“Do it,” Aisling says, her eyes gleaming. “And Faidha will come and watch.”
“Not now,” Keenan says. “But in time, we’ll have you back in the ring. And anyone who comes to watch will know you’re McCarthy clan stock.” The note of pride in his voice makes me stand up straighter with my arm around Aisling.
“Aye,” I say. “Sounds like an excellent plan.”
We eat our meal and thank those who congratulate us. Fiona puts us through on a call to the hospital to Tully, who’s recovering slowly but getting there. He congratulates us, and Aisling’s eyes shine with tears when she says, “Thank you, Tully. Thanks for what you did.”
“I wish a world of happiness to you both,” he says. “You deserve it.”
I suppose the old me would’ve balked at the notion of “deserving” a world of happiness. I don’t give it much thought, really. I focus on my job, my duties, my responsibilities. But now I’ve got this strong-willed, brilliant, absolutely stunner of a woman on my arm who’s declared herself my fiancée. And damned if I’ll do anything but devote myself to a new purpose.
Dedication to the Clan.
Dedication to Aisling.
She reaches for my hand and squeezes it. I squeeze her back. We thank the staff that congratulates us, Maeve and Caitlin. Megan and Carson, and Cormac and Aileen. Boner and even Malachy’s come to visit from St. Albert’s. I look around this room, beaming with pride at the woman at my side. Sometimes you just know when something’s good and right, and maybe even meant to be.
Aisling looks at me, her eyes beaming. It’s been a hard road for her, and it’ll be a hard road for her yet. I lean in and kiss her, tasting her sweet essence and devotion. There will be challenges ahead of us, but after what we’ve been through, we’ll face them together.
Only this time, we won’t be alone. We’ve got an army behind us, but most importantly… each other.EpilogueAislingSix months later“Honest to God, Faidha! Your man’s strong as a fucking ox.”
Cousin Megan’s on her feet, cheering for Tiernan as he fights. Watching him fight’s a bit of a mixed bag with me. On the one hand, I marvel at his strength and expertise. The papers tout him as Ireland’s most talented bare-knuckled fighter of the decade, and I wouldn’t argue that point. It’s been six months, and he’s undefeated. But it’d be a lie to say it doesn’t affect me. I’m not sure how anyone could be impassive, knowing every time her man stepped into the ring he could be badly injured. But I manage.
His leg’s fully healed, though it gives him a bit of a twinge from time to time.
The crowd erupts as Tiernan’s opponent falls to the ring, and the referee holds Tiernan’s arm up in the air.
Victory.
“Bloody brilliant,” Tully says, sitting to my left. He’s only back from hospital now for a few weeks, and already eager to join us at St. Albert’s. I suspect I know why, and it has something to do with a certain doe-eyed teacher who looks at him as if he hung the moon.
My transformation seems nearly complete. Very few at the school had any inkling as to why their headmaster ended up arrested and incarcerated, and once word got out among the parent council that it had something to do with an illicit affair, they hushed it up right quick. Keenan offered Malachy the job, and Malachy took the position with honor and pride.
“Never fancied myself head of the school,” he said. “But I love these boys, and I’ll do my best by them.”
We all knew he would, and it’s why Keenan appointed him to begin with.
His first job as headmaster was to appoint Tiernan head instructor of ealaíona comhraic. Though Tiernan’s specialty lies in boxing, he’s excellent at all the traditional forms of fighting. He’s not only a natural in the ring, his role as older brother and brother of the Clan make him an excellent teacher as well. He’s firm but kind, holding the boys to high standards. But they respect, and even revere him.
As for me, I’ve been hired as an art teacher, and I absolutely love it. Tiernan and I wed in a small, simple ceremony at Holy Family, and Father Finn heard us take our vows. It was actually freeing to shed my old identity and take on my own. I thought it would be odd at first to have a different name, but I suppose married women have been doing just that for centuries. Faidha Hurston is who I am now.
The Prime Minister has put to rest his pursuit of his son’s murderer, due in no small part to the exposé that made headlines several months after “Aisling’s death” that he was having an affair with his secretary. Many thanks to Sheena’s hand in that revelation.