He shakes his head slowly from side to side. “Oh, dear,” he says in a tone dripping with warning.
Seconds later, I feel like a child. God, I acted like a child. Why does he do this to me?
I remember we have an audience. I turn away from Tully and back to Mary.
“I’m sorry. Tully and I have a difference of opinion is all.”
She smiles. “Seems like. No worries. Remember, I’m familiar with the men of the north.”
“McKenna, we’re sorting through things now. Would be a lot easier if you were back at the estate.”
“You would say that.” But a part of me wonders, am I being too stubborn? Should I go back with him? But then I also know that if I go, there's no coming back. That would be it, it would be harder and harder for me to make any breaks with the McCarthy clan. Living there with them is one step away from becoming a claimed woman. I know a part of me, the softer, weaker part of me, would like that, but I can’t let myself give in.
Other women like to know where life is going to lead them. But I like the life that I live. I like my humble home, my humble job, the simple life that I have created right here for me. But am I truly safe? And are my choices putting other people at risk? I never want to be so stubborn that I actually cause pain or suffering for anyone else.
Why does it have to be all or nothing? Can I just go with Tully, and not be a claimed woman of the clan? Can't I just go for a time?
I go back to Mary, and ask her as many questions that can possibly think of. She doesn't have that much to tell me, though, besides what she already has.
"And why didn't you come down right away?” I really want to know. If I just found out information about my birth mother that I’ve been looking for, I would've wanted to come straight away.
"You have to understand. People in the north are afraid of Ballyhock. I was afraid to come myself. But finally, when I heard there were things happening down here, I felt the time had come."
We talk easily, and I really, truly like her. She's witty and kind, and I want to get to know her better. But Tully is growing impatient.
“Call yer mam,” he finally says after Mary and I have chatted for an hour. “We don’t have time for any more chattering.”
I roll my eyes at Mary, who laughs easily, and take my mobile to my bedroom. My fingers tremble as I dial my mother.
She’s become a sort of a recluse since her husband died. The Clan took good care of her financially, and she’s set for life. But she rarely leaves home and doesn’t like to venture outside her city. She trusts no one, her eyes ever wide and fearful.
“Hello?”
“Hello, Mum. It’s me, McKenna.”
“Oh, hello, there. Are you good? Are you safe?” She always asks me that straight away. It’s just how she is. Still, it makes me a little anxious every time. My mum’s gone downhill in recent years, starting after the death of her late husband. She’s leery of others and rarely leaves her home.
“Aye, Mum.” I suddenly don't know how to bring this up. I want her to meet Mary, of course, but this could be a disastrous decision. I don't know how she'll react.
“Oh, good,” she says with a sigh. “I was a bit afraid.”
“Why’s that?” This sounds like more than her usual concern.
“Well…” her voice trails off, as if she’s second guessing herself now that I told her I’m okay. “Patrick was here today.”
My blood runs cold.
Patrick, my ex-boyfriend, pops up from time to time like a stubborn patch of weeds.
Tully doesn’t know about Patrick. I’ve buried the memory of him myself. He was cruel and abusive, a man I’d like to leave fully in the past. I hate that he was anywhere near my mum.
“What was it, this time?”
“He wanted to know if I needed my front steps mended.”
My hands clench by my sides. He’s always making an excuse, always looking for a reason to be where he isn’t welcome.
“And you told him…”
She sighs. “Well, I told him I could use some help. He looked awful, McKenna.”
I groan. “Mummm…”
“I know,” she says, already all fretful, and I haven’t even told her about Mary yet. “But he looked terrible. All skinny, and his eyes were sorta bloodshot-like, and I just felt bad for him.”
“Did he treat you well?”
“Oh aye, of course.”
“Well, no harm done then, as long as I don’t have to see him.”
“I mean, he asked about you, but I just told him you were doing really well teaching at St. Albert’s—”