We will not fulfill any book request that does not come through the book request page or does not follow the rules of requesting books. NO EXCEPTIONS.

Comments are manually approved by us. Thus, if you don't see your comment immediately after leaving a comment, understand that it is held for moderation. There is no need to submit another comment. Even that will be put in the moderation queue.

Please avoid leaving disrespectful comments towards other users/readers. Those who use such cheap and derogatory language will have their comments deleted. Repeat offenders will be blocked from accessing this website (and its sister site). This instruction specifically applies to those who think they are too smart. Behave or be set aside!

Redeeming 6: Part 4 – Chapter 46

MOTHER KNOWS BEST

AOIFE

I SKIPPED the following few days of school and called in sick for all of my shifts; too miserable and frazzled to concentrate on anything other than the shit storm that had become my life.

Everything felt like it was slipping away from me, and, in the middle of the madness, the only good decision I seemed to have made was confiding in my mother.

Since telling her about the pregnancy, Mam had been amazing.

When I felt like I was at my most vulnerable, and truly free-falling off the edge, she waded in and caught ahold of my hand. She gave me someone to lean on, and someone to show me the way. I knew she was disappointed in me – for me, as she had so delicately put it – but having her by my side made the thought of my unknown future almost bearable.

Enabling my temporary withdrawal from life by screening calls from my principal and boss, not to mention intercepting unprompted house visits from Katie and Casey. Mam had stuck her neck out for me and held out a hand to warn the world off while I tried to come to terms with the path my life had taken. Including accompanying me to that dreaded appointment with our family GP, where I had to sit in front of a doctor who’d known me since childhood and tell him that I’d made the age-old mistake of getting knocked up in secondary school.

He confirmed what I already knew, did my bloodwork, and gave me an estimated due date of September 20thHe then sent me on my way with a handful of pamphlets on teenage pregnancy and young mothers, and the knowledge that I would soon receive an appointment in the post for a dating scan at the public maternity hospital.

I had been so shaken up afterwards, that my mother had whipped out the emergency credit card that Dad thought she didn’t know about and had taken me shopping. Blowing an ornate amount of money in our regular hair salon and beauty bar, not to mention refurbishing my entire wardrobe with clothes that I wouldn’t be able to wear for much longer, Mam had somehow managed to make light and normal of a situation that felt anything but.

Buttering me up with mugs of hot chocolates and plates of freshly baked pastries, she traipsed us around Cork City until I couldn’t bear to look at another sale rail or rummage around in another bargain bin. Physically wearing me out from doing what I loved most was an impressive feat, and one I quickly learned was my mother’s way of luring me into a state of exhausted pliancy.

Sitting across from me in matching leather armchairs, in a coffee shop on Patrick’s Street, with a small round table and a dozen or so shopping bags separating us, Mam raised her foamy latte to her lips and took a small sip. Looking like such a lady, with her legs crossed at the ankles, and her beautiful blonde hair twisted back in a loose bun up-style, I felt that familiar swell of annoyance. My mother was beautiful, inside and out. She was clever and witty, and loyal. She kept herself well, had a lovely shape about her, and worked hard for her family. But none of that seemed to matter to my father when he continued to repeat the same mistakes over and over. It wasn’t a matter of Mam having let herself go and Dad shifting his attention to someone better, because there was no one better.

“So, about Joey,” Mam finally broached the topic that I had been carefully dodging all day. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” I replied, reaching for my mug of hot chocolate.

I hadn’t seen or heard from Joey since the night he climbed out of my bedroom window. He hadn’t come back, and I didn’t know if he had tried to call or text, because I had unintentionally left my phone at his place that night. I had been so desperate to get out of that house and away from his father, that I had left it along with my charger, makeup, overnight bag, and most important of all, my necklace; the one he’d given me for my eighteenth birthday.

I’d taken my jewelry off before using his shower, and had forgotten to put them back on. It was still on his nightstand, along with my Claddagh ring, and earrings. I could survive without everything else that I left behind, but not having my phone was a disaster, and my neck felt so bare without that necklace. I found myself constantly reaching up to rub the locket, something that had become almost like a comfort blanket, only to feel a swell of unease when I remembered it was gone.

I was desperate to see him, to speak to him, to make up, but it had been radio silence on the Lynch front.

“Nothing?” Mam cocked a brow. “I haven’t seen him in a few days.”

Neither have I“He’s got a lot going on.”

According to Kev, who had heard it from Mack, who heard it from Alec, Joey was on the missing list.

No one had seen or heard from him since the weekend.

