"She's all yours," I said wearily as I pulled the door wide open and stepped aside. He looked at me quizzically and then laid a hand on my shoulder. He was dressed in black and wore his collar and, for a moment, I had the urge to address him as Father.
"I've got it, Leah," he said quietly before turning and heading into the living room. I stood watching from the doorway as he sat down on the edge of one of the wingback chairs that Mama had always shooed us off of saying they were for company.
"Who the hell are you?" Mama demanded to know.
"Mama, it's Patrick," he said softly. "We need to talk."
"I have no idea who you are, and I don't want to talk to you," she said waving him off before taking a long drag of her cigarette and blowing the smoke in his direction.
"But I need to talk to you," he said bowing his head. He dropped his voice and began speaking so softly that I couldn't hear what he was saying. I assumed that was on purpose, so I walked out the front door and sat down on the porch giving them some privacy.
I tried not to think about what was going to happen next, and instead, let my mind wander back to kissing Jack Yates. It had been a long time since I'd kissed anyone like that—or anyone in general. I could still feel the warmth of Jack's lips and the solidness of his chest under my fingers. I'd wanted to let go. I'd wanted to feel his hands roaming my body but, I knew that if I'd done that, I would have most likely lost my job.
"Dammit!" I cursed as I slammed my fist into my thigh trying to hold back the tears that threatened to spill over. "When is any of this going to get easier?"
"Probably not tonight," Patrick said as he stepped through the door and stood out on the porch with me. "Sorry, I couldn't help but hear you."
"What did she say?" I asked trying not to get my hope up. "Will she get help?"
"Leah, listen to me," he said as he walked over to the porch swing. I scooted over and gave him room to sit down. "Mama is really sick inside, and I don't know that any of us can help her. I don't know that we can't, but I think her road back is going to be long and hard. She doesn't want to get well, Leah. She wants to stay in the place where she drowns the pain and then wallows in it."
"But she could get into rehab and stop drinking," I said helplessly. "She could sober up."
"If she wanted to," he said taking my hand. "But she doesn't want to, Leah. That's the hard part of all of this. She doesn't want to leave the pain behind. She's angry and hurt and lonely, but she'd rather stay that way than deal with everything sober."
"But Patrick . . ." I whispered. "I can't . . . Riley can't . . ."
"No, you most definitely cannot," he nodded as he squeezed my hand. "We've got to get you out of this house as soon as possible. You and Riley need to stay somewhere else. You can stay at the parish house for a few days, but there really isn't enough room for you there."
"But we can't leave Mama here by herself," I protested. "She'll starve to death or hurt herself or burn the place down."
"I'm going to work on finding a caretaker for her, Leah," he said patting my shoulder. "And I'll look into housing for you and Riley, but you two can't stay here. Riley won't survive it."
I nodded and covered my face with my hands as I tried to hold back the tears. I knew he was right, but it felt like such an extreme solution to the problem.
"What if Molly comes back," I whispered. "How will she know how to find us?"
"Leah, it's time you faced reality," Patrick said as he put his arms around me and hugged me tightly. "Molly isn't coming back."
His words released the dam that had built inside of me, and I sobbed on his shoulder, releasing all the pain and fear I'd felt since our sister had disappeared. Patrick rested his chin on the top of my head, just like he'd done when we were kids, and waited for my grief to tire itself out.
*
"Riley, it's time to get up," I said shaking the sleeping girl. She grumbled and rolled over pulling the covers over her head. "Riley, this is not a rehearsal. It's time to get up and get ready, kiddo. If you can't go to school, you're going to come to work with me."
"Aww, Leah," she groaned as she pulled the pillow over her ears and squeezed her eyes shut against the light. "You're so mean!"
"Next time you'll think about my meanness before you punch a classmate," I said, grinning as I pulled the comforter off of her and grabbed the pillow away from her. "Now get up and get ready, I'll buy you breakfast on the way in to work."
I left her to get ready as I prepped our lunches and dressed myself. Normally, I wore clothing that was designed to hint at the fact that I was the boss, but that was also practical in the warehouse. Today, I dressed with a little more care than normal and pulled on a bright colored dress over my usual leggings and boots. I needed the protection of the steel toes, so there was really no way around them, but I swiped on a layer of mascara before dabbing on a little lipstick and considering myself in the mirror. I ran a hand through my hair and wondered for the millionth time whether I should just chop it all off.
The long dark curls were my pride and joy and, combined with my bright blue eyes, they earned me the identity of one of the Black Irish. My mother had told me that legend had it that her people had originated with the arrival of the Spanish Armada and that the dark hair and light eyes were the result of the mix of those folks with the fair Irish folk of the upper isle. I wasn't sure how much of her tale to believe, but as a child, I loved the idea that my curls came from one side of the family and my eyes, the other.
Right now, I was tempted to pull out the scissors and lop off the curls since they refused to behave in any reasonable manner. But I thought better of it and simply gathered the mass in a clip that lifted it off of my face and would be easy to adjust during the day. If I were honest, I'd admit that I wanted Jack to be able to run his fingers through my hair if he kissed me again, and the clip was easily removed. I blushed as I thought about it, but then let the notion go as I walked to Riley's room.
"I don't want to go, Leah," she pouted as she slowly packed her backpack full of books and games. "Why can't I stay here with Gram?"
"Because I need you to come with me today," I said cheerfully, avoiding the explanation of why Mama was not someone I felt safe leaving her with anymore. "I'm going to have a busy day at the office, and I need a helper."