Wishes on the Wind (61 page)

    Exchanging a last glance, the two men parted, Kehoe to the staircase to the street and Terry back to the bar below.

    Raising his glass to his lips a few minutes later, Terry glanced into the corner where Sean sat quietly conversing with Jim McKenna.

    He knew he need not fear losing Meg any longer if he pressed Sean, and his stomach twisted painfully. Meg had turned her back on him for good. So much did she despise him that he was uncertain if she would go to the authorities about him if she didn't know that to implicate him would be to implicate her own brother as well. Memory of the loathing in those great eyes where love had once shone twisted the knife of pain inside him anew. She would loathe him even more before this week was done.

    The anguish in Terry's expression slowly turned to stone. But

    he had determined another thing as well. If he would never again hold Meg in his arms, neither would David Lang. It was only a matter of time.

    A strange sense of unreality filled Sean's mind as he stared at the pistol Terry placed in his hand. It was heavy and cold despite the heat of his upstairs bedroom. The alien feel of it brought a frown to his face as he looked up into Terry's close scrutiny.

    "The job must be done." Terry's voice was a low monotone. "There're few I can now trust with the job. Yer one of them, despite our personal differences of late. Are ye up to it?"

    Sean hesitated. His eyes narrowed as he wondered at the reason for his delay in responding. He had known this time would eventually come. He had once anticipated it with an eagerness that now seemed unreal, but he had not anticipated the feel of this weapon in his hand. It was as cold as the death it could evoke. His hesitation became prolonged.

    "Have ye lost the heart for it, then?" Terry's tone became an angry growl. At the further narrowing of Sean's gaze, Terry's face flushed with suppressed fury. "I didn't take ye for such a fool! What will ye do now, me boyo? Will ye take yer buxom little Sheila to wife and settle in a house in the patch? And then will ye produce yer progeny year after year until yer house is full and yer table is lean? Will ye then wait for yer oldest to reach the age of seven so he might help out with the expenses by workin' in the breaker, and then in the mine alongside ye at the age of twelve so he might pull a fuller wage?"

    Terry paused and straightened his broad shoulders. "But I warn ye, while ye are doin' that ye'll see the faces around ye
changin
'. There'll be less and less Irish in the mines, and only the last and the dirtiest jobs will be left to them that remain. But ye'll have missed yer chance to change all that, so ye'll have no choice but to be thankful to take yer meager wage while they spit on ye for bein' what ye are. Ye'll keep yer mouth shut, but it'll all start
festerin
' inside ye then. The sore will get bigger and bigger every day until ye curse the day ye were born 'cause there'll be no way out, save the one ye threw away."

    When Sean still did not respond, Terry's face contorted with rage. "What's happened to ye! Have ye forgotten that yer less a man in the eyes of them in charge just because of the Irish blood that flows in yer veins? Have ye thrown yer vows to the Brotherhood aside and yer vow to avenge yer Da and brothers as     well? Will ye sacrifice yer manhood for the sake of a woman even if that woman be yer own sister? Fie on ye, Sean O'Connor, for the
weaklin
' yer sister has made of ye!"

    "Don't speak of my sister to me!"

    "I will, for yer sister's me wife as well! I love her as do ye, but I'd not have her turn me into what that bastard on the hill, and all them like him, would have me be. I made me choice, and ye know I did it well when ye heard of
Gomer
James's fall."

    His rage slowly subsiding, Terry stared at Sean with great sobriety. "Think carefully of what ye do now, me friend, for ye'll live with it the rest of yer life. Think of the years past, then look to the future and see if ye can live with what ye see, for there'll be no change unless we make it happen now. Then look at the gun in yer hand and judge if it be a small price to pay for all that might be achieved with it."

    Sean was staring at the gun as Terry posed one last whispered question. "Tell me, will ye be content to live yer life knowin' ye sacrificed yer honor in this hour?"

