Nevermore: The War (Part: 5)

Jack sits in a dark café sipping black coffee. He does not like coffee very much, especially in the afternoon, but he knows he needs to sober himself up before the woman he is supposed to meet arrives. Across from him sits Kerrigan, who will take Jason for the greater part of an afternoon. Kerrigan is doing her best not to say anything about how badly Jack looks. Normally he is a handsome man, but at the moment, he is bloody and bruised with a badly broken nose. Normally in an upper-class café such as this, a man in Jack's condition probably would not make it through the door, and the fact that, from time to time over the past half an hour, Kerrigan has held his head in her lap in an attempt to calm him down, would normally merit immediate expulsion from the premises. Instead, they are sitting in a private room. Thus far, Kerrigan has not inquired about Jack's injuries, but her curiosity finally gets the better of her.

"So, Jack, tell me. How did you hurt your hand?"

"That was first thing this mornin'. I was up ‘afore dawn. I tried to make bangers an' mash, but I sliced up me hand worse than the potatoes. Jason was surprised to learn that I don't have a cook. O' course, I told him he can't be sayin' what I said o'er them damned potatoes. I said, ‘Well, da' doesn't have a cook,' so he said, ‘No, but he's got a hangover."

"Well, you did, did you not?"

"Not too bad."

"Jack, be honest. You drank, what was it, eight bottles of whisky in one night? You didn't even appear drunk until after you fell off a horse, speaking of which, Jack, I want to see if your head is all right from last night."

"I'm fine Kerrigan. I'm just a little beat up. That's all."

"How did that happen? I would like to hear the whole story please."

"After breakfast, I'd a bit o' business in me own district. I went to see the silversmith, McAlpin, to fetch a staff I‘d ordered. Of course, McAlpin's shop is situated between two pubs. I went into The Hawk's Nest for a while wi' McAlpin an' his now former apprentice Liam, who, it turns out, is a son of mine from Earth. I never knew that I had a son while I was in the army ‘til this very day. The publican, O'Shea, an' meself got into a conversation about people I once knew. Speakin' o' which, I need ye to get me clearance to bring a little girl back to life."

"Why? I need a reason."

"This girl was her father's pride and joy. She was only two years old. She was run over by a carriage, an' her family didn't get a cent. They've nothin', Kerrigan. Nothin'. Her dyin' ruined her da'. She's an older brother aged five or six an' a sister Jason's age. Her death drove her father, who was the biggest teetotaler I ever knew, to the drink. He's ruined. That enough reason."

"Yes, Jack. It is. Who will bring her back, though?"

"I've already written a letter to me sister, who I know is capable of said feat. I digress. All of a sudden, in walks Michael Crane, proprietor and publican of The Crane and Sparrow two doors down from The Hawk‘s nest. If ye've never met him, think o' his namesake. To be honest, he looks rather like a bird. He's about eye level wi' me. His hair sticks up in every direction. He stands in the corner an' stares at ye one hell've a lot. O'Shea's the opposite. He's about the same height as Dermott McFinn, has slick red-black hair an' a hooked nose, an' he's very strong from bein' a former boxer. The two publicans are good friends. The Hawk‘s Nest has always been open during the day, an‘ The Crane and Sparrow has always been open at night, so they never really had to compete. It turns out that in my absence from the area, Sparrow left his partner. Twenty years later, in he walks with a sixteen-year-old girl, his daughter. Crane had been needin' a hand ‘round the bar, so he takes her on as a favor to Sparrow. Within a year, she's pregnant, an' she swears ‘tis his. ‘Twasn't. This was a little over ten years ago. Sparrow comes in with a shotgun. Father O'Reilly from down the street, originally from Athlone, married the publican and the bargirl. Turns out nine months later, the boy isn't his, but they stayed together. The real father's dead now. There are six children, five boys an' a baby girl. Bridget Sparrow was never a nice girl. She scratched up oul' Mike's face somethin' awful in some sort o' row this mornin', so he went two doors down an' put hisself back together, then to the school to fetch the oldest three children. Just a note, I'll be puttin' in a little money for a new school in a defense bill. They'll be visitin' the senate the day we debate it."

