Rifiuto: Non Mirena
"Twins? Are... are you serious?"
Kathleen nodded, watching as Fiona's secret washed over the kids like waves crashing onto the sea; they shared an incredulous look, before both turned back to her.
"Mams, you... you canna be s'rious!" A sad smile tugged at Kathleen's mouth.
"Aye, Timmy, me love, I am."
The kids turned back to the tree, scanning it, before finally seeing the two names written in below Fiona's name.
"Aidan Liam and Margaret Sian." He looked up at his mother, who nodded, something clouding her gaze that he couldn't read. She smiled softly at her son, finally glancing over her shoulder towards the kitchen entrance, meeting the young woman's gaze. "They were Fiona's children?"
Fiona leaned against the doorway, dressed in the clothing she'd worn at the laundry, white cap upon her head, arms cradling her belly. Tears dripped down the teenager's nose, and she sniffled, meeting Kathleen's gaze. The only difference between you and Fiona, is that Zippi stepped in, otherwise-
"Aye, b'fore she married Eamon Phillips an' 'ad the girls, they-" She stopped. "She an' Eamon 'ad twins, bu'-"
"Tak'n fro' me, they was." Tim and Sarah looked up, stunned to see Fiona in the doorway, looking to be no older than fourteen or fifteen. A moment passed, as Tim did the math his head.
"Fifteen... you were... fifteen when they were born." Fiona lowered her head, as Tim continued. "Which means... you were... fou'teen when-"
"She go' pregnant at fourteen?" Sarah cried, the realisation hitting her. "But... but I thought... she married Eamon Phillips, di'n't she? So how... were you still at the laundry when he married you?" Fiona met Sarah's gaze, quickly shaking her head.
"Then 'ow di' ye ge' out? Fiona, the laundr'es dinna jus'... let ye go once the babe was born. Ye said ye were there 'til aught-five- an' ye married Eamon in aught-"
"Five." Silence fell as the kids shared a glance. "Eamon... marr'ed me in five. 'e marr'ed me in aught-five, down in Galway."
Three years; it had been three years since she'd laid eyes on her beloved siblings.
She had grown up in that time, going from an innocent, naive young girl of fourteen, caught up in an unsavoury situation, to a jaded young woman of seventeen, wary of the world outside the Belfast laundry she'd called home for the last three years. She'd watched other girls come into the laundry in similar condition to how she'd arrived- watched them endure the same backbreaking work, followed by the heartache as their babes were also taken from them. She'd held them close, letting them cry, thinking herself of the babes the sisters had wrenched from her arms that long ago day-
Were they still alive? Were they placed in good himes, with good people who loved them? They would both be about two years of age now... did they think of her, of the girl who had carried them, who had struggled to bring them into the world, who had whispered their names as they lay against her heart for the briefest of moments before Mother Superior snatched them away?
To think, she now waited for... whatever was going to happen, now that the laundry slept. To think this had all come about by agreeing to help Moira this afternoon-
"'elp me wit' these sheets, Fiona, aye?"
She'd no idea that Moira's words had been code until Nancy, one of the other girls who'd been there six months less than she had been, had repeated the same thing after supper, "Twil be no moon t'nigh', bu' twil be cool an' calm."
Fiona had quickly learned what the phrase meant- Grab only what you deem important, keep it on yer person, ye will no' be 'lowed t' r'turn.
She turned at the hand on her arm. "Moira."
"Tis 'lmost time. Are ye ready? When I say, ye run; dinna look back."
She wrapped Moira in a hug. 'I dinna und'rstan'-"
"'e loves ye, Fiona. Tha' boy o' yers. Been comin' up 'ere f'r three years, 'e 'as. I wish me Pat'rick twas still 'ere, t' do as yer-"
"Eamon?" Realization struck. "Tis Eamon?" Moira nodded. "Bu'... 'ow?"
"I dinna know, bu'... take this chance. 'twil no' ge' 'nother."
Fiona nodded, throwing her arms around the older girl. "Come wit' me, Moira... I canna leave ye-"
"I canna, Fiona. I 'ave t' stay."
"Bu'-"
"One day, Fiona, I promise. 'twil escape one day, bu' f'r now, I need t' stay an' look af'er the oth'r girls."
She slowly pulled away, feeling Moira gently brush her tears away. "I love ye, Moira."
