Juice: The O'Malleys Book 1, contemporary Adult Romance (2 page)

“This is what you’re going for?” She eyed the two men in police uniforms and sniggered.

“Here for the party, are you boys? I take it this is Mark and Marie’s doing? Very funny. I’m afraid for your safety with that lot in there,” she said pointing with her thumb over her shoulder. She cupped her mouth behind her hand and leaned in whispering. “Also, keep an eye on my cousin Margo. She’s handsy, if you know what I mean?” One of the officers removed his hat, his expression serious.

“Miss, we’re here about a Mr. Harry Evans. Could we come in please?”

Cass felt her smile slip from her face and stepped backwards allowing them to enter.

“What’s happened? I’m his sister. Is Harry okay? What’s happened? Tell me what’s happened, for Christ’s sake!”

“Miss Evans, if we could go somewhere private. Do you have someone else here with you?”

“Of course, everyone’s here it’s our birthday. We’re having a party. We’re just going to cut the cake.”

Cass heard a noise behind her and turned as her mother cried out and threw her hands up to cover her face.

“I knew. I knew,” Alice muttered, as she turned and ran towards the patio doors. Cass felt her bottom lip begin to quiver, she heard the fear in her mother’s voice as she called out to her father.

“Brian! Brian, come quick! Oh God. Its Harry isn’t it? It’s Harry.”

The officer looked pained and addressed Cass gently.

“Miss Evans. My name is Officer James Milton.” He motioned to the other officer who was looked somewhat green, and young.
First-timer
, thought Cass. She knew what was coming next. A calm sense of finality and acceptance was already washing over her.

“This is my colleague, Officer Tony Davis. Would you like to sit down?”

Cass shook her head and stared out of the kitchen window, her father was running toward the house with some of the guests hot on his heels. She was struck with a sudden almost hysterical urge to laugh, so alien was the look of fright on her father’s face, coupled with the chef’s hat bobbing up and down as he ran. She wished she could be back there, just moments before in a state of not knowing what was ahead. Her father stumbled through the door, his face ashen and eyes wide.

“Alice, what is it? What the hell-”

Brian Evans looked around and stilted mid-sentence as his eyes rested on the officers standing above his wife, as she sat at the table clutching a tea towel in her hand.

“Mrs. and Mr. Evans.”

The officer cleared his throat, while his colleague stared somewhere off into the distance over her mother’s shoulder and wobbled slightly on his feet.
Poor bastard
, thought Cass.

“Mr. and Mrs. Evans. I’m sorry to inform you that there has been an accident. The passenger, Matt Landon was killed outright and has been pronounced dead at the scene. Your son, I’m sorry-your son Harry has been airlifted to Derriford Hospital, in Plymouth.”

Cass stood in front of him, her hand covering her mouth. She took in what he had said and blinked suddenly.

“Then he’s alive? Oh thank God, he’s alive. Oh thank God.” She grabbed the back of a nearby chair and felt her legs buckle as she sat slowly into it.

“It was a serious accident, Miss Evans. A head on collision. You need to come to the hospital immediately. Harry has been quite seriously injured. They’re not sure-”

Cass raised her eyes and they clashed with the sea of faces of her family and friends. Gathered in a huddle at the patio doors, each one trying to contain their worry and shock. Cass could smell burning meat from the BBQ. Nausea washed over her and she swallowed to keep the bile from rising in her throat.

Her father as always took charge. Slowly taking off his apron, he grabbed his keys and nodded towards the officers.

“Thank you very much. We’ll go now.”  Officer Milton nodded towards him.

“We’ll provide an escort Mister Evans. Maybe someone could drive you. It’s been a massive shock.”

“Yes. Yes of course. Mark?” Her father looked to Mark, Harry’s best friend and the fiancé of Cass’ best friend, Marie.

Cass felt a dart of pity for her friends Mark and Marie. No doubt they were in shock as well. Mark stepped forward and grabbed Marie’s hand, she was crying softly and shaking her head in disbelief. Mark spoke quietly to her.

“It’ll be okay Marie, Harry’s a fighter. God love the Landons. I can’t believe Mattie is gone.” Marie nodded at him, her breathing shaky and loud. “This will kill them, he’s their only child.” Cass felt her heart clench at the way the words hissed from Marie’s throat and the paleness of her pallor.

They piled into the car and left Deb to organise everything else. She would deal with the crowds of family and friends who were standing around, some silent and others openly weeping. Deb was always the dependable one, the strong one.

Every sound felt amplified in Cass’ head, she grit her teeth and winced at the sound of the stones as they crunched beneath the wheels of the car. Looking out the window as they left the driveway, she instinctively knew that their lives would never be the same again. Mark drove slowly behind the police car, while Cass forced herself to focus on his white knuckles gripping the steering wheel. Anything was better than having to look at her mother beside her, shaking uncontrollably. The three women in the back seat held hands, each lost in their own thoughts. Cass leaned over Marie and touched her mum’s hand lightly.

“He’ll be okay mum. Harry’s a fighter. He wouldn’t dare…he just can’t-” Her mother smiled weakly and silently nodded. The journey took an hour and Cass had almost managed to convince herself that everything would be okay. Harry was Harry, after all. The life and soul of the party, protective and strong. He wouldn’t leave her alone. He wouldn’t hurt mum and dad like that.
Liar. Liar. Liar
. Cass was a pragmatist and knew that all the will in the world, the wishing and the praying and hoping would never be enough to save someone who was injured beyond repair.

