Avenged. Jacqui Rose

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      About to bring down his fist with the full force of his anger and humiliation, Father Ryan froze as the door suddenly opened and a shrill voice sounded.

      ‘Tea, Father! … What in heaven’s name!’ A nun stood open-mouthed in the doorway of the study carrying a pot of tea, a plate of biscuits and a look of horror on her face.

      Father Ryan blushed and dropped his fist. ‘Saints in heaven; have you ever heard of knocking, Sister?’

      The nun said nothing, still startled by the sight which had greeted her.

      Composing himself and wiping away the tears, Donal got up from the leather chair. He winked; charm snaking its way into his smile.

      ‘Why, Sister Margaret, don’t look so startled. Father Ryan was only showing me how the other day an ungodly scoundrel attacked a poor innocent man in the street.’

      The nun’s face drew both relief and concern from Donal’s explanation. ‘Why that’s terrible. I hope the man was all right and a good Samaritan was able to intervene?’

      Donal grinned. ‘There was such a Samaritan, Sister. In fact, you’re in the same room as him. It was Father Ryan who selflessly, and with no thought of his own safety, procured the man from a terrible fate.’

      The nun’s face lit up in pride. ‘Is this true, Father? Did you really save a man from such a sinner? Were you hurt?’

      Not letting Father Ryan reply, Donal spoke with mischief in his voice. ‘Now, Sister, no more questions. We know how modest Father Ryan is.’

      ‘But …’

      Donal interrupted the nun. ‘Enough, Sister. Do they not say flattery is a sin? “The Lord shall cut off all flattering lips, and the tongue that speaketh proud things.” Psalm twelve, verse three.’

      The nun giggled as she looked at Donal. ‘Father O’Sheyenne! You really …’

      ‘Sister Margaret, you know as well as anyone I left the church a long time ago. I am, unlike Father Ryan here, just an ordinary soul.’

      ‘To me, Father, a man of God is what you’ll always be. It was a sorry day when you decided to leave the priesthood; though the good Lord will never leave your side. Is there nothing that will tempt you to come back to our fold?’

      Irked at this conversation, Father Ryan interrupted. ‘Sister! That is quite enough! You can pour the tea and leave us, and I would be grateful if this discussion wasn’t broadcast to the whole of St Joseph’s.’

      Donal smirked; amused at the discomfort of Father Ryan as he tried to pretend all was well.

      ‘There’s no need to be too hard on Sister Margaret, she was only interested to hear what a good Samaritan you were, as I was when I was sitting in the chair.’

      Watching the nun finish pouring the tea, Donal addressed her. ‘Thank you, Sister, you can leave us now.’ The nun nodded, pushing the plate of biscuits into Donal’s hands. As she turned to walk away, he stopped her.

      ‘And, Sister?’

      ‘Yes, Father O’Sheyenne?’

      ‘You’re looking lovely today.’ Donal chuckled as Sister Margaret, blushing in pure delight, scurried out of the room.

      Once the door was shut, Donal turned back to Father Ryan.

      ‘Now where were we? Oh, I know. You were attacking me.’

      Father Ryan, who by now had regained his composure, glared as Donal continued talking. ‘I’ve got a married couple downstairs who’ve come for the Brogans’ baby.’

      ‘Have you no shame? Connor and Clancy are barely cold and you’re already getting rid of their baby.’

      ‘As you rightly point out, they’re no longer with us, so I can’t imagine they’ll make great parents.’

      ‘Are you even human?’ Father Ryan shouted, his face red.

      ‘I provide a service, and that doesn’t come free; they know what they’re getting themselves into.’

      ‘I doubt that. These people are desperate for a child; they’ll do anything to make it happen; even make a deal with the devil and I will no longer be a part of it; you will cease to use St Joseph’s as your market place.’

      Donal’s voice was laden with mocking contempt. ‘Now you know that’s not possible, Matthew.’

      Father Ryan placed his hand on his stomach. He was feeling unwell; it was more than he could cope with, and he was certain he was getting an ulcer. The whole situation was too much. It’d gone on long enough.

      ‘It’s over.’

      Donal chuckled. ‘Pardon? Me poor ears aren’t hearing you correctly. I could have sworn you just said, It’s over.’

      ‘That I did, Donal O’Sheyenne. This all has to come to an end and here is the end. We had a deal.’

      Donal nodded his head. ‘We did indeed and it’s worked out all round. You’ve got everything you wanted and so have I, so why make the walls come tumbling down, why bring trouble on yourself?’

      Father Ryan stiffened. His voice was almost pleading.

      ‘I did all you asked of me a long time ago. I’ve paid my dues over and over. I live with the shame of my sins, and I ask God for forgiveness and for him to allow me through the gates of heaven, and now what I ask of you, Donal O’Sheyenne, is to set me free from this … this deal of Shylock.’

      Donal sniffed, popping a whole biscuit into his mouth. He didn’t usually go in for melodrama but it amused him how worked-up and dramatic Matthew Ryan was being. Shylock. The man who wanted a pound of flesh for every money owed. But Father Ryan was wrong to compare him to Shylock because he wanted more. Much more, and therefore he wasn’t going to let the priest walk away from this.

      ‘I think we both know that’s not possible, Matthew. You’re up in it as much as me.’

      ‘It’s wrong. I always knew it was, but …’

      Interrupting, Donal smiled nastily. ‘But you turned a blind eye to it back then because you needed something from me. And you got it. And now you owe me. Besides, what difference does it make? Childless couples get a new baby and I get what’s owed.’

      ‘How is it owed to you? They aren’t your children. They’re children of God and that being so no money should pass hands in the process.’

      Donal sneered. ‘Let’s get something straight. They’re hardly children of God. They’re the bastard offspring of whores and drunks. The unwanted of the poor, the needy and simpletons. If they didn’t go to the homes we arrange, they’d end up in the industrial schools. So everybody wins.’

      ‘What about the Brogans? Connor and his poor wife, did they win, Donal? They were good people and you killed them. Striking them down like stray dogs.’

      Donal СКАЧАТЬ