Pine Ridge
“Thank you,” Kathleen murmured, as yet another guest offered their condolences. She stood just past the open grave, next to her sister and father as the receiving line continued. On the outside, she was composed and suitably subdued, but Jack saw the raw pain in her eyes. After a year-long battle with ovarian cancer, her mother had passed on. Her goal had been to hang on long enough to welcome her newest grandchild into the world, but sadly, it was not to be. In a tearful goodbye, she’d told Kathleen that she would keep their unborn child company until he (or she) decided to make his (or her) appearance.
Kathleen’s mother had often teased Jack, telling him that he needed to rearrange his chromosomes and make a daughter so that Celina would have another little girl to play with. Celina was Erin’s third child, and the only female among the predominantly male (eight) grandchildren. Since Erin had undergone an emergency hysterectomy after Celina’s birth, Kathleen was her only hope of gaining another granddaughter.
If he could have controlled such a thing, he would have. After six boys, Kathleen would probably appreciate a little girl, one who would wear pretty dresses and play with dolls instead of catch snakes and frogs and play Army. She’d never say so, of course. She loved her boys, and said as long as they were happy and healthy, she was happy. But he didn’t fail to miss the way her eyes lit up when she spotted something girly and picked it up for Celina, nor the way she coddled Brian and Adonia’s new baby girl, Alexis.
It was not to be. Not yet, anyway. Their seventh son, Kieran, was born on a bright, sunny winter’s day, adding to the growing list of December birthdays. It was an ironic twist of Fate, Kathleen often said, that all of their children were either born in or conceived in March. For that reason, they’d chosen Patrick as the middle name of all their boys at Baptism, in honor of Saint Patrick, the patron saint of Ireland.
“Are you disappointed?” Jack asked quietly the night of Kieran’s birth. He knew it was a mistake the moment the words left his mouth.
Kathleen turned a fiery glare his way as she clutched their newest son tightly to her breast. “Never, ever, ask me that again, Jack Callaghan,” she said with stunning ferocity.
He never did. He realized, much later, that that was the only time she had ever been truly disappointed in him.
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January 1988
Pine Ridge
“What’s wrong?” Jack asked as they got ready for bed. Kathleen had been especially quiet since Adonia’s visit earlier, answering only absently, her mind preoccupied elsewhere. As always, sensing that something was troubling her made Jack want to fix it immediately.
“Adonia doesn’t think Alexis should play with Kieran anymore,” Kathleen finally said.
“What? Why?”
“She worries because Kieran is so much bigger than Alexis. She’s afraid he’s going to hurt her.”
“That’s ridiculous,” Jack scoffed, shaking his head. “Kieran adores Alexis.”
It was true. Alexis had inherited the same rare disease as her mother, which kept her blood from clotting normally. They had to be especially careful with her; even the smallest cut could be life-threatening. At two years old, Kieran didn’t understand the specifics of that, but he did know that Alexis had to be treated with extra care. When Adonia came to visit and brought Alexis with her, Kieran watched over his friend and made sure the other boys never did anything rough around her. The boy had such a strong protective instinct, Kathleen had taken to calling him her ‘little white knight’.
“I know,” Kathleen exhaled. “And deep down, Adonia knows it, too. I think there’s more to it than that.”
“Like what?”
“I don’t know, but I get the distinct feeling it has something to do with you. Whenever I mention your name, she gets this disapproving look on her face.” Kathleen shook her head. “What do you know that I don’t?”
Jack hesitated. He had a pretty good idea. Brian was out of town more and more these days, picking up side jobs from Sammy. Based on the bits and pieces Brian had shared with him, the stakes were getting a lot higher, too. The higher the risk, the higher the payout.
He pulled back the covers and patted the mattress in invitation. Kathleen climbed in and curled her body up against his. If this conversation was going where he thought it was, he wanted her soft, warm body in his arms.
“Jack,” Kathleen said softly, using her thumb to stroke along the creases of his brow. “I know that look. It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“It’s not good,” he admitted heavily.