Rock Point (Sharpe & Donovan) Read Online Free Page A

say?
    Finian realized he had sped up his pace to a near-manic level. He stopped, letting his brother catch up with him. A soft breeze floated down from the hills, and Finian told himself he would remember its smell when he was in Maine. Remember its coolness on his face and its murmur among the rocks, fields, streams and knots of trees and shrubs.
    “We’ve had our share of madness in our almost forty years on this planet,” Finian said, referring to Declan’s earlier comment. He and his brother were like this—able to pick up conversations minutes, days, months after they’d started. “You’ve never said as much but you think it’s madness that I’m a priest.”
    “Not madness, exactly.” They walked a little ways, not another soul in sight, before Declan continued. “I worry you’re running from your past.”
    “In becoming a priest or taking this church in Maine?”
    “Both. I don’t question that God called you to a different life. I question your interpretation of this call.”
    “I told Sean Murphy that maybe God meant for me to be a sheep farmer.”
    Declan managed a small smile. “That would be a sight. I see you in this Maine fishing village before I see you back on a farm. It never suited you.”
    “I helped Sean birth a lamb.”
    “Dear God.”
    They continued in comfortable silence. Declan, Finian knew, hadn’t expected a response to his worries. He would speak his mind and let Finian decide what to do. It had always been that way between them. They’d worked side by side in the competitive world of international whiskey, brainstorming, arguing, laughing at setbacks and successes alike. They’d been tireless. Pragmatic when they had to be. Dreamers always.
    Kenmare Bay was closer now, as blue as the sky.
    “What a day, Declan,” Finian said.
    His brother smiled. “Yes. What a day.”
    Houses appeared on the lane, and soon Fidelma and the children greeted them in the village. The little ones hugged their father. They wanted ice cream.
    “You’ll join us, won’t you, Fin?” pretty, red-haired Fidelma asked him.
    “Of course.”
    They walked to a small ice-cream shop and bought cones made with local cream. Chocolate chip for Finian. They all headed down to Reenagross Park together, laughing, chatting, as if Finian weren’t off to America tomorrow.
    A hired car would meet him outside the park. He didn’t want their goodbyes to be at the airport but here, in Kenmare, having ice cream together. “We’ll come see you in Maine,” Fidelma whispered, tears in her eyes, as she and Finian embraced. “Fin, my God...I’ve been thinking about Sally and the girls all day. I miss them so much. I always will.” She stood back, tears streaming down her cheeks now. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.”
    “It’s all right, Fidelma. I miss them, too.”
    “It’s part of the reason you’re leaving us now, though, isn’t it? You’re not just escaping memories. You’re escaping all of us, too. Our lives. Watching our three grow up while yours...”
    “While Kathleen and Mary stay forever little girls,” Finian said, finishing for her.
    She went pale and whispered, “Pay no attention to me, Fin.”
    He hugged her close. “God be with you, Fidelma. I’m not escaping from my life here, and I’ll come home. I promise.”
    Declan opened the door of the waiting car for his twin brother. “ Feck ,” he said, as only an Irishman could. “I hate goodbyes. We’ll see you soon, Fin. Godspeed.”
    As he climbed into the car, Finian held back tears of his own. On their twenty-second birthday, he and Declan had taken a long hike in the Kerry hills and ended up deciding to go into the whiskey business. They’d built Bracken Distillers and made it a success against the odds—against the wise advice of most commonsense people they knew.
    Now Finian had a different calling.
    Declan would continue with the whiskey business they both loved, and Finian would spend the next year serving