Not at school, or training, the GAA grounds, or the pub.

I knew that wasn’t entirely true, because, while nobody at school had heard from my boyfriend, he had reached out to my father.

Dad had mentioned to Mam that Joey had called him to ask for time off, something that Mam had later relayed to me.

Apparently, his mother had a late second-trimester miscarriage and he was needed at home to help out with the kids for a week or two until she was back on her feet.

I’d thrown up violently when I heard the news, quickly putting two and two together, and realizing that when he told me that something had come up that day, he wasn’t feeding me a line.

He meant it.

And I had hurt him that night.

Badly.

My words had devastated him, and I had regretted them the minute they came out of my mouth. I hadn’t meant any of it, but at the time I had been in such a state that I couldn’t think clearly. Never in my life had I felt the level of fear and degradation as I had in that kitchen.

The assault, at the hands of Joey’s father, had lasted no longer than ninety seconds at the most, but those ninety seconds had been the most terrifying of my life. Teddy Lynch was the scariest man I had ever encountered, and the desperate need I had to protect myself from ever encountering him again, had resulted in me pushing away the one person who knew what it felt like to fear that man. It gave me a glimpse into the fear that Joey and his siblings had been carrying around for their entire lives, and my heart broke for them.

“You need to have that conversation with him soon,” Mam told me. “And your father and I will need to sit down with his parents and have a conversation of our own.”

“No, you don’t,” I argued, heart fluttering wildly at the thought of my mother going anywhere near that house. She didn’t know what happened to me. If she had, there would be a very different conversation occurring. One between her and the officer that arrested her for murder. “I know that me and Joey have to talk, and we will. But you and Dad don’t need to have a conversation about anything with his parents, Mam. His mother is a wreck, and his father is a complete—’

“Asshole?”

Nodding, I exhaled a shaky breath. “A huge one.”

“You don’t need to tell me about Teddy Lynch, pet,” she replied. “I spent six years of secondary school tolerating the insufferable bastard.”

“Bastard?” My brows shot up in surprise. “You hardly ever curse, Mam.”

“Yes, well, sometimes there’s just no other word to fit the description,” she replied, giving me a small smile. “And when it comes to describing that man, bastard is putting it mildly.”

“He’s going to take it badly,” I heard myself admit, chewing on my lip, as a wave of anxiety came over me.

“Teddy?” she snorted. “Don’t you worry about him, pet. Your father and I are more than able to handle him.”

I shook my head.

Mam’s eyes softened. “Joey.”

I nodded anxiously. “He hates his father, Mam. I mean he really, really despises the man. I mean it, Mam. He’s so paranoid about turning into him, that it has really screwed with his mind growing up.”

“That’s so sad,” Mam replied. “Joey is nothing like his father.”

“I know. But once I tell him that I’m pregnant – that we’re having a baby when we’re still in school – he’s going to take one look at our situation and compare it with his parents.” I shrugged helplessly before adding, “I’m really scared that it’ll push him off the deep end.”

While we had never openly spoken about Joey’s issues, my mother wasn’t a stupid woman. For years, before we became a couple, Joey had worked with my father, and been to our home on countless occasions. If I could tell he was strung out back then, then so could my parents. Still, Dad never fired him, and Mam never turned him away from the door. Instead, they continued to hold the door open for a boy who had never been given a fighting chance.

“I love him, Mam,” I declared, voice thick with emotion, as I locked eyes on my mother from across the coffee table. “I do. I love him so much that it blinds me.”

“That is what tends to happen when you fall in love for the first time,” she replied gently. “It happens to the best of us, pet.”

“I mean, obviously, I know we don’t have a perfect relationship. Far from it.” Shoulders sagging, I waved a hand in front of me as I continued, “Being with him feels messy, and raw, and complicated as hell, but it also feels exciting, and addictive, and so incredibly right.” I blew out a breath and shrugged helplessly. “There’s no one else for me, Mam. I know it. I can feel it in my bones.”

“I believe you,” she replied, nursing her mug between her hands. “You’ve always been a drama queen—’

“Hey!”

“Let me finish.”

“Fine,” I huffed out a breath.

Laughing, Mam tried again. “What I’m trying to say is that even though you’ve always had a flair for the dramatics, and can be recklessly impulsive with your actions, you have never been reckless with your heart.”

“Wow,” I mused. “What a backhanded compliment.”

“Oh stop,” Mam chuckled. “Where is the lie in that?”

There wasn’t one.

“Fine, I’m dramatic,” I conceded, waving her off. “But Kev is the one starved for your attention.”

