Certain Sure Read Online Free PDF Page B

father.
     
    While he drove to his parents’, his mind catalogued all the times his father blamed him or they fought. Too many to remember and it distracted him. He wasn’t sure of his way around and Maggie’d had to draw him a map. Fin had only lived in the area for a few years before his father sent him to Ireland. Back home, really, for Fin had lived the first six years of his life in Cork. Fourteen years in San Francisco, three in Menlo Park. Now almost eight again in Cork. Cork and San Francisco were even, but neither was home. Fin had never felt at home anywhere. A needling discomfort always made him itchy to move on, yet he never did.
     
    He hit the steering wheel after making another wrong turn. Holding the map, he concentrated on righting his wrong moves.
     
    The next morning, he woke in his old room, alone. He rubbed his eyes and tried to forget the vivid dream he’d had. But for once, when he didn’t want them to, the images stayed in his head, as if they were real memories. Knowing his parents would be home soon, he showered and dressed before repacking his bags and setting them by the massive oak front door.
     
    “Home late, were you?” Maggie asked when he strolled into the kitchen, about twice the size of the Dillons’ cozy kitchen. He kissed her cheek then waggled his eyebrows. Maggie laughed. “You’ll never change, you young rapscallion. Just so as it wasn’t our Katie girl. Miss Mary thinks the world of her and your father and Fergus aren’t far behind.”
     
    “Something smells delicious.” Shit, what was his problem? The one girl he shouldn’t want, not only because his family’d blackball him, but also because of his own record with women. Katie needed someone more stable and upstanding. The front door slammed, smashing his appetite.
     
    “Sit down and I’ll make you a plate,” Maggie said. Her pillowy body maneuvered around the stove like a dancer, graceful and strong.
     
    “Maggie!” his father shouted. “Is he here?” His father’s heavy footsteps pounded into the kitchen.
     
    “James, please,” his mother pleaded as she followed him in.
     
    “Sir.” Fin nodded to his father, who stopped and frowned. He hadn’t changed, still appeared as self-satisfied as ever. “Mam,” he said. He enfolded his mother in his arms. He hadn’t remembered her being so thin. Her light eyes roamed over his face while she touched his cheek with her fingertips, so cold. He took her hands in his to warm them.
     
    “It’s been too long. I should see my oldest son more than once every few years.”
     
    “Sorry,” he said. He shrugged apologetically.
     
    She patted his cheek. “It’s not your fault. I didn’t want to travel. And I know you’ve been busy.” Her fingers trembled as she smoothed her frizzled pale golden hair.
     
    His father snorted. A plate tapped onto the table. Maggie stood, arms akimbo. Fin smiled and rubbed his mother’s arms. “Best get it over,” Fin said. “Sorry, Maggie. Thanks anyway but Mr. Dunbar and I have business.”
     
    “You should eat your breakfast,” his mom said, glancing at his father.
     
    “I’ll be fine,” Fin said.
     
    He followed his father into his study. Fin’s new loafers squeaked across the hardwood floor of the foyer, echoing into the high ceiling. His father’s old leather desk chair creaked while Fin shut the door. Fin sat across from the desk in one of the leather wing chairs. They were supposed to be comfortable, but Fin tensed, feeling like when his grandfather Dunbar locked him in the closet when he was a small boy because he’d done something to displease the old man. The same leather and oil soap smell seeped into him.
     
    “I take full responsibility,” Fin said.
     
    “As usual, your brother’s already stepped in. I should never have promoted you.”
     
    “The facility was doing well. It was one incident.”
     
    “In which a man almost got killed because you let one of your mates get away with too