Honesty - SF8 (24 page)

"Hey, Ryan," Frank said, "I’m just trying to refresh your brother’s mind here. When did our fathers emigrate? 1964 or 1965?"

She cast a pointed glance to her right, spotting her father not four feet away. "Hmm…I’m not sure, Frank. Why don’t you ask my dad while I borrow my brother here for a minute. I need a little help with something."

"Good idea, Ryan. You’re gonna owe me a beer, Brendan," he decreed as he went to settle the bet.

"Lord, does that guy ever give up? We would have been there for an hour!"

Ryan smiled, knowing that Brendan was every bit as determined as Frank, only he just made his points in a quieter fashion. "Eh, Frank’s Frank," she said, knowing that analyzing her cousin’s foibles was completely unproductive. "Do you mind coming upstairs with me for a minute?" she asked. "I wanna talk to you about something."

He gave her a slightly puzzled glance but agreed, following her up the stairs to her bedroom. "Nice space," he said appreciatively as he looked around.

"Thanks. It’s all Jamie’s stuff, of course, but it feels like home to me now." She sat down on the rolling desk chair and Brendan sat on the love seat.

"So, what’s up?"

"I’ve uh…I’ve been wondering about something, Bren, and I wanted to ask you to clear something up for me."

"Sure. Shoot." His face was composed and his expression was open and curious, as it so often was.

"Remember when I told you that I was gay?"

His face immediately reacted, his brow furrowing a little. "You mean when I
asked
you if you were gay," he corrected gently, always a stickler for accuracy. "That afternoon will forever be etched into my memory," he said with a small chuckle. "I don’t know which one of us was more nervous."

"I’d say it was a tie," she smiled in response. "Talking to your older brother about your sex life is no picnic when you’re 17."

"Oh, and it’s a real day at the beach when you’re a 23-year-old guy. I was afraid to talk to girls I was sleeping with about sex!" he laughed. "How do you think I felt about talking to you? You were my baby sister, and I still thought of you as a little girl."

"I don’t think I’ve ever thanked you for taking that risk," she said, giving him a grateful smile. "I’ve never felt more cared for."

He blushed, glad that his sister was appreciative of his efforts, but puzzled about why she was bringing it up now. "No problem, Ryan. You know I’d do anything for you."

"I do," she said sincerely. "And the same goes for me, too." She paused for just a minute, searching his face as she asked, "You told Da before I did, didn’t you?"

His blush deepened as he realized that he had been caught. "Uh…" He scratched his head, looking guilty until he finally said, "Yeah…I uh…thought it would go better for you if he had time to react first. I thought he’d be okay with it—and he was—but I didn’t want there to be a chance that he’d react badly."

She nodded, her long-held suspicion finally confirmed. "Bren, I didn’t think I’d ever have the opportunity, but I’m going to return the favor."

"Huh?" he blinked. "Who’s gay?"

"No, not a gay thing this time," she said. "But what I have to tell you is a little shocking nonetheless."

"I’m almost 30," he reminded her. "I’ve gotten much better at talking about personal things."

"Good," she smiled. Drawing in a deep breath she decided to just go for it. "Da’s going to make an announcement soon. He’s going to announce that he’s getting married."

Before she could complete her statement, Brendan’s face blanched and his mouth dropped open, his eyes so round that they nearly popped out of his head. "He what???!!!"

"He’s getting married," she repeated.

"My God, Ryan, he’s never had a date! Is this an arranged marriage? Is he helping somebody get a green card?"

The poor man was clearly grasping at straws and Ryan sought to get the whole story out. "Let me finish, Bren. I’ll tell you the whole thing."

He sank back against the cushions, looking like he’d been struck in the chest with a heavy weight. "Go ahead," he muttered.

"He’s going to marry Aunt Maeve," Ryan said, completely startled when Brendan leapt to his feet and strode to the corner of the room, his arms crossed tight against his chest. His head was shaking violently, seemingly trying to make the information leave his brain.

