Sad_Girl
Blue Crack Supplier
**Disclaimer – Though inspired in part by people who exist in reality, this story is not meant to represent them in any literal way. No offense is meant to anyone who resembles in any way any of the characters in the story.
Chapter 26
It did not take long at all for word to spread of the highwaymen who were so bold as to hold up two of his majesties own soldiers. Especially when, on the same night, a handsome and generous stranger appeared outside the church bearing gifts of silver coins for the needy. There were some, of course, who suspected the man was trying to get rid of the coins simply so the soldiers would not find them in his possession.
Most people reasoned quickly that if that were his goal, he would have hidden them away, somewhere safe. Somewhere that he could return to later, to collect the stolen or ill-gotten money. No, the people of Belfast were certain that this dark haired man was of noble intent and pure hearted. And why not? If there was one thing the witnesses all agreed upon, it was that he was, most definitely, an Irishman.
The patrols were doubled after the second time it happened, but no one ever seemed to have seen anything take place. No suspicious bands of men on horseback, no one spending extraordinary amounts of money at any of the local pubs or shops. Even with the sketches which were used, no one recognized the faces.
Meanwhile, families whose rent had nearly been so far past due that they’d been evicted suddenly had the full payment. Families whose children were sick could afford to call on a doctor. Starving bellies were filled with bread and dried fruits. There were fewer pairs of feet without shoes, shoulders without cloaks.
They sold the horses, bought what they needed, and the rest of their loot went to the people who needed it. The people from whom the British had taken it in the first place. The Irish had a hero, and the British had a new enemy.
They weren’t certain how many men were involved. Reports were unreliable, at best. Many of the stories which were being passed around were completely outlandish. Some people seemed to believe the leader of the group, known only as U2, was the ghost of Irelands only true king, Brian Boru. Others had the lot of them gifted with amazing abilities, like the ability to fly or become invisible upon their will.
Garvin was already fed up with the antics of a group of what he considered ‘Rebel scum, out to incite a revolt.’ Over the course of one month, they had managed to become local heroes for their crimes. People who would otherwise have never dared even think a treasonous thought were seeing these men get away with their crimes and now were laughing at the soldiers.
“They are making fools of King George’s army! These peasants, these poor, uneducated Irish wretches think they are better than the British Empire!” He raged at his men. “I will not rest until I have every last one of them hung in the center of town where every eye will see the price of treason!”
He mounted his steed and turned back to the men, standing at attention still, waiting for his orders. He drew in several deep breaths and allowed his horse to pace back and forth before the men. It was unseemly to show such rage. He would not lower himself. He was of noble blood, and he would show that. Keeping a calm, cool reserve was an important part of being a gentleman.
“We will not rest until we have found someone in this city who will tell us who the leader of the band of rebels is. You cannot tell me that there is no Irishman out there in the gutter who will sell his very soul for a drop of precious whiskey. Find him, and we will find this ‘U2’. I expect more useful information at tomorrows morning report, gentleman.” He told them, looking each man in the eye before dismissing them to their duties.
*************************************************************
“They say the men who are liberating Irish money from British pockets are heroes.” Emily was telling Fiona one evening as they sat in the parlor with Carra, Molly and Colleen. The fire was barely necessary anymore, more a matter of habit and a need for light at this time of year. Still, they sat near the hearth, a fresh, crisp breeze drifting in from an open window.
Fiona glanced around the room to be certain that no one outside of their circle was present, lurking in the shadows. Perhaps she was paranoid, but she didn’t trust many of the servants who she knew were loyal to Garvin. It was making her more and more uneasy when the men would visit them here. Although she hated not seeing Adam, the risk was growing that they would be found out. She would rather be away from him for awhile than to lose him forever.
“And where did you hear this?” Colleen asked, her eyes on the embroidery she was working on. She felt her heart leap at the thought of Bono and of what people were saying.