    The silence of the room was long and pronounced as Sean's hand slowly closed around the handle of the gun. He looked up to meet Terry's keen stare. "I knew my time was soon to come when
Gomer
James fell to the dirt in that grove. In the time since, I've searched my heart for what I would do when it did. And it's come down to this. I've no choice in what I must do, you see. My life's been forfeit the many years since my Da and the boys died, for I knew then, as I know now, that fate kept me from the shaft that day for a purpose. That purpose wasn't so I might eke out a
livin
' to the end of my days in that dank hole where my Da and the boys met their end. I was to make a difference, you see. I've not told this to anyone else, for I've known none would understand, but I'm thinkin' you do." His eyes holding Terry's, Sean continued tightly. "You're right that I faltered because of Meg, for she's dearer to me than any other on this earth, and I've no desire to hurt her. She loves me, and knowin' what I've to do with this"

    Sean's hand tightened spasmodically around the handle of the gun and his eyes dropped briefly closed. "But all that's come to pass has been for naught if I turn my back on it now, and if I fail to do what I must, there'll be no use in my havin' survived at all."

    Sean took a steadying breath. The smile he forced to his lips was as cold as the smile Terry returned. "Aye, you can count on me to get the job done. When's it to be?"

    "Before the day is out."

    Sean's heart began a heavy hammering. "It's to be the two of us?"

    "Nay, three. McKenna will be included."

    Sean's jaw tightened. The gun still in his hand, he was unprepared as the door suddenly opened.

    A cold hand of panic closed around Meg's throat. A gun in Sean's hand…

    Unexpectedly snatched out of the doorway as the door slammed closed behind her, Meg pushed herself free of Terry before addressing Sean in a ragged whisper.

    "What are you doing with that gun?" She whitened. "Not David…?"

    Sean's gaze was chillingly cold. "Lang's as safe as he'll ever be, and what I've to do with this is none of your affair."

    Meg's relief was fleeting. "Is it not my affair that my brother is about to lose his soul?"

    "Don't speak to me of souls, Meg!" Sean's eyes suddenly spit fire. "You'd not accept that I've no soul to lose, but it's true, for if it ever existed inside me, it's been long lost these many years."

    "Nay, Sean. You've not used one of those before." Meg looked at the pistol in his hand with a barely suppressed shudder. "You told me you haven't."

    "Then that was my mistake."

    Uncertain how to take her brother's cryptic remark, Meg glanced at Terry to see he observed all with an unfeeling expression. She turned hot with rage.

    "The devil in disguise is what you are, Terry Donovan! Does it give you pleasure to drag my brother down with you?"

    "Nay, don't lay the blame to Terry. He"

    "Ye needn't stand up for me, Sean. I can speak for meself." Terry looked at Meg and she felt the full weight of his intense scrutiny as his eyes suddenly softened, resembling those of the Terry she had once believed true.

    "Ye see me as a devil, Meg, and that's strange because ye took on the look of an angel to me from the first time me eyes touched on yer beautiful face. I wanted ye then, and I want ye
nowbut
not to bring ye or yer brother
downnay
, not that. I cherished the hope inside me that ye'd bring me up to match the beauty I saw within and without ye. But there just wasn't enough time, and it wasn't to be. I know that now. It's too late for us, but if ye understand nothin' else about me, I want ye to understand that I

    never meant ye any harm. Ye must know that I do what I do because me convictions are as strong as yer own, and I can no sooner deny them than ye can deny
yers
. We're driven by a need, Sean and me. We're the same inside"

    "You're not the same! Sean has no blood on his hands."

    The silence that followed made its own emphatic statement, and Meg gasped. Uncertain what she meant to do, Meg turned suddenly and made for the door, only to be snatched from her feet by Terry's strong arm as his other hand clamped across her mouth.

    She was fighting Terry's relentless grip when Sean barked, "Let her go!"

    Sean gripped Terry's arm in an attempt to free her as Terry hissed, "Desist, I say! Would you have yer sister turn the whole bunch of us in to the police in a misguided attempt to save ye?"

