Devil of Dublin: A Dark Irish Mafia Romance, page 28
I’d made friends there who’d given birth before me. After a few days, sometimes weeks, they’d ask where their baby was, and the nuns would simply say, “He’s gone.” That was it. They’ve since found mass graves at these places, filled with hundreds of infant bodies. Some were sent away or adopted, but others died of disease and neglect.
I couldn’t let that happen to you. The reason you don’t have a birth certificate is because I ran away with you before they had a chance to write up the paperwork. I stowed away on a bread truck that had been there making a delivery, and when the driver discovered us, he took mercy on me. He and his wife took us in, but I wasn’t able to stay there long. If they’d been found out, they would have been punished.
I did the best I could on my own. We didn’t always have a place to live, but we had each other. You were such a blessing to me, Kellen. Always happy, even when our bellies were empty or we were shivering cold. But my guilt over not being able to care for you properly, the sins I had to commit for food and money, they ate away at me. I became so depressed, so dependent on drugs and alcohol, that I was no longer able to care for you at all.
In my last act of love for you, I took you to Father Henry, told him to put you up for adoption, and then I attempted to take my own life as soon as I left.
I don’t remember much from that time. My parents had disowned me. I spent years going back and forth between mental institutions and jail. But when I was finally ready to get sober and get my life together, my little sister took me in. She’d seen the investigations into the Mother and Baby Homes on the news as well as the reports about abuse within the church, and she wanted to help me set things right. We began looking for you, but there were no records anywhere. When I told her that I’d asked Father Henry to put you up for adoption, she said that right around that time, a little boy began living with him. A boy that he said was so evil he was unadoptable, so Father Henry had been put in charge of his “spiritual development.”
My parents moved to a different town soon after that, so my sister didn’t know what had become of the boy, but when we went back to Glenshire to investigate, they told us that Father Henry had died in a fire and the boy had most likely died as well.
The agony of that discovery, Kellen—there are no words to describe the pain. It was worse than when I’d given you up. At least then, I’d believed that I was doing the right thing. It never occurred to me that Father Henry would try to keep you. Priests aren’t even allowed to have children. I just wanted him to take responsibility for what he’d done and find you a good home. But learning that not only had you been raised by that monster, but that you’d also died along with him, it destroyed me.
I went to a very dark place after that, but my sister, who I hope you’ll meet one day, never gave up on me. Your auntie Cara got me into therapy and group meetings, where I learned how to cope with the pain, but it never completely went away.
Not until Darby rang me and asked if I was your mam.
I want you to know that even if you decide that you never wish to see me again, I am the happiest woman in the world right now, and it is all because of you. Because you were strong enough to do what I couldn’t. You survived what I should have been there to protect you from. You overcame nightmares that I can only imagine. You found love even when no one was there to show you what that meant. You are an inspiration to me, Kellen. I couldn’t be prouder of the man you’ve become.
Happy birthday, son. I’ll love you always and forever.
Your mam,
Kate
The paper crumpled slightly in Kellen’s fists as I held my breath and waited for his response. I already knew what was written inside. Kate had addressed it to me so that I could give it to him when the time was right.
Like the time would ever be right for that.
I sat next to him, leaving at least a foot between us on the bench, but I could still feel the heat radiating off his body as he stared out over the lake with eyes that were just as deep and watery.
I felt as though I’d made a horrible mistake. Kellen had made me this amazing gift, and all I’d given him in return was heartache.
I wanted to touch him, to comfort him, but everything about him seemed sharp and bristled. So, I placed a hand on my own knee and squeezed.
“It’s a lot to process, I know.”
“How did you find her?” Kellen asked abruptly, still staring straight ahead.
“Father Doherty,” I replied, shocked that he’d even spoken. “He was so nice when my grandfather died that I thought maybe he could help me find out more about your mom. The church keeps all kinds of records, and sure enough, there was a Donovan family that used to live here. They had two daughters and three sons. I didn’t think either of their daughters were old enough to be your mother, but I looked them up anyway. It turns out that they own a bakery together in Limerick, and when I called the number … Kate answered on the first ring. It was like she’d been waiting for my call.”
Kellen swallowed but said nothing, so I kept talking to fill the silence. Hoping that we wouldn’t have to address the other part of Kate’s letter. The elephant in the woods.
“She sounded so happy on the phone, Kellen. She’d thought you were dead, just like me. And she’s doing really well now. She makes the most amazing cakes. I saw pictures on the bakery’s website. That must be where you got your talent—”
“He said my father was the Devil,” Kellen snapped, his voice rough from being forced past the jagged shard of emotion lodged in his throat.
I slumped back in the bench as if the sheer size of that statement took up all the space in my lap. Then, I thought about what he’d said and nodded in somber agreement. “He was right.”
Kellen and I sat like that for a long, long time. Until his features softened and his posture thawed. Until his hand found mine, still clutching my own knee, and squeezed.
“You okay?” I turned and studied his handsome profile.
Kellen hesitated for a moment. Then, with a soul-deep sigh, he nodded. “I think I always knew, deep down. I just didn’t want to believe it.”