“From Eileen, Nora’s daughter.” She replied, sucking in a breath as she stabbed herself with her needle. It was at Fiona’s insistence that Emily was learning how to behave as a lady. She not only wanted her sister to have the chance to know the finer things in life, but also to have the social grace to get by in a world which operated by such strict rules.
“You shouldn’t be playing with her, Emily.” Colleen scolded, though it was clear her heart was not in it.
“But there aren’t any other children around.” Emily argued, sucking on the injured finger to stop the bleeding.
“What else are they saying?” Carra asked, settling into a chair near the girl and resting her swollen feet and ankles on another.
“They’re saying that the man who leads them is tall, dark and handsome.”
“Well, two out of three…” Carra teased, winking playfully at Colleen, who respectfully repressed a chuckle.
“And here I thought I was the leader.” Larry’s voice drifted in through the window, and Carra stumbled out of her comfortable position to hurry and let him in. The quartet climbed easily through the large paned windows into the cozy parlor and was greeted warmly.
Lardence, whom Emily had adopted most recently, was laying precariously on the mantle when the room came alive with their arrival. He stretched his impossibly long, slender limbs, his ears folded back against his head, and yawned broadly. Leaping down from his perch, he wandered around the maze of legs, moving in and out until he found the ones he was searching for.
“What the…” Larry muttered as he felt something heavy against his booted foot. He looked down at the cat, and the cat gazed straight up at him and began to purr so loudly that not an ear in the room could miss it. “What have you been feeding this beast?” Larry asked, eyeing the now rather robust cat warily.
“Whatever he wants.” Emily replied, hurrying over to scoop the animal up into her arms and hold him as a mother would hold her baby.
“I can see that. That cat’s gotten so fat it couldn’t catch a mouse if the mouse that was already dead!” He told her, watching as the little girl rubbed noses with the animal. He felt his heartbeat begin to race nervously at the sight, anticipating that the animal would suddenly and unexpectedly (by the girl at least) scratch out Emily’s eyes. He didn’t like cats changeable moods, and didn’t trust the creatures.
“So what else are they saying about us?” Bono asked Emily, kneeling before her to rub the cat’s soft belly.
“Some people think you’re angels of God. Michael, and Gabriel.” She informed him.
“And whom do you think they say is whom?”
“…I think Larry must be Gabriel, because he is known to be so beautiful.” She explained, her voice and eyes lowering shyly. All of the men, other than Larry, had a fine chuckle at this observation, and Emily’s cheeks flushed red at their laughter.
“Obviously, they’ve never seen him with his temper up.” Carra said, flashing a playful smirk at her lover and receiving a crooked smile in return. The group settled around the fire to discuss recent events, and the subject soon turned to Fiona’s concerns.
“You know it isn’t that I don’t want to see you…” She told Adam, tears threatening at the very thought of having to go weeks or months without seeing his face, or hearing his voice.
“Actually, that won’t be an issue.” Edge said, standing near the fireplace, gazing into the red glowing embers as he spoke. “We’ve come to tell you that the Aingeal is ready to sail.”
A silence fell over the room, heavy and suffocating. This was the moment they had been working toward, and yet it was not a happy moment, exactly. It meant saying goodbye. For awhile, at least. Perhaps, they realized, forever. The sea was never truly safe, least of all when they meant to battle with British warships and experienced soldiers. It was, in fact, unlikely that all of the men sailing with them would return.
It was Molly who finally broke the dreadful silence.
“Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” She declared, her hands holding her round belly and her eyes directed past it toward the floor. A small puddle gathered under her feet as amniotic fluid drained and ran down her legs. She looked up at them, her eyes wide. “I think perhaps someone should call for the midwife.” She told them calmly, as everyone stared at her for a moment longer in various stages of shock.
“Molly! Are you alright?” Edge asked, snapping out of his stupor and hurrying to her side.
“I’ll go for the midwife.” Adam volunteered, heading toward the window.
