Player - A Deadliest Lies Novel - Michele Mannon Page 0,73
she’s quick to seize on the break in silence.
“Nostalgia.” Because the time spent with you were the best weeks of me life.
“You miss Ireland?”
“What I miss is being up inside you.”
“Pull over.” She raises an eyebrow, challengingly. “But you should consider turning the car off this time.”
With her smiling at me like that, I’m tempted to haul her sweet arse up the knoll flanking the roadway. I resist, instead giving into a different sort of mind feckery. “We’re almost there.”
“Derry?”
“Someplace I want to visit first.” It’s bollocks, what I’m doing. If da were alive, he’d slap me on the noggin for bringing her here days before we part ways.
Why torture myself? Why pretend, one last time, that I could be a different man?
A wrought-iron fence appears up ahead, and I slow the car.
“A graveyard?”
I nod.
Her pretty lips part in surprise. “You want to have sex in a graveyard?”
“That’s not why I brought you here.” I feel me lips twitch. “However . . .”
Her laughter fills the car.
I soak the sound up like a sunny day.
It’s a small burial site, and it warms me heart to see the trimmed hedges and mowed grass. Love and care go into the upkeep. I find peace of mind in that. I drive to the fork in the lane then bear left and follow the one that leads to their graves.
Parking, I hurry around the car to open her door. Hand in hand, I tug her along until we’re standing over them.
“Your parents?” she breathes.
“Yes.” I take a few seconds to brush the leaves off their graves. “Ma and Da, meet Clarissa,” I mumble. There’s no rhyme or reason to bringing her here to meet them. I can almost hear me da saying, “Look at the state o’ you.”
But this is as real as it gets. I’m sharing a part of me. Why? I dunno. I wonder if she’ll think this was a lie. Will her hatred overshadow the truth—that this thing between us is real.
Besides me, she begins to read.
Here lies Donegal McDuff.
Still waiting for someone to call his bluff.
June 14, 1955 - June 3, 2009
Here lies Maureen McDuff.
Whose last words to her dearest husband were, “Enough is enough.”
November 1, 1961 - June 3, 2009
“They died on the same day?”
“Car accident.”
“I’m sorry.”
I squeeze her hand. “They lived life to the fullest.”
“I can see where you get your sense of humor from.”
“They would have liked you.”
“Any sisters or brothers?”
I point to a small, simple gravestone. “Over there. My older brother died when I was five years old. Struck by a car.”
“They all died in car accidents.”
“Yes.”
She’s quiet, thinking about that. I can’t tell her that I’m more likely to die by gunshot or be blown up by dynamite than find my end by the tail end of a vehicle. So, instead, I state the obvious. “Been a while since I’ve been back here.”
“In your line of work, I imagine coming home would be hard.”
Impossible—when there’s no one to come home to. If things were different, it’d be you.
“They’d be proud of the man you are, Finn.” She leans into me and I want to cry at the moon. Instead, I wrap my arm around her waist and tug her in tighter. “Close yer eyes.”
“Why?”
I sigh. “Just do it, right? Give me this moment.”
She grunts and does as I ask. “I need to ask you a difficult question. About Christiana.”
I feel her stiffen then relax. Trusting me. “Yes?”
“If you could do it all over, if you could choose between making her happy or protecting her, what would you do?”
She shakes her head. “That’s a no-brainer. Happiness is intangible. It’s not something you can give a person. It comes from within. Sure, I’d like to believe my presence generates joy, that my actions fill hearts with pleasure. But ultimately, it’s up to the individual.”
“So, you’d choose to protect her.”
“Yes. I’d protect her to the best of my abilities.”
Clarissa’s quiet, probably thinking about the little girl she carried across a desert to protect. Mission failed, despite her efforts.
“She’d be proud of the woman you are, Clarissa.”
I hear her intake of breath but leave well enough alone.
After a while, we walk back to the car, hands joined until I’m forced to let go.
I place the key in the ignition but before I can turn it, her lips are on mine. Her kiss is gentle. Full of goodness. Full of hope. It lasts a short while though I’ll remember it a lifetime.
Her kisses are sweet but her next words bittersweet.