Proof of Angels by Mary Curran Hackett Page B

you’ll be spending time together. And maybe there will be lots more after her. Maybe, I was just thinking, you might reconsider . . .”
    â€œI am sorry, I don’t follow,” James interjected.
    Exasperated and feeling as if it was pointless to keep it a secret from James, Sean explained his plan to his friend. “James, during the fire, I made a promise. I told myself if I gotout of that mess, I’d be a better man. I’d make up for all the stupid stuff I’ve done, and I’d find a girl from a long time ago and I’d tell her how sorry I was for messing stuff up between us. I’d make things right. I made that promise, James, and I am here today, I believe, because I made that promise, and nothing, let me repeat, nothing is going to stop me. You hear me, Gaspar? Not even a long-legged knockout.”
    â€œSo I can call dibs on Libby?” James said flatly, for Sean’s benefit pretending to be unmoved by Sean’s story.
    Sean laughed. “You can call dibs. She’s all yours. I’ve got my mind set.”
    Once his dibs were secured, James circled back to Sean’s story. “Sounds like a hell of a plan to me, Sean. She has to be some sort of special if you’ve been hanging on this long, holding out this long.”
    â€œShe is, James. She is,” Sean said.
    â€œI am sorry, Sean. I was just joking and I thought . . .” Gaspar shook his head.
    â€œI know, Gaspar. No harm done. But I don’t want you talking me out of it. I thought we had come to a mutual understanding.”
    â€œWe had. I just hoped . . .”
    â€œI know what you hope for, Gaspar. You want me to fall in love. You want me to get married and have babies, and make you feel a little bit better about the life you have now . . . ,” Sean said, once again realizing that what he was saying was hurtful, but unable to control himself.
    Gaspar shook his head as if in protest. “I know you were like a father to him, Sean. I know that. I know that you felt as if you were his father. You know that you could still—”
    Sean held up his hand and waved at Gaspar as if he was shooing a bird off his balcony on Ocean View. “I am sorry. I shot my mouth off again. I had no right.”
    â€œYou have every right, Sean.”
    James stood between the two men and searched their eyes for some sort of explanation. “I’m sorry? What kid are we talking about? Whose kid?”
    â€œHis name is Colm Magee. My sister’s son. Gaspar here was just saying that I loved the boy like my own son. He is right about that. His dad took off before he was born, around eleven years ago, and I got to raise him with my sister for a little while back in New York,” Sean said almost in a whisper and realized how empty and hollow it felt to say those words, to sum up seven years of his life in a few words. How impossible was it, so often in life, to sum up something so enormous?
    â€œI got to love him as my own for a little while.”
    â€œI was a father.”
    â€œI loved a girl.”
    â€œMy mother died.”
    â€œMy father died.”
    â€œI used to fight fires.”
    Footnotes in a life, Sean thought. How many people use them to describe the infinitely huge moments that change them forever? So often those moments get nothing more than a passing mention.
    â€œCool,” James said in a matter-of-fact tone, and shrugged.
    Sean sensed that James could feel the tension in the room and didn’t want to add anything further.
    â€œI better get on my way. I don’t want to get stuck in traffic and miss my flight,” Gaspar added.
    â€œJames? Will you give us a second?” Sean asked politely.
    â€œYeah, sure. I’ll be outside. Gaspar, I’ll give you a ride. I don’t have a shift. No sense in you taking a cab.”
    â€œThanks, that would be kind of you, James.”
    â€œI’ll be just outside,” James said, shutting the