Nights Dance To Day~~~Chapter 4

Nights Dance To Day

Chapter 3



　

Diego,

Fainche is missing.

She left for work 2 weeks ago and never came home. The police think she took off with her boyfriend. He has not been seen around for awhile.

She wouldn't just leave without telling her mother or me. Yes, she is head strong. To much like you. But this all feels wrong.

The police are saying things about her I can not, will not believe.

Please come home.

We need you. I need you.

Keane

One read of the letter and I was on my way.

"Fainche"!

My niece. Franny translated to English from old Irish. It was true; she was to much like me. A wanderer. Always looking for the fun, the action. "It was all genetic", my fathers favorite saying.

Family; a thing of beauty, confusion and bewilderment. That pretty much covered our family.

My father Coleman Malone, 20 years old, met my mother, Sarita Garcia 18 years old, while traveling in Europe on one of those 'find yourself experiences'. She was working at a restaurant in Barcelona, Spain. My farther was over six feet tall; she was barely 5 foot. Love knows no size. They spent every minute they could together and when it was time for him to go home; she was on his arm as his wife.

Now two very Catholic and very volatile families were about to clash. ELOPEMENT!!! God the world was coming to an end.

The Garcias met the Malones in an Italian restaurant and negotiations began. A church wedding; definitely. A blending of the family names, definitely. Rules for naming all the children, compiled. Twelve hours after holding this Irish/Spanish summit; the men were off in a bar drinking together and the women were swapping recipes and trying to make Irish food look Spanish and Spanish food look Irish.

Coleman and Sarita have been married for 34 years. The children started arriving by the end of year one.

Diego Garcia Malone, me

Eirne Garcia Malone, married 6 children

Bardan Garcia Malone, married 4 children

Keane Garcia Malone, married 4 children

Marga Garcia Malone, married 3 children

Yes, I am the only one who has not been fruitful and multiplied.

Sunday family dinners are a project that matches any disaster relief effort ever launched. Every family member still lives within an hours drive from the family home in Brooklyn. Everyone is there for Sunday dinner every week; except me.

This is what awaits me. I am not ready; never will be but there it is and I am jumping in blind and unarmed.

　

　

A new week starts tomorrow and I have some juicy new perves for you.

Have fun in Never Never Land kiddies!!

Night