To Love A Wild Irishman

Chapter Thirty-three

Chapter Thirty-Three

"Yes, Finn. Yes, we're going to have a baby."

Finnegan simply sat there. He couldn't move, couldn't breathe, couldn't think beyond the single word flashing in his head, 'Baby'.

Shite.

A baby? His baby. Little Cass's baby. A father. He was going to be a father?! Surely there was some unspoken law about a man like him having children wasn't there? It was one thing to talk about having them one day and a complete other to be told there was one on the way and growing inside your wife.

Finnegan was faintly aware of Cassandra speaking but he had no idea what it was she said. He sat there and stared at the wall as his brain shut down from the overload.

It wasn't until darkness was falling outside and the shadows were stretching across the room that Finnegan snapped from his daze. Cassandra was curled up on the bed, sound asleep. Finnegan rose to his feet, covered her with a spare blanket and left the room. He didn't even have to think about where he was going; his feet simply carried him down the road to the most rickety saloon the town had to offer.

He stepped inside and breathed in the scent of sweat, dust, dirt, beer and whiskey. Finnegan went to the bar and tapped the scarred wood, "What'll it be, sir?" the bartender questioned as he stepped over. "Beer or whiskey?"

"Whisk....." Finnegan stopped. His body burned for just a taste of the stuff but he couldn't; he had a child coming. "Just a beer."

Finnegan took his beer and weaved his way through the tables full of people until he found an empty one toward the back and sat down. He stared down into the amber liquid and wondered what in the hell he was going to do.

"Finnegan, what are you doing here?"

Finnegan looked up at the sound of Seamus' voice and forced a smile before taking a drink of the beer in his glass. "Relaxin', Dear Seamus. You should try it sometime."

Seamus grumbled and pulled out an empty chair. "Calvin figured out where the Hanging Rock is," Seamus informed him.

"Good... good." Finnegan replied, though his mind was far too distracted to care about what Seamus was saying.

"Finnegan, what the hell is wrong with you?"

Finnegan tilted his head as he looked at his older brother. "What makes ya think there's anythin' wrong with me?"

"Because you're sitting alone in a saloon with a poker game going on less than ten feet away which you're not playing and you're nursing a mug of beer. I've never once seen you with beer--it's always been whiskey."

Finnegan tipped his glass back and forth and watched the liquid inside slosh around. "Yeah, well, I didn't want the distraction. I simply wanted to think."

"Think?" Seamus sounded amused. "It's a little too late to start doing that isn't it? You've lived this long without thinking so why start now?"

"I think more than ya think I do, brother. For example, me thinks you're a jackass."

"Yeah I probably am," Seamus agreed, surprising Finnegan. "Now what's wrong? Did the doc say something bad about Cassandra? Is it bad news?"

"Not bad news just suprisin' news it is. And the doc was never there."

Seamus frowned. "But I thought she was sick and you were going to make her let a doctor take a look at her"

"Aye, I was. But ya see, Little Cass insisted that she knew what was wrong with her and then she made sure I knew as well."