Chapter 1: Campus Romance

Three years ago...

Martin Edward Landry, 20, was in his sophomore year at Amherst University when he met 19-year-old Siobhán Uaine Brennen during her freshman orientation. As a volunteer chaperone, he was charming and confident, though his nerves beset him as soon as he set eyes on her. His dry mouth and awkwardness amused the group, who giggled at his discomfort. Smitten by her vibrant crimson hair and pale, freckled skin, he stammered, practicing her name, “Shiv-awn,” which sounded nothing like it was spelled on her name tape. He also learned that her middle name, “Wen-ya,” was inspired by her green, gold-flecked eyes.

The timid young woman was surprised and charmed by his efforts to pronounce her name correctly. It was her first time traveling beyond her Boston home. Feeling insecure, she completed the long bus journey to the University, facing a sea of humanity with her backpack and suitcase. Navigating the vast campus and finding her dorm left her feeling stressed and lonely. An hour later, she met the handsome chaperone, drawn to his kindly presence and humor. His gaze and smile made her feel at ease. By the end of the tour, she was glued to his side. As the group dispersed, he grew nervous and stammered, trying to express interest in spending more time together. She waited shyly, watching his inner turmoil, then took his hand after a moment of hesitation, calming him instantly.

“Thank you for making my first day wonderful,” she began in a soft voice that would forever capture his heart. “I was so nervous about coming here and being alone, without friends or family.”

Her touch sent impulses through his body and scattered his disciplined thoughts. He lost himself in her gaze until she blinked, releasing his mind to struggle with her words. “Um ... Where is your family?” Soon, they were strolling hand in hand toward the campus coffee shop, where they talked for hours over lattes.

Siobhán grew up in the affluent Boston suburbs in a prominent Irish American family with colonial roots dating back 200 years. She was the only child of a shipping magnate matriarch and her second husband. After her 18th birthday, she was sent away to attend college for a Liberal Arts degree and to develop a worldly view. Until then, she had led a sheltered life in her coastal village, surrounded by like-minded friends and extended family. When he inquired about her biological father, she replied that he had been absent since before her birth.

Their romance ignited like wildfire, and Martin found himself consumed by the vermillion enchantress to the detriment of his studies, which began to suffer from his inability to concentrate. As a graduate of Westfield Technical Academy, he was on track for a career in computer arts. By the end of his sophomore year, he had to decide on an area of computer engineering to focus on, undecided between analytics and forensic disciplines. Before meeting his incredible girlfriend, he would have chosen both without hesitation, knowing he had the time and few distractions.

He hesitated to involve his parents, both academic intellectuals absorbed by their vocations. He never resented their lack of involvement in his childhood. Boarding schools and summer programs were the norm, and he held no animosity over his upbringing. They loved him equally, each in their own way, and were available to discuss his concerns or advise him. He rarely troubled them with non-empirical subjects, so seeking relationship advice was as foreign to him as their ability to offer it.

Siobhán entered his dorm during a heated phone call. He grimaced at her, and she smiled timidly before sitting on his bed. He leaned against the wall, looking out the window, and tried to explain to his father how conflicted he was over his decision. In contrast, his father considered the future marketability of his skillsets with either choice. He would have a brighter future in analytics with his choice of opportunities in Finance and Marketing. However, his passion was examining how information was disseminated across electronic media and how it could be intercepted, manipulated, and corrupted. What he called Information Technology forensics, his father dismissed as marginally above-board hacking. After several moments, he ended the call and tossed his phone aside with a heavy sigh.

The fiery-haired girl perched quietly on his bed, giving him time to think. From their first days together, she determined Martin was probably the most intelligent person she’d met. His mind was like a computer, and there seemed to be no subject he didn’t know. His ability to process scientific narratives and mathematics was incredible. She mused that it was just one of the traits in which they were exact opposites, glancing around his tidy room. She was impishly tempted to rearrange something to see how long it took him to notice.

She had overheard enough of his conversation to know what troubled him—they had discussed it before. One thing she had to adjust to was his blunt honesty. So, it took her aback when he stated that she was the reason he couldn’t take on both disciplines. His tone meant no offense, so she had to breathe and stifle her defensiveness. Once she realized what he meant, her heart swelled. He was too in love with her to focus on both fields. Nor did he regret it. He approached his conflict rationally, deciding there was more to life than 1’s and 0’s.

