Hot Whispers of an Irishman (31 page)

“He is? But I’d heard nothing.”

“As I’d heard nothing about he and Mam. You might have told me they were having more troubles, Vi.”

“I didn’t want to upset you.” Or have to look at you too much longer and know what I have not, she could have added.

“I’m pregnant, not ill,” Kylie said, then scooped up a CurlyWurly and a Dairy Milk, adding them to her stash. “I’ve offered him a room at our house. I know Michael will be glad for the help finishing the baby’s room.”

“You might not be ill, but aren’t you a bit…erm, overextended for guests just now?”

“Not at all,” Kylie said. “I’ve already tidied the spare bedroom and the second bath.”

To microscopic cleanliness, no doubt. Vi selected a Dairy Milk of her own. It sounded somehow healthier than the other chocolates.

“And I’m planning a family luncheon for tomorrow,” Kylie said. “I’ve a baby coming any day and I’m tired of watching Mam and Da bicker and the lot of you act like martyrs every time you’re in the same town.”

Vi had never experienced quite this level of bluntness from her sister-in-law. It wasn’t that Kylie didn’t have the matter by the throat, simply that she was usually a woman of softer words and a gentler approach. Vi put the change down to Kylie’s altered body.

“If either of us does the cooking,” Vi said, “Mam and Da will either be poisoned by poor skills or on the road in no time.”

“That’s why I’ve settled on a luncheon. I can’t foul up a chilled platter and surely you can manage a green salad. And bring your man, too.”

“My man?” Word traveled faster than sound in Ballymuir.

“Breege called to tell me about your Liam.”

Of course, Breege. She’d always been a surrogate nan to Kylie, and had no doubt rushed home to share the news.

“Perhaps Mam will watch her words if he’s there,” Kylie suggested.

“Until he crosses her. Shall I bring anything else to this gathering of yours?”

Kylie smiled. “Fishes and loaves and perhaps a stray miracle or two.”

Vi was beginning to feel as though it would take a raft of miracles to refloat her family.

Each child as he is reared, and the duck on the water.

—I
RISH
P
ROVERB

“I
f you don’t wish to, you really needn’t come to the luncheon,” Vi said yet again to Liam as they started the drive into the hills where her brother lived.

“Too late now, my fire. And as I told you the last three times you said that, if I hadn’t wanted to come, I would have said so.”

The fact of it was, Liam could think of places he’d rather be, but none of them held Vi. They had negotiated a tenuous peace last night, and he planned to hold on to it as long as possible. This morning, while she had painted, he’d remained at Muir House, where Dev and Jenna had offered him use of the house’s office. Liam had made reservations to return to Boston on Friday. He intended to tell Vi this…no later than Thursday night. He knew he was delaying the inevitable, but sometimes an inevitability was best delayed. The news he needed to give echoed too strongly of the last time he’d left. Even he, a generally blundering male, could grasp that.

Sooner than he expected, Vi pulled up to a solid-looking white farmhouse with several cars already out front.

“It looks as though we’re the last ones here, so be prepared,” she said after she’d turned off her car. She reached into the back seat and juggled forward a large plastic bowl, nearly losing its cover and spilling its contents into his lap.

She said something in Irish that Liam knew for a curse, then snapped on the bowl’s lid.

“Nerves, I’m thinking,” she said. “I’ve had a case of them since yesterday. Would you mind carrying the salad?”

“Better carrying it than wearing it,” he teased, easing the bowl from her tense grip.

They were climbing the steps when the front door opened. A man Liam knew had to be the younger Michael Kilbride greeted them.

Vi gave her brother a warm hug, affording Liam the time to look at the two of them together. Physically, they bore a resemblance, as both had the same shade of green eyes, but it seemed more than that. The way they had with each other spoke of a kinship of spirit that Liam couldn’t say he possessed with any of his innumerable siblings.

“Liam, this is Michael.”

They shook hands and Liam said, “It’s been a long time.”

Michael smiled. “Aye, it has.”

“You two have met?” Vi asked. “When?”

“A lifetime ago,” Michael said. “Nan had me to visit alone the summer you must have been eight or so.”

“And your brother and I were caught swilling from whiskey glasses at Da’s pub while your nan and the rest of them sang,” Liam added.