“No, no, you stay. I’ll go.” Larry told Adam, his face having gone pale. He looked like an animal which had stumbled into a trap and which was willing to chew off it’s own leg to be free. Adam nodded and patted his friend on the shoulder, letting him out into the fresh air.
“Let’s move her to her room, if we can.” Colleen suggested. “And then you’ll have to wait back in here. The last thing a woman in labor needs is a bunch of men around.”
**************************************************************
Larry, for his lack of desire to return to the place where he had witnessed the disgusting event of Molly’s water breaking, managed to return with the local midwife with haste. By that time, the men had been tucked safely away in the study, where they were drinking Captain Audley’s oldest brandy and smoking his tobacco. Carra and Emily joined them shortly after the arrival of the midwife.
“It was getting a bit too crowded in there.” Carra explained. Her face was even more pale than usual, though, and it was obvious she was shaken from witnessing Molly’s labor.
“How is she?” Edge asked, pausing in his circuit of pacing the room round and round.
“She’s… in labor.” Carra replied, lifting her hands in a sign of frustration. “The midwife kept saying that she was doing just fine, though. So I suppose that’s true.”
“I hate feeling so bloody helpless!” Edge sighed, turning and beginning to pace once more.
“You’ve still got the easier burden. Jaysus, I can hardly believe what it is we suffer for the sake of …” Carra glanced at Emily and her words drifted off as she realized what she was about to say was not appropriate for a child’s ears. “Well, let’s just say I’m not certain it’s worth it.” She finally finished, earning a scowl from Larry and laughter from the other men.
“I think a baby would be worth anything.” Emily replied innocently, dragging a length of embroidery thread in front of the fat, complacent cat and trying to tempt him to play. The cat rolled over on its back and reached lazily toward the thread, batting it twice and then giving up. “I want to have lots and lots of babies one day.”
“You’re a better woman than I am, then.” Carra remarked, feeling a little embarrassed that she had not even considered the babe itself. Of course, a child would be worth the suffering. And loving Larry was, truth be told, worth it as well. She flashed him a soft smile that told him as much, and his scowl faded.
*************************************************************
“Edge?”
Edge felt himself being pulled out of a deep, dreamless sleep. He fought his way out of the darkness, toward the sweet voice calling his name. When he finally blinked up at the fairy-like face it took him half a moment to remember where he was, and why.
“Fiona?” He yawned, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?” He wondered.
“It’s late.” She told him, “But I thought you might like to see Molly and your son.”
“My son?” He asked, the cobwebs of sleep finally clearing from his mind. “She had a boy?”
“She had a boy. He’s lovely. Come, she’s asking for you.”
Edge followed Fiona so closely that twice he stepped on her heels. When he apologized, she merely chuckled at his excitement. She opened the door to her own room, which she had insisted Molly use for a few days, and let Edge inside.
Molly looked tiny in the middle of the giant bed, swallowed by the downy pillows and blankets. On the bed beside her was a basket of sorts, lined with linens. In the center of the basket lay a tiny baby, all red and wrinkled, sucking on one tiny fist as his legs kicked wildly.
“Edge!” Molly sighed his name, reaching out to him with one hand, the other resting protectively on the side of the baby’s bed. Edge joined her eagerly on the bed, kissing her gently and resting his forehead against hers.
“You look good.” He told her, and she laughed at him.
“That’s total shite, but thank you.” She said.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you are right now. You’re tired, but you’re healthy and happy. I’ve been praying so hard tonight.” He told her, and she reached up to stroke the nape of his neck, tugging on his braid playfully.
“You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.” She assured him.
The sound of the baby cooing and sucking at his fist changed dramatically as he realized there was no milk to be had from his hand. Edge watched as Molly lifted him gently from his basket and held him to her breast. The boy’s satisfied gulps and murmurs was like music to his ears. How could he leave them? How could he just sail off into an unknown future and leave them behind?
When he wondered this aloud, Molly gave him his answer.
