Juice: The O'Malleys Book 1, contemporary Adult Romance (27 page)

“I rang mama and told her we’d eat here. Is that okay with you girls?”

“Definitely,” smiled Aoife. “Cassidy, the garlicky potatoes here are legendary.”

“Sounds great,” said Cass. Rory moved through the small crowd in front of him.

“Hey.”

Cass turned around and saw Rory standing behind her.

“Hey yourself,” she smiled tentatively at him. Rory nodded towards Aoife and Rian and then turned back to Cass smiling softly.

“Can we talk?”

She nodded at him, grabbed her bottle of beer and followed him upstairs to a quiet alcove.

“It’s great to see you, Cass. I didn’t think. Well I didn’t think I would, after everything. I know I fucked up.” He rubbed a hand through his hair. “I’m glad you came Cass.”

“I needed to see you, Rory. I don’t want to end it like I did. I’m sorry for the sabotaging of your family. I can get a hotel if it makes you uncomfortable.”

“Not at all, you’re more than welcome to stay. There’s plenty of room. Listen, mama said you were there last night, when I was a bit worse for wear.”

“Yeah, just a little bit worse for wear,” Cass laughed shaking her head.

Rory smiled at her sheepishly and bit his bottom lip. “I’m mortified. Really. I’m so sorry about that; I don’t usually drink more than a couple of whiskeys. Probably better off, eh?”

“Probably.”

“I see you met the lads and Aoife.”

“She seems nice. I like her.”

“Yeah, she is nice. She’s a great girl. You remind me a lot of her.”

They moved in close, so close their heads were almost touching. Rory held Cass’ hand and rubbed her knuckles lightly and began to talk.

“When Aoife was born, I was so excited. After two brothers along came a little girl, a beautiful baby sister. I went to see her in the hospital all wrapped up in a pink blanket. I fell in love with her there and then. She had a full head of red hair like dad and she never cried when I held her. She just looked at me with the biggest golden coloured eyes. Then she was taken away from us and they put in a special unit. Dad sat me down and told me that she was very ill. She had been born with Cystic Fibrosis.

I stayed up all that night and prayed that she would be okay. I told God that he could take anything he wanted from me, just let Aoife be okay. She got a bit better and came home. She was the quietest little thing. Always smiling and so quiet and happy. She was always in and out of hospital as a child. Wheezing and coughing, any infection could have killed her. As she got older she deteriorated. She spent a lot of time in bed and I spent a lot of time with her. Talking to her and reading to her, she liked Celtic legends the best and fairy tales. Even as a child, she would giggle at the part in the fairy tales when the prince would kiss the princess and wake her up. About six years ago, when she was eighteen, she collapsed at home. I had to resuscitate her. We knew then that her own lungs were dying inside her. She became more withdrawn and she talked all the time about when she would die. What she wanted us to do at the funeral. The doctors told us that she needed a lung transplant, but the chances were slim. She needed a very specific donor. One that had a rare blood type. Most people don’t even carry donor cards. They never even think about it. We are so caught up in our own mortality, that we forget that we can help people, save people, even in our death. When we got the call three years ago, we had all but given up. And then the phone rang. Aoife was to be brought to a specialist hospital in Dublin. There was a match, a perfectly beautiful match.  Aoife had a serious chest infection for three months before the operation. When a recipient is ill, the transplant can’t go ahead and the organs are basically forfeit. Her infection cleared just a week before the transplant. A week before Cass. Just like that, as if it was meant to be. Fate intervened.  As if by some kind of miracle she was infection clear and the lungs were a match and the blood group. It was the perfect time. Every component was right. We didn’t dare to hope, but it went ahead and we waited and waited. A large percentage of transplants fail. The body sees the organ as a foreign object and rejects it. But in Aoife’s case everything went fine. And then Aoife came home. And for the first while she was back, the old Aoife, laughing and joking. No infections, no coughing and gasping for breath, but inside she was different. She wouldn’t talk about the transplant; she wouldn’t talk about the donor, about Harry. He was in all our lives then Cass. An unknown entity, a faceless, voiceless hero who saved my baby sister.”

Cass nodded, he couldn’t tell what she was thinking or feeling, but he needed to say this and she needed to hear it.

“We’ve sent her to counsellors and the local doctor prescribed anti-depressants, but nothing seemed to work. She got it into her head last year that if she could meet the family of the donor, maybe they would give her their blessing. I think she was afraid that you would all hate her. And then in some way, she thought if she met you, she could make peace with it all.”

“How did you find me?” Cass asked pushing her hair back off her face.

“I did something I’m not proud of, I have a client who owns a medical facility in Newcastle. They have dealings with the lung bank there. I got some information out of him that allowed me to follow the trail that led back to your family. When I found out that you lived in London, I chose to come to you first, with the intention of asking you to meet with Aoife. That day, the day we met, I was on my way to see you. You came over to the car and I lost my nerve. I wanted to get to know you. I felt something. Something I never expected to feel. I don’t know if you believe in love at first sight, Cass. Jesus, I didn’t think I believed in it myself, but when I saw you something inside you called out to me. Then I spent time with you and I couldn’t say it. I should have told you from the start. I should have been honest with you and I’m sorry, you deserved better.”