He sat on the floor beside the bed, hugging his knees while they talked. Eventually, she climbed down and settled in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck. After a long kiss, she touched her nose to his and smiled. “I think you could use a little more distraction at the moment.”

While they lay in his bed, recovering from their intense lovemaking, she rested her head on his shoulder and played with the sparse hair on his chest. “Are you free this weekend?” She shivered under the soft touch of his fingers across her back, waiting for his reply.

He always paused to consider before answering any question. Initially, it seemed he was delayed or failed to understand. But she soon learned that he never spoke reflexively or with emotion. Even when they went out partying and drinking, he’d take his time to reflect. He tested his opponents’ patience before making a shot when they played pool in the clubs but rarely lost. In intellectual contests like Trivial Pursuit or Jeopardy Pong, she gloated shamelessly as his partner.

“I have to meet with Dr. Strickland to discuss next term,” he answered. “Other than that, I have nothing pressing. What’s on your mind?”

“I think we should take a train ride.”

“I like trains. Where do you want to go?”

“I think it’s time you met my family.”

Calling the experience intimidating was an understatement. The Brennen shipping concern was a family affair with extended relations on both sides of the Atlantic. When introduced to her parents, he stood in a richly appointed room with elaborate furnishings and décor resplendent of European aristocracy. Surrounded by wood panel walls, carved ivory busts, shelves of old books, and artwork, he guessed the room’s value in the millions. A dozen people were gathered, some smoking, others with crystal glasses of liquor, while others reclined, eyeing him curiously. Martin recognized familial similarities among half of them, not just by their crimson hair and fair skin.

His attention was drawn to the tall, resplendent woman facing him from across the room with her back to an impressive portrait. He knew instantly she was Siobhán’s mother, and he was impressed by her youthful appearance and bearing. Her skin was smooth as ivory, and her vibrant green eyes lit up the space between them. He guessed her age to be under fifty. His mother was 53, having waited to have him until completing her second doctorate at 33. However, Margaret Landry was nowhere near as youthful as the elegant woman before him.

Nearby, in an oversized easy chair, was a portly older man with thin graying hair, a long bushy goatee, and a stern expression. His girlfriend introduced them as her mother and stepfather, Malcolm Host and Vivian Brennen-Host. The remainder of the group were two uncles, a stepbrother, and six young adult cousins who looked like they’d just stepped off the boat.

After introductions, Siobhán kissed her mother’s cheek and stepped through a side door. She had warned Martin that her family could be overbearing and reticent. They preferred to meet him without her to throw him off guard. She knew him well enough to know they would fail.

Standing before twelve strangers with guarded expressions was still awkward. The heavy silence in the room suggested nobody wanted to speak. Then, one cousin rose and stepped forward, looking him up and down. He circled him before stopping to face him. He shook his head with a wry grin, “Dude’s a damn spitting image of Kyle!” he remarked to the family. Then he grinned and offered a giant, calloused hand. “Sebastian,” he added with a friendly tone, “Call me Seb.” Then he smirked, gripping Martin’s wrist and turning his palm up. “Got velvety, soft girlie hands.”

Martin didn’t respond to the jest but turned to shake hands with several other cousins who came forward to greet him.

“Not much meat to him.”

“Whatcha learning in that fancy school, college boy?”

“What are your wage-earner prospects?”

“I imagine much greater than your own, William,” the woman with a smooth, silky voice dripping with sarcasm. Her words stopped the conversation as she stepped forward. “Not all occupations involve packing pallets and sorting bales.” The young men backed away as she stopped in front of the newcomer. Her gaze was neutral and piercing. “Indeed, you share a striking resemblance with young Mr. Jennings!” Her smile seemed to transform her face, making her appear even younger. She shook his hand warmly, holding it as she addressed her family. “Martin is an exceptional young man with a unique gift for computers and programming,” she said to no one in particular. “His IQ is higher than all of yours combined.” Her tone was light, but her authority was clear. She looked back at him, her expression softening. “A keen mind inherited from your brilliant parents.”