friendly with them, but there was something about him while he was around them that made me watch him even closer.
Cash Kelly had found a purpose in these people?
Harrison had also warned me about the war going on in Hell’s Kitchen—apart from the other one Kelly had started with Scott—because he wanted me to be careful. But here? Among these people? It didn’t seem to exist. They were having a grand time. Even the senior men of the group had gotten together and started to sing old Irish tunes for the fun of it.
If I set this scene next to the one Kelly always painted in my head, it made no sense.
Or maybe these people were too afraid of him not to come and celebrate? He was hell-bent on ruling these streets again, so maybe he did whatever it took to get these people to go to war for him?
“Sit here, Connolly. Granny’ll sit right there.”
I was sitting in a beach chair, and I turned to find an older woman taking a seat in the chair closest to mine. A little girl, maybe about seven or eight, sat next to her.
The older lady met my eye. “Congratulations,” she said, tipping her head to me. She wasn’t your usual “grandma” type. I couldn’t find anything sweet about her. She seemed as tough as nails. “I have to say, Mr. Kelly chose a good bride. You look sturdy enough to take on a man like him. I’m not speaking physically, either.”
I found no offense to her words. I even wanted to grin, but I held back for the sake of respect. “I hope that’s true, Ms…?”
“Maureen will do,” she said. She nodded toward the little girl. “This is my granddaughter. Connolly.”
Even though her grandmother spoke to her, she looked away, and not at the crowd. She stared at a spot on the building, where no one was standing to block her view.
“What a beautiful name,” I said, and I meant it. It fit her. She didn’t answer so I tried again after a minute. “Are you having fun?”
Kids her age were everywhere, but she wasn’t even bothering to look at them, either.
“Connolly chooses to stay silent,” Maureen said.
I looked at Maureen, hoping my face conveyed the question. Chooses to stay silent?
Maureen set her hands on the chair and then groaned as she forced herself back up. “Would you mind keeping an eye on her? I’m going to see if she’ll eat if I make her a plate.”
Not bothering to wait for my answer, Connolly’s grandmother headed in the direction of the tables set with food. Maybe it was my imagination, but she seemed almost relieved to have walked off.
I relaxed in my seat, but I was determined to try to talk to her, even if she only listened. The old men were singing a song that put a smile on my face. “I had a sister,” I said to her. “My twin. Her name was Roisin. Which is close to Connolly—” she shot me a look “— sort of.” I smiled and her eyes narrowed, but I got her to look at me, at least. “She loved this song. She could even dance to it.”
After a second, she turned away from me again.
I started to hum along to the song, moving my feet against the cement in a steady rhythm. “Do you know any old Irish songs?”
Nothing. Not a nod. Not a look. Her eyes were glued to dead space.
“Maybe one day, if you’d ever like to learn them, or how to dance to them, I can teach you.”
Silence. No movement.
“Yeah, who likes old music anyway?” I said. “You gotta get down with the times, right?”
She sighed, and for a second, I wondered if I was bothering her. Then I wondered if she just didn’t care for casual conversation.
“I understand,” I said, my voice low. “After my sister…I didn’t want to talk either. It hurt. I didn’t know what to say to make it go away.” Why was I telling this child this? I had no clue, but the words kept coming.
“Then my brother—” I nodded toward him, even though she couldn’t see “—told me that I didn’t have to talk. He said he could read the clouds in my eyes. They created all of the words I couldn’t say. Maybe one day, if you ever feel like hanging out, I can read the clouds in your eyes on a sunny day, too. Or my brother can. He’s the best at it.”
It