I sat at our small kitchen table in the dark, only the lights from the street below spilling in. Something told me that Imogen was in huge trouble.
Imogen had a penchant for choosing the wrong men. Mum always said it was one of the few things she’d inherited from her. Considering what Patrick admitted to yesterday, I seemed to have inherited that trait too.
The door groaned when Mum came home from work in the early morning hours, smelling of spilled beer and smoke. She froze when she spotted me at the table. “Why are you up? Is something wrong with Finn?”
I shook my head. “He’s asleep. Has been for hours.”
Mum put a heap of coins and bills down on the table. As usual, customers, mostly men, had tipped her more than generously. At thirty-six, Mum looked as if she, too, could walk the catwalks of the world. Women tipped her well because she was a jovial lass whose boisterous laughter was infectious and made them forget how pretty she was.
She sat across from me, frowning. “What is it, Aislinn? I know that look.”
“I need to go looking for Imogen. I have to know she’s all right.”
Mum began to shake her head, pulling her brown hair—dyed for as long as I could remember because she disliked her strawberry blond just like Imogen—into a ponytail. “Aislinn…—”
We had this conversation several times before. Mum didn’t want me to leave. “Don’t try to talk me out of it, Mum. Aren’t you worried about Imogen?”
Mum sighed, looking down at her hands. Her fingernails were chipped, and she began to pick at the edges, breaking off even more of the polish. “Of course I am, but I’m even more worried about the truth.”
“So you have a bad feeling too?”
“How can I not? You know Imogen. She’s a lot like me when I was at her age, always choosing the wrong guy.”
I nodded. Imogen had bad taste in men. Married. Much older. More often than not, criminals or losers.
“You haven’t dated for as long as I can remember Mum, so I can’t vouch for your taste in men.”
Mum waved me off. “I don’t want a man in my life. They are nothing but trouble.”
I rolled my eyes, but I kind of got it. Before Patrick I had stayed clear of men for that exact reason. I wasn’t sure if I’d inherited bad taste in men as well. Now, of course, I knew that I had.
I didn’t have time for someone anyway. Work, Finn and household chores took up most of my time. Not to mention I was still making time every day to improve my cooking skills in the hopes that I could one day open up a restaurant of our own. “I have enough money to pay for a one-way ticket to New York and a few nights in a cheap hostel.”
She paused. “What about Patrick? What does he say to you going away?”
I hadn’t told Mum about the breakup yet. She was exhausted when she’d come home late last night, and I didn’t want to burden her with my problems.
My expression must have given me away. Mum’s eyes widened. “What’s wrong? What did he do?” Mum had never been Patrick’s biggest fan, that and her general distrust of men naturally made her assume he’d done something, and she was right for once.
“He cheated on me,” I said.
Anger twisted Mum’s lips. I could tell she wanted to say something really awful, but she was one of those people who preferred to say nothing if there was nothing good to say. “You broke up with him?”
I shrugged. “Yeah. Well, kind of. He asked me to think of my trip to the States as a break and to give us another chance when I get back.”
“Blimey, don’t tell me you agreed to this nonsense. That’s male code for wanting to cheat without cheating.”
“I didn’t agree. I didn’t say anything. I asked him to leave.”
“Don’t give him another chance. Once a cheater always a cheater, trust me.”
“I know, Mum.” My dad had cheated on her, repeatedly, and Mum forgave him time and time—until she finally stopped and then he took off. I hadn’t seen him since. That was fourteen years ago.
“I don’t want to think about him now. All I want to focus on is Imogen and how to find her as quickly as possible.”
Mum gave a terse nod. “You might need more than a few days to find your sister, and you need a return ticket too. You know I can’t spare any money, not with the horrendous interest rates and Finn’s horse therapy.”
We paid for Finn’s physical therapy with horses out of our own pocket; it wasn’t included in public health care. Even if we weren’t sure if it would help with his spasms, it made him happier and had reduced his stutter so it was money well spent.