I squeezed his hand back, and we sat in silence for an eternity. Long enough for me to muster the courage to drop one last bombshell on my poor, unsuspecting husband.
“You know what might make you feel better?” I cringe-smiled.
Kellen turned toward me, arching one scarred, suspicious eyebrow.
“It is your birthday, and I just found this amazing bakery in Limerick, so …” I swallowed as Kellen’s face paled. “I kind of … sort of … asked one of the owners if she’d like to bring you a cake.”
I braced myself for Kellen’s anger, which would have been completely justified, but instead I watched as twenty-four years of tension and pain vanish from his features. His stormy eyes widened, his full lips parted, and a sudden laugh burst out of him that I’d never heard before. It wasn’t flat or jaded. Sarcastic or cynical. It was excited, and nervous, and the sweetest, most adorable sound I’d ever heard.
“So … you’re not mad?” My eyebrows lifted in hope. “There’s still time to cancel if you’re not ready, but after I read that letter, I just thought …”
Kellen’s colorless eyes shimmered with unshed tears as he beamed at me in disbelief.
“Mad?” He blew out a shaky breath that ended with another incredulous chuckle. “Jesus Christ, Darby. There are only two things I’ve ever wanted in this life. You … and her.”
☘
After we christened the new bench—and tossed a few roses into the lake as an apology to Saoirse for what she’d just witnessed—I spent the next few hours preparing for our little birthday party for three while Kellen paced and mumbled and chewed his fingernails down to the quick. I actually sent him back to his workshop because he was making me so anxious.
When I finally heard a car door shut, I almost tripped over my own feet as I jogged outside into the driveway.
“Kate! Hi!” I waved even though she couldn’t see me with half of her body leaning in to get something out of the backseat. “I’m Darby. I’m so happy you could make it. You have no idea how much this means—”
The rest of my thoroughly rehearsed greeting tumbled from my gaping mouth as Kate closed the back door of her blue sedan, revealing a little girl in her arms no older than four.
She was a doll-like thing, blonde, with a thumb in her mouth and big, sleepy blue eyes.
Unlike Kate, who was as raven-haired and arresting as her son.
Kate smiled at me warmly, but the way she held the child, almost using her as a human shield, made me realize that Kellen wasn’t the only one who was nervous about this little reunion.
“It’s so nice to meet you, Darby. I have somebody else here who’s excited to meet you too. This is my niece, Scarlet. Scarlet, can you say hi?”
The little girl waved at me with her thumb in her mouth, four splayed fingers wiggling above her nose.
“When she heard that her mam and I were making a cake for her cousin’s birthday, she insisted that I bring her along. Willful little thing.”
The girl’s eyes went wider as she surveyed her surroundings. Then, she pulled the thumb from her mouth with a pop. “You have sheep?”
She wriggled to get free from Kate’s hold.
“We live in the city,” Kate explained, setting the girl on her feet. “Not many sheep in Limerick.”
“I have one sheep.” I laughed, kneeling in front of the child as her head swiveled in all directions. “His name is Vlad. But he’s out visiting with his friends right now. He’s very social, so he likes to sneak out and play with the other sheep when he gets bored.”
“How do you find him?” She frowned.
“Well, if he were white, we’d paint a blue spot on him to match our house, but his wool is black, so it’s easy to tell him apart.”
“A black sheep!” Scarlet looked up at her aunt, but Kate wasn’t listening.
Her eyes were trained on something behind me.
And they were glistening.
I didn’t need to turn around to know what—or who—she was staring at, but I did anyway.
Kellen stood about ten feet away, his expression unreadable, eyes guarded as he stared at the missing half of himself. He’d been so excited to see her, but now that she was there … the anguish I felt radiating off of him was unbearable. He was trying to shut off his emotions—I could see it. The same way he had when he’d surrendered to the UIB. When he’d told me good-bye. I wanted so badly to take that hurt away. That coldness. But I couldn’t.
The best I could do was give Kate a glare that said, Hurt him again, and I’ll kill you, and try to figure out what to do with the girl.
“Scarlet,” I said, breaking the silence, “I want you to meet Kellen. Today is his birthday.”
The child’s blonde eyebrows furrowed in confusion before she returned her attention to Kate. “You said it was my cousin’s birthday.”
“It ‘tis, love,” Kate rasped, her voice on the verge of breaking. “That’s him.”
Scarlet frowned and turned back toward Kellen. “But he’s so old.”
Kellen and Kate laughed at the exact same time, the staccato of their chuckles a perfect match, and in that moment, I knew.
Everything was going to be okay.
Stepping up beside me, Kellen leaned over and extended his hand to his three-foot-tall cousin, as if he’d never met a child before in his entire adult life. “Nice to meet you, Scarlet.”
She glanced back up at Kate, who nodded in approval, before turning around and giving his palm an enthusiastic slap. “High five!”
“Scarlet”—I beamed, trying not to laugh—“how would you like to come look for fairies with me?”
“Fairies?!”
“That’s right.” I locked eyes with Kate, making sure it was okay before extending my hand. Scarlet grabbed it without hesitation. “They live right back there in those woods, but they’re very hard to find.”
As we turned toward the house, Kellen’s eyes softened as they swept over the two of us, and something inside of me bloomed.
