A little more...

Here's more of what I've reworked for the opening chapter, leading into the section I posted a couple days back. That part is only a little changed, not enough to matter, right now. Wordage is 77,144.

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Perhaps I should have fought him or argued with him or condemned him. Treated him as the cold vicious bastard he truly was. But his threat against my younger brother still held sway. He was nothing, in my eyes, now; not even worthy of my contempt. 

At least my Da had been specific with his fists and words, for not once could I could think of a time he'd ever threatened harm to any but Ma, Eamonn, or myself. Well, save for those who had caused him irritation as he drank in the pub. That my brother and I were but children was not the point. I could see now that Da was locked in secrets and a sickness that made him desperate, at times, and while I would never have thought his actions honorable in any way, in comparison to my uncle's...they were. For this man had no such excuse.

When I turned down his offer, Uncle Sean snickered that I was independent to a fault. The first time he'd said that, so many years back, I'd thought he meant it gentle. Because even at the ripe old age of seventeen I'd wanted to be my own person. Beholden as little as possible to anyone else, and never mind what I had just been through and how completely I'd relied upon my family for support. It was my childish way of reasserting myself.

What had helped was how I'd shown myself able to do it...once my wits had rejoined me. Him repeating it now meant only that he had learned nothing about my capabilities.

Aunt Mari had said nothing, having just returned from her own trip over and feeling harsh jet-lag from it. She had gone through Shannon and taken a bus the back way up, and it had been quite the chore.

"No trouble through Letterkenny," she'd said. "Oh, but the moment we reached the border. My little suitcase was rifled through as if I were carryin' drugs."

"Or cash," said Uncle Sean, smiling. "That they found in my purse, and didn't they make an issue of it?" she'd huffed, nearly shaking with anger. "Naught but two-thousand pounds, and that only to help me one sister have a decent wake and burial."

"You're lucky you had an American passport," I said. 

Aunt Mari'd nodded. "Yes, those with Irish or British passports had it worse. Some men were physically searched. And the words used on the women! It would shame Judas. What do the British think they're achievin' with this sort of nonsense?"

"Just reminding the little people of who once ruled the world," I'd chuckled. "They haven't the strength to admit they're nothing more than a tiny island of little significance."

"They're more important than you let on," Uncle Sean had said. 

"Aren't we all unto ourselves?" I smiled back at him. 

"Even with Thatcher runnin' things, now?" 

"Just more proof to my point." 

That is when the B-girls had arrived home, Brandi from Rice University and Bernadette from her last year of high school. Seeing their mother was returned, they had instantly begun their interrogation of her, so Uncle Sean had just cast a glare at me then carried her bag upstairs as I went out to sit by the pool. 

I'd cashed all my savings into pounds, at American Express, finished all my projects and took no more on, despite some very tempting ones. Those I could not sell I'd donated to Goodwill, who were quite appreciative. Elliott let me use the Chrysler to do my carrying. It still amazes me how large the trunk is.

Now it was the day before I was to leave. I was packing the last of my things into my duffel bag when I heard someone coming up the stairs...pause for a bit...then knock. The heavy tread told me it was Aunt Mari so I said, "It's your house. Come on in."