Sacred Waters (23 page)

Luckily, the first person she saw was Kelly. She knew he had figured out what was going on to some extent and at this point she really didn’t give a shit who knew what.

“Hey, love, you feeling better?”

Sam knew she looked a fright, but there was nothing she could do about it at the moment, not without the use of her damn bathroom.

“Will you take me somewhere, Kelly?”

“Sure. Where do you need to go?”

“Away from here.”

He considered her request, his gaze scrutinizing. Something he saw in her expression must have told him she needed to escape. Without asking for further explanation, he reached in his pocket and pulled out his keys.

Dangling them from his fingers he said, “Let’s go.”

Kelly drove an old beat up truck that smelled of worn in leather and sex. There was an Irish trinity pendant hanging from his rearview mirror and Samantha watched it twirl and lean from side to side as they drove to God knew where. She didn’t care where he was taking her so long as it was away from Colin.

She appreciated that Kelly didn’t try to fill the silence with meaningless babble. She wanted to simply stew for a while.

The truck slowed as they pulled up to the ball field. Leaning back, Kelly reached across her lap and opened the glove compartment. He pulled out a flask and she said, “Are you sure that’s a good idea if we have to drive back?”

“It’s not for me, love. It’s for you.”

She stared at him as if he were crazy. Whatever Maureen had given her earlier felt like it burned a hole through her esophagus. She really hoped it wasn’t Irish whiskey again. Not wanting to offend him, especially when he had helped her run, she said, “It’s not even eleven in the morning.”

“It’s five o’clock somewhere. Come on.”

She followed him to the dugout and they sat on the same bench they had occupied that first game.

He handed her the flask. “Wanna tell me what’s going on, Sammy? I know it has to do with Colin and I know what you feel for him is more than what friend's should probably feel for their boyfriend’s brothers.”

She considered confessing everything to Kelly, but in the end chose the whiskey. Taking the flask from his hands, she unscrewed the cap and brought the cool metal nozzle to her lips. Even the fumes smelled like turpentine. She shut her eyes and tipped back a sip.

Sam sputtered and coughed as it made it past her throat and started a fire deep in her belly. “Oh, God, how do you drink that?”

He laughed. “Now what kind of Irish lass are you if you can’t drink your Tullamore Dew?”

“A sober one.”

“Ah, now that’s no fun. Give it another go. The second time’s not that bad.”

She gave him a skeptical look and held her breath as she took another sip.
Nope, still horrible.

Kelly got a good chuckle out of her contorting face as she suffered through each swig.

Over the next several minutes he coached and coaxed her into several more sips. The whiskey didn’t burn as much anymore. They decided to take a walk around the bases and wound up lying in center field watching clouds roll by.

“Are you feelin’ a bit better now, love?” he asked in an Irish lilt.

She giggled and had no idea why. “Yes. Why do you guys all fake Irish accents?”

“Ah, we are not fakin’, love. The Gaelic’s in our blood. It tis what it means to be a McCullough. We know how it makes the lassies mad with lust so we try to talk normal- like most of the time.”

“I think you’re all a bunch of drunks.”

He laughed and faced her. He really did have the most mesmerizing eyes. His heart shaped face and scrappy elfin hair made her feel like she was in the company of a fictional character of lore.

“Now, look who is talking. I give you one wee flask and yer tongue becomes as sharp as a sward. I believe you’ll fit right in just fine with the lot of us. Look at ye, lyin’ in the middle of a field, piss drunk, before you’ve even had lunch. It’s like my Morai always said, 
A McCullough lying on the floor is the only kind of McCullough who will drink no more.”

“Well I’m not a bloody McCullough!” she said tipping the flask to her lips and taking another sip. When she found it empty she shook it above her face and frowned.

“A-ha, seems to me you’ve taken all yer toasts.”

“Do you have any more?”

He laughed. “’Friad not, love. I’ll have to be getting you home soon anyway. I’ve work in a few hours.”

“I don’t want to go back.”

He turned to her and watched her for a moment. His blue eyes seeing parts of her she wished she could keep hidden, but such was the sadness of being drunk in a ball field.