“I’ll find work in New York. They need waitresses there too, right?”
“Then you’ll need a work visa, Aislinn, and those are expensive.”
I bit my lip. I hadn’t thought about that part. “I’m sure there are employers who don’t care about visas.”
Mum shook her head. “You aren’t a girl who causes trouble. Don’t start now. Don’t go the illegal route. It leads nowhere.”
“Mum, I need to know what happened to Imogen. I can’t just pretend everything’s fine.”
“Maybe she wanted to cut all ties to us and Ireland.”
“Maybe,” I amended.
I wished I could say I was certain that Imogen wouldn’t do that, but she was a runner. She ran from everything that caused her distress. “If she doesn’t want us in her life, then I can try to move on. But either way, I need to know.” I wasn’t sure if I really could. Imogen and I didn’t have many things in common, but I loved her just the same. Not to mention I didn’t want Finn to grow up without his biological mother, even if Mum and I had mostly raised him ourselves.
In the past, when Mum spent her nights working to pay the rent, Imogen and I would huddle together in one bed and protect each other from the dark. That was what sisters were for.
Mum looked away, her lips set in a tight line. “Do you remember Gulliver?”
“Uncle Gulliver?” I asked. He was a distant memory. Tall and redheaded, the same shade as my hair. I had been five or six when he last visited us. He and Mum had fought loudly, and I never saw him again.
“Yes,” Mum whispered. When she looked up and met my gaze, trepidation filled her green eyes. “He’s in New York too, leading the Irish parish there.”
“Right, he’s a priest,” I said then paused. “Did Imogen go to him as well?”
Mum swallowed. “Gulliver and I aren’t on speaking terms. He thinks I’m a sinner.”
“Didn’t you at least try for Imogen?”
Mum pursed her lips, obviously not liking my indignant tone. “Of course I tried. I’d do anything for you girls and Finn.” She swallowed loudly. “We didn’t talk much, but he told me she came to see him.” Mum wrung her hands.
“That’s good, right?” If Gulliver helped her, she might be all right. As a priest, he probably had the right contacts to make sure Imogen didn’t get in trouble. “Did she sleep at his house?”
“No,” Mum clipped. Then in a softer tone added, “And it’s not good, Aislinn. Not good at all.”
I waited for her to say more and make sense. Mum was selective with sharing information about the past.
Mum got up and reached into her back pocket as if she was reaching for her cigarette package but she’d stopped smoking more than two years ago. Now, I was really nervous. “Gulliver is the confessor for the Devaney clan.”
My mouth fell open. “What?”
Mum shook her head. “I never wanted you to know. But if you go to New York, you can’t go blindly. You must stay away from Gulliver.”
“Uncle Gulliver is involved with the Irish mob?”
Everyone in Dublin knew the name Devaney. Their clan ruled over the underworld in the city. Truth be told, their influence in all of Ireland was huge too. I had, on occasion seen one of their debt collectors at Merchant’s Arch during one of my shifts. They were collecting money for “protection,” from mainly them. “I didn’t know the Devaney clan is in New York too.”
Mum looked increasingly uncomfortable, which, in turn, made me increasingly curious. We had always stayed away from the Devaneys and everyone involved with them. We led a mundane life, far away from trouble. Not that they had any interest in us. “Lorcan Devaney, the second son of Devaney Senior, rules over the clan there,” Mum said, and I wondered how the hell she knew. She must have seen the questions swirling in my eyes. “Your uncle mentioned it.”
The words were rushed and higher than her usual tone.
Suspicious, I narrowed my eyes.
“Do you think Imogen got involved with the mob because of Gulliver?” I asked, alarmed.
Mum shrugged. “You know Imogen.”
Damn.
“No, she wouldn’t be that reckless … right?” If they dangled the right carrot in front of her face, she’d try to take a bite.
Mum didn’t say anything.