“Aoife,” Mam chuckled.

“It’s true,” I argued light-heartedly. “He’s insanely jealous of all the time we’ve been spending together lately. Haven’t you noticed the big cranky head on him? I wouldn’t be surprised if there was a tiny doll version of me in his room with pins sticking out of it.”

“Poor Kev,” she laughed.

“Poor Kev my ass,” I challenged with a roll of my eyes. “You’ve babied him, Mam, and he can’t handle anyone else having your attention.”

“If I’ve babied Kev, it’s because he needed me to.”

“Ugh.” I fake gagged. “Sure.”

“It’s true. You’ve never needed me the way he has. You’ve always been my wild child,” she continued to tell me. “More challenging than your brother – and more rebellious, too. While Kev has always hidden himself away in the safety of the shade, uncertain and unsure of himself, you, my dear girl, have basked in the sunshine. You refuse to shy away from the world, choosing instead to embrace all that life has to offer.”

“I’m not sure if you’re saying that’s a good thing or not,” I admitted, eyeing her warily.

“It’s a good thing,” Mam chuckled. “Sure, you’ve given me a few grey hairs down through the years, and I’ve had to rein that reckless streak in at times, but you’ve done a wonderful job of managing to find the balance between enjoying your teens and losing yourself in the process. And I’m so proud of you for that, my little darling.”

“Uh, hello? I’m with child, Mam,” I shot back dramatically, gesturing to the tiny swell of my stomach – the swell that looked more like I’d eaten a heavy meal than anything else. “I’m about to make you a grandmother before your forty-fifth birthday. I think it’s safe to say that I haven’t done such a great job of finding the balance in anything – unless you’re referring to my ability to balance on Joey’s dick, then in that case, the evidence is all in and it turns out that I’m a pro.”

“Why would you say that to me?” Mam groaned, covering her face with her hand. “I’m your mother, Aoife. Jesus.”

I shrugged. “I guess that’s my reckless streak roaring its ugly head again, huh, Mam?”

“Yes, well, I’m all for an open and honest discussion with my daughter,” she said with a grimace. “But please consider the fact that I birthed you and have known Joey since he was a boy of twelve. I don’t need the mental image of you balancing on his willy, nor do I need you to delve into any sort of intimate details. Save that kind of talk for Casey.”

“Willy,” I snickered. “Say dick, Mam.”

“I will not,” she replied, flushed. “It’s a horrible word.”

“For a wonderful body part.”

“Aoife!”

“Okay, okay.” I held my hands up. “Shutting up now.” Chuckling softly, I looked to Mam and said, “Remember a few years ago, when I told you that I would never allow myself to catch crazy deep feelings for a boy?”

“Ah yes.” Mam smiled knowingly. “I seem to remember you insisting that you would never fall in love with Paul, or let any boy, for that matter, cloud your judgement.”

I grimaced. “God, I was such a sanctimonious fool.”

“You believed it at the time.”

“Yeah, I really did.”

“Ah, but Paul Rice was never Joey Lynch, was he?”

That’s for damn sure.

“No.” I exhaled a shaky breath and shook my head. “He wasn’t.”

“It used to make me sad, you know.” Mam took another sip of her latte before adding, “Seeing you with Paul, forcing yourself to feel things I knew you didn’t, while you carried such a strong torch for someone else.”

I winced. “Was it that obvious?”

“Oh yes.” Mam nodded. “You spent four years of your youth settling for comfortable with a boy you had nothing in common with, while your heart never once wandered from a boy who made your whole face light up when he walked in the room.” A melancholy sigh escaped her. “I never saw you have that kind of reaction when you were with Paul. Your eyes didn’t widen when he looked at you, and your cheeks never blushed when he winked. You used to look almost despondent when he called over to see you.”

“Three and a half years,” I reeled off with a wince. “I know that Paul was steady, Mam, and he comes from money and has a big future ahead of him, but I was never happy with him.”

“If you want money, you can make that for yourself,” Mam replied. “You don’t need a man to do that for you.”

“I know and I completely agree,” I was quick to say. “But Casey thought I was crazy for letting him go. I mean, she’s team Joey now, but for a while there, she was seriously questioning my judgement.”

“You know as well as I do what kind of a home that Casey comes from,” Mam replied gently. “You know what her mother is like, Aoife. You’ve seen what that woman has exposed her daughter to down through the years. The kind of men she’s traipsed through their front door.”

“Yeah,” I mumbled, shuddering at the memory.

