TWENTY-FIVE
Grace
Everything went from bad to worse when I opened the front door to find Patrick supporting a disheveled and still-stumbling Aidan.
Mama put her hand to her mouth, and the only sound that came from her was a high little eek.
“For God’s sake, don’ bring me here,” Aidan slurred.
Patrick gave my mother a reassuring smile and glanced past her to me. “I thought I’d deliver your brother to you, as he seems in no state to get himself home.”
“Oh, Aidan.” I wanted to cry.
My brother raised his eyes to me. “Grace, don’.”
“It’s all right,” Patrick said softly. “Might we come inside?”
My mother stirred to life, standing back to let them in. Patrick released Aidan, who stumbled over the doorjamb. Patrick grabbed him again. “Shall I help him to his room?” he asked me.
I nodded numbly.
“I c’n make it on my own,” Aidan said, but he fell over the first step. I followed as Patrick and Aidan made their slow way up, Aidan crashing against the wall, the banister, Patrick. Patrick took Aidan to his room, releasing my brother to fall upon his bed. Aidan hit the mattress with a garbled groan, as limp as a rag doll, his hair tumbling into his face.
Patrick was breathing hard as he turned to face me. He took my hands, pulling me to him, wrapping his arms around me while I buried my face in his shirt. A fresh, clean scent, no dust or sweat or blood. I felt his kiss on my hair.
“I’m sorry,” I said. “I’m so sorry.”
“It’s all right, Grace, truly. I’m only glad I could bring him home to you again.”
I felt the rumble of his voice against my cheek. I didn’t want to pull away. In Patrick’s arms, everything seemed all right. But it wasn’t. Nothing was going to be all right again. I heard my mother’s step and drew back. “Thank you,” I whispered.
He nodded. Then my mother was there, saying, “Patrick, you’ve been so kind. Will you stay for tea? I do wish we had some way to thank you.”
Patrick shook his head. His gaze lingered on me. “I’m afraid I can’t stay. I have a meeting. But I wanted to be certain Aidan got home safely.”
“Grace,” Aidan murmured from the bed. “You don’ know . . .”
“I suppose you’d best tend to him. I won’t keep you,” Patrick said.
“Let me show you out,” Mama offered.
Once they were gone, I turned on Aidan with fury. “What’s wrong with you? How could you let Patrick see you like this?”
He ducked his head as if he thought I meant to hit him—which didn’t seem such a bad idea. “It wasn’t my fault.”
“You couldn’t have picked some club where he was unlikely to go?”
“Wasn’t at a club. He came to the stable.”
“The stable? What stable?”
“Where I was sleepin’.”
My head felt filled with static. That damned thunder! “Why would you be sleeping in a stable?”
“Derry took me there.”
“Derry?”
Aidan nodded, covering his eyes. “’E was at the club.”
“Derry was at a club with you?”
“Gamblin’ hell. Nasty place.”
Nothing about this could be good. “Why were you with Derry at a gambling hell?”
“’E found me there.”
“I don’t understand.”
“’E was there,” said my brother. “Made me come to the stable with him.”
“Why would he do that?”
Aidan shrugged and then grimaced. “Made me stop drinkin’ an’ leave. I didn’ want to come home, so ’e took me with ’im.”
I stared down at my brother. It was Derry, not Patrick, who had found and taken care of Aidan. The static in my head grew louder—a buzzing, but muffled and foggy. “But why?”
“I think it was for you. The way ’e looks at you . . . Thought ’e was with Lucy?”
“He is. He was, I mean. Not anymore, I imagine. I told Patrick about them.”
My brother winced again. “Wha’ for? That was mean.”
Yes, it had been. But it was best for Lucy, and for me. It was best.
“Iss all broken, Grace.” He clutched his head. “God, that thunder! It hurts. . . . Don’ it hurt you too?”
“The thunder isn’t what hurts you, Aidan.”
“Patrick called Derry somethin’ strange . . . Diarmid. ’E called him Diarmid. Like the legend. You ’member? Diarmid and Grainne. Like you. Funny.” Aidan’s laughter turned hysterical. I waited until he calmed again, until he grabbed my hand, and I saw his love for me burning in eyes that looked too bright, feverish. “Don’ run off with him, Grace. Not like the story. Promise me. I can’t keep you safe then. Don’ go. Don’ go.”
The same words from my dreams, said the same way. The buzzing in my head stopped, just like that. “What? What did you say?”
“’E’ll change things.” Aidan flung his arm over his eyes. “Change everythin’.”
Aidan was just drunk. As always. “I think you should sleep.”
“All right,” he said agreeably. “Close th’ curtains.”
I ignored that. Let him sleep in the light. It was nearly noon. I stepped away from the bed, leaving him lying there, fully clad, filthy boots streaking the coverlet.
I had my hand on the door when Aidan said, “Somethin’ strange about Derry, though, don’ you think?”
I paused and turned to look at him. “What do you mean?”
“In the right light, you know . . .” Aidan’s voice was barely there. “He rather . . . glows.”