Page 17 of Pages of My Heart

That earns a round of hearty objections from the other three O’Reillys, but afterwards the conversation settles as they move on to discuss the goings on of the world, especially the worrisome behavior of Germany’s leader, Hitler, and if he’s as dangerous as some are saying.

Charlie relaxes, relieved the interrogation was short-lived and happy things seem to be going as planned.

An hour or so later, after the cake pan has been cleared and Charlie’s leg is jumping from a second cup of coffee, Thomas stands. “Well, we should be heading off. We’re going on a double date with two sisters I met on campus—Betty and Joan. We’re taking them to the pictures.”

Maggie jumps to her feet, a little too energetically. “Charlie, who are you dating? Betty or Joan?”

Charlie stands, too, giving the young girl an indulgent smile.

She reminds him a lot of his own sister at that age.

“Your brother’s got his eye on Betty, so I’m taking out Joan.

Haven’t met her yet, though. It’s a blind date for me.

Tommy here already knows Betty pretty well,” he says with a wink, earning a snort from Michael and a punch in the shoulder from Thomas.

Bridget just shakes her head. “Well, good luck, boys. Don’t forget your manners,” she says with a pointed look at Thomas, “and remember to buy your dates a box of candy. It might just earn you a second date.”

Thomas chuckles at Bridget’s advice. “Sure thing, sis. You never know, Betty might just be the future Mrs. Thomas O’Reilly if I play my cards right.”

“Cheeky boy!” Bridget says, slapping Thomas’s arm. “It was lovely to meet you, Charlie. Come ’round and visit anytime.”

Five minutes later they’re walking down the road smiling like idiots, a little too much spring in their steps.

“I told you we should have done this a long time ago,” Thomas says, playfully elbowing Charlie in the ribs. “Now you can come visit me whenever. And you don’t have to fret so much every time we go out. Just never look at me like you’re looking at me now, or it’ll be a dead giveaway.”

Charlie stops walking, so Thomas does too, and they turn to face each other. “And just how am I looking at you, Red?”

“Like you’re in love with me.”

Charlie’s heart always quickens whenever Thomas talks like this, but he thinks he’s getting a lot better at reciprocating with words of his own.

“It’s hard not to look at you like that cause I am in love with you, idiot.

Sometimes too much, I think.” He senses Thomas is on the verge of doing something reckless, not mindful of the kids across the road playing ball.

“I want to kiss you, too,” he quickly adds.

“But we can’t risk it. Anyone could see us. ”

Thomas’s expression grows impossibly softer, his cheeks flushing like a springtime rose. “I could never love you too much, Charlie. And thank you for agreeing to meet my family. Did you like them? I think Maggie is a little sweet on you.”

Charlie chuckles and they resume walking. “Yeah, I like ’em. Although I don’t think your brother is too fond of me. Got the impression he don’t like too many people though.”

“Yeah, Michael can be that way until he gets to know you. But you’ve got Bridge’s approval already! And next time you can meet Eddie, and maybe my dad—not that anyone ever really wants to meet Patty.”

Charlie lightly slaps Thomas on the arm. “By the way, where did you come up with Betty and Joan? You didn’t tell me you were gonna say all that.”

Thomas laughs, triumphant like a kid that got away with stealing from a candy jar.

“Well, there is a girl at college named Betty, and she does have a sister.” He sighs then, voice getting more serious.

“You know, eventually we will have to go on actual dates. We need to keep up appearances, so no one suspects.”

Charlie watches the sun slip behind the clouds as they round the corner. “Yeah, suppose we do.”

The following Saturday, the roles are reversed, and Charlie waits outside his family home for Thomas to arrive.

At first they’d planned to meet at Jerry’s house, where Charlie is living, and then travel to the Miller house together.

But Charlie couldn’t shake the fear that his father might be home—despite Evie’s assurances that he had picked up weekend work at the train yard—and insisted on arriving first to check, not wanting Thomas anywhere near the mean old bastard.

Thomas makes no secret of his feelings about Robert—about his hatred and his desire for payback—but Thomas doesn’t truly understand the violent and sadistic nature of his father.

Leaning against the rickety front gate, puffing on a Lucky Strike, Charlie hears the front door open behind him and then his sister’s voice. “He’s not here yet?”