Vi shook her head. “Bloody Philistines. Have you no appreciation for fine music?”

“Some, but more for whiskey,” Michael replied. “And I’m ready for one now.”

Vi swatted his arm, then said, “Let’s get this done with.”

As they were heading to the dining room with Vi, naturally, in the lead, Michael lagged back and said to Liam, “If you see me going to the kitchen, offer to come help. I’ve a bottle at the ready. And trust me, we’ll be needing it.”

It took not an hour in the combined company of the Kilbrides to see what Michael had meant. Pat and Danny sat at the far end of the table, one in competition with the other to see who could say the least. Vi’s da tried to carry the conversation for a time, but became weary, joining his youngest children in silence. Michael devoted his energies to assuring that his wife lifted nothing heavier than a fork. And Vi and Kylie kept slipping off to the kitchen, claiming some task or another to complete. But for Kylie’s pregnant state, he’d think the women were at the same bottle that he’d earlier managed to sample with Michael.

Liam toyed with his wedge of cold smoked salmon and brown bread, thinking what next to float out there as conversation. Just then, Kylie said something to Vi in Irish. Liam had no idea what, but Vi very quickly masked a look of concern. She responded to Kylie, and of course he stood no chance of catching those words, either.

“In English,” Maeve Kilbride decreed. “It’s not polite to cut the rest of us out.”

Kylie and Vi rose simultaneously, though it took Kylie a bit longer.

“We’ll be right back,” Vi said to her mam in English, then shot Liam a look he interpreted as an order to follow, though her expression was none clearer to him than the Irish she’d been using.

He was about to make his excuses when Pat and Danny stood.

“Cigarette,” Danny said, apparently speaking for both twins. The front door slammed behind them two heartbeats later.

“Michael, if you could give me hand,” Kylie called from the kitchen.

“Sorry,” Michael said. “I’ll be right back, too.”

And then there were three…

Liam cleared his throat and gave up playing with his food. He’d just taken a mouthful of water when Vi’s father spoke.

“So, do you plan to marry our Violet this time round?”

When he’d managed to stop sounding like a drowning victim, Liam said, “We’ve not talked marriage. With Vi, considering our history, I feel lucky enough that she doesn’t smother me in my sleep.”

Maeve puffed up. “Is that meant to be humorous?”

It was, and harmless, too, though he supposed he might have better considered his audience. He pushed back his chair.

“I think I hear Vi calling me,” he said. “Might I get you anything from the kitchen?”

“A few family members,” Vi’s da said, then smiled. “And some of the
fuisce
I know you and Michael junior had to be trying.”

That, at least, redirected Mrs. Kilbride’s ire to her spouse. “Michael! You know how I feel….”

After giving Michael the elder a smile in exchange for the man’s broad wink, Liam escaped. A man could do miles worse than Mr. Kilbride as a father-in-law.

In the kitchen, Liam found Michael glaring at Vi, Kylie looking a bit pale, and Vi as though she wished herself someplace else.

“I’m thinking it’s time we leave,” she said to Liam.

“That would have been before I had your mam ready to see me dead.”

“She’s just treating you as part of the family,” Vi said. “Now, Michael, tell me where you’ve put my cape and Liam’s jacket, and—”

Kylie gasped. When she’d gotten her breath back she muttered something to Vi that sounded like “ten minutes” in Irish. Liam was pleased that his grasp of the language had stretched that far.

“Jackets, Michael?” Vi said again, sounding nearly alarmed.

“Ten minutes, and
what?”
Michael asked, ignoring his sister.

Kylie raised one finger, then walked to the other side of the kitchen. Back to them, she braced her hands against the sink. Liam watched, transfixed, as her slight shoulders rose and fell. He’d seen this before, when Beth was in labor. He looked to Vi, whose eyes were dark with something like panic.

Vi grabbed Liam’s hand. “We’ll just be going now.”

Michael stayed his sister, one hand on her upper arm. “Violet, ten minutes, and
what?”
he repeated.

“Nearly made it, too,” Vi said, glancing longingly toward the kitchen door. She let go of Liam’s hand, but moved a step closer to him. “Michael, it seems Kylie’s been in labor since early this morning.”

Liam watched as all color drained from Michael Kilbride’s face. He recalled that terrified feeling well, for no amount of classes or cheerful films prepared a man for the moment of truth.