"That is perfectly reasonable. You are finally beginning to think like a politician."

"I know. So, we get back to Mike's place, an' it turns out his other two sons were locked in a closet upstairs by Bridget, an' his little baby girl is lyin' in a porcelain bathroom sink. Luckily, ‘twas too deep for her to get herself out. She's only a month or so old, after all. A bunch o' policemen walked in an' took all six of their childers an' Jason. Seein' the commotion outside, O'Shea, McAlpin, Liam, an' McAlpin's other ‘prentices, a boy named Finnegan, an' a man named Alastar Fitzroy, who's quite a good silversmith, all run to help. Liam an' meself got the worst o' the ructions. The policeman still owes me money from a hundred year old card debt, so I forgave him that in order to forgive the fight that he provoked. ‘Twas a long shot. He didn't believe me until he found out who I am. Mike's got his children back at home now. Then Jason an' meself went to the races. Jason bet a little money on a long shot. All the money was on these two horses. Twenty-five to one, an' we won."

"How much did you win?"

"Ah, rough estimate, 12,500 gold."

"You let your son bet that much money?"

"Aye. He's got his father's eye for horses."

"Speaking of eyes, can you see anything out of your left eye, Jack."

"At the moment, nay, not a thing. Will I be blind?"

"Doubtful. Here, I have finished mending your coat. You really are lucky you did not get blood on it."

"I know. After the races, we went to a pub I don't frequent near as often as I used to. Then I remembered why 'tis so. Some arse, 'scuse the language, what came from Tulla hates me for somethin' I did when I was drunk that I don't remember, an' said gobshite, 'scuse the language again, always drinks there. We ended up in a rather nasty fight which ended wi' him spittin' out teeth an' countin' the broken slats an' meself tryin' to see. What'd be the name of the girl I'm to meet?"

"Lynn O'Brien."

"Why does that sound familiar?"

"Maire invited her to your wedding, but her now late ex-husband, Johnny Fearghus, forbade her from going. He was a violent, jealous man. Promise me, Jack, that you will treat her right. I know you are a good man at heart."

"Aye, Kerrigan. I shall. Forgive me, I'm somewhat tired after the days' ructions. "D'ye think 'twould be improper to buy flowers?" inquires Jack, nervously.

"No. It would be perfect to buy flowers. There is a florist next door."

"What does she like?"

"Red roses are traditionally romantic, but I would say mix dark red to show readiness for commitment with lavender to show love at first sight."

"But I've yet to see her."

"Trust me, Jack. If I know you well, and I do, it will be love at first sight."

Jack leaves for five minutes, and, upon his return, Jack begins to pace around the room. Kerrigan, walks slowly over to him and takes his hand. She sits next to him and rubs the back of his long, thin hand with her child-sized hands, speaking softly. In a rarely public gesture of sympathetic, comforting affection, Kerrigan hugs Jack tightly around his shoulders. He does not know how to react, so he backs away, afraid that her husband will be angry with him.

"Jack, do tell me, why are you so nervous?" asks Kerrigan gently.

"'Tis just...I...that is, she, what...I don't ken what 'twill be like," replies Jack, drinking a mint liqueur.

"Here she is," Kerrigan says standing. "Lynn, I would like to introduce you to a colleague and old friend of mine, Maire's ex-husband, through mutual differing habits only, and, quite possibly, the man with the biggest heart in Hell, Mister Jack Shepherd. Jack, I would love to introduce you to another colleague and old friend of mine, the most beautiful and most caring woman in Hell and the envy of everyone, Miss Lynn O'Brien."

"How d'ye do, miss? These are for ye," Jack says standing up and handing Lynn the flowers.