“You’re doing it for our future. You’re doing it because there’s never a good time to have to do what’s right, when that’s something risky. You’re going to go stand up for the rights of your people, and you’ll be an example to your son.” She told him matter-of-factly.
He knew she was right, had known it deep down, even when he’d asked the question. He just needed to hear her say it. He needed to know she understood.
“I love you Molly.” He told her, kissing her temple.
“I know. And you know I love you, as well. That’s what keeps us going, no matter what.” She replied.
Once the baby’s belly was full and Molly had encouraged him to burp up the gas bubbles in his belly, the boy fell fast asleep. Molly was clearly soon to follow. She moved to lay him in his basket, but Edge took him, instead. He held the babe while Molly slept. For hours he just held the warm little miracle and stared at him. He wanted this boy to have everything he could ever want or need, and he knew he would do anything in his power to see that happen.
**************************************************
“Bono, before you go, I wanted to ask something of you.” Molly told her long time friend in the early hours of the morning, just before first light. The men were leaving, they had stayed as long as they could. Bono was now cooing at the baby, who clung to one of the man’s thick fingers with a tiny hand.
“Alright.” He agreed, never looking away from the baby to acknowledge Molly. He was nearly as enamored of the child as Edge was.
“We’d like to name him Robert. After your father.” She said, deciding to just spit it out. Bono looked up at her, his blue eyes wide with surprise. As she watched, she saw them well up with unspent tears.
“Thank you.” He told her, leaning down to hug her. She breathed a sigh of relief, that he was pleased with the idea. She hadn’t been certain. Bono’s relationship to his father had been difficult, at best. But he loved him dearly, she knew.
“Thank you.” She told him as he stood and dried his eyes. “Farewell. Take good care of my husband, will you?” She asked, and Bono chuckled.
“I promise to.” He told her with a nod, looking the babe over once more before slipping out the door to the hall where the others waited to see the men off. No one was certain just when they’d be seeing them again.
“You’ve got great timing, little one. I’ll give you that.” Molly told the baby, her lip quivering slightly as she spoke. She would not let herself cry. This was not goodbye.
Chapter 26
It did not take long at all for word to spread of the highwaymen who were so bold as to hold up two of his majesties own soldiers. Especially when, on the same night, a handsome and generous stranger appeared outside the church bearing gifts of silver coins for the needy. There were some, of course, who suspected the man was trying to get rid of the coins simply so the soldiers would not find them in his possession.
Most people reasoned quickly that if that were his goal, he would have hidden them away, somewhere safe. Somewhere that he could return to later, to collect the stolen or ill-gotten money. No, the people of Belfast were certain that this dark haired man was of noble intent and pure hearted. And why not? If there was one thing the witnesses all agreed upon, it was that he was, most definitely, an Irishman.
The patrols were doubled after the second time it happened, but no one ever seemed to have seen anything take place. No suspicious bands of men on horseback, no one spending extraordinary amounts of money at any of the local pubs or shops. Even with the sketches which were used, no one recognized the faces.
Meanwhile, families whose rent had nearly been so far past due that they’d been evicted suddenly had the full payment. Families whose children were sick could afford to call on a doctor. Starving bellies were filled with bread and dried fruits. There were fewer pairs of feet without shoes, shoulders without cloaks.
They sold the horses, bought what they needed, and the rest of their loot went to the people who needed it. The people from whom the British had taken it in the first place. The Irish had a hero, and the British had a new enemy.
They weren’t certain how many men were involved. Reports were unreliable, at best. Many of the stories which were being passed around were completely outlandish. Some people seemed to believe the leader of the group, known only as U2, was the ghost of Irelands only true king, Brian Boru. Others had the lot of them gifted with amazing abilities, like the ability to fly or become invisible upon their will.
Garvin was already fed up with the antics of a group of what he considered ‘Rebel scum, out to incite a revolt.’ Over the course of one month, they had managed to become local heroes for their crimes. People who would otherwise have never dared even think a treasonous thought were seeing these men get away with their crimes and now were laughing at the soldiers.
