Breakaway (19 page)

“This is a blast, isn’t it?”

Jake was grinning happily as he positioned his club behind the golf ball and tapped it, where it went straight into Bono’s mouth. He pulled out the tiny piece of paper from his back pocket, carefully marking down another win. “Your turn,” he said to Erin with a bright smile. “I never thought miniature golf could be so much fun.”

Erin smiled thinly and lined up for her putt. When she got word that Jake and Rory had had another contest, and that Jake had won, her gut reaction once again was fury. How dare they act like she had no feelings in the matter, like she was some trophy to be boasted about and owned? Then she realized she couldn’t blame them completely: she could have told Rory to get stuffed after the first competition, but she hadn’t, and she’d be the biggest liar in Ballycraig if she didn’t admit to herself that a tiny part of her was enjoying their little tournament. She got pleasure from knowing being with Jake tonight had to be eating at Rory.

Still, it was all wrong somehow. She shouldn’t be here,
giving Jake some kind of false hope where none existed. But fair was fair: it wouldn’t be right for her to have gone to the fair with Rory and not come out tonight with Jake. It would have hurt and humiliated him. At least that’s what she told herself.

She couldn’t imagine where he was taking her when they started out toward Omeath in his car. Erin wanted the old Jake back, the one who was purely a mate.

The ride over was more awkward than it should have been considering how long they’d known each other. Jake kept trying to pull the conversation to Rory. Erin didn’t say anything. She didn’t want to carve Rory up. In fact, Jake’s bad-mouthing him got on her nerves a bit, especially since they were now “mates” again.

“Go on,” Jake urged, standing behind her. “Tap lightly and you can’t miss Bono’s gob. Trust me.”

Erin did as instructed but missed by a mile. “Ah, it’s all right,” Jake said consolingly. “I’ll bet you dollars to donuts you get it through Saint Patrick’s miter, no problem.”

An Irish-themed miniature golf course. It had to be Alec who told Jake about it. Or Old Jack. The place was filling fast. Tourists, mostly older, blue-haired, sensible shoes. Click, click, click. Cameras. Who would want to take pictures of a miniature golf course? Ah, to each his own.

Toward the end of the game, Erin’s apathy morphed into annoyance. Jake was letting her win. “I know what you’re doing, and I don’t appreciate it.”

“What?” said Jake, coming over all innocent.

“Deliberately playing like shite. I don’t need to win. You’re insulting me by doing that. I’m capable of winning fair and square, and if I don’t win, it’s no big deal.”

“I just thought it might boost your confidence a bit.”

“Why would you ever think my confidence needs boosting?”

“I heard your mam is being a bit more demanding these days.”

Her jaw set. “I don’t want to talk about that now.”

“Erin, I’m sorry.” Jake looked distressed. “I didn’t mean
to upset you. You know that’s the last thing I’d ever want to do.”

“Jake, it’s not that big a deal. Honest.”

“Are you sure?”

“Let it go. I’m serious. If you’d really upset me, I’d let you know, all right?”

Jake relaxed. “Okay, yeah.”

“C’mon, let’s finish this up.”

“Drink after?”

“Sure,” said Erin, forcing herself not to hesitate. She might not want to be here, but that didn’t give her license to be rude.

*   *   *

It was a gorgeous evening, with a delicious breeze and the beginnings of a perfect sunset, soft as the muted blues and pinks on an artist’s palate. One thing Ireland did have going for it were the summer nights.

They got their drinks and sat down at one of the picnic tables outside the Hare and Hound. Jake tapped his pint glass against hers, the tinkling sound reminiscent of a tiny bell.

“To the future,” he said.

Erin parted her lips slightly, then closed them again. “Yes.”

Jake looked around. “Place is fairly hopping.”

Erin just nodded.

Jake tore open a packet of crisps. “Did you notice the real golf course? That’s new as well. Omeath is really starting to build itself up.”

“Mmmm.”

“Why would you ever think of leaving Ballycraig when you’ve got this?” he joked, but Erin knew he really wasn’t.

“This isn’t why I want to leave Ballycraig,” Erin said gently. “You know that.”

Jake shook his head. “I still don’t think you’re thinking this through, Erin. You’ve got a great life right under your nose, but you refuse to see it because of your tunnel vision.”

Erin put her palm to her forehead, more to keep her
brains from exploding than anything else. “Jake,” she began softly, “we’ve had this discussion before and it always ends painfully, with me trying to explain my dreams to you, and you encouraging me to make the safe choice. I don’t want the safe choice. I want the choice that’s exhilarating.”

“And how exactly do you plan to finance your ‘exhilarating’ choice?” Jake asked bitterly.

“That’s really none of your business, but since you’re a mate, I’ll tell you: I’m using money saved up from the wedding.”

Jake took a long pull off his beer. “You’re making a big mistake.” There was no mistaking the appeal in his voice. “You could learn to love me. If you set your mind to it.”

Erin started to choke up. “We’ve been down this road. You’re breaking my heart. You deserve someone who loves you for you, not someone you think would appreciate you with time.”

“And what if your dream doesn’t work out?”

“Then I’ll figure out something else to do. But coming back here is not an option.”