"They're gorgeous! Thank you!"

"Tá tú go h-álainn. Táim i ngrá leat."

"That's so sweet, and thank you. I've not heard a man say he loved me in Irish since I cannot remember when."

"I'd've said it in Banshee, but I don't ken a word of Banshee save what I can order at a bar." Lynn giggles girlishly, making Jack's ears turn red. "Ye think me a sot, then?"

"Not at all, sir. Not at all."

"I forgot to mention, though ye've probably met, me son Jason."

"He's adorable, just like his father." Jack's ears turn bright red. Lynn only smiles.

"You're shy?"

"Only around pretty women I've never met before."

"That's odd. Everyone I know that knows you says you're a bold man, courageous and strong."

"Anyone who says that without exceptions is full o' shite. Ack! Sorry. I don't usually curse around women."

"You look like a gentleman. You dress like a gentleman. You speak like a gentleman, albeit one with a charming accent. I do say, sir, you are a gentleman, and I am delighted to meet you."

"I'm afraid, miss, the pleasure is all mine. Could I buy ye a drink?"

"That would be lovely."

"What'll ye be havin'?"

"Whisky. Straight."

Kerrigan smiles. She knew Lynn's answer would surprise Jack. Jack leaves the private room to get the drinks at the bar, and Jason follows him. Lynn smiles, parting her ruby lips to reveal perfect teeth, and stares dreamily at Kerrigan with her glittering, emerald green eyes. She brushes a perfect carrot orange corkscrew curl out of her heart-shaped face and tucks it behind her perfect ear, revealing round, sparkling diamond earrings that are large enough to be noticed, but not so large as to attract undue attention. She delicately puts a perfectly manicured hand over her mouth in modesty allowing her long fingernails, which are polished with a pale pink almost indistinguishable from their natural shade, touch the faint freckles playing about her button nose and naturally rosy cheeks. She wears a simple silver chain with a single diamond hung simply from it in a classic understatement, so as not to detract attention from her own enchanting, intoxicating features. Lynn giggles.

"So, Lynn, what do you think of Jack thus far?"

"He's perfect. He's a gentleman. He's the most beautiful man I've ever seen. I thought he'd look more like the twins. I mean, they're nice-looking, but he's far more refined, more handsome. Those long legs, the shoulders, the strong jaw line, that bass voice, the perfect hair, those eyes...oh, the eyes...hmm...I'm in love!"

"You might find it interesting to note that, this morning, he was in two fights."

"And got off without a scratch?"

"No. He and another son of his, one from Earth, who will soon be arriving at his house, got the worst of the first fight, which was a row with a few policemen over the children of an old acquaintance of his, and the second was after a horserace. He had a badly broken nose, an eye that was swollen shut, a number of other minor lacerations and contusions, and a tooth that was knocked loose. It will be fine. I healed it for him. He was afraid to make a bad impression on you."

"My God!"

"My warnings to you, Lynn. Jack will put himself in harm's way to protect his friends. For a woman he loves, he would die to protect her. He does not expect the same from others. I told you he has the biggest heart in Hell, but he does not always return on time or in one piece. Oh, and you will be surprised to know this: he drinks the same things you do."

"He seems like more of a wine and brandy man."

"Not at all. Jack is a whisky drinker."

"That's even better."

"I can also tell he thinks very highly of you."

"What man doesn't at first sight?"
"It is not that. Yes, Jack is a bit of a rogue and a rake, but I know him well. I have see him meet many different women. It is very rare that he tries that hard to impress a woman, and it is even rarer that he should be so taken by one."

"D'you think I was too forward with him?"

"Not at all. Even when he lived on Earth, if he cared about a woman, then he was always painfully shy around her at first."

"What else do you know about him?"