“Do you love him, Sammy?” he whispered.

“Yes,” she whispered back.

“Then he’s a fool.”

Enough said.

They lay in the field for a while longer, not talking about anything too serious. Somewhere in the back of her mind, Sam knew she was getting sunburn and probably had a dozen more freckles on her nose to show for it, but she didn’t care.

When Kelly finally helped her to her feet she toppled right back to the ground and realized how drunk she actually was. The dugout wavered like a seesaw and home base looked like a tilt-a-whirl.

He helped her to the truck and even buckled her in. As he walked around the car to the driver’s side, dread built inside of her at the thought of returning and feeling dejected even more. Kelly climbed in and paused when he saw her expression.

“No, no, we’ll have none of that. I didn’t give you my good hooch so you could piss it away on tears and sorrows. Where’s the smile I saw minutes ago?”

“I lost it,” she slurred, slouching against the seat to face him.

“Well, perhaps not all is lost. Your time here is not over yet and farther more Colin is no bloody better than the rest of us. He’s no priest as of yet. Who’s to say how things may change between now and then?”

“He wants to take his vows, Kelly. He’ll do it. I know him.”

Kelly smiled sadly at her and lovingly touched her cheek. She would’ve been uncomfortable had anyone else done so, but that was just Kelly, openly affectionate. “He wants you too, love. That’s the crux of it all, that he can’t have you both. He loves his church. She’s all he’s ever opened himself to, but he loves you too, Sammy.”

“It doesn’t matter. I can’t compete with Gob.”

“Gob?”

“You know what I mean. God! This is all your fall. You and your damn whiskey. God, I can’t compete with 
God.
”

“Ah, but the church and God are two different matters entirely. No one said if he has you he can’t have his God as well.”

“That’s not what he wants. I know he loves me, but he loves the church more. I would always be the mistress who ruined what could have been a perfect marriage.”

“Well, if that’s true then he’d better be damn sure because I have no doubt that someone will wife you up in no time a’tall. And while an Irishman may be able to go twenty years without kissing his wife, he’ll kill the man that does.”

That made her smile.

“Thanks, Kelly. For everything, but Colin couldn’t hurt a fly.”

Her eyes grew heavy so she shut them for a bit.

* * * *

“What happened?” Braydon asked as Kelly carried Sam through the kitchen door.

“Nothing. I just got our girl here a wee bit drunk. She’s fine.”

“She doesn’t look fine. How much did you give her?”

“Just a flask full, I swear it. She needed a break from reality for a moment.”

Braydon gave Kelly an exasperated look. “This coming from a guy who thinks reality is a result of an alcohol deficiency. Nice.”

“Where’s Colin?”

“I don’t fucking care. Here, give her to me and I’ll take her to my room.” Braydon lifted Sam out of Kelly’s arms and she groaned. “I got you, Sam.”

He carried her up the stairs and into his room. The bed was made so he laid her on top of the covers. She began to make little snoring noises and he tried not to laugh.

What the hell was wrong with Colin? He reached out and swept her hair over her shoulder.

“What happened?”

Speak of the holy devil.

Braydon turned and saw Colin standing in the door. He hid his satisfaction at seeing his brother with the shadow of a bruise on his jaw and a split lip.

“You care?”

“Shut up, Bray. Yes, I fucking care!” Colin hissed.

“That’ll be two Hail Mary’s.”

“Knock it off.”

“Why should I? You’re still the same self-righteous prick you’ve always been and apparently you have no plans of changing.”

When Colin didn’t reply he turned to see if he left. The hurt he saw in his brother’s eyes made him regret his last jab. Maybe he’d gone too far.

“Is that how you see me?” Colin rasped. “A self-righteous prick?”

“No, that was a little harsh. I’m just not real happy with you right now.”

“I’m not real happy with myself,” his brother confessed. “What happened to Sammy?”

“Kelly got her drunk.”

Braydon laughed when he saw his brother’s jaw tick. “She needed it,” he said. “Next time try talking to her instead of running away. If you really plan on letting her go tomorrow, for good, then at least have the decency to be there for her today.”