I got up and paced our small kitchen. The floor boards creaked with every step. Outside someone hollered something unintelligible. “But if that’s the case, it’s even more important for me to find her. Maybe she needs help getting out of trouble.”
“Or maybe she’ll only drag you into trouble with her, Aislinn.” This changed so many things, and gave me a lead I didn’t have before. New hope flickered inside of me, even if the news about the mob wasn’t good news so to speak.
“Swear that you won’t go to your uncle. Swear it on my life.”
“Mum—”
Mum stepped in my way and grabbed by hands. “Swear it.”
“I can’t. If Gulliver knows where Imogen is, then I’ll have to talk to him.”
Mum’s grip on my hand tightened even more. “Don’t go anywhere near the Devaney clan even if Imogen’s trail leads right there.”
“Mum, don’t be dramatic. I’m sure Imogen is fine and not involved with the mob.” I pursed my lips in contemplation. “Maybe Uncle Gulliver knows a place where I can work without a work visa.”
Mum’s eyes widened in alarm. “No.”
“Mum …”
She turned and walked out. My eyebrows rose. Mum wasn’t someone who ran away from a conflict.
I followed the sound of rummaging into Mum’s room. She was pulling a wooden chest from the depth of her wardrobe when I entered.
“What are you doing?” I asked, confused. The chest was covered in dust and the lock was rusty. Nobody had opened it in a long time.
Mum’s fingers shook when she opened the chest. Stacks of letters were inside. Pushing them aside, she pulled out a passport. She held it out to me. When I came closer, I realized it was a U.S. passport. I stared down at it with a frown. “Take it,” Mum whispered.
I took it out of her hand and opened it. My eyes grew wide when I read the name of the person the passport belonged to:
Aislinn Killeen
I stared at Mum. “Is this forged?”
“No,” Mum said, her eyes full of despair.
I shook my head. “I don’t understand. I—” I swallowed. “I thought I was Irish.”
“You are. But you are also American.”
“How … I can’t …”
Mum sank down on the soft bed and patted the spot beside her. I plopped down, my heart beating wildly in my chest.
“You know how I told you that my parents died when I was only a teenager?”
I nodded. Even though Mum rarely talked about them either, she’d mentioned their passing once or twice.
“It’s true that Uncle Gulliver took care of me from age fourteen. He worked in the Irish parish in New York for a while, and when I had to move in with him, that meant moving to New York.” Gulliver was twelve years older than Mum. I knew he took care of Mum for a while but not that she’d lived in the States with him. How many more secrets did she keep from me?
“I wasn’t quite honest about my parents, though. I didn’t get along with them so I moved in with my brother. They hoped he’d get me in line for the future.”
“They’re alive?”
Mum closed her eyes briefly. “I don’t know. I ceased all contact with them and Gulliver over a decade ago.”
I was stunned. I couldn’t believe Mum had lied about something that concerned me. She’d kept my grandparents from me!
“Your uncle has always had connections with the mob. When he moved to the States, he immediately started working with the Irish mob there, becoming their confessor.”
Mum paused, looking increasingly uncomfortable. “You and your sister were born while I still lived in the States. I only moved back to Ireland when you were ten months old.”
I blinked. “Please don’t tell me my father was part of the Irish mob.”
Mum chuckled. “He was just an everyday thug who wished he were part of the Irish mafia.” Mum paused, and I could tell she was keeping things from me again. “But due to your uncle’s connection, I came into contact with the Devaney clan on occasion, and trust me, you don’t want to get involved with them. Don’t ask them for money or help. No matter what your uncle says, stay away from them. They might seem like the quickest or easiest solution to finding your sister, but trust me, the longer way is the only valid option.”
I nodded, not so much because I intended to give Mum the promise she wanted, more to indicate I was listening. I had no intention of asking any shady figures for help, but if the Devaneys were the only way to Imogen …
The name Devaney was infamous in Dublin. Now Mum’s insistence about never getting close to any of Devaney’s men made even more sense. I wasn’t really surprised that the name carried power in New York as well.