"More than you would want me to. He was an illegitimate child. In all the time he has been in Hell, he has never gone a day without wearing green. He is not afraid of much, but he has never gone more than six hours without a drink since he was sixteen years old on Earth out of a terrible fear of Delirium Tremens, which he only experienced once. He had his first taste of hard liquor at the age of eleven. He deserted the British Army at the age of twenty-seven with a friend to bring a dead friend's body home to Ireland for a proper burial. He owns multi-colored pet sheep. He has a four-poster bed with green satin sheets. He did not get those shoulders that you find so charming through exercise; instead, he got them from digging graves and farming on Earth and keeps them by fighting in pubs. Aside from the twins, he has a younger brother Shane who is a Werewolf and a sister Shannon who is a Witch. He is exactly six feet and six inches tall and is so thin that, were he to remove his shirt, you could see his ribs, and he adores poitín."

"That is quite a resumé. How do you know all this?"

"I've known him since he was a little boy on Earth. By the way, he was an incredibly darling child. As for his sheets, he sometimes gets so drunk that he needs help upstairs. He means well, Lynn. He just does not always succeed."
"Are we not all the same way?"
Jack walks into the room as Lynn is giggling. "Ladies," he pauses, "laughin' at me own expense, no doubt."

"Thank you for the drink, Jack. I was just saying how incredibly handsome and sweet you are."

"Thankee, but sweet? I'd not say 's much."

"You bought me flowers before you even met me. In sixty years of marriage, I never even got that."

"I hope ye don't mid me sayin' this, but Lynn, ye truly are the most beautiful thing I've ever seen. Ye make the flowers an' the land itself pale by comparison. Ye've a voice sweeter'n a nightingale's, sweeter'n an angel's. There's nothin' I'd not do for ye. That ain't the whisky talkin' either."

"Thank you, Mister Shepherd, or should I call you Senator."

"Please, just Jack."

"Kerrigan says you deserted the army at twenty-seven."

"Aye."

"How old were you when you died?"

"Thirty-five'r so."

"How? You look about half that."

"I think ye only think I look younger 'cause I don't have me beard."

"Perhaps. So, how'd you meet Kerrigan?"
"D'ye ken Mc Finn's Pub?" Lynn nods. "McFinn was a classmate o' the twins, as ye ken. Real good friend o' theirs. He'd a roof what needed thatchin', an' the twins an' him had never even seen it done, an' Shane died five years 'afore he'd've had to thatch a roof on Earth, so they asked me to help. I had a bit o' experience in the matter. I fell off, broke me leg an' me skull. Six weeks later, I was sent back up to finish, an' the twins had arranged for Kerrigan to met me. She's a better thatcher than I, which I'd never've figured, but she's quite a strange woman at times. She wore a silk skirt an' corset to thatch a roof."

"That's Kerrigan."

"Lynn, d'ye think your family'd approve of me?"

"If you mean the seven of us, two of the sisters, Envy and Greed, might be jealous, but everyone but Gluttony and perhaps Greed would approve."

"Why not Gluttony?"

"He's simply awful. He does not like any of us much except for Greed. If you meant the whole family, I doubt that the Inner Circle would have much of a problem. It does not affect them directly. As for my father, he will gladly agree to any union that makes any of his daughters happy. What of your family? What would they think of me?"

"I'm the pater familias. They've no say in me affairs, business or personal, however, I'm sure that the twins'd be jealous, an' Shane'd be approvin' immediately knowin' I'd not be in trouble wi' a woman around. Me sister I cannot predict, for she's quiet an' keeps mostly to herself. Every time I think I can guess what she'll say or do, she does the opposite."

"That's sisters for you."

"Aye, 'tis."

"Do you have any plans for what we're to do today?"

"I was hopin' ye wouldn't mind a walk in the country. I've spent the mornin' in the city, an' I've the need to say that I much prefer the country."

"That'd be simply lovely. 'Tis the nicest feeling to smell a simple wood fire or clean air rather than the people and the coal smoke of the city."

"I couldn't agree more. I never thought a lovely girl like ye'd have somethin' like tha' in common wi' a simple man like me."

