Patrick's Destiny

Too late now, he thought, looking into eyes as blue as his own. He could already feel the connection pulling at him. It was an unbelievable sensation, knowing that three men he’d spent the past few years wondering about were now right here on his doorstep. He had yet to decide if that was good or bad, miracle or disaster. More than likely he wouldn’t know for some time to come. The only way to tell would be to hear them out, see what sort of baggage they’d accumulated, thanks to being abandoned by their parents, and learn what their expectations were of him.

He scanned their faces with an eagerness that surprised him, looking for signs of resentment or blame. He saw only a certain wariness that was to be expected under the circumstances. These weren’t old high school chums who’d come to call, but brothers—brothers he’d last seen when he was far too young for the concept to even register.

The one who’d spoken first seemed to sense his turmoil. “Did you know about us?” he asked, regarding Patrick worriedly. “Or did we just come busting in here and shock you into silence by telling you something you didn’t know?”

“I knew about you,” Patrick admitted reluctantly. When his words caused a flash of hurt to appear in one brother’s eyes, Patrick quickly added, “But only for a few years now. Before that…” He shrugged. “I guess Daniel and I were just too young when we left to remember. I’m sorry. You have no idea how sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry. You were barely two when you left,” his brother said. “How did you find out? Did our parents tell you?”

Patrick shook his head. “Daniel and I found some old photographs of us as babies. The three of you were in them. We asked our folks about the older boys in the pictures, and after a lot of denial, they finally admitted you were our brothers. We couldn’t get them to say a lot more.”

“Yeah, I imagine we’re not their favorite topic,” one of the others said with a bitterness that seemed to run as deep as Patrick’s.

“Can it, Sean,” the third one said, giving his brother’s shoulder a squeeze. “Now’s not the time. None of this is Patrick’s fault.”

“Given how we’re related, it seems a little odd, but I guess introductions are in order,” the first one said. “I’m Ryan, the oldest. I own an Irish pub in Boston.”

Patrick would have guessed that, not just from the few strands of gray in his black hair or the lines in his face, but because he was the obvious leader. He turned his gaze to the brother standing next to him, the one with broader shoulders and the quick tongue.

“And you?”

“I’m Sean, next to oldest, a Boston firefighter and the one who doesn’t know enough to keep his opinions to himself.” He gave Patrick a rueful half smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes.

“Hey, I can relate to that,” Patrick responded. “Whatever’s in my head tends to come out of my mouth. Daniel, well, he’s not like that. He was always the peacemaker.”

Sean’s half smile turned into a full-fledged grin. “Sort of like our Michael here,” he said, poking the remaining brother in the ribs with his elbow. “He’s such a pacifist, it’s hard to believe he’s an ex-SEAL.”

Michael rolled his eyes, then stepped forward with a decided limp and held out his hand. “I’m Michael,” he said quietly. “I’m just a couple of years older than you and Daniel.”

“Oh, my, this is so incredible.” The soft murmur came from behind Patrick.

He turned and stared into eyes shining with unshed tears. For a moment he’d forgotten all about Alice, but she’d apparently followed him up onto the deck when he hadn’t immediately returned. Now he seized on her presence like a lifeline.

Needing desperately to hold on to something familiar, if only barely so, he reached for her hand. Alice held on tight, communicating surprising understanding and support. It was almost as if this reunion meant as much to her as it did to him. Once again Patrick wondered about her past and the sense he’d had that they had experienced similar losses in their lives—a loss of people, perhaps a loss of innocence.

“Can we go somewhere and talk?” Ryan asked. He glanced pointedly at Alice. “Or is this a bad time?”

“Absolutely not,” Alice said.

She spoke quickly, as if sensing that Patrick might try to think of some way to put off this encounter until he’d regained his equilibrium. “Jess’s is close. Why not go there?”

Since the unanimous opinion seemed to be that this conversation was going to take place, Patrick finally nodded. Jess’s would be better and far less intimate than trying to crowd four big men into the tight quarters below deck on his boat, and the chill in the night air made sitting on deck an uncomfortable alternative, although it might have the effect of shortening the encounter.