“Did you and Uncle Gulliver fight because he was working with the mob?”
Mum huffed. “Working with those monsters, your uncle forgives the unforgivable on a daily basis, but he couldn’t forgive me for getting pregnant out of wedlock.”
I’d heard the story before. Mum’s resentment of Gulliver had only grown as we struggled to keep our heads afloat in Dublin. He wasn’t rich but had far more money than us, and most priests, which could now be explained from his association with the Devaneys.
These new discoveries did nothing to decrease my worries. If someone promised Imogen a quick way to fame, even if it was a Devaney, she’d take it.
The River Liffey rushed beneath my feet as I stood on the Ha’penny Bridge. The Liffey was a constant in my life, something that never changed. Whenever I came here, it’s rippling soothed whatever worries plagued me.
I loved my hometown, everything from its cobblestone streets to the sound of Irish folk music carrying from the pubs out onto the streets. I would miss it, even the loud tourists and the stench of puke and spilled beer in every nook and cranny in the Temple Bar neighborhood.
Closing my eyes, I took another deep breath. Unlike Imogen, I never wanted to leave our hometown behind, at least not for more than a short vacation, but she wanted to see the world, always on the lookout for something bigger and better. Now, I was following her to the big city that held nothing I wanted, to save her, possibly from a fate she didn’t even want saving from.
I’d gathered most of the spare money I’d earned in the last two years waiting tables at Merchant’s Arch for a one-way ticket to the States. Whatever remained would have to buy me a return ticket. If I didn’t find a job quickly, I didn’t have a single penny for a hotel or hostel.
If Uncle Gulliver didn’t take me in, I’d be stranded on the street. Mum might not like it, but he was my best option, mob confessor or not.
I finally packed my suitcase the evening before I was set to leave for the States. I’d pushed it off until then because I foolishly hoped that Imogen would call or even appear on our doorstep but of course she didn’t.
My flight was leaving in the morning so I needed to get everything done. The door creaked. I turned to find Finn poking his blond head in. He looked at the suitcase with trepidation. “Hey, what’s up? Do you want me to put on another episode of Pepper Pig for you?”
Mum had left for work two hours ago and I had no other option than to sit Finn in front of the TV so I could get some work done. He gave a tiny shake of his head and kept staring down at my suitcase, which was piled messily with clothes. I still intended to fold them and sort them into categories, but would probably just end up throwing the suitcase shut to be done with it.
“W-w-w-w—w-w-will you co-co-come b-b-b-b-back to us?” Finn whispered. That he stuttered in my presence showed how much this topic bothered him.
I pulled him against me. “Of course, I’ll come back. Why would you ask something like that?”
“Imogen l-l-l-l-left, and my d-d-d-d-d-dad never wanted me.”
My eyes burned. “Oh, Finn. Imogen got stuck in New York and she needs my help to return to you, that’s why I’m leaving, and you know I can’t be without my little cuddle bug for long.” I hugged him very tightly and kissed his cheek. “I’ll call you often, okay? And before you know it, I’ll be back with Imogen.”
I really hoped it was true. I didn’t like to lie to Finn, even if it was to console him. I wasn’t even sure if Imogen wanted to be found and if she did, would she even consider returning to Dublin? She had never accepted her role as a mother, and while she’d tried to spend time with Finn, she’d always been more like a sister to him. Would she even care if I told her he missed her? She probably wouldn’t believe me, in order to protect herself and her vision of the future.
Sometimes this made me really mad, but then I remembered how happy Imogen had looked before she left for New York.
“Will you help me sort my socks? I can’t do it alone.”
Finn pulled back, dragged his sleeve over his nose, and nodded. He loved to help me with chores, and it was always a good way to distract him when he was sad or upset. With his tongue wedged between his lips in utter concentration, he began to pile socks and tights in one corner of the suitcase. Tears burned my eyes. This was only a short-term goodbye, but I was still inexplicably sad.
