Page 12 - Archangel

And from what he shared, you had saved his life several times before
and nearly died doin’ it, you did. ‘Highlander’ he called you. For
courage, sacrifice, why? When your own people have been fuggin’ Yanks
for two centuries?”
Breathing deeply and refocusing, Rory continued, “I don’t know or care
if you saved our Sean because you’re daft, deranged, or a hero. Just that
you did, and more than once. And I swear to you, those bastards who took
life away from our Sean are dead men walkin’.”
A silence descending between the two, Rory stared at the enigmatic
and muscular 5’10“, long haired humanitarian aid worker who remained
entranced and peering into the grave like a banshee. He remembered
Sean’s letters mentioning MacIain with descriptions bordering on the
bizarre. The Georgian, a kilt-wearing MacIain clansman dreamed of an
independent Scotland, sympathized with the IRA’s goal, if not all their
methods, for a United Ireland.
Skye descended from Jacobite Highlanders who fled for the Colonies
to later fight and defeat the bloody English for American Independence,
inheriting their burning desire for a free and sovereign Scotland. MacIain’s
grandmother taught him and his siblings Gaelic through childhood fairy
tales. Since his birth, Skye’s curly haired, blue eyed, freckled sister played
bagpipes in a Saint Patrick’s Day parade larger than Dublin’s, featuring the
city’s own Sinn Fein representative and float. Who would have thought
Savannah, Georgia had entire town squares named after martyred Irish
nationalists, and a Saint Andrews Society, circa 1737, whose Jacobite
members and monument memorialized the Scots’ ‘fight against English
oppression?’ Rory hoped it all aided his request.
Impatiently interrupting MacIain from his mourning, Rory reloaded
and pleaded, “I am askin’ that Skye, Sean’s life saver and best mate, help us
avenge his death. For Christ’s sake, . . .”
Before he could continue, one of Rory’s younger siblings approached
and whispered, “Time to go, Dearthair” [Brother, Gaelic].” He then subtly
nodded northward at the arrival of English–controlled Northern Ireland
Gardai police who mandated the Collins brothers’ immediate departure.
And to that younger brother’s surprise and MacIain’s shock, Rory quickly
moved to embrace him with the natural forces born of loss, love and
liberation at the possibility of retribution.
Into his ear, the head of the Belfast PIRA whispered, “If you loved Sean,
MacIain, help me do this thing for the likes of us who did, too. The world
is a darker place without him.”

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