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Keegan doesn’t appreciate me pointing fingers, but what the fuck? Why didn’t they stop her? She’d need the consent from a parent or guardian to be married at such a young age, but I suppose the church was happy to bend the rules for a Kelly.
“Ya don’t know yer ma. She—”
“That’s right,” I interject, curling my lip. “I don’t ’cause she was murdered in front of me.”
Imogen crosses herself with fresh tears in her eyes. “Yer dad has told ya nothin’ ’bout this?”
“Naw, but he should have done. I know nothin’ about her. The only memories I have are of her covered in blood!”
“Oh, Puck, I’m sorry. We tried to see ya. But yer dad wouldn’t allow it. He’s a Kelly.”
“And so was yer daughter,” I counter, like that excuse is supposed to make everything all right.
“We’re not perfect,” Keegan says, running a hand over his thinning, gray hair. “And we should have done more. But there was no stoppin’ her.”
“Why did she buy this place?”
“’Cause she was leavin’ yer da,” Imogen reveals, confirming the blanks I’ve tried to fill in for years. “And she was takin’ ya with her. You were her life, Puck. But leavin’ Connor Kelly wasn’t an easy thing. She knew he’d kill her, so she planned carefully.”
“But not careful enough,” Keegan adds with anger.
“The day before she…she was killed, she called me. She told me she knew somethin’ that would ruin the Kellys if it ever got out. I believe she thought this was her way out. But she never told me what it was.”
The hair at the back of my neck stands on end. “What’re ya saying then?”
Keegan levels me with nothing but sincerity as he rattles my world forever. “Whatcha think, lad? Yer da is responsible for yer ma’s death. She wanted to leave him and had a secret that could ruin him. What do ya think he’d do?”
I’ve heard him loud and clear, yet I can’t accept what he just said.
This isn’t possible. Aye, my dad never avenged my ma, but he didn’t kill her.
Or did he?
The past sixteen years overwhelm me, and I hiss in a winded breath. The unanswered questions which plagued me night after night…Have I had the answers all along? Has my ma’s murderer been under my nose this entire time?
I think I’m going to be sick.
I don’t want to believe them, but this makes more sense than my da laying down arms and not avenging his wife’s death. He never took vengeance because he was the one who killed her. This story of the Doyles being responsible was merely fabricated to placate the rumors. And to pacify me.
Better I believe our rivals are responsible—who I’ve been raised to hate—than my own father.
I wanted answers. And I got them.
“Who’s D. Morrison?” I ask about the “owner.”
“It’s a friend of ours,” Keegan replies. “We didn’t want yer dad knowin’ we bought the place.”
Imogen sniffles, before turning around and going inside.
“And why did ya? No offense,Grandpa, but that’s awful fucked up.”
He nods, his fight no longer thriving. “This was the last place yer ma was. It’s the only thing we have left of her.”
He realizes what he just said, but it’s too little, too late.
“My uncle Sean was right. Yer not worth knowin’,” I state emotionlessly. “You shoulda been there for her when she was alive. Now, yer holdin’ onto memories instead of her.”
Imogen comes hobbling back out, something in her hand. “We just got ya back. Please don’t go.”