“I never meant to hurt her, Bray. You have to know that. I just…I don’t know what to do.”

“You certainly have a choice to make, but I can’t make it for you and neither can anyone else. If you ask me, the answer is obvious.”

“I never meant to fall in love with her.”

“You falling in love with her doesn’t surprise me in the least. It’s the fact that you somehow managed to get her to fall in love with you. Love that isn’t given easily is not something you throw away, Colin.”

“I’ll never stop loving her. It isn’t wasted.”

Braydon couldn’t see things from his brother’s perspective no matter how hard he tried. “Then what are you doing, man?”

“I don’t know.” Dismissing any further conversation Colin asked, “Are you taking her to dinner tonight?”

“I don’t see the point. You should be taking her.”

“I can’t.”

“See, that’s the thing, Colin. You can.”

“Take her to dinner, Bray. Give her a nice last night here.”

“And what do you plan to do for her?”

“The most honorable thing I can think of…leave her alone.”

Chapter Sixteen

When Braydon left the room, Colin knew he should follow. Samantha lay sleeping on the bed, face squished against the side of her arm, nose red, and hair a mess. He went to the door to leave through the hall, unsure where he’d go, but rather than leave, he shut the door and turned the lock.

Colin went to his room and locked his door as well.

It was nearly three o’clock. In his mind the day was shot. He should’ve gone to the church to get some painting done, but his heart wasn’t in it. Turning the wand hanging from the blinds, Colin shut out the sunlight filtering into the room.

He walked to the other side of the bed and stood watching her as she rested in drowsy tranquility. Damn Kelly for getting her drunk. She’d probably wake up with a headache. Not a great way to spend her last day.

Done with his introspective analysis, Colin forced his mind to stop thinking and simply did what he needed in his heart, no matter how unwise. He climbed onto the covers and scooted behind Samantha’s body until her back was pressed to his front. He held her close, hating that this might be his last chance at holding her in such a way.

Her warm body heated his and her clothing smelled of fresh cut grass. Her hair tickled his chin. He loved her. Onlookers had always made such awed references about giving up the right to marry once he became a priest. Such dignified sacrifice for God our Savior. Colin now saw things differently.

Love was an agony that embedded into the soul and infected the mind so completely there was no escaping its reach once it got its claws in a person. Evading marriage was not a sacrifice he made for God, but a mercy God granted him. To his mind, the stronger man was the one brave enough to risk loving a wife, to chance loving her with all of his being until there was nothing left of him, and knowing there always was the possibility of losing her. Colin was not so brave.

He rested beside Samantha for the better part of an hour. He held her gently in his arms, memorizing her scent and the placement of every freckle upon her cheek. He marveled at how full the crests of her dusty eyelashes were and how soft, yet defined, the line was that shaped her lips.

He couldn’t stop remembering the old Irish proverb.
A man is incomplete until he marries. After that he is finished.
Whoever married this magnificent woman would be doomed.

Sometime later she awoke with a deep sigh followed by a pained moan. Her body stretched within his embrace and he whispered, “Have yourself a wee little nip, did ya?”

She froze.

Turning slowly to face him, she said not a word, but watched him as if testing his presence to see if it was real or the fabrication of some dream.

Finally she whispered, “I’m mad at you.”

“I know. I’m mad at me too.”

“You locked me out.”

Shame knifed through him. How could he explain to her that he was weak, that when he saw her he forgot his place and the commitments he set forth for himself? She took everything important to him away and flipped him inside out until he was barely recognizable as himself. He couldn’t.

“I’m sorry. I needed some time alone.”

The hurt reflected in her eyes tore through him like a blade that had been resting in the flames of a blazing fire. Would he ever forget the fact that he hurt her? Was there a penance great enough for him to forgive himself for such a crime?

“What are you doing here, Colin?”

“I couldn’t stay away.”

“And now that you’re here, will you go again?”

“You have to go to dinner with Braydon.”

She shook her head. “I don’t have to do anything. Braydon cares about taking me to dinner about as much as I care about being there with him. I don’t want to lose the few hours it’ll take. It’s my last night.”