The Crow of Connemara by Stephen Leigh Page A

shrugged. “There really hasn’t been a good moment for the two of us to sit down and really talk. I know this isn’t one, either, telling you while we’re burying Dad, but I was afraid that you might sneak back to the left coast if I waited any longer, and I really wanted . . .” Tommy stopped. “I really
needed
you to know,” he finished.
    Colin ignored that. “What about Harris?”
    Tommy seemed to smile. “Oh,
he
knows better than anyone,” he said, and something in his tone and the glance he cast back toward where Harris was leaning against Tommy’s car made Colin suddenly suspicious.
    â€œNo.”
    â€œYep. ’Fraid so.”
    â€œHarris is your . . . partner?”
    â€œHow do you think he got himself introduced to Dad?”
    â€œReally? Harris?”
    â€œCarl’s a lot nicer when he doesn’t have his campaign manager hat on. Honestly.”
    â€œI guess I’ll have to take your word for that. I haven’t been very pleasant with him, though. I’m sorry.”
    â€œHe’s used to it—that’s part of the job. He doesn’t take it personally. Look, I haven’t come out publicly, but Carl says that the subject
will
come up once we’re in the general election, so I need to do it soon before someone springs it as a surprise in the middle of the election. And honestly, I don’t intend to lie if someone asks me the question directly . . .” His shoulder lifted again. “It’s anyone’s guess how things will go when the news gets out. When that happens, I’ll need people around me I can trust, people I care about. That’s why I’m asking. So . . . have I weirded you out sufficiently?”
    Colin managed a wry grin. “You’ve managed to shock me a bit, yeah. It’ll take me a while to wrap my head around this, but in the end, it doesn’t change anything. You’re still Tommy, you’re still my brother, and I don’t have a problem with anyone’s sexual orientation. Don’t worry.”
    â€œThanks. You don’t know how much that means, little brother.” The two of them hugged, Tommy taking a long, slow inhalation that told Colin how unsure his brother had actually been. When they broke apart, Tommy looked back at the gravesite, where the workers were already preparing to fill in the grave. “I wish I’d told Dad the truth, even though I’m sure he’d already figured it out.”
    Colin was also staring toward the casket. “Yeah. There’s a lot I wish I had talked to him about, too. I hadn’t left things in a very good place with him, and now . . .” The emotions threatened to overwhelm Colin again, and he let the rest trail away unsaid, not able to trust his voice.
    â€œYeah, I know.” Tommy’s voice was rough and husky, and his hand touched Colin’s shoulder and fell away again. “I know. I also know that he loved you and he was hoping to patch things up between the two of you when you came back next.”
    â€œWhy are you going to run for office, Tommy? Yeah, it’s Dad’s legacy and all that, but this is going to put a huge spotlight on your life, with all that entails, and there are people who are going to be upset and angry and furious with you. You could let someone else step in and save yourself all the grief. You could just keep your position at Dad’s firm and not have to deal with any potential nastiness.”
    â€œI know. But . . . this just
feels
right, like something I’m supposed to do. You understand that, don’t you? It’s like you with your music. Jen’s the same way; teaching is exactly what she wants to do and what she enjoys doing. Dad . . . he wasn’t any different, really. We Doyles have this sense of destiny, or a calling, of something that we’re
supposed
to do, and we’re