Jake looked hurt. “You really hate it here so much?”

“I don’t hate it at all.” Erin didn’t know how much longer she could stand going round and round in circles. “I just want a different experience of life. You ever feel like you belong to a place, the way you feel about Ballycraig? Well, my heart feels it belongs somewhere else. I’m not sure where, exactly, but I’ll know it when I see it. Ballycraig isn’t my soul home.”

“And would New York have been your ‘soul home’ if you’d married Rory? Mmm? What if it wasn’t?”

“It’s still a city,” Erin contended. “And it wasn’t like he’d play hockey forever.” She plucked a crisp from the bag. “There’s no point in talking about that now, anyway.”

*   *   *

“Hey, superstar goalie. Where’s your brain today?”

Rory tousled LJ’s hair affectionately, waiting for an answer. LJ wasn’t the sort to let his mind wander, especially
when he was in goal. But twice the kid had had his head in the clouds. Rory hoped to hell he wasn’t fighting nausea due to some putrid breakfast his sister had cobbled together.

“Dunno.” The tried-and-true answer any child gives when the opposite was true.

“Ah, don’t give me that line of bull. Believe me, I notice when one of our top players doesn’t have his heart in it.”

“It’s nothin’,” LJ insisted.

Rory shrugged and started to walk away, waiting for LJ’s voice to ring out behind him. And it did.

“Wait!”

Rory walked back to him. “You know you can talk to me about anything, right?”

LJ looked uncertain.

“Anything on earth,” Rory continued. “And I won’t tell another living soul.”

“Not even Erin?”

“What’s Erin got to do with it?”

“She and Mam talk about you all the time. They think we can’t hear because of the telly, but it’s dead easy to creep to the doorway of the kitchen and listen in.”

“That’s not very polite, LJ,” Rory admonished, even though he wanted to promise the kid anything if he gave Rory gory details. “Sometimes people can’t help themselves,” he added sympathetically. LJ looked relieved. Yes, his face said, that is exactly what it was.

“So, they talk about me, huh?” Rory felt like the alpha dog in a large pack.

“You and my da.”

Rory deflated.

“And what do they say about him?”

“I don’t know.”

“Probably just stuff.”

“Yeah. Stuff.”

LJ was looking at the ground, creating figure eights in the dirt with the toe of his trainer.

“It must be a lot of stuff if it’s crowding your mind that way.”

LJ paused. “It is.”

“I could try guessing if you want. Like a game. Would you like that?”

LJ nodded.

“Right.” Rory rocked on his heels, hands intertwined behind his back, as if he were pondering a difficult question. “Does it have to do with…your mam?”

“Yes.”

“Does it have to do with…something your dad said to your mam?”

LJ nodded.

“Is it to do with…the house?” A nod, yes.

“You kids?” Yes.

“Does it make your mam cry when she talks to Erin about it?”

“Yes,” LJ said, getting teary. “But sometimes they yell at each other. Mam and Erin. But they always make up.”

“What did your dad say to your mam? If you don’t mind me asking?”

“That she’s a fat whore and she was stupid if she thought she could ever do better than him. He said”—LJ stumbled—“he said he’d take us from her. Mam said that was the stupidest thing she’d ever heard; he hasn’t given any money for us in ages.”

“And where were you when this was happening?”

“Hiding in the downstairs loo with Oona.”

“And what else?” Rory swallowed hard, pushing down his fury. “Has he ever hit your mam?”

“No. Mostly he just curses her and breaks up the furniture. Then he goes off and, a few days later, comes back. He and Mam make up. She tells Erin it’s all an act, her making up with him. That when she gets a job, she’ll boot him proper.”

“That must be hard to hear.”

LJ just shrugged.

“Sounds like your da isn’t very nice to your mam.”

“He’s dead mean!” LJ cried. “I hate to see Mam cry.” He paused. “Sometimes Da yells at Erin if she’s there. He
tells her to get out and she tells him she’s going to call the garda. He just kinda laughs and he says she better watch her step.”

Rory struggled to keep his rage in check. “Phew! That sure is a lot to carry around, LJ.”

“I know!” He looked relieved to have spilled it all out.

“Now can I ask you one final question?”

LJ rolled his eyes. “Yes.”

“Is your sister still making you those awful weird breakfasts?”

“Yes,” LJ replied, making a horrible face.

“Right. Well, we’ll see if we can’t do something about that.”

LJ looked grateful. “Thanks, Rory.”

Rory smiled. “You ready to go back out there and be the next Iker Casillas?”

LJ nodded. His demeanor had altered completely during the course of their brief discussion. Rory couldn’t imagine what it was like to walk around keeping all that bottled up inside. His own home life had been fairly well balanced.

Something had to be done.

Rory knew a setup when he saw one, and Erin was pulling a good one: today she’d asked him to pick her up at Sandra’s rather than have her parents give her a lift up to Aislinn and Liam’s farm for dinner. He was sure it was to do with their previous conversation, when she’d accused him of having no respect for her. He’d admitted it, but he had a feeling that it wasn’t enough for Erin, that perhaps it was time for him to face the full wrath of Sandra.