    Sean's hand stilled. "Meg wouldn't" Halting midsentence to stare down into Meg's face, Sean read the truth in her eyes before he allowed his to drift briefly closed.

    "Over there get yer spare hose."

    Terry's curt order raised Sean's eyes to his face with unspoken protest.

    "Do as I say! Her hands and ankles tied and a gag around her mouth will keep her here long enough for us to get our work done. Once it's over we'll have nothin' to fear, for she'd not turn ye in then."

    Her heart pounding, Meg watched Sean slowly turn to retrieve his hose, and her struggling increased. No, she couldn't let Sean do this! She had to stop him!

    Securely bound moments later, Meg lay on Sean's bed. Her eyes were filled with incredulous terror as the two men walked to the door. Pausing there, Sean suddenly turned and walked back to her side. He crouched beside the bed and she fought to speak through the heavy gag but it was no use. The pain in Sean's eyes grew as he stroked a strand of hair back from her damp cheek.

    "Hush, Meg. I'm doin' what must be done, and whatever the sacrifice, I have no true regrets. If you fear the devil may eventually take my heart and soul, you may console yourself that he'll take all but the parts where you reside. Those parts are pure and clean, Meg, and they'll ever belong to you."

    The weight of her tears too heavy to bear, Meg closed her eyes, and when she opened them again the door was closing behind them.

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    The pain in her knees was steady as Fiona turned the corner and her home came into view. Breathing another grateful prayer, she clutched the cross around her neck with a shaking hand. With all the horror of that night in the pleasure grounds and the tension in her own home in the time since, her cross had been forgotten.

    She had never expected to see it again, and she had been overwhelmed with gratitude when little James McNulty brought it to her door that morning. Walking around to the rear door of the house, Fiona entered the kitchen and stopped short at the silence there. It was empty, just as she had left it, and a sudden apprehension crawled up the back of her spine. A quick look revealed Meg was not in her room. Where could she be?

    A dull thumping from the second floor intruded into Fiona's thoughts, raising her eyes unconsciously to the ceiling. Swallowing tightly, she followed the sound up the staircase to Sean's room. The thumping grew louder as she called inside. Carefully unlocking the door with her spare key, she pushed it open, a shocked gasp escaping her lips.

    Within moments she was at the bedside, her hands clumsy with haste as she unfastened her niece's bonds.

    ''Meg, me darlin' girl"

    Her gaze frantic, Meg jumped to her feet the moment her bonds were freed. She stumbled on her benumbed limbs and Fiona pressed, "Tell me who did this to ye!"

    Meg shook her head. "I have to go! Oh, Aunt, I must try"

    Snapping her lips closed, Meg turned abruptly and was out through the doorway and running down the front stairs. Fiona's heart became a deadening weight within her. Suddenly shuddering, a dreadful premonition crawling up her spine, Fiona covered her eyes.

    Meg ran through the late-afternoon streets, unconscious of the curious looks she drew as she turned another corner, gasping. How long had it been before Aunt Fiona came home? An hour? More? A sob tore at her throat.

    Guided by instinct, Meg turned onto a familiar path, stumbling, falling, and pulling herself to her feet again.

    The guards at the manor's front door made no attempt to stop her as Meg rushed into the foyer. Her frantic step came to an abrupt halt when she saw David in the doorway of the study, and a sharp, hysterical laugh escaped her throat. David was safe.

        Within moments his arms were tight around her as he questioned anxiously, "Meg, what's wrong?"

    "David, I thought…"

    Meg was momentarily unable to continue, causing David's concerned demand, "Meg, tell me what's wrong."

    Meg shook her head, her panic increasing. "No, I must go. They didn't come here, but I must find them!"

    "Find whom? Meg, look at me!"

    A sob escaped Meg's throat as she met David's eyes. "Terry and Sean. It may be too late already."