Flurries blurred my visibility. The wipers scraped back and forth hypnotically, and I had to make an effort to stay focused on the roads. I’d called my brother during the drive to explain the full story—leaving out Shane’s involvement. Brody laughed and called me a flipping’ eejit. He wasn’t wrong.
My car slogged through the grit and snow, and a drive that would usually take an hour lasted five, which added to my bleak mood. By the time I pulled into the driveway of my parents’ house, my head, eyes, and shoulders burned from concentrating on staying alive.
A log fire blazed in the fireplace, and the twenty-year-old Christmas tree, complete with a tattered fairy on top, twinkled by the window. I inhaled and exhaled deeply and turned off the engine. I hoped Brody hadn’t called and blathered to our parents about me being home. If he had, I would never hear the end.
I crunched over the snow to the front door, and a soothing sense of familiarity washed over me. Tonight, I’d sleep in my childhood bed, and my mother would feed me to the point of bursting. I didn’t want fussing over, but it would be nice to be surrounded by people who knew who I was. People who wouldn’t betray me or make me feel like a fool.
I dug the spare key out from beneath the loose brick on the porch and let myself in. The aroma of cinnamon candles assaulted my nose, making me want to sneeze, and Dean Martin’s velvety tones told me it was cold outside. Dean was right. I kicked off my shoes and placed them in the basket beneath the hall table. No one in their right mind carried dirt from outside onto my mother’s polished floors.
“Holy Mary, Mother of God, someone’s in our house,” my mother shrieked from the kitchen.
“Calm down, Ma. It’s me.” I tried to put some enthusiasm in my voice but failed miserably. “Surprise.”
My mother barreled from the kitchen and toward me. Her eyes widened, and her hand reached for her mouth. “Paul, would you look at what the snow blew in?” She wrapped her arms around me and pulled me into a CoCo Chanel-scented hug. The duty-free perfume was something she asked for every birthday and Christmas.
I leaned over and planted a kiss on her cheek.
“Why didn’t you tell me you were coming? I wasn’t expecting you until Christmas Eve. I don’t have your room ready.” She gave an expectant glance behind me. “You couldn’t talk your brother into coming?”
“It’ll be the twelfth of never before Brody comes back.”
“I live in hope.”
Brody hadn’t been home since he’d left and would never step foot in Derry again. He said he was fine now. Denied anything was wrong. But what had happened to him and Sarah had scarred him for life, so it was up to me and our other brothers Lorcan and Rian to come home whenever we could.
My dad entered the hallway. His glasses perched on the end of his nose and a cup of tea in one hand. “I don’t believe it.” He set his cup down on the hall table and gave me a back-slapping hug. “This is a grand surprise. I was about to get ready for work, but I’ll give it a miss now.”
I hung my coat on the rack behind the front door. “You aren’t going to go to work in that, Da. I don’t think many people will be out looking for taxis today.” Despite having four sons and three daughters who had more than enough money to allow him to retire comfortably, he insisted on going out to work every day. He was a proud man and had passed his work ethic onto his children.
“It gets me out of the house for a few hours and out from beneath your mother’s feet.”
“You’ve got that right.” My mother gave my dad a playful push into the kitchen. “Well, don’t just stand there growing moss, Son. Come on. I’ll make you a cuppa, and you can fill me in on your news.”
“Nothing much has happened since we talked last week.” What could I say? I’d blackmailed a woman into saying I was her fiancé.
My mother leaned against the cooker. Her gaze started at my feet and worked its way up to my hair. “Something’s up. I can tell.”
“Something’s up, all right,” I said, “I don’t have a beer in my hand.”
“It’s much too early for that.” My mother pressed a hand to her chest.
“What do you say to a wee Baileys?” my dad asked with an affectionate pat on my mother’s bottom.
My mother simpered and smiled. “A small one.”
“What about you?” He asked, pulling the Baileys from the booze cabinet.
“Thanks, Da, but I’ll stick to the beer.”
I warmed at my parents’ never-ending affection. After thirty-six years, they still couldn’t keep their hands off each other. Tessa’s smiling face flitted into my mind, and my heart sank, but before my emotions overwhelmed me, I shoved her image away and accepted a cold bottle of Smithwicks from my dad.
“Sláinte.” I tipped my bottle against my dad’s wine glass filled with Baileys and ice.
“Your sisters will be more than delighted you’re home.” My mother picked up her phone. “I’ll call them now.”
While she busied herself phoning my three sisters, my dad pulled out a chair and sat at the table. “What’s troubling you, Son?”
I ran a hand over the scratches covering the tabletop—some as old as me. “Nothing. Exhausted from the flight.”
“And what flight would that be? I’ve done the airport run for longer than you’ve
