A ladybug landed on the front of my shirt. When I brushed it away, it took flight, heading northeast. I couldn’t help but think of Mary Sheedy’s confidence that her husband would be from Georgia, thanks to a ladybug that probably hadn’t made it past the woods before getting eaten by a bird. I chuckled to myself as I stepped off the porch and crossed to the picnic table.
The day promised to be a scorcher, and I made a mental note to sleep outside that night rather than in the stuffy confines of the tin can Maggie called a home. I straddled one of the benches and blew a sharp whistle through my teeth. Yeats padded over and slipped his head into my lap, patiently waiting for a scratch.
“Morning, boy.” I dug my fingers into the folds behind his ears. “Where’s Beckett?”
I’d named the dogs after discovering the Irish writers in a freshman English class. With their grizzled and scraggly appearance, the names seemed fitting. Yeats lifted his head and huffed, clearly annoyed he was once again tasked with finding his errant companion. I chuckled as he lumbered away and disappeared around the side of the trailer.
The sound of an approaching vehicle made me turn in my seat. A black car pulled up to the trailer, slowing to a stop in front of our blue pickup, which looked even older and shabbier next to the glittering Mercedes. All the doors opened, and Pop Sheedy hoisted himself out of the car with aid of the doorframe. He was soon followed by all four of his sons. Judd was the last to appear from the car, glowering as he emerged from the driver’s side. The age range of the Sheedy boys spanned almost two decades. Mike, named after his father and so referred to simply as “Sonny,” was the oldest at 38, but his plump face made him look only a few years older than his youngest brother. His young appearance was even more stark when he was next to his craggy wife, who thankfully wasn’t with him today. All four of them seemed to be cut from the same cloth, each hovering right around six feet tall, with broad shoulders; coal black hair; and the same wide-set, milky blue eyes.
Apprehension prickled at the back of my neck. Something had to be wrong. Maybe Pete had been exaggerating when he’d told me how happy Pop had been with my efforts the day before, or—worse yet—maybe a police officer had come around asking questions about my quick-change. Whatever it was, this unannounced visit could only be bad news because Pop Sheedy never came to you.
I stood in a show of respect to the clan leader who sauntered toward me at a painfully slow pace. The boys hung back a little, though they trailed after their father in an effort to get within earshot of the conversation. Probably looking forward to the reaming I was about to get, the bastards. They’d all decided to tag along to get a good laugh at the buffer.
I didn’t take my seat again until Pop had settled himself on the opposite side of the table.
“Morning.” I sat stiffly across from the old man. “I’m honored you decided to pay a visit. Can I get you anything? Maggie made a new batch of tea.”
I half-stood again as if I were about to go inside and put a kettle on. I was stalling, of course, trying to delay the inevitable.
“Sit down, Shay,” Pop said.
I slowly lowered myself back to the bench. “Pop, I think I know why you’re here, and I can explain.” It was a lie. I had no explanation because I had no idea what I’d done wrong. Still, it seemed like an apology was the best way to start.
“You don’t know why I’m here and have nothing to explain, so shut your trap and let me say what I’ve come here to say.” Pop’s eyes were full of cold appraisal.
“Yes, sir.” I dropped my eyes to the table and kept my mouth shut as instructed.
“This trailer of yours is a bit of an eye-sore,” Pop said after a moment. “It should’ve been demolished years ago. Why you continue to live in that when you’ve got a perfectly good house sitting right there I’ll never understand.”
I felt my cheeks burn. “You’d have to ask Maggie about that, sir. She’s pretty fixed on the old notion that sleeping under a real roof takes away your soul.”
Judd scoffed loudly. “It’s sad how some people are so stuck in the old ways,” he said to his brother Pat, in a voice intentionally loud enough to be overheard. Pat was four years Judd’s senior but could have easily passed for his twin if it weren’t for his left eye, which turned inward slightly so that it looked like he was constantly trying to examine his own nose.
Pat guffawed but was quickly silenced by his father’s sharp tone. “There’s nothing sad about it,” he said over his shoulder. “There’s a lot to be said about keeping to the old traditions. Now shut your gobs or wait in the car.”
My mouth twitched as I tried to repress a smile. I caught Judd’s angry glare and allowed the corner of my lips to turn up into a faint smirk, then dropped them just as quickly when Pop Sheedy turned back to me.
“So I suppose you’d like to know why I’ve stopped by,” Pop said.
“I’d be happy to know if there’s anything I can do for you, sir.” I laid it on thick as molasses.
The door of the trailer opened, and Jimmy Boy stepped out, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He stopped when he saw the gathering in his front yard, and for a second, it looked as if he might turn around and flee back into the safety of the trailer. Instead, he forced his feet down into the grass, taking a few hesitant steps toward the picnic table. He didn’t speak but crossed his arms over his chest, hovering behind me like hired muscle.
Pop Sheedy continued on without acknowledging my brother. “Then you’re in luck, Shay, because that’s exactly why I’m here. Sending you out with that trailer was a little test. An experiment, you might call it.”
I nodded to indicate I understood. I glanced at Pop’s sons, standing in a line behind their father just as Jimmy Boy stood behind me. It struck me that this meeting would present a pretty strange picture to anyone watching.
“And it proved exactly what I guessed it would, which is that you are an asset to this clan. I have a very special job, and you’re the only one who can pull it off.”
I’d been leaning forward, listening, but hearing this sent me reeling back several inches. “I’m honored, Pop. What did you have in mind?”
“I’m sending you up north to Pennsylvania. A place near Philadelphia called Balanova.”
“Balanova?” I’d never heard of the place. And I couldn’t think of a single person I knew who lived in Pennsylvania. “What’s in Balanova?”
“Revenge,” Pop said.
CHAPTER EIGHT
THE WORD “REVENGE” hung in the air as Pop continued his explanation.
“There’s an old wrong that needs setting right, and you’re the perfect person for the job,” he said.
“Sorry. I don’t quite follow.”
“Did you ever wonder why, out of everyone in this clan, you were allowed to finish school?” Pop punctuated his question with a quirked brow.
I frowned. “Because Maggie wanted me to.”
“She did, but I didn’t ask why you finished. I asked why you were allowed to finish.”
Electricity prickled down my spine, and I squirmed, trying to get rid of the uncomfortable sensation.
“Something wrong, son?” Pop asked.
I shook my head. “No, sir. I guess I just never really thought about it.”
“Well, let me fill you in. Maggie wanted you to finish school instead of going out on the road with your brother, and I gave her permission to bend the rules because it served my purposes. See, I’ve had this plan in the works for a long time—since before you were born—and keeping you tucked away in school meant there wouldn’t be much chance of you getting a record.”