“They are making fools of King George’s army! These peasants, these poor, uneducated Irish wretches think they are better than the British Empire!” He raged at his men. “I will not rest until I have every last one of them hung in the center of town where every eye will see the price of treason!”
He mounted his steed and turned back to the men, standing at attention still, waiting for his orders. He drew in several deep breaths and allowed his horse to pace back and forth before the men. It was unseemly to show such rage. He would not lower himself. He was of noble blood, and he would show that. Keeping a calm, cool reserve was an important part of being a gentleman.
“We will not rest until we have found someone in this city who will tell us who the leader of the band of rebels is. You cannot tell me that there is no Irishman out there in the gutter who will sell his very soul for a drop of precious whiskey. Find him, and we will find this ‘U2’. I expect more useful information at tomorrows morning report, gentleman.” He told them, looking each man in the eye before dismissing them to their duties.
*************************************************************
“They say the men who are liberating Irish money from British pockets are heroes.” Emily was telling Fiona one evening as they sat in the parlor with Carra, Molly and Colleen. The fire was barely necessary anymore, more a matter of habit and a need for light at this time of year. Still, they sat near the hearth, a fresh, crisp breeze drifting in from an open window.
Fiona glanced around the room to be certain that no one outside of their circle was present, lurking in the shadows. Perhaps she was paranoid, but she didn’t trust many of the servants who she knew were loyal to Garvin. It was making her more and more uneasy when the men would visit them here. Although she hated not seeing Adam, the risk was growing that they would be found out. She would rather be away from him for awhile than to lose him forever.
“And where did you hear this?” Colleen asked, her eyes on the embroidery she was working on. She felt her heart leap at the thought of Bono and of what people were saying.
“From Eileen, Nora’s daughter.” She replied, sucking in a breath as she stabbed herself with her needle. It was at Fiona’s insistence that Emily was learning how to behave as a lady. She not only wanted her sister to have the chance to know the finer things in life, but also to have the social grace to get by in a world which operated by such strict rules.
“You shouldn’t be playing with her, Emily.” Colleen scolded, though it was clear her heart was not in it.
“But there aren’t any other children around.” Emily argued, sucking on the injured finger to stop the bleeding.
“What else are they saying?” Carra asked, settling into a chair near the girl and resting her swollen feet and ankles on another.
“They’re saying that the man who leads them is tall, dark and handsome.”
“Well, two out of three…” Carra teased, winking playfully at Colleen, who respectfully repressed a chuckle.
“And here I thought I was the leader.” Larry’s voice drifted in through the window, and Carra stumbled out of her comfortable position to hurry and let him in. The quartet climbed easily through the large paned windows into the cozy parlor and was greeted warmly.
Lardence, whom Emily had adopted most recently, was laying precariously on the mantle when the room came alive with their arrival. He stretched his impossibly long, slender limbs, his ears folded back against his head, and yawned broadly. Leaping down from his perch, he wandered around the maze of legs, moving in and out until he found the ones he was searching for.
“What the…” Larry muttered as he felt something heavy against his booted foot. He looked down at the cat, and the cat gazed straight up at him and began to purr so loudly that not an ear in the room could miss it. “What have you been feeding this beast?” Larry asked, eyeing the now rather robust cat warily.
“Whatever he wants.” Emily replied, hurrying over to scoop the animal up into her arms and hold him as a mother would hold her baby.
“I can see that. That cat’s gotten so fat it couldn’t catch a mouse if the mouse that was already dead!” He told her, watching as the little girl rubbed noses with the animal. He felt his heartbeat begin to race nervously at the sight, anticipating that the animal would suddenly and unexpectedly (by the girl at least) scratch out Emily’s eyes. He didn’t like cats changeable moods, and didn’t trust the creatures.
“So what else are they saying about us?” Bono asked Emily, kneeling before her to rub the cat’s soft belly.
“Some people think you’re angels of God. Michael, and Gabriel.” She informed him.
