Page 70 of The Past

I prayed the whole way.

Please, God.Please.

When we got to the waiting room, he was already being worked on somewhere where we couldn’t see.I paced, periodically asking for updates.Fiona and Kathleen clung to each other.Their tears had dried, but I saw the anguish left behind.

It felt liked we’d been there a long time, and maybe that was good news.But when a set of double doors opened and I saw a doctor walking toward us with a grim expression, it only confirmed what I already knew.

He didn’t have to say it.

Kathleen stood stoically, Fiona clutching her hand.My arm went around her waist.“I’m so sorry,” the doctor said gently.“There was nothing we could do.”

A sound ripped from Kathleen’s throat, raw and broken.

Fiona swayed, and I pulled her in tight to me.She turned into my chest, her fingers digging into my shirt, her body shaking with silent sobs.

I held her tighter than I ever had, pressing my lips to her hair.“I got you,” I whispered.“I got you, Fi.”

She’d lost everything.

Her father.Her home.

And now Rory.

The only real father she’d ever known.

She shattered in my arms.

And all I could do was hold her together.

CHAPTER 24

Fiona

The sky weptfor Rory.At least that’s how it felt as I watched the fat raindrops roll off the eaves of the stone church.They spattered against the uneven cobblestones beneath my feet as we made our way up the steps.The wind kicked up for just a moment, rustling the yew trees standing guard and causing a shiver to ripple down my spine.

Inside, it was no surprise the church was overflowing.People stood shoulder to shoulder in the narrow aisle, filling every pew—a testament to how well loved my uncle was.Rory had been a man of this land, woven into its very fabric, and so they had come for him—farmhands in their Sunday best, neighbors from the village, old friends who had known him since he was a lad, and every employee at Glenhaven.

I could feel the sorrow weighing heavy not just on me, but on every mourner here.There were sniffles and the occasional sob, and I felt like I was on the verge of an all-out weeping fit.Their grief mirrored mine in their bowed heads, in the way their fingers clutched their hats or rosary beads like lifelines.But God, I was tired of crying.My head hurt, my heart hurt, and I just wanted this to be over.

Kathleen sat beside me in the front pew, pale and motionless, her hands folded in her lap.She hadn’t shed a tear in public, but grief had carved new hollows into her face.She looked fragile and that was never a word I would have used to describe the woman.It’s why Rory loved her so much, because she was such a force.Yet even in her mourning, she was the strongest woman I knew and that, in turn, gave me strength to barrel through.

To my left, Tommy held my hand, gripping it tight enough to anchor me, but not enough to force me to return fully to the moment.I floated somewhere outside of myself and tried not to think of Rory’s lifeless body on the ground while Tommy frantically worked to restart his heart.

Twisting in my seat, I scanned the gathered mourners.So many faces, but not the ones I had been looking for.My heart squeezed under my ribs and I swallowed against the lump in my throat.When my fingers reflexively tightened around Tommy’s, he turned to me in question.“They’re not coming,” I whispered.

My father was not here.

Nor my mother.

Nor Siobhan.

Nor Paddy.

Not a single member of my family had come to bury Rory and that was beyond devastating.

“I’m sorry, darlin’,” he murmured, leaning toward me to press a gentle kiss at my temple.My chest clenched so hard I could scarcely breathe.I braced myself, forcing my chin up and my spine straight.But it was like being stabbed over and over, each realization deeper than the last.Even in death, my father refused to acknowledge Rory, just as he had erased me from his life.

I was nothing to him, and yet somehow this felt like it was being done to punish me.Just when I thought Seamus Conlan couldn’t be any crueler, he proved me wrong.

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