I, on the other hand, was jet lagged, half asleep, and looked like that mop you finally throw away because it’s so disgusting. But hell, why shouldn’t I daydream about Orin’s buff bod wrapped around me for a night? Nothing wrong with an intense cuddle, or something more enjoyable. “I’d say thanks for waking me up, but—”
Before I finished, we slammed over another bump, and I almost bit my tongue. “—What was that?”
“A sleeping policeman.”
“Oh my God!” Instantly, I cranked around, looking out the back, expecting to see hamburger on the highway.
Orin laughed. “Sorry, Princess. What you Yanks call a speed bump.”
“Sleeping policeman my ass,” I muttered. “More like the wake up cops.” I shuddered as I drew a mental picture of crunching over a Georgia State Trooper, mirror sunglasses and all. “I’d rather run over a real cop than get another speeding ticket on my license.”
“A little heavy with the old Brogans, are you?”
“Who’s ‘Brogan’?”
“Shoes, Princess. As in a lead foot?”
“Let’s just say you wouldn’t want to pay my insurance bill.”
Outside my window, the scenery was like nothing I’d ever seen. Green, green, green, all shades and all colors, everywhere, touching the bluest sky, with a few puffy clouds. The trees stretched toward Heaven and the greens so intense, they exceeded the spectrum beyond their limit. Here and there, quaint little houses broke up the expanse of nature. “Green really is the color of the Irish,” I murmured, enamored with childlike wonder.
“Enjoying a gander at our scenery?” Orin’s tone was laced with sneaky implications. Maybe he had noticed me checking out those buns.
“Yep,” I said, boldly adding “and yes, I do mean all the scenery.” This didn’t seem to bother him one bit. “I’ve been wondering... did you know my grandmother at all?”
“Edna? Oh, aye, since I was just a little chiseler. Kind of like my guardian, she was. Took me in, me and my brother.” He kept his eyes glued to the road, avoiding eye contact. “Our family… well, let’s just say everything was in the jacks at our sweet little gaff.”
“Jack? He’s your other brother?”
Orin laughs. “Oh, Princess. You’re codding me, eh?”
“No, I don’t know—”
“Oh, right, I see. The ‘Jacks’ you mean? It’s what we call the loo.”
“Aah... So your brother is really named Louis?”
“The ‘Jacks’ means the toilet, love. I’m saying life at home was in the crapper. Da, he was always on a tear, and our dear Oul Wan? Ma was a bit of a Floosie. Mating for life was not her thing, you might say. So she did a bunk off.”
“You mean... she left you?”
“Yup. She had people, up in Wicklow. Long story, that.”
“And Edna…”
“Took us in, more often than not. Especially when Da was fluthered, and made with the fists.”
Took them in, I thought. My grandmother plucked two snot nose rug rats from a drunken slum and left me to foster care.
“So you… lived with her?”
“More on than off, yeah.” Orin’s face softened with fondness. “Stubborn, Edna was. Headstrong, yeah? Didn’t take anyone’s shyte. Even so… ah, she could be the warmest, most loving soul in all the world. Gave great hugs. Even to a pair of big hooligans like us.”
I didn’t ask for details. Didn’t want them. I just tried to formulate a picture of my grandmother in my mind. “I wish I could be like that.”
“Better if everyone could.” Nodding, Orin continued. “You could be like her, someday, by looks for sure. She had eyes like yours.” He glanced over at me. “She was a bit taller, but... a nip here and tuck there, you could be her spitting image.”
“Hah, not likely,” I responded. Especially the height issue. My whole life I dreamed of having an extra inch or two. It had never happened, and it never would. I was stuck at five foot three, and wore a lot of heeled shoes. As for filling grandmother’s shoes, she sounded powerful. Sure of herself. I wasn’t sure I could ever pull off that demeanor–even as an act. Seeing the love in Orin’s face, I also wondered if I’d ever have someone feel that strongly about me. “Sorry if this is too personal, but, um... what happened to your family?”
Orin sighed, tensed his hands around the steering wheel.
“You don’t have to answer that. I’m sorry.”
“No, it’s all right,” Orin said. “My mother ran off by the time we could use the Jacks on our own. It was just me, my brother, and our da. Things were never grand, but once Mom was gone, Da started with the drink, and pretty much never stopped.”
“Oh no... I’m sorry.”
“It’s so bygone, it isn’t worth a Gypsy’s tears. So no worries, okay?”
“If you say so.” But I knew better. I had the scars on my own soul to prove it.
“Anyway, it was always a Donnybrook.” Orin shook his head and tapped the steering wheel gently. “I’ll never forgot the first time that hardshaw started layin’ boots on me. I was seven. Da gave me such a clout; it completely dropped me. Then he threw my brother against the counter. Gave him a great bloody gash, right here,” and he traced his finger along his brow. “All the while Da stumbling after us, langers to his arse, gobbing on how ‘Kavanagh men don’t cry’ and he’d ‘give us something