“Thank you. Thank you for telling me, Rory. I could kill you for what you did. But, I understand why you did it. I’m glad I came to meet your family and Aoife too. She’s a lovely girl, gentle and kind.”

“Yeah one quiet sister and one lunatic.”

As if on cue Annie came up the stairs.

“Hey, lovebirds, come on. I’ve just pulled a calf out of a cow’s vagina. I’m starvin’ and we have a table, let’s go!” Cass laughed and Rory frowned.

“Jesus Annie, we could do without the graphic details. Be right down.”

Annie stuck her tongue out at Rory and ran back down the stairs.

“Cass, I know I can’t expect you just to forgive what I did. It was intrusive, cruel and stupid. But maybe you could give me a chance. Spend some time with me, with us. And then decide if you want to walk away. I promise I won’t follow you. But, I need you to know that I love you. I am completely and utterly in love with you and I will do anything to keep you.”

Cass nodded. It was all she could offer at that moment.

(
Cass
)

It’s a long road that has no turning.

Irish proverb

“
I
’m lost,” Cass exclaimed as she watched the men tearing up and down the field with Hurley sticks and a ball, or sliotar as Rory had explained to her. They had taken her to a hurling match and as much as they tried to explain the rules, Cass was still at a loss to understand what was going on.

“It looks like a mixture of Quiddich, an egg and spoon race and hockey.”

“Ah my dear, dear British friend.” Rian shook his head.

“Hurling is the most skilful game on the planet. You Brits still haven’t cottoned on to it yet, it’s our national game. County against county, each man honoured to play for his team. None of these men get paid a wage for it, they play for the love of the game and the glory of their community.”

“And which ones are we?” Cass was still trying to get a handle on the game and grimaced as one player got a bloody mouth for his efforts.

“We are the saffron and blue players and the opposition are Kilkenny, they are black and amber. Both teams are exceptional, but of course Clare are the better team.”

“Why is the goalkeeper not able to stop them going over the top bar?”

“That’s the points bar, it’s just a way of catching up for the teams, a goal is worth three points, over the bar one point.”

“Come on Jimmy, hit the damn ball, you feckin' eejit!! Oh my nerves will never last!”

Cass turned to look in the direction of granny O’Malley, who was standing up and hitting the match program off Rian’s shoulder.

Annie laughed and nudged Cass in the ribs while stuffing her mouth with marshmallows.

“She hasn’t missed a game in forty seven years, the old goat. She wants her ashes spread across the field. Number one fan; did you ever see Kathy Bates in misery?”

Cass nodded looking at her with a grimace.

“That kinda sums her up nicely. She’d never break their ankles though, she’s more partial to a bit of back slapping and ear pulling,” Annie burst out laughing. Cass joined in, never completely sure if Annie was joking or serious.

“Although to be fair to her, she does supply the local under 14’s with sandwiches and tea and washes the kits after a match too. She’s the most dedicated supporter they have. They’d be less of a team without her.”

As if on cue, granny O’Malley, smiled over at them. Annie ducked her head back at her grandmother fondly. A dark shadow passed in front of them.

“Hello Annie.”

Cass looked up and blocked the winter sun with her hand, a tall brown-haired man with soft blue eyes passed by them.

“Seamus.” Annie kept her eyes in front of her and pursed her lips.

Cass looked at her, the question hanging on her lips.

“Don’t ask,” Annie said, before stuffing more marshmallows into her mouth.

“Sworn enemies,” Rian whispered into her ear, raising his eyebrows comically.

Cass looked behind her and watched as Seamus looked back at Annie longingly, then ran his hands through his hair and shook his head.

No hatred on his part then
. Damn, but these O’Malley’s were a strange bunch.

She jumped in fright as their entire side of the stadium groaned while the opposite side jumped to their feet and shouted “Goal!” in unison.

“Jesus, come on lads. Get stuck in!” shouted Gearóid.

“You dirty bastard Eoghan O’Shea,” Granny O’Malley, shouted.

“He took the legs out from under poor Jamsie McCarthy! Did you see that Gearóid, never seen the like of it. Now, if that doesn’t deserve a red card, then the pope’s not a catholic!” Gearóid nodded.

“I did mammy. I did,” he looked at Cass and rose his eyes upward his, eyes twinkling.

A priest in front of them turned around and nodded towards Mrs O’Malley.

“Wasn’t it awful father O’Connor? May the good Lord forgive him?”

“Yes. Mrs O’Malley. T’was a shockin’ foul altogether. Will I be seeing you at confessions on Tuesday night madam?”

“You will indeed father and I’ll be putting my donation in the plate, as I do every week,” she nodded primly and turned back to the game.

“Come on O’ Neill, you little bollix. You wouldn’t score in a brothel!”

Rory looked at Cass and whispered, “She’s passionate about the game.”

Cass nodded laughing. “Yeah, I heard.”

Twenty minutes, two goals and three points later Cass was shouting at the players along with the rest of the family. The game moved at a lightning speed and when a player got a slap of a Hurley, they just got up and shrugged it off. A real Irish man’s game thought Cass smiling. Rory grabbed her hand and shielded her as she was jostled around the place when the stadium began to empty.

They managed to make it back to the cars and Cass felt tears threaten to fall as she watched granny O’Malley drape the Clare flags from the back window.