Page 231
“You were wrong about him, Ma,” I whisper.
The next load of earth buries the last of the paper.
I wish she’d lived long enough to prove me wrong instead.
Shay plants his shovel into the mound and bows his head. Saint stops scooping and glances at our da’s grave next to Ma’s while Dane keeps packing in the dirt.
His shovel bites into the earth again and again, each load of dirt hurled into the hole one after the other.
“Dane,” Saint mutters.
Dane dumps another load. “What?”
“We’ve done enough.”
“I’ll stop when the hole’s filled.”
He lifts another shovel-full of dirt.
Shay’s gaze stays lowered as he dips the peak of his cap. He spent most of his life working alongside Ma, taking her orders, and arguing with her over horses neither of them would ever admit they loved too much.
Rafe might run the stud for our family, but Shay has been part of its bones for years.
He rests one weathered hand on the end of the shovel handle.
“Rest easy, Maírín,” he murmurs.
My stomach churns.
Ma never rested. She woke before everyone else, went to bed after us and could find work in a room she’d already cleaned.
Even on the nights when we were children and storms battered the house, she moved between our bedrooms, checking windows and pulling blankets over us.
I woke this morning half expecting to hear her in the kitchen, before the knot in my chest dragged me back into the nightmare.
Behind us, the men start lining up to help.
Fionn stands next to the wooden chair Saint had carried out for Keira. He’s dressed in black from his open overcoat to the shine of his shoes.
A blustery wind presses the expensive wool against his broad chest and sends the hem snapping around his legs. One hand curls over the back of Keira’s chair while his attention is on me from across the grave.
Only the pallor beneath his stubble and the coat left unbuttoned over the dressing above his hip betray the bullet Ma put through him.
The doctor ordered him to take it easy; however, he’s standing out here as if pain is simply one more thing expected to obey him.
His gaze holds mine.
I offer him a tight smile and drop my gaze to the grave before the emotions in my chest give way.
Our men have gathered behind Fionn and Keira, most of them choosing dark clothes and all of them wearing work boots. Some have been on our payroll since before I was born. Others came here as lads and grew into men under Ma’s eye.
Dane’s shovel stabs into the mound again.
Saint reaches across me and catches the handle before he can lift it. “Enough.”
Dane’s knuckles whiten against the wood. His eyes are bloodshot, and dark stubble covers a face that hasn’t smiled since Ma died and Rafe disappeared.
Every search for him has ended with Saint and Dane returning with nothing.