“And you also know how strapped for cash they are in that little flat over in Elk’s Terrace,” Mam continued. “I can only presume that when Casey saw you throw away a boy with a solid future, for a boy with an unwritten one, she panicked on your behalf.”

“Paul was no catch of the day,” I muttered. “And we’re not exactly flush with cash ourselves, Mam.”

“We might not have money, Aoife, but we’ve always had each other,” Mam explained. “We’ve always had our family unit, and that’s a form of stability and comfort that we both know young Casey has never had.”

Or Joey.

“I’m lucky to have you, Mam.”

She arched a brow.

“What?” I laughed. “I was being sincere.”

“Yes, well, I’m sure you’ll mean that even more in six months’ time,” she chuckled. “When there’s a baby crying the house down and you’re up to your elbows in poo and vomit, screaming for your mother to come get her grandchild.” Clearly amused with herself, she added, “At least your partner in crime has experience with newborns, because you’ve never held a baby in your life.”

“I’ve held Sean.”

“Sean’s three.”

“He was only two when I first held him.”

“There’s a big difference between a two-year-old that you can hand back, and a defenseless newborn baby, depending entirely on you to meet every one of his needs.”

“Mam.”

“He or she will need you to feed them, wind them, change them, clothe them, comfort them, love them, soothe them… all of it and more. He or she will even depend on you to clear their airways with a tiny nasal aspirator, when they get a cold, because he or she won’t be able to do that for themselves. This little baby will be completely reliant on his or her mother for survival. And that’s just the newborn stage, which believe it or not, my darling girl, is the easiest stage of motherhood.”

“Please stop,” I begged, feeling dizzy at the thought. “I’m so unbelievably terrified of what’s coming, that I’m surprised I can function.”

“You can do this,” she assured me. “You are going to be a good mother.”

“I’m going to be a disaster,” I mumbled glumly. “I can barely cook French toast.”

“Because you’re a spoilt princess who’s used to having everything done for her,” Mam laughed. “But we’ll soon get you up to speed, pet. By the time my grandchild arrives, you’ll be cooking up a storm and ready to take on the world.”

“Don’t ever leave me, okay,” I strangled out. “I might be on the verge of becoming a mam, but that doesn’t mean that I’ll stop needing mine.”

“You’re stuck with me, I’m afraid,” Mam laughed with a wink. “Whether you like it or not.”

“I’m not moving out,” I warned her, holding up a shaky finger. “I’m never leaving home, Mam. I’m staying put, where there’s a veteran of motherhood in residence – and a veteran of the ironing board.”

Mam laughed again. “That’s another thing I’ll have to teach you.”

“I will never iron.”

“You won’t have a choice.”

“Yes, I will,” I shot back. “I’ll buy all non-iron clothes for the baby to wear.”

“And who, may I ask, will iron your clothes?”

I rolled my eyes. “My mother, obviously.”

“Oh, Aoife, you do make me smile,” Mam chuckled. “You’re going to be okay, love. You truly are.”

“I hope you’re right, Mam,” I replied. “I really do.”

“Joey is going to be okay, too,” she added. “You both are.” Mam gave me another one of those perceptive smiles. “Do you want to know how I know this?”

“Pray tell, sensei.”

“Because your baby’s father might be as pigheaded and stubborn as you are when it comes to admitting his feelings, but his heart has never once wandered from you, either.”

“No.” I shook my head. “You don’t know that, Mam.”

“I do know that,” she corrected in a soft tone. “Aside from the fact that I’ve watched you both grow up, and have firsthand experience of the kinds of qualities you both possess, I also happen to possess a pair of eyes – and ears – of my own that are in perfect working order.”

“Meaning?”

“Meaning that when you peel back all the layers of yours and Joey’s relationship, taking the flirting, raging hormones, and the physical aspect out of the equation, there’s a rock-solid foundation underneath,” she told me. “One that’s based on friendship, and respect, and trust.” Smiling fondly, she recrossed her ankles, switching them up, and leaned forward in her seat. “He’s your friend, Aoife, and you’re his. Never mind loving one another, that’s the easy part, you and Joey like each other. You enjoy one another’s company, and I can promise you that all of those wonderful aspects of your relationship, all of those effortless conversations you find yourself having with him, or all of the content spells of silence you spend in one another’s company, will only strengthen your ability to stand the test of time. And more crucially; the test of parenthood.”

“You really think that?”

“I do,” she replied, giving me a reassuring smile. “And remember; mother knows best.”


Comment

Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

Options

not work with dark mode
Reset