"And I, ye, Fiona." They both looked up at the flash of light breaking through the darkness. "'tis time! 'member wha' I sai'- down th' alley, an' dinna stop runnin', no' even aft' ye round th' c'rner. Dinna stop 'til ye ge' t' the car. And dinna look bac', now go." Fiona pressed the quickest, softest of kisses to Moira's lips, even as the older girl pushed her away. "I love ye, Fiona, now go! Go!"
Heart in her throat, she ran, towards the swinging light that waited ahead for her. And though Moira had ordered her not to look back, she couldn't help it; catching one last glance of her friend, of the girl who had protected her these last three years, if anything, it helped to spur her on faster.
She didn't stop running once she rounded the corner, only looking up when someone grabbed her hand; the person tugged her towards the car that sat waiting not far away -
No, a delivery car of some kind. "C'mon, lass, in ye go!" Once she was in the back, the doors shut, she allowed herself to breathe.
"Did it work? di' we ge' 'er?" A familiar voice snapped her head up, and she found-
"Timothy!"
Her baby brother sat across from her; despite the darkness, she could see that he'd grown up in the three years since Da had left her at the laundry. But before she could pull him into a hug, the car started up, sending them all jolting forward before it rumbled off down the street.
Eventually, silence filled the car, as they left Belfst behind and crossed down into the south; by the time she awoke, they'd just passed into- "Galway? Why're we-"
The driver glanced back briefly. Eventually, the car stopped, and the driver got out. As she was helped out of the back, as dawn just began to peak over the hills, he spoke up. "Goin' t'-"
"Oh thank the Lord yous all made it!" Fiona turned as the woman rushed from the house they'd pulled up to. Lorraine, Eamon's older sister. She turned, realizing who the driver was. And Padraig, her husband-
Her brother poked his head out of the back of the truck as Lorraine wrapped her in a hug. "Come inside, quickly, le's ge' ye changed. Ye canna ge' marri'd in those 'orrid clothes."
"Marri'd? To... I dinna und'rstand-" But the moment she stepped into the house, it all began to make sense. "Eamon."
He stood before her, surrounded by her sisters, as grown up as they were. Aileen now wore her hair up, her skirts brushing her ankles, no longer the quiet thirteen-year-old who'd thrown a fit that day, but a striking young woman of fifteen, nearly sixteen. Sarah choked on a gasp; at eleven, she still wore her hair down, and her skirts to the knee- and was still getting into scrapes, if the scratch on her cheek was evidence enough.
"Fiona!" She soon found herself enveloped in her sister's arms, unable to stop the tears as she hugged them both close. When they finally pulled away, Timothy wrapped her in a hug; now thirteen, he was tall and lanky, but still the same spritely boy he'd always been.
"Tha' broth'r o' yers 'sisted 'e come, tha' he could identify ye." She squeezed him tighter, pressing a kiss to his neck, the meaning clear, before pulling away. Of course, how could she forget, that their parents often sent them to visit their aunt and uncle in Galway for part of the late spring-
She quickly closed the gap between her and Eamon, stopping just steps from him. Sadness filled his gaze, as he pulled her close. Her arms went around his neck, and she buried her face in his neck. "They're gone, Eamon, our babes."
He met her gaze. "Babes? Ye mean-"
She nodded. "Aye, twins. Aidan Liam and Margaret Sian... took 'em from me t'once born..."
"We'll get 'em back, love, I promise."
She shook her head. "'ow? We canna-"
"We'll figure ou' a way. Bu' firs'," He kissed her knuckles. "I intend t' marry ye."
She looked around at the others. "Bu' the sisters... they'll come f'r me-"
"No, they won't. 'twil stay wit' us, ye an' Eamon, til ye canna ge' on yer feet." Lorraine replied, joining them. "Now c'mon. Let's ge' ye changed int' som'thin' more 'proppriate f'r a weddin'."
Reluctantly, Fiona pulled away from Eamon, glancing back at everyone as she followed Lorraine upstairs. She wouldn't breathe a true sigh of relief until well after the priest declared them husband and wife, as the sun rose slowly over the city of Galway.
Sarah turned back to tree, studying it silently, before it finally clicked. "Wait a minute... if... if you escaped the laundry in aught-five and fled to Galway, then... then tha' means-"
"They eloped." Tim finished, meeting Fiona's gaze. The teenager lifted her chin, almost in defiance, sniffling. "That's why there's no record of ye until about aught-six or so, when ye had yer first- second daughter." He amended, at Fiona's sharp look. "You and Eamon Phillips eloped, didn't you?"