Beneath an Irish Sky (Choc Lit) by Isabella Connor

goodbye. It was the right thing to do, and he was glad Emer would be with him.
    ‘If you’ll come this way, Mr Kiernan.’ It took a moment for Luke to realise the receptionist was talking to him. ‘Mr Kiernan’ meant his grand-da or his uncles, not him.
    ‘I’ll be right here, Luke,’ Emer told him, settling in a chair at reception. ‘Take your time.’
    Now he was actually in the McBride Funeral Home, Luke felt less confident about his decision. What if it was really bad? What if the accident had wrecked his mother’s face? Joe’s friend had crashed his motorbike into a tree and no one could recognise him at the wake. Imagine that being your last memory of a loved one.
    ‘Just press the button by the door if you need anything, sir.’
    The receptionist left Luke in a room with cream walls and high windows. The open casket was at the far side with imitation candles at both ends. Flowers banked the bier. Luke approached the coffin slowly, focusing on the crucifix on the wall. How had it come to this? Her life ended on a stupid country road. Such a waste. So unfair. He stopped by the coffin, took a deep breath, and looked down.
    ‘Oh Mam!’ She could have been sleeping, but for the cut down one side of her face.
Please God, let her open her eyes. Bring her back. Just bring her back. Don’t make me go through life without her. Please.
The pain of loss was worse than all his injuries. And there was guilt, too. They’d had to leave Ennis because of him. He’d made a mistake and she’d paid for it. He had a lump in his throat, but no tears came. He hadn’t cried in years. He’d learned not to.
    Someone had twined a set of rosary beads through Annie’s fingers. Not her rosary, the little silver one. That was still in the suitcase. He should be saying a prayer for her right now. Helping her soul to heaven.
‘Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord,
’ he whispered. ‘
And let … and let
 …’ He couldn’t finish. He knew the words, just couldn’t get them out. What was wrong with him? He tried again, a different prayer.
    ‘Hail, holy Queen, Mother of Mercy,
    Our life, our sweetness, and our hope.
    To thee do we cry, poor banished children of Eve …’
    Banished.
His mother had been banished by the Stewarts. Rejected. Not good enough for them. A well of resentment was building inside. He tried to push it back down. This wasn’t the time or the place. These were the last few precious moments with his mother. He needed to focus on her. Somehow he managed to lean down and kiss her cold cheek. ‘Bye, Mam. I love you.’
    He’d miss her all the days of his life, but she was finally at rest after years of suffering. That was some small consolation. Now he wanted revenge. He wanted chaos. Wreckage. And he wouldn’t rest till the towers of the Stewart family came crashing down.
    ‘Jack Stewart, please.’
    Emer swirled the wine in her glass as she waited for the hotel receptionist to put her through to Jack’s room. It was after nine – hopefully he wouldn’t be sleeping. She wasn’t even sure she should be calling him, but Luke’s expression when he came out of the room at the funeral home had worried her. It was as if the trauma of the accident had hit him again with full force. His face was pale and his eyes hollow. Haunted.
    ‘Hello?’ Jack’s voice came on the line.
    ‘Hello, Jack – it’s Emer.’
    ‘Emer! I hope you’re not going to cancel tomorrow.’
    She couldn’t help smiling to herself. It’d been a while since anybody had made her feel wanted. ‘No, we’re still on,’ she told him. ‘I just wanted to update you on Luke.’
    ‘Oh.’
    Emer wished he didn’t sound so disappointed. His negativity towards Luke was, so far, the one thing about him she didn’t like.
    ‘I took him to the funeral home this afternoon. He asked me to go with him so he could say goodbye to his mother.’
    There was silence at the end of the line.
    ‘Jack – are you there?’
    There was a long sigh.