“Evie, go back inside. I told you he’s not interested in gettin’ a steady girl right now. He wants to concentrate on his schooling.” Turning to look at his sister, he continues, “Besides, I thought you were keen on Richard.”

Evie huffs and adjusts a pin in her dark hair. “A girl can have more than one suitor, Charlie. Just because Ruthie broke it off with you doesn’t mean you have to be a spoil sport and ruin my chances. Perhaps this Thomas boy is my Prince Charming.”

Charlie looks back up the road with a smirk on his face, knowing just how far off the mark she truly is.

“Go wait inside.” He takes one last puff of his cigarette, dropping it to the ground and extinguishing it with his shoe.

The front door bangs closed, and he checks his wristwatch. Thomas is late.

His mind wanders back to what Evie said about Ruthie, and it makes him uneasy, like standing too close to the edge of a tall building.

He told Thomas he had called off the wedding—which he did—but what he told his family was that Ruthie had broken it off.

At the time, he’d reasoned that if it was Ruthie’s decision, then his father would have to accept it.

The alternative was to tell the truth and leave the door open for his father to intervene and force the marriage.

Of course, the lie had achieved the desired outcome, freeing him up to be with Thomas, but it had also gotten him the beating of his life for not being man enough to keep a woman.

What he’d never anticipated, though, was Thomas and his family crossing paths one day.

“Penny for your thoughts?”

Charlie snaps his head up to find Thomas standing a mere foot away, a teasing smile on his lips. “You’re late, Red. Was fallin’ asleep waitin’ on ya.”

Thomas chuckles and slaps him high on the back, but then his hand drops lower, pausing briefly just above his ass before falling away. They gaze at each other for a beat too long, then Charlie turns and leads them to the front door.

“This house ain’t nothing like yours. You’re in the wrong part of town now, Red,” he says, keeping his eyes down.

“Grew up in a house just like this one. I don’t care and you know it.”

They enter and immediately collide with Evie, who must have been watching them from the window.

Yet another reason to remain vigilant. Thomas would say he’s just paranoid, but Charlie is always half convinced that everyone can tell how he feels about Thomas, and even more, that they know what he and Thomas do to each other when they’re alone.

It makes his body flush with embarrassment and shame.

And it’s not that he’s ashamed of Thomas.

He knows his love for Thomas is real, and even pure, and he listens when Thomas tells him that in a just world, loving someone could never be wrong.

Yet the feelings follow him all the same, like a shadow, ever present and inescapable.

“Charlie, aren’t you going to introduce me?” Evie asks. Her eyes are wide with excitement as she bounces on the balls of her feet.

“Jesus, let the guy get inside first,” he says, ushering her back into the sitting room. “Thomas, this is my pesky little sister, Evie.”

Evie holds out her hand and Thomas kisses it, like some kind of dapper don. Evie giggles like a schoolgirl and blushes profusely. Charlie can only shake his head and roll his eyes, leaving them to chatter idly about the weather.

He calls out, “Ma, you in the kitchen?” He enters to find his mother sweeping around the icebox.

“Charles, my beautiful boy,” she says, resting the broom against the counter. “Has your friend arrived?”

Charlie hugs his mother, holding her gently like he would a wounded bird.

He’s already seen the yellow bruises on her upper arms where his father has undoubtedly restrained her with his hands, and there is a faint bluish shadow around her left eye—still visible despite the thick layer of powder she has applied to her face.

The guilt sits heavy in the pit of Charlie’s stomach.

He should still be here to protect her. What sort of son isn’t willing to take the occasional beating so his mother can be spared?

Charlie’s mother is a petite woman, standing barely five feet tall.

Unlike Charlie and Evie, she has sandy blonde hair, like Donnie.

She is timid and soft spoken, making her easy prey for his father.

Charlie loves her, of course, but there is a part of him that holds anger, even resentment, toward her too.

Why does she stay? Why does she put up with him?

Why did she bear children with a man like Robert?

Charlie knows his anger is unreasonable—Where would she go?

What choices does she have?—and underneath it all nothing more than a deflection.

It enables him to shift blame to his mother, easing his own guilt and failings as a son. And as a man.

“Ma, are you sure you’re okay? Has Pops been drin—”

“Stop fussing, Chippy,” his mother says, cutting him off and patting him gently on the cheek. “Always my soft, sensitive boy. Come on, introduce me to your friend.”