“And whom do you think they say is whom?”
“…I think Larry must be Gabriel, because he is known to be so beautiful.” She explained, her voice and eyes lowering shyly. All of the men, other than Larry, had a fine chuckle at this observation, and Emily’s cheeks flushed red at their laughter.
“Obviously, they’ve never seen him with his temper up.” Carra said, flashing a playful smirk at her lover and receiving a crooked smile in return. The group settled around the fire to discuss recent events, and the subject soon turned to Fiona’s concerns.
“You know it isn’t that I don’t want to see you…” She told Adam, tears threatening at the very thought of having to go weeks or months without seeing his face, or hearing his voice.
“Actually, that won’t be an issue.” Edge said, standing near the fireplace, gazing into the red glowing embers as he spoke. “We’ve come to tell you that the Aingeal is ready to sail.”
A silence fell over the room, heavy and suffocating. This was the moment they had been working toward, and yet it was not a happy moment, exactly. It meant saying goodbye. For awhile, at least. Perhaps, they realized, forever. The sea was never truly safe, least of all when they meant to battle with British warships and experienced soldiers. It was, in fact, unlikely that all of the men sailing with them would return.
It was Molly who finally broke the dreadful silence.
“Oh, Jesus, Mary and Joseph!” She declared, her hands holding her round belly and her eyes directed past it toward the floor. A small puddle gathered under her feet as amniotic fluid drained and ran down her legs. She looked up at them, her eyes wide. “I think perhaps someone should call for the midwife.” She told them calmly, as everyone stared at her for a moment longer in various stages of shock.
“Molly! Are you alright?” Edge asked, snapping out of his stupor and hurrying to her side.
“I’ll go for the midwife.” Adam volunteered, heading toward the window.
“No, no, you stay. I’ll go.” Larry told Adam, his face having gone pale. He looked like an animal which had stumbled into a trap and which was willing to chew off it’s own leg to be free. Adam nodded and patted his friend on the shoulder, letting him out into the fresh air.
“Let’s move her to her room, if we can.” Colleen suggested. “And then you’ll have to wait back in here. The last thing a woman in labor needs is a bunch of men around.”
**************************************************************
Larry, for his lack of desire to return to the place where he had witnessed the disgusting event of Molly’s water breaking, managed to return with the local midwife with haste. By that time, the men had been tucked safely away in the study, where they were drinking Captain Audley’s oldest brandy and smoking his tobacco. Carra and Emily joined them shortly after the arrival of the midwife.
“It was getting a bit too crowded in there.” Carra explained. Her face was even more pale than usual, though, and it was obvious she was shaken from witnessing Molly’s labor.
“How is she?” Edge asked, pausing in his circuit of pacing the room round and round.
“She’s… in labor.” Carra replied, lifting her hands in a sign of frustration. “The midwife kept saying that she was doing just fine, though. So I suppose that’s true.”
“I hate feeling so bloody helpless!” Edge sighed, turning and beginning to pace once more.
“You’ve still got the easier burden. Jaysus, I can hardly believe what it is we suffer for the sake of …” Carra glanced at Emily and her words drifted off as she realized what she was about to say was not appropriate for a child’s ears. “Well, let’s just say I’m not certain it’s worth it.” She finally finished, earning a scowl from Larry and laughter from the other men.
“I think a baby would be worth anything.” Emily replied innocently, dragging a length of embroidery thread in front of the fat, complacent cat and trying to tempt him to play. The cat rolled over on its back and reached lazily toward the thread, batting it twice and then giving up. “I want to have lots and lots of babies one day.”
“You’re a better woman than I am, then.” Carra remarked, feeling a little embarrassed that she had not even considered the babe itself. Of course, a child would be worth the suffering. And loving Larry was, truth be told, worth it as well. She flashed him a soft smile that told him as much, and his scowl faded.
*************************************************************
“Edge?”