"No, no, no, no, NO!!"

She got up and approached him from behind, feeling his coiled body twitch when she touched him gently. "It’s true, Bren, and it’s obvious that this has really upset you, but please don’t let Da know."

He turned and glared at her, his blue eyes flashing with anger. "This is wrong, Ryan, it’s just wrong!"

"No, no it’s not, Bren. I was freaked out at first, but over time…"

"NO! I will never think this is okay, Ryan." He strode past her, evading her grasp as she tried to stop him. He sank onto the love seat once again and dropped his head into his hands. "Everything’s going so well!" he moaned. "Why do they have to screw things up? This will destroy the family!"

"No it won’t, Bren. Not if we don’t let it!" She was shocked at how intense his reaction was, but she was terribly glad that she had guessed right in deciding to tell him early.

"I can’t accept this, Ryan. I’m going to find Da and tell him so." He got to his feet and she grabbed him by the shirt, refusing to let go until he heard her out.

"Look, Bren, if you want that kind of responsibility you go right ahead, but I want you to know that if Da knows you’re opposed, he’ll break it off right now. He’s already told me that our happiness was more important than his and Aunt Maeve’s." She could see a flicker of doubt pass across his face, and she followed up, "Don’t you love him enough to let him have some joy in his life?"

He looked as though she had slapped him, physically recoiling as he tried to steady himself. "How can you even say that? You know how much I love Da! And Aunt Maeve is like a second mother to me. This isn’t about not loving them, Ryan, it’s about stopping them from tearing the family apart!"

"Brendan, you’re being irrational about this," she insisted, almost as agitated as he was. "This will not harm the family. They just fell in love. How can that be wrong?"

He glared at her for a moment, his lips pressed together so tightly they were white. "You’re okay with this? You approve of this?"

"Brendan," she soothed, "I’m the last person in the family who has the right to tell other people who to fall in love with. I know what it’s like to choose a partner that people could be offended by. I’ve got to tell you, Brendan, my life would have been destroyed if the family had not supported my choice. We can’t do that to Da!"

He sat down on the edge of the bed, looking like his legs couldn’t hold him upright any longer. "Shit, shit, shit," he moaned, looking utterly defeated. "You know I’d never intentionally hurt either one of them."

"I promise you, Bren, they would be hurt. Deeply, deeply hurt. They would call this off and would probably never try again. Is that what you want for Da?"

"Of course not," he muttered, shaking his head slowly. "I want him to be happy."

She crouched down in front of him to be able to see into his eyes. "Then you have to let him find happiness in his own way."

He stared at her for a long minute, the emotions flying across his handsome features as he did so. "How did you know this would upset me?"

She laughed softly, getting to her feet again. "Because it upset me. You and I are the drama queens of the family, you know."

"Gee thanks," he said dryly. "I don’t think anyone has ever called me a queen before."

She ruffled his dark hair, assuring him, "I just mean that you and I are the most emotional ones. Conor won’t care, and Rory won’t let anyone know if he cares."

"Good point," he smiled grabbing one of her belt loops and pulling her down onto his lap to give her a gentle hug. "I’m a little jealous that he told you first," he grumbled.

"Mmm, he didn’t tell me," she informed him. "I saw them together, and it was pretty obvious."

He tilted his head, his eyes wide as he asked, "You saw them…?"

"I just saw them holding hands and kissing a little in the park, Bren. Nothing

to permanently scar me," she chuckled.

"When are they going to tell us?"

"Soon. Probably when Rory comes home."

He sighed deeply and said, "This is going to take some work, but I promise I’ll have my act together by the time Da’s ready to make the announcement. Thanks for telling me, Sis."

"Hey, we drama queens have to stay together," she reminded him, earning a swat to her exposed seat.

When Ryan came bounding up the stairs on Tuesday night, she barely paused to greet her partner on her way to the kitchen.

