing."
"Nope. You're growing up and seeing me for who I really am." He took a long drag on the joint and held his breath. A moment later he released a cloud of smoke. "Do you hate me?"
Reilly turned around and took the marijuana cigarette from him. She inhaled deeply holding the smoke in as long as possible. She closed her eyes, tilted her head back and blew the smoke upward. They stood on the roof passing the joint back and forth until they finished it. Greg flicked the remains of it over the edge of the roof.
"So, do you hate me?" he asked again.
No," she said softly. "What you did was completely disgusting and really messed up but you did it because Dylan is your friend. I've tried to talk to him about Faye but he wouldn't listen. Your way wasn't right but I guess it was effective."
He leaned close to her and peered into her eyes. "Nope. Not high. So, we okay?"
"Yeah. You know I'm not going to judge you. I never have. But you are changing. I guess we both are."
He slung his arm around her shoulders. "Maybe we are."
They spent the summer with Reilly's grandparents in Ireland again. Reilly knew Greg's mother wanted to him come home for more than a couple weeks at Christmas. Now that both Gil and John were permanently stationed at the base in Quantico, Virginia, she encouraged him to go with Reilly. His mother knew why he didn't want to spend the entire summer with John and accepted the fact with grace.
When Greg and Reilly arrived at the airport, he already regaled her with countless jokes about Ballingarry, County Limerick. Finally, Reilly put her hand over his mouth and glared at him.
"You knew the name of this place last year," she growled. "Why no jokes then?"
He pulled her hand away and grinned at her. "Too caught up in the whole babies marrying babies and then contributing to the population explosion." He pointed a finger at her. "You laughed at some of them."
"Well, the first ten or so were funny. No, like you, they're just annoying," she said and pinched him.
He jumped away from her and grimaced. "I thought the days of beating me up were over."
"Oh, don't be such a baby," she told him with a grin.
Before he could answer, her grandfather pulled up and waved at them. He got out, hugged them both and tossed their bags in the back of the Land Rover.
"Ya both can squeeze in the front with me," he told them. "Yer Nan is at home waiting for ya."
"She's not sick, is she?" Reilly asked.
"No. You'll find out soon enough," he told her. "Niamh got herself in the family way."
"She had a baby?" Greg asked quickly.
'No, not yet but she's breedin' now and refusin' to marry the lad," Tad told him. "Says she don't want the wee one. Wants to put it up for adoption so she can move to Paris." He shook his head. "She's always been a wild one but I never thought she'd go this far."
Reilly slowly turned her head and looked at Greg. He knew that look all too well. She knew about Niamh and him.
The next day as they were cleaning out the stalls in one of the barns, Greg stuck his pitchfork in a pile of hay and went into the stall where Reilly spread out clean hay.
"Why didn't you say anything?" he asked.
Reilly moved past him to get the scoop used for feed. "About what?" she asked as she loaded the scoop with oats and brushed past him.
"Niamh and me. Last summer. We had sex."
Reilly dumped the oats in the trough nailed to the back wall of the stall. "Because it doesn't matter. I know all about Niamh. Pa's lost so many farm hands because of her. She seduced them and they wanted to marry her and she'd just laugh at them. All she wants is to move to Paris and be an artist. Pa and Nan want her to stay in Ballingarry and get married."
"Did she fuck a guy named Gary? Because that would make a great limerick."
Reilly laughed and tossed him the scoop. "Maybe. But you've already reached your joke limit for today."
He waggled his eyebrows at her. "There's always tomorrow." He scooped up some oats. "So, does Niamh have any talent? Besides fucking, that is."
Reilly sighed loudly. "She painted all the pictures in the house."
"Seriously?" he asked in shock. "I thought Pa bought them."
"Nope," Reilly said as she moved to the next stall. "Niamh is very talented. She should go to Paris. They'll let her go eventually and probably keep the baby. Or Aunt Roison or Aunt Kyna will take it."
Greg retrieved his pitchfork and began tossing hay into the stall where Reilly stood. "At least you're careful."
"I'm not sure I want to get married or have babies," she told him. "And there was just the one and we only did it twice. If that's what sex is like, I'll pass."
"He was a moron who obviously didn't know what he was doing," he said.
"So you said," she reminded him.
"I'm kinda surprised Aunt Meara is letting you go to med school."
"She is a little more progressive than you realize."
"She has six kids," he laughed. "She thinks birth control is a sin."
"And she also knows that not everyone wants to be like her and her mother," Reilly countered. "She loves us but I don't think she wanted to have so many kids. She's a better artist than Niamh."
Greg leaned on his pitchfork and looked at Reilly over the edge of the stall. "I didn't know that. Why doesn't she show any of her work?"
"You know that painting of you that Aunt Blythe has hanging in the living room? The one she told you she commissioned and the artist used a photo of you?"
"Aunt Meara did that? Why would my mom lie about that?"
"What is it you like to say? Everybody lies? My mom didn't want anyone to know."
"Do you lie to me?" he asked.
"You know how I tell you your jokes are funny?" she asked with a mischievous glint in her eye.
Greg grabbed a handful of hay and threw it at her. It floated around her, bits and pieces sticking to her hair. She laughed and they went back to work.
At the end of July, Niamh gave birth to a boy she named Ardan. At the end of August, she rode to the airport with Greg and Reilly. They went back to Massachusetts and she went to Paris. Six months later, Reilly told Greg Niamh returned to Ireland because she missed her son so much.
"Not everyone can fight that maternal instinct," he replied.
They were sitting in the campus library studying. A heavy snow fell outside blanketing everything in white.
"I guess not," Reilly replied. "Ugh, I hate all this snow."
"It's not so bad."
Both Reilly and Greg turned to look at the man who spoke. He was tall with black hair, green eyes, a square jaw and muscular build. He pulled out the chair next to Reilly and say down.
"Doug Ashley," he told Reilly never taking his eyes off her. "I've been waiting for an excuse to talk to you."
Reilly blushed and bit her lip. "I'm Reilly McGrath."
"I know," he replied smoothly. He took Reilly's hand and dropped a kiss on the inside of her wrist. Greg rolled his eyes.
"Greg House," he said pointedly. "You can call me House. You stalking Reilly?"
Doug laughed. "No, of course not."
"Which means you are," Greg replied.
"I've heard about you, too, House," Doug told him with an insincere smile. He turned back to Reilly. "Any way I can pull you away from your studies to get some coffee?" He leaned close to her and smiled into her eyes. "Just the two of us?"
She blinked several times then looked over at Greg. "Is that okay with you?" she asked.
Greg waved his hand and looked down at his book. "Go forth and drink coffee," he told her.
Doug stood, gathered up her books and tucked them under his arm. He pulled Reilly's chair back and took her hand.
"I'll see you at dinner," she told Greg as they walked away.
"No you won't," he muttered. He didn't. By the end of the school year, Reilly and Doug were engaged.