"Excuse us, will you?" asks Kerrigan, standing up. "I shall return Jason's horse to your stable and, thenceforth proceed to keep him busy for the day. You will find me by your fireside, your son already abed, when you return from dinner. Until then, I have some minor errands to run, and Jason will be welcome company."

"Fair enough. See yez t'night, Kerrigan, an' thankee."

Kerrigan takes Jason by the hand, and she rides Jason's horse, Spook, back to Jack's house and cares for it while Jason sits in her carriage driven by her coachman. Jason sits on Kerrigan's lap as if he were her own son while she does her errands. While she is not a patient woman or particularly fond of children, she regards Jason, the son of two of her closest friends, as if he were her own son, perhaps because she has mothered so many sons in her time. When, at last, her errands are finished for the afternoon, Kerrigan brings Jason to her own home. Jason, who has lived like a prince since he was born, had never seen anything like Kerrigan's home in his four years. When Kerrigan's husband Morietur had designed the house, he had spared no expense to make every detail aesthetically pleasing to his wife. The heavy doors open to a main hall with a fifty-foot high vaulted ceiling. The walls are paneled in cherry wood and the floors are made of polished black marble with pure silver inlaid in mo particular pattern so as to make the floor glitter even more when the lady of the house would return to her husband. From the ceiling hang several silver chandeliers dripping with diamonds and pearls, both white and black, which are perhaps ten feet from the ground. The cranks that allow them to reach a man's height to be lit or be drawn farther toward the ceiling are in a separate room, so as not to mar the image of the grand hall. The walls are adorned with simpler silver sconces with diamonds inset, each of which hold five candles. All of the candles are lit, making the polished floors and walls shine and the silver and jeweled fixtures glisten. The butler rushes to the door upon hearing the sound of the knocker, pausing only to re-adjust and re-light one errant candle. Upon seeing the lady of the house he immediately bows and inquires as to her needs and those of their young visitor, who stares in amazement at the sheer opulence of this house where he has never been.

The butler inquires as to whether he should inform the master of the house that the lady is present. Morietur stands behind the butler on the stairs at the back of the hall. The stairs themselves are of the same black marble as the floor but with an emerald green carpet up the center and cherry railings. Morietur stands in a black robe with his blood red hair silhouetted against a stained-glass window. His wife indicated that there might be company, so he went through the painful process of retracting his horns, wings, and tail, so as not to frighten the child. Morietur walks briskly, seemingly somewhat aggressively, toward his wife and gently embraces her. Morietur is at least Jack's height, if not somewhat taller, but just as thin under his large, magestic robes. Morietur's blue eyes sparkle like sapphires in the glittery light of the main hall. It has been fifteen years since himself and Kerrigan had a child in the house.

Meanwhile, Jack and Lynn amble through the fields and forests on Jack's expansive property. Lynn is impressed. She knew Jack owned a regal estate with some farmland, but nobody had ever told her the size of it. The forested area of Jack's property is very much wild and natural. To be in the center of it is to be as far detached from civilization as could be. There are many very old trees there and streams running between them. They switch off between riding horses and walking. Spectre, Jack's stallion, took an immediate liking to Lynn's gentle nature. Lynn has an emerald green cloak drawn about her shoulders over a full length wool duster and her wide bustle skirts. She wears black leather riding gloves and rides sidesaddle next to Jack, who has to purposefully restrain his horse from racing through the woods. Jack brings Lynn down through the glen and they follow a frozen, little stream to where it originates in a bog, which is currently iced over. They cross the frozen fen and continue up a steep hill out of the little valley and away from the stream, which runs toward a major river in the warmer seasons, and travel between the majestic willow trees, the branches of which sing ethereal music as the gentle wind floats through them as they are frozen in place by ice from recent storms. Jack brings Lynn into a small grove of apple trees. It is the remnants of what had once been an orchard many generations before Jack arrived in Hell. The trees are barren in the winter but in the clearing are three old stumps of larger trees which somewhat resemble a table and chairs. Jack leaps down from Spectre, and, after tying his own horse off, takes Lynn by the hand and helps her off of her white show mare. Jack ties up Lynn's horse as well and pulls a bundle of cloth out of his saddle bag. He brushes the snow and ice from the stumps and lays a small woolen blanket on each stump, the largest over the taller stump in the middle, and, once the woolen blankets are removed, reveals a bottle of fine whisky and two crystal glasses.