Edge felt himself being pulled out of a deep, dreamless sleep. He fought his way out of the darkness, toward the sweet voice calling his name. When he finally blinked up at the fairy-like face it took him half a moment to remember where he was, and why.
“Fiona?” He yawned, rubbing his eyes. “What time is it?” He wondered.
“It’s late.” She told him, “But I thought you might like to see Molly and your son.”
“My son?” He asked, the cobwebs of sleep finally clearing from his mind. “She had a boy?”
“She had a boy. He’s lovely. Come, she’s asking for you.”
Edge followed Fiona so closely that twice he stepped on her heels. When he apologized, she merely chuckled at his excitement. She opened the door to her own room, which she had insisted Molly use for a few days, and let Edge inside.
Molly looked tiny in the middle of the giant bed, swallowed by the downy pillows and blankets. On the bed beside her was a basket of sorts, lined with linens. In the center of the basket lay a tiny baby, all red and wrinkled, sucking on one tiny fist as his legs kicked wildly.
“Edge!” Molly sighed his name, reaching out to him with one hand, the other resting protectively on the side of the baby’s bed. Edge joined her eagerly on the bed, kissing her gently and resting his forehead against hers.
“You look good.” He told her, and she laughed at him.
“That’s total shite, but thank you.” She said.
“I’ve never seen anything more beautiful than you are right now. You’re tired, but you’re healthy and happy. I’ve been praying so hard tonight.” He told her, and she reached up to stroke the nape of his neck, tugging on his braid playfully.
“You’re not getting rid of me anytime soon.” She assured him.
The sound of the baby cooing and sucking at his fist changed dramatically as he realized there was no milk to be had from his hand. Edge watched as Molly lifted him gently from his basket and held him to her breast. The boy’s satisfied gulps and murmurs was like music to his ears. How could he leave them? How could he just sail off into an unknown future and leave them behind?
When he wondered this aloud, Molly gave him his answer.
“You’re doing it for our future. You’re doing it because there’s never a good time to have to do what’s right, when that’s something risky. You’re going to go stand up for the rights of your people, and you’ll be an example to your son.” She told him matter-of-factly.
He knew she was right, had known it deep down, even when he’d asked the question. He just needed to hear her say it. He needed to know she understood.
“I love you Molly.” He told her, kissing her temple.
“I know. And you know I love you, as well. That’s what keeps us going, no matter what.” She replied.
Once the baby’s belly was full and Molly had encouraged him to burp up the gas bubbles in his belly, the boy fell fast asleep. Molly was clearly soon to follow. She moved to lay him in his basket, but Edge took him, instead. He held the babe while Molly slept. For hours he just held the warm little miracle and stared at him. He wanted this boy to have everything he could ever want or need, and he knew he would do anything in his power to see that happen.
**************************************************
“Bono, before you go, I wanted to ask something of you.” Molly told her long time friend in the early hours of the morning, just before first light. The men were leaving, they had stayed as long as they could. Bono was now cooing at the baby, who clung to one of the man’s thick fingers with a tiny hand.
“Alright.” He agreed, never looking away from the baby to acknowledge Molly. He was nearly as enamored of the child as Edge was.
“We’d like to name him Robert. After your father.” She said, deciding to just spit it out. Bono looked up at her, his blue eyes wide with surprise. As she watched, she saw them well up with unspent tears.
“Thank you.” He told her, leaning down to hug her. She breathed a sigh of relief, that he was pleased with the idea. She hadn’t been certain. Bono’s relationship to his father had been difficult, at best. But he loved him dearly, she knew.
“Thank you.” She told him as he stood and dried his eyes. “Farewell. Take good care of my husband, will you?” She asked, and Bono chuckled.
“I promise to.” He told her with a nod, looking the babe over once more before slipping out the door to the hall where the others waited to see the men off. No one was certain just when they’d be seeing them again.
“You’ve got great timing, little one. I’ll give you that.” Molly told the baby, her lip quivering slightly as she spoke. She would not let herself cry. This was not goodbye.
