Never Never (7 page)

Why is she not sick with anxiety about their safety?

“Are ye all right, Sarah? You look a little peaked.”

“I'm fine,” Sarah said.

“You worry too much,” Nuala said. “So you do. You can't change the world or keep them safe every minute. Why just this morning little Maeve was playing too close to the fire and didn't she come this close to falling in?”

“But she didn't?”

“Nay, her guardian angel was on duty. And she'll know better next time.”

I guess third-degree burns are a small price to pay for such life lessons
, Sarah thought, but she made herself nod as if in agreement.

M
ike sat
his horse and looked down the road. He'd swapped little Siobhan for a cup of tea and now warmed his fingers against the cup and watched the steam rise up and join the mist of the morning.

Day four on the road and they'd gone approximately twenty kilometers, give or take. At this rate, it would be faster to crawl to the coast.

Should they have turned around for poor Dec? Mike shook his head as if to clear it. He couldn't explain the feeling—the inexplicable urge—to get somewhere safe as fast as possible.

Something
was coming. That's all he knew. And they had to be secure when it did.

How could he explain that to Sarah?

“
I can't explain why but I just feel in my gut that if we wait it might be too late?”

The
last
thing he wanted to do was give her one more reason to freak out over possible doomsday scenarios. She was already remapping the whole definition of irrational worry.

Except of course her fears weren't irrational at all.

At least Declan was improving, thank God.
They'd resumed their journey yesterday and he appeared to be holding steady.

But why is it Mike couldn't look his own sister in the eye?
Is it because deep down I know what Sarah said is true? I'm willing to sacrifice Declan for my own commitment to this castle idea?

Obsession, she called it.

He looked over his shoulder but knew he wouldn't see her from where he was. In fact, he'd seen damn little of her in the last couple of days and he was sure that was deliberate.

Probably just as well.

He had to believe that once they were settled and she began to feel safe again, she'd revert back to the Sarah he knew—the stubborn but fearless Sarah he'd fallen in love with.

He turned his head at the sound of horse hooves to see Gavin and Tommy approaching.

“Ready to move out, Da?” Gavin called.

“Before breakfast?” Mike asked, surprised.

“Thought you were in a hurry,” Tommy said.

“Aye, so I am,” Mike said, dumping the contents of his tea cup and tossing it to Gavin. “Take the rear, Gav. Is your lass with Sarah?”

“Aye. In the last wagon,” Gavin said as he turned his horse toward the back of the wagon train.

Mike had moved the wagon with Fiona and Declan in it to the middle of the pack and assigned Kevin to drive it. Kev knew horses and would be able to avoid the frequent obstacles in the road better than anyone else.

As he moved back down to check the line of wagons, Mike thought that if he had one prayer, it would be that Declan would strengthen.

He had to believe all of this was worth the risk.

F
iona felt
the wagon begin to move. She hadn't realized she'd dozed off. When she opened her eyes she saw that someone had left a fried egg biscuit for her breakfast and a cup of no longer hot tea.

Declan groaned but didn't open his eyes. She put a hand on his knee and he settled.

For the millionth time since she'd climbed into the wagon she wondered if she was doing the right thing. Mike seemed so sure that going forward was best for all of them, including Declan. But she well knew how stubborn her brother could be.

Declan was at least no worse. Sarah's antibiotics and pain medications had eased him, and his back wound showed no sign of infection.

No, going forward was the right thing to do. Declan would be the first to agree—if he was in any mind to even know what was going on.
Which he wasn't.

The morning mist still hung in the air but it was better than yesterday when they'd ridden for nearly half the morning before a strong gale had finally relented. There had been so much moisture in the air that the rocks in the road were slick and slippery.

Fiona knew this part of the country although she'd had little reason to visit it in the last five years. The pastures on both sides of the road—long fallow and unused—were brown with bright patches of purple here and there of late blooming heather. There wasn't a tree in sight.

She ate her sandwich and drank the tea, grateful for the weak sun filtering through the cloud cover. They were lucky the weather had cooperated. October usually meant rain and fog.

She looked at Declan and her heart contracted painfully. The last time she'd seen him whole and well was ten months ago—the day the Garda had come to Ameriland. After an agonizing separation where she didn't know if he was alive or dead, he'd been miraculously returned to her—changed forever.

She closed her eyes and felt the sun's wavering rays on her upturned face.

There was a better life coming. She had to believe that.

Hours later, Fiona felt the temperature drop noticeably. She'd dozed again and the chill woke her. Reflexively, she put a hand on Declan. He was sleeping peacefully and for that she was grateful.

The sun was no longer visible through the clouds, the rays no longer in evidence. Shivering, she pulled a blanket around herself and tucked in Declan's cover. She felt the wagon stop.

“How's he doing, then, Fiona?” Kevin asked as he twisted around in the driver's seat.

“He's good. Is it lunch we're stopping for then?”

“For the night I imagine. It's well past five. Had a good kip, did you?”

“I guess I must have.” Had she really slept the day away? She stood up in the wagon and saw Sarah walking down the line of wagons toward her. Her face was directed downward as if she was memorizing the ground, her expression set in concentration. Within seconds, she was at the wagon and pulling herself on board.