“Be sure to stop inside and get some biscuits before ya go.” Kellen’s words were meant for Scarlet, but the completely inappropriate smolder in his gaze was all for me. “I hear custard creams are their favorite.”
I gave Kellen a warning glance before steering the child away from the messy, painful world of adulthood and into the comforting arms of magic, just as my grandfather had done for me.
“Do you know how to be super quiet?” I asked, relishing the warm squish of her chubby little hand in mine. “Fairies have excellent hearing, and if they sense a human nearby, they’ll disappear like that.”
I snapped my fingers, and Scarlet jumped with a giggle.
“I can be quiet,” she said, demonstrating her best tiptoe walk. “See?”
“Oh, wow. That is quiet.” I opened the kitchen door and gestured for her to enter.
As Scarlet stepped under my outstretched arm, she asked, “Have you ever seen a fairy, Ms. Darby?”
My eyes drifted over her head to the man standing in my driveway. Kellen’s posture was tall and strong as he stood, facing his oldest, deepest wound—his arms folded across his chest, his face hard as polished stone. It was a bulletproof exterior, but I knew that peeking out from behind were the teary eyes and split lip of the mute, motherless boy I’d met in the woods all those years ago.
“I have,” I murmured, unable to look away.
“Really?” Scarlet gasped. “What did it look like?”
“Well, he had wild hair, like black flames, and eyes like smoke. And he was sad and scared …”
And he wanted to run.
I could see it in the way Kellen’s shoulders were bunched and his feet were planted—he wanted to run now, too. To hide. To keep himself safe. But when Kate pulled a white cake box out of the passenger seat and turned to face him, her face shattered and her hand muffling a broken sob, I watched that little boy bravely step forward.
And give his mom a hug.
I closed the door quietly to keep from disturbing them as I followed Scarlet into the house.
“But he’s much happier now.” I smiled, my heart as full as it had ever been.
“Because of the biscuits?” she asked, only half-listening as she stared out the kitchen window at the pasture and the woods and the purple mountain beyond.
“That’s right.” I laughed. “The good people love biscuits.”
Thank you so much for reading Devil of Dublin!
If you’d like to know more about what inspired this story, please read the Author’s Note and Acknowledgements sections on the following pages.
And if you enjoyed this us-against-the-world romance, then read on for a sneak peek from my dystopian romance Praying for Rain. It has all the suspense, steam, and emotional intensity of Devil of Dublin, but instead of trying to escape from the Mafia, Rain and Wes are trying to survive a mysterious apocalyptic event. Enjoy!
AUTHOR’S NOTE
I hope you enjoyed Devil of Dublin. I know it was a heavy read, but with this book, I tried very hard to open myself up to the cosmos and become a conduit for whatever story wanted to come forth. I didn’t plot. I didn’t outline. Instead, I did a lot of walking and meditating and staring out my window, and that’s how I discovered Glenshire—a beautiful, fictional village inspired by Moll’s Gap in County Kerry, Ireland. I saw the candy-colored houses and spray-painted sheep dotting the hills. I saw my grandfather kneeling in the meadow with a twinkle in his eye. And I saw the mystical woods behind that meadow, leading all the way to the Purple Mountain in Killarney National Park. Other than Grandpa Pat’s character, I never set out to include anything personal in this book, but once I began peeling back the layers of Glenshire, it was my own family’s secrets that I found buried in that soil.
The real Grandpa Pat was a proud Irishman who raised his children in a tight-knit Irish Catholic neighborhood here in the United States. Their community maintained the same cultural norms and customs as those practiced back in Ireland at that time, which meant that their lives revolved around the church. My mother and her sisters went to an all-girls Catholic school, attended Sunday Mass every weekend unless they were on death’s door, and were never taught about sex or reproduction. So, when my aunt Kate became pregnant at a very young age by a prominent member of their church, she was sent away to a Catholic maternity home run by nuns, similar to the Mother and Baby Homes in Ireland.
Kate was still a child herself—confused and terrified by what was happening to her body—but she was treated like a criminal. The pregnant, unmarried women—and young girls—at the home weren’t allowed to leave, had no contact with the outside world, and were abused and forced into servitude. When Kate finally delivered her baby, the child was taken from her immediately. Kate was never allowed to know what had happened to her daughter or if she’d even survived.
The compounded traumas of that event changed Kate forever. Dimmed her light. Extinguished her once-bright future. No one ever spoke about what had happened to her, except in hushed voices behind closed doors—the way my mother had told me. I grew up knowing, in an abstract sense, that I had a cousin out there somewhere, whom I would never meet. That was, until my mother called me a few years ago and said the words that would change everything:
“I just got a call from some Catholic agency looking for Kate. They said her daughter is trying to find her. What do I do?”
It turns out that my cousin had been adopted by a wonderful, loving couple who’d named her Erin. She’d had a good childhood and was married with children of her own. But after learning about the circumstances surrounding her adoption, Erin developed a deep sense of empathy for her birth mother. She found a Catholic agency that helped reunite mothers and children who’d been separated by these church-run maternity homes, and it was through them that she’d found us and then Kate.