As they pulled into the emergency bay, Cass struggled with her seat belt and jumped out of the car not stopping long enough to shut the door. She raced into the hospital and stood anxiously at the reception desk where two women were deep in conversation.

“Harry Evans? I’m here to see Harry Evans my brother, he been in an accident. A car accident. He was brought here!”

She tapped her nails fretfully on the counter and bit her lip impatiently as the receptionist clicked away on her computer.

“Please wait in family room one on the second floor, a doctor will be with you shortly. Your brother is in surgery at the moment.”

“When can we see him? What is the surgery for?”

The receptionist looked at her with a mixture of pity and a knowing nod that said she had uttered these words a hundred times before. It enraged Cass and she wanted to bellow at her
. Don’t look at me like that. Don’t you fucking dare look at me like he’s already dead
!

Instead she waited. Just stared and waited, her blood silently bubbling beneath the surface of her skin.

“You will have to wait for the doctor, I’m afraid.” She pointed a long candy-floss coloured pink fingernail towards the corridor. “Take the lift up to the second floor and wait in room one, first door on your left. A doctor will be there shortly to talk you through the procedure.” Cass couldn’t move, she just stared at the clock on the wall behind the receptionist. Cold and impersonal, black and white. The ticking of the metal hands holding her captive in that moment.

She felt her father gently take her stiff hands from the counter. He held them in his own as he guided her towards the lift.

“What will happen Daddy?” she asked looking into his eyes. She needed him to take away the pain and the worry, like he had always done when she was little. She never called him daddy anymore. Now, it seemed necessary somehow. He rubbed her cheek gently, his fingertips cold and dry.

“We will wait and see Cass; he’s in the best hands here. They need to work on him. Come on, we’ll go and wait.” Cass smiled softly up at him
. Oh dad, I’m so sorry this is happening to you. So sorry for your pain.
She couldn’t mouth the words so let him lead her away by the hand instead. A small kind of comfort for them both.

Brian held her hand tightly and reached out for Alice, who folded easily into his embrace.

“All we can do is wait and hope he’s strong enough.”

Rory O’Malley looked out of the window onto the farmland that surrounded his home. Each of these fields bore the footprints of his past, his heritage. The hills lush and green had been toiled by his grandparents own hands and their grandparents before them. This land was in his blood. Every memory from his youth was tied up within the boundaries of this place. Hayrides with his brothers and sisters, milking cattle, herding sheep, baking with his granny and mama. His first drink, his first kiss, they had all happened here on this land. The land he loved.

He watched his sister Annie from the window.

Her long dark brown hair was flying in the breeze. She was sitting outside on the wall talking to their father, Gearóid. Their heads close as though they were whispering about something grave. He knew it was serious. The family meeting they had held the night before had been hard. His sister Aoife was dying. There was no easy way to sugar coat the inevitable. His baby sister was running out of steam. When she had been born twenty four years before, Rory had counted her fingers and toes and marvelled at her chubby cute face. He had truly believed she was the most perfect thing he had ever seen. She was the first girl born into the O’Malley family for over fifty years. The most special gift, but their gift was sick. Cystic Fibrosis, his mammy had told him. He didn’t fully understand what it all meant being only six years old. But, he knew it meant they had to be very careful around Aoife, he had to wash his hands very carefully before he held her. As she got older, Aoife had developed a love affair with books. The only thing that calmed her through an episode of breathlessness was to have Rory tell her a story. And he did, he would sit at her bedside for hours reading to her. Lovingly recounting every story his grandfather O’Malley had told him. The stories were their legacy, dutifully passed down by word of mouth from generation to generation. Old Irish tales of princesses and fairies, pirates and high Kings. Aoife’s favourite story of all was the true story of Grace O’Malley. Or Gráinne Mhaol, as she is known in Ireland. A formidable sixteenth century Irish shipping magnate and ferocious pirate. She was rumoured to have been the most beautiful and brave Irish woman of her time. According to their grandfather ‘the boss man O’Malley’, they were directly descended from Grace O’Malley and her clan. That meant they were fighters, survivors. Aoife, would be a fighter too and she was. Every time she picked up an infection and was admitted into hospital, she fought it. She would never give up, Rory thought with pride. Sometimes, when he was a kid he would cry at night, his small head hidden underneath the blankets as he listened to her coughing and gasping for air. And through the walls, he would remember the words of the stories he had told her. Holding his hands over his ears, he would silently call on the spirit of the great Gráinne Mhaol to give Aoife courage. And to keep her safe, to keep her alive. He knew in reality he was comforting himself also. He couldn’t imagine life without Aoife, it didn’t bear thinking about.

Rory shook his head.
You’re an eejit, O’Malley
.
Fairy-tales and stories
. He ran his hand through his hair and let it fall onto the back of his neck massaging it roughly, weary and frustrated. She was fading. He could see the light in her eyes dimming; it had been twenty four years. Twenty four years of hospitals, doctors, infections and resuscitations. He couldn’t even blame her for feeling resigned to her fate anymore. What kind of life was that for a young girl? He turned back towards the bed and saw that Aoife was awake and smiling at him.

“Jaysus Rory, you look like someone has killed your puppy. It’s goin’ to be okay.”

He smiled at her and raised his eyebrows at the look she threw him.

“I know,
stóirín
. I know.”

She laughed at him and started to wheeze and cough, he went to her quickly and sat her up rubbing her back in a circular rhythm until it passed.

“Thank you. And I’m not your darlin’ Rory O’Malley, save that for your pretty girls in London and New York. I’m just Aoife, just like I’ve always been. Stop hiding from me with well-placed endearments. I know the real you.”