Page 35
Story: Sins and Salvation
"Maeve." His voice sounds tight. "Is the boy with you?"
"Conor's right here."
"Send him to another room."
Fear spikes through me. "Conor, go wash up for dinner."
When he's gone, I put the phone back to my ear. "What's happened?"
"There was an incident." Cormac's tone makes it worse. "Declan's hurt, but stable."
"How hurt?"
"Gunshot wound to the shoulder. He lost blood, but he'll recover."
I grip the edge of the table to steady myself. "And your fucking crazy sister?"
"Missing. The meeting... didn't go as planned."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning she brought more men than expected. Meaning she's more unhinged than we thought."
I close my eyes. "I want to talk to Declan."
"He's sedated right now. The doctor?—"
"Doctor? Not hospital?"
"We can't risk hospitals for this type of thing, Maeve. You know that."
"No, I don't know that. I'm not a fucking Donovan! So, help me God you better not have a vet or a butcher sewing him up!"
Silence on the line. "You're the mother of a Donovan. That makes you family whether you like it or not." The motherfucker.
I want to scream, to throw the phone, to pack our bags and run. Instead, I take a deep breath. "When can I talk to him?"
"Tomorrow, probably. I'll have him call you." A pause. "Stay where you are. It's not safe to leave yet."
"Is it ever going to be safe?"
Another pause. "I don't know."
After he hangs up, I sit at the kitchen table for a long time, staring at nothing. Declan's been shot. He could have died—might still die if this "doctor" of Cormac's isn't competent.
And for what?
I make dinner on autopilot. Conor chatters about the dolphins he saw again, about the stones he collected, about everything a six-year-old notices when his world isn't falling apart.
I tuck him in early, exhausted by the effort of pretending everything's normal.
In my room, I pull out my laptop again. There's a nursing job in Vancouver. A good salary, benefits, a fresh start. We could disappear there, change our names, build a new life.
Conor would forget Declan eventually. Children are resilient.
But I wouldn't forget.And Declan wouldn't stop looking.
* * *
"Conor's right here."
"Send him to another room."
Fear spikes through me. "Conor, go wash up for dinner."
When he's gone, I put the phone back to my ear. "What's happened?"
"There was an incident." Cormac's tone makes it worse. "Declan's hurt, but stable."
"How hurt?"
"Gunshot wound to the shoulder. He lost blood, but he'll recover."
I grip the edge of the table to steady myself. "And your fucking crazy sister?"
"Missing. The meeting... didn't go as planned."
"Meaning what?"
"Meaning she brought more men than expected. Meaning she's more unhinged than we thought."
I close my eyes. "I want to talk to Declan."
"He's sedated right now. The doctor?—"
"Doctor? Not hospital?"
"We can't risk hospitals for this type of thing, Maeve. You know that."
"No, I don't know that. I'm not a fucking Donovan! So, help me God you better not have a vet or a butcher sewing him up!"
Silence on the line. "You're the mother of a Donovan. That makes you family whether you like it or not." The motherfucker.
I want to scream, to throw the phone, to pack our bags and run. Instead, I take a deep breath. "When can I talk to him?"
"Tomorrow, probably. I'll have him call you." A pause. "Stay where you are. It's not safe to leave yet."
"Is it ever going to be safe?"
Another pause. "I don't know."
After he hangs up, I sit at the kitchen table for a long time, staring at nothing. Declan's been shot. He could have died—might still die if this "doctor" of Cormac's isn't competent.
And for what?
I make dinner on autopilot. Conor chatters about the dolphins he saw again, about the stones he collected, about everything a six-year-old notices when his world isn't falling apart.
I tuck him in early, exhausted by the effort of pretending everything's normal.
In my room, I pull out my laptop again. There's a nursing job in Vancouver. A good salary, benefits, a fresh start. We could disappear there, change our names, build a new life.
Conor would forget Declan eventually. Children are resilient.
But I wouldn't forget.And Declan wouldn't stop looking.
* * *
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