"You own all this land?" asks Lynn.

"Aye. I got it cheap. Nobody else wanted it. Ye must understand, I grew up on a farm. Aye, we'd a small crop o' wheat an' a garden in the summer, but most o' what we had were sheep. Meself an' Shane'd go out wi' me uncle. Growin' up bein' used to the wind an' the rain an' the cold an' the open space, I couldn't stay in the city. Fifty year ago, I'd a bit o' money an' was just ordained a senator. I'd a little cabin. It suited me, sure enough, but a stone cabin wi' a thatched roof jus' ain't where a senator lives, so I went seekin' an' nobody was usin' this particular patch o' land, so I inquired, an' they said nobody wants it. I told the man I wanted it, an' he gave it to me for only two hundred gold."

"'Tis beautiful here."

"'Tis. I love this place, Lynn. This old forest is worth more to me than a hundred thousand palaces would be. D'ye think me mad for sayin' that?"

"Not a' 'tall. I was raised in palaces. Ask the Devil sometime about where he used to find me. I'd be in the orchard sitting in a tree. I'd rather have had an apple or a peach than all the riches in Hell."

"An' now?"

"And now I would rather have a certain Irishman than all the riches anywhere." Jack's ears turn bright red at Lynn's comment. She giggles, making his ears turn redder. "A certain, rather shy, Irishman," says Lynn, making Jack's ears turn redder still.

Lynn runs off into the woods with the whisky. Jack stumbles after her. Her feet glide like air around trees and through clearings for almost half a mile. Jack stops when he reaches a clearing of oak trees. He leans up against one of them unable to breathe due to the cold, drink, and cigars. He can run no further. He hears Lynn giggle just ahead and looks up. She is standing in the middle of the clearing dangling the whisky in front of her elfishly.

"If ye'd rather have me than all the riches, then why d'ye run away from me into the woods?" Jack scrambles over to her with the last of his strength and snatches it, pulling her into his arms. Lynn looks up into the branches of the trees and giggles. Jack looks up, and a rook takes off, shaking one of the branches and dropping a large amount of snow on both of them, though most of it seems to land on Jack's face. He brushes it out of his eyes and looks up again to see mistletoe.

"I'm afraid, Mister Shepherd, you have no choice but to kiss me."

"Then kiss ye I will." Jack embraces Lynn, literally sweeping her off her feet, and kisses her passionately. There is only silence. "I didn't hurt ye, did I?" he asks after some time.

"Not a' 'tall."

"So, d'ye mind if we go back to the house now?"

"I was rather hoping you might show me the rest of your property."

"The only other thing I could show you in winter is the carriage road which just goes to the farmland in District 13 where it meets up with a main road that forks about five miles later, one taking you to District 13 center, the other to District 20, Kerrigan's district. 'Tis me own personal scenic route."

"Ah, so, maybe tea then?"

"I may have some still."

"If not, whisky'd be lovely."

Jack and Lynn settle down to tea before going out to dinner. They pass by ten fancy restaurants before agreeing that Murphy's Pub, Jack's old standby, is by far the best place for dinner and a few drinks, even if most of their friends are not there. As promised, Kerrigan and Morietur are sitting in Jack's living room when Jack returns after bringing Lynn home. He offers payment, but they insist that nothing is necessary and that his son was nothing but a pleasure. Jack stumbles to bed happily for once, though he still drinks a nightcap while checking on his son before he slips off to sleep.