Immediately getting up to follow her, Jamie asked, "Honey? Did you happen to forget that I’ve been gone for two days? Hey, what are you holding?"

"Ice bag," Ryan admitted, taking a quick glance in the mirror over the small writing desk in the corner. She had decided to try to dump the evidence before Jamie caught up with her, but looking at the deep blue smudge under her right eye, she realized that was folly.

"Why do you have an ice bag? Come on, let me see."

Ryan turned and gave her partner a sheepish grin as the smaller woman bit back a gasp. "You got hit in the head? We’re taking you to the hospital. Come on, let’s go."

Jamie was already grabbing her keys and looking for her wallet when Ryan grasped her by the shoulders and said, "Chill, Baby. I got hit in the eye—no big deal."

"Ryan," she said sternly, "Your head is too fragile to take any chances with. I think we should at least get a CAT scan."

"Jamie, Jamie," Ryan soothed, "the trainer took a look at both of us, and he knows my history. This is no big deal…really."

"Ryan, do you swear that you’ve told the trainer about all of your head injuries?"

"Yes, Dear, I swear that I did. I love to play, Jamie, but I love to think even more. I swear that I won’t jeopardize my ability to do that."

She sighed heavily, deciding to at least hear Ryan out before she hustled her off to the hospital. "All right. Now tell me how this happened."

"Hard to say. Grace and I were going for a ball and somehow our feet got tangled up. The top of her head hit right on the bone here," she gingerly touched the spot that the bruise sprouted from.

"Is Grace okay?"

"Yeah. She took more of a knock on the head than I did, but she seemed fine."

Removing the ice bag from Ryan’s hand, Jamie went to the freezer and filled it with fresh cubes. She brought it over and tenderly applied it to the sore spot, flinching along with Ryan as contact was made. "You need a lot of nursing during any given season, don’t ya, Sport?"

"Yep. I never did learn that moderation thing."

"True. Though sometimes that’s a good thing," Jamie decided, thinking that she’d keep the entire O’Flaherty package, even if some parts drove her mad.

They spent the entire dinner hour chatting about Jamie’s experiences in Oregon, and Ryan was glad that she hadn't allowed Catherine to give her a play by play, since Jamie was now doing so. She was so glad to see the bubbling enthusiasm on her partner's face, however, that she would have been fascinated to hear Jamie read the phone book aloud.

"So everything was great, huh?" Ryan asked when Jamie was finished.

"Yeah. Pretty great." She paused for a moment and admitted, "It was hard not to have my father be there. He’s never missed an important event in my life." After a few moments she added, "One time he flew all night just so he could be at some silly Christmas pageant that I was in."

"Maybe he’ll come around soon, and he can see some of your matches," Ryan mused.

"Yeah. Maybe. But if he gets the nod to fill Senator Sommers' seat, he’ll be in Washington. I think we’ve wasted our little window of opportunity."

"Never say never, Babe. You’ve got spring season, too."

The phone rang after Ryan went upstairs to study, and Jamie was pleased to find her mother calling to invite them to an art opening for one of her favorite young artists. After a brief conversation, Jamie promised to call back after she had discussed it with Ryan.

She had been studying in the library so she ran upstairs to speak to her partner. Ryan was sitting at her computer, the colorful screen saver reflecting off of her round, silver reading glasses. Jamie was used to her ability to concentrate but this was pretty intense even for her. Ryan had no awareness of another presence in the room, so Jamie quietly sat down on the bed to allow her to finish her thought. While she waited, she indulged in one of her favorite pastimes. She absolutely loved to watch Ryan when she wasn’t aware that she was being watched, and this evening provided the perfect opportunity.

Ryan’s eyes were focused like lasers on the abstract geometric patterns that scrolled across her screen, and Jamie wondered what could possibly be going through her mind to captivate her attention so fully. But she knew that Ryan’s work was then--and would always be--indecipherable to her, and she had slowly come to accept that as a fact of life.