“Hey, Fi. How's he doing?”

“He's grand, Sarah. Sleeping for now.”

Kevin dismounted from the wagon and walked away. Already the other people in the group were setting up campfires and starting dinner. Fiona caught a glimpse of Mike on horseback down the line. He held Siobhan in one arm as he rode.

“I brought more Percocet. How are
you
doing?” Sarah asked.

“I'm grand, Sarah, so I am,” Fiona said carefully. She knew Sarah felt betrayed by her decision not to return to the convent. “And yourself?”

“You know this is all a mistake, right?”

“I know
you
think so.”

“Fine. Be that way. I just hope Declan doesn't end up paying the price.”

“Because blaming a loved one for that would be a terrible burden,” Fiona said coolly, her hands gripping the blanket as she felt the tension creep into them.

Sarah ignored her. She gently turned Declan to check his bandage and then tucked his blanket back.

“We need to start getting something in him besides broth and tea.”

“Sure I do know there's evil in the world, Sarah.”

“You more than most, I imagine.”

“And then there's just bad luck. Accidents happen.”

“You can make them happen less if you plan for them.”

“Except sometimes the best laid plans will still have you mopping up an unforeseen mess.”

“Your point, Fi?”

“We can't see the future.”

“Have you been dipping into Declan's pain meds?”

Fiona felt her anger and helplessness course through her.

“I'm just trying to say that sometimes the
fear
of a thing is worse than the actual thing.”

“That's idiotic.” Sarah nodded at Declan. “Is the fear of Declan getting stabbed worse than the fact?”

“Of course not. It's just that I see you reacting to everything like the world will blow up in your face any minute and—”

“First, I don't think I'm reacting to
everything
like that but thanks for the globalization and, second, there's every reason to believe that this world
will
self-destruct with almost no provocation and if you don't think so, well you're just deluded.”

Sarah stood up and swung one leg over the side of wagon to leave.

“No, forget delusions,” she said. “With a disabled and twice-stabbed husband laying right in front of you, you're either a fool or a liar.”

S
arah's hands
were still shaking by the time she arrived at the first campfire. Sophia and some of the other women were feeding sticks into the blaze while Gavin field dressed a dozen rabbits. The sight of the bloody carcasses turned Sarah's stomach. Seeing their little paws outstretched over their heads brought her an instant memory of a puppy she once had in childhood.

Now we eat the cute little animals we used to think of as pets.

“Oh, Sarah,” Sophia said, looking up from her work. “Looking for Mike?”

Sarah swallowed down her revulsion and rubbed her hands against her jeans to make them stop shaking.

“He and the bairn are doing a final circuit before tea,” Gavin said.

Sarah nodded her thanks and turned away before the insanity of calling a dinner of bloody trapped rabbits in the middle of a darkened country road
tea
made her burst into hysterical laughter. She took a long breath and walked away, hoping the exercise would help settle her mind.

Up ahead, she saw Mike on foot next to his horse talking with Terry and his wife Jill. Sure enough, Siobhan was in Mike's arms. She was kicking her legs but not in any effort to get down but clearly just because it felt good.

Was Mother Angelina right?
Was Siobhan picking up on Sarah's anxiety? Is
that
why she cried every time Sarah touched her?

She heard a burst of laughter coming from the group and imagined how comforting that must be for Siobhan—the sound of her daddy's laughter, the ease and comfort of his strong arms around her.

Had she really called Fiona a liar? When the poor woman had spent the last three days and nights worrying about her desperately hurt husband?

What is the matter with me?

Vowing to return later and apologize to Fiona, Sarah straightened her shoulders and quickened her pace to catch up with Mike and Siobhan.

I can do this. By God, if I can shoot three marauding gypsies threatening my child, I can do this.
But the very memory of the day she stood with John—no more than nine years old—and faced down men who would harm him only served to weaken her. As fast as a viper's strike, the image was replaced by one of John as she'd last seen him. Nearly fifteen years old, his face open and trusting and hopeful with anticipation of the future before him—and how all of that got thrown into doubt and fear when the second EMP blew.

“Well, hello, there,” Mike said as she reached him. “Come to fetch us in?” He smiled but Sarah saw the question behind his eyes. They had issues to resolve and ends to tie up.

She held out her arms to the baby. “Hello, little one,” she said. “I've missed you so much.”

Siobhan blinked at the sight of Sarah's outstretched arms and then turned and laid her cheek on Mike's chest as if shy.

“She's just tired,” Mike said.

And that
, Sarah thought.
People constantly making excuses for when Siobhan turns away from me. Pitying me because my own child
doesn't want me.

Sarah forced the thought away. She put a hand on Siobhan's hair.

“I'm not surprised,” she said. “It's been a long day. Uncle Gavin is getting dinner together.” She looked at Mike. “I guess it's working in our favor that we weren't able to get her any stuffed bunny rabbits before now.”

Mike gave her a perplexed look but smiled. They both walked back toward the camp. Sarah gave his horse a pat on the neck and remembered a time not that long ago when she'd been afraid of horses.

The memory gave her hope.