I’m hardly going to battle as I have in the past, though we get snowstorms so rarely in these parts, the unpredictable nature of this storm puts us at risk. She helps me on with my coat, like a doting mother dressing her child to go play in the snow. She needs this, I think.
I kiss her one last time before I leave. I go to open the door, when I hear mom’s voice.
“Keenan. Are you going, too, then?”
I turn to face her and nod. “Aye, mam.”
She holds my gaze for a moment, then finally nods. I want to tell her so much. That I know Malachy means more to her than he used to. That I’m braving this storm for her, but sometimes there are things better left unsaid. Sometimes actions speak louder than words.
“Be careful, son.”
I grin at her. “Nothing to worry about. Might even get a bit of sledding in while I’m out there. And I left your youngest son, should the rest of us not return.”
She shakes her head and playfully smacks my arm, laughing and groaning at the same time, as I open the door. A gust of wind bursts through the door with so much force, both Caitlin and mam gasp. Without another moment of hesitation, I step straight into the biting wind. I bow my head to the gale that blows so fiercely. It’s as if the hand of God himself is trying to push me back inside to safety and warmth. But I don’t give in.
I push back, step further out, and slam the door behind me. It feels good to hear the door shut, like I’m tucking my family into bed for the night. They’ll stay warm and safe.
I walk down the long set of stone steps and turn to enter the parking garage. The outside door’s nearly frozen shut, and it takes a moment to yank it open. It’s often raw and chilly outside, where our house resides so close to the Irish Sea, but rarely so icy and snowy. I feel eyes on me as I finally open the door, and look up briefly to the large windows to see short little heads, hands cupped over eyes to block out the light, and little eyes watching me. I wave, open the door, and get my car.
The drive to where my men are is a quick and easy one. These are the only tracks from here to the bunker, easy to follow, as their tires left a trail in the snow, as telling as Hansel and Gretel’s trail of crumbs.
I sing softly to myself as I slowly drive down to where I see the cars parked ahead, remembering the words from the concert at Holy Family church the day before.
I saw three ships come sailing in
On Christmas Day, on Christmas Day
I saw three ships come sailing in
On Christmas Day in the morning
I can still see my father, tapping along to the music in the sitting room, smiling benevolently as we opened our gifts on Christmas morning. My fondest memory is the year I got my first pocket knife. Mam protested, but dad insisted. “He’s old enough to learn, Maeve.” And I did. Not just from him, but Malachy gave me lessons himself on knife safety, how to hold it, how to use it. I still have that knife nestled in between my socks in a bedroom drawer.
In my heart, I have a feeling Malachy will be alright, though I’m not so sure he is at the moment.
I open the door and face the cutting wind again. I see footprints in the snow, making it easy to follow my men to where they’re searching.
“Keenan!” Lachlan’s voice sounds as if he’s in a tunnel. I look up, blinded by flakes of snow. I shield my face against it so I can see where I’m going, and a chill runs straight down my spine. If I wasn’t wrapped in Caitlin’s scarf and hat, I’d be a damn snowman by now.
“Hello!” I shout out. Finally, I see them ahead of me. “What news, boys?”
Lachlan, Carson, and Cormac join me.
Carson’s head is bowed against the cold, but he still lifts his gaze to mine.
“Tire tracks that were on their way to the mansion, looks like they veered off course.
I nod. “And how do you know they’re his?”
“There the only marks for miles, and Carson timed it from when he left school. He’d have arrived just before these marks were made.” I don’t ask for details. Carson’s damn near a forensic detective.
“Where have they gone, then?”
Cormac shakes his head. “Hate to tell you, Keenan, but the only possible place they could’ve been is a ditch up ahead.” Something drops in my belly. If he’s veered off the road, he’d have made it out by now. He’d have called me, or at least done his part in informing me so mam wouldn’t worry so.