Still, Ryan waited, watching him sympathetically. “Is this okay with you?” he asked Patrick. “I know we’ve barged in here without warning, but we’ve waited a long time for this moment. We weren’t absolutely certain we had the right man, but one look at you and there was little question that you’re our brother. We’d really like you to fill us in on some things.”

Patrick fought off doubts and reminded himself that he’d always preferred to confront things head-on. “Sure, why not?” he said, as if the prospect of a beer and a little get-acquainted chitchat were of no consequence. Admittedly he had a great deal of curiosity about these men who were his brothers. He might as well satisfy it, now that the opportunity had presented itself.

Besides, there was something reassuringly solid and normal about the three older Devaneys. He’d learned a lot about judging people since leaving home. He could tell at first glance that these were men of character. One of them had been a SEAL, for heaven’s sake. If that didn’t speak of courage and honor, what did? Maybe it was possible to outfox the Devaney bad blood, after all. If so, he wanted to know how.

As he led the procession toward Jess’s, his steps dragged. Even though he’d satisfied himself that this was the thing to do, he couldn’t deny feeling a certain amount of dread. What if things were even worse for his brothers than he’d imagined? What if they bore scars from being left behind? What if they blamed him, right along with their parents? Not that it would be a rational blame, since he and Daniel had been little more than babies, but in a volatile situation, logic and reason seldom mattered. Though he didn’t even know them, he found that he desperately wanted them to accept him, and that terrified him. Discovering his parents’ betrayal had taught him never to expect or need too much from anyone. Better to be a loner than to be hurt like that ever again.

Besides, his brothers had said they were here to fill in the blanks in their lives, not to answer all of his thousand and one questions.

With Patrick lost in thought, Alice kept up a barrage of inconsequential, nonstop chatter, mostly about Widow’s Cove’s history. It helped to defuse the tension as they made their way to Jess’s.

As they neared the bar, they could hear the jukebox blasting. That, too, could be an inadvertent blessing, Patrick concluded. It was going to make real conversation difficult, if not impossible. And at this time of the evening on a typical Friday, Jess’s was usually packed and noisy. Maybe they wouldn’t even find a free table, Patrick thought, in one last hopeful bid to put this encounter off until tomorrow…or maybe forever. Maybe Daniel had it right, after all. Maybe it was better to keep his head buried in the sand. Maybe these strangers who claimed to be his brothers would go away. Sure, his curiosity wouldn’t be satisfied, but what did that matter really? He’d made it through more than twenty years without having them in his life, and vice versa.

His halfhearted hope for a quick end to the evening was promptly dashed. He wasn’t entirely sure how Alice managed it, but with a few whispered words to Molly, a table was magically cleared. Then Alice gave his hand one last reassuring squeeze. “I’ll leave you with your brothers.”

Fighting panic, Patrick gazed into her eyes. “Don’t.”

“You’ll be fine,” she assured him. “Obviously, I don’t know the whole story, but I heard enough to know that this must be a life-altering moment for all of you. I don’t belong here in the middle of it.”

“I want you to stay,” he said, needing some sort of familiar lifeline, someone from the world he’d made for himself to steady him as it rocked on its axis.

“It’s okay,” Ryan assured her. “If Patrick wants you here, it’s fine with us.”

Still, Alice shook her head and extracted her hand from the death grip Patrick had on it. “Thanks, but I need to get home. I’m glad I got to meet you, though.”

Ryan nodded. “Perhaps we’ll meet again one day,” he said, then headed over to join the others.

Still, Patrick held back. “I never thanked you for the soup,” he protested with ridiculous urgency, just to keep her there and talking.

She grinned at that, obviously seeing straight through him. “And now you have.”

She pushed him none too gently toward the table where his brothers were already seated. Patrick sighed and let her go, but his gaze followed her as she left the bar. Only then did he suck in a deep breath and go to join his brothers, pulling up a chair at the end of the booth rather than sliding into the vacant spot they’d left next to Michael.

“Pretty woman,” Ryan observed. “Is she someone special?”

“I barely know her,” Patrick said, forcing his attention to the three men seated opposite him like some sort of military tribunal. He should have slipped into the booth, he realized belatedly, made himself one of them, instead of an outsider. The symbolism was unmistakable. He wondered if they were aware of it.