Kylie returned, her hands bracing her lower back.

“And you didn’t tell me?” Michael said to his wife, tipping up her face as though he could determine her progress by checking the whites of her eyes.

“I didn’t mean
not
to tell you,” Kylie said. “I was thinking it was more of those false contractions. I’m sure we have hours yet before anything happens.”

“Anything, love? As in you having the baby and we’re not even packed for the hospital? That
anything?”

“If it helps you, we’ll go upstairs and pack as soon as I’ve—”

An odd, almost whimsical expression crossed her face.

“What?”
her husband asked. “Is it another pain? Shall I go—”

Kylie took Michael’s hands. “Love, promise me you won’t panic, but my waters have just broken.”

She took a step back. All who could see Kylie’s feet, which excluded Kylie, looked to the floor. Sure enough, the pale blue cloth rug where she’d stood displayed a darker blue splotch.

Vi grabbed a tea towel. “Slip out of your shoes,” she told her sister-in-law.

The hell with Michael, Liam felt his knees grow weak. He couldn’t believe this was making him squeamish, but the thought of a woman as slight as Kylie giving birth to what looked to be the world’s largest babe was more than he could handle.

“I’ll be in the dining room,” he said to Vi, then walked off while he could still do it on his own.

“Keep them occupied,” he heard Vi command.

Aye, when he went unconscious they’d be occupied enough.

Lord, she’d been so close to escaping that she could almost taste it. She and Kylie had had it well planned. Kylie would speak to Michael while Vi gave word to the rest of the family members and herded them to her house, blissful miles from the birth itself.

Instead, here she was wiping her sister-in-law’s quite wet legs and feet. There would be no leaving anytime soon, she knew. And she could nearly hear Nan’s hearty laugh from above, telling her this was just what she needed to face.

Bloody annoying know-everything spirits.

Vi had Kylie as cleaned up as she could get her. “Maybe you’ll be wanting to go upstairs and settle in,” she said.

Kylie shook her head. “After I say goodbye to my guests.”

“I’ll still make your excuses. Even Mam will forgive this one.”

“Enough, already,” Michael said. “There’s no time to talk.” He lifted a set of keys from a teacup hook on the cupboard. “Vi, would you pull up my car?”

“We won’t be needing it,” Kylie said.

“Not
needing it?
”

Vi had never before heard her brother’s voice reach so high. Perhaps he had a future as a tenor once his preferences turned from whiskey to music.

“I’ve been seeing a midwife along with the doctors in Tralee,” Kylie said. “I didn’t tell you before because you’ve been fretting enough already, but I want to have our baby here.”

Michael looked wildly around the kitchen.
“Here?”

“Upstairs,” she corrected. “In our house, with my husband, and now it seems even with your mam and da here.”

Michael gently cupped his wife’s face between his hands and kissed her forehead. “You know I love you more than life itself. You’re the greatest miracle I’ve been given…though just now I’m also thinking you’ve lost your damn brain. We’re going to the hospital, and that’s the end of the discussion. I’ll get your coat, and we’ll have Vi follow later with a bag. You’ve that list on our bureau, right?”

Kylie said nothing, instead giving her husband a patient look.

“She’s already called the midwife,” Vi said.

Michael stepped away from Kylie and came looming close to Vi. “You knew and you let her?”

“What would you have me do? Tackle her and rip the phone from her hands? A fine sight that would have been.

“Kylie’s young and in fine health. There’ve been no difficulties with the pregnancy, from what she says. Why not here, Michael? There’s no great risk.”

Her brother’s frown was quite ferocious. “And when did you become an expert on childbearing? I’m the one who read that stack of—”

“Stop!”

Vi and Michael turned to look at Kylie, who was now leaning against the cupboard, hands low on her belly. Her face had gone milky-white, and her scattering of freckles stood out in sharp relief.

“We’re past the time to be discussing. You’d best be getting me upstairs now,” she said to her husband. “I’m feeling a bit odd. I didn’t think this was to happen so fast.”

That, Vi thought, had to be a grand understatement, for Kylie had begun to pant again.

Michael, wise man that he was, didn’t wrestle with the inevitable. “All right, upstairs, love, and no arguing, but I’m calling a doctor, too.”

“Fine,” Kylie said between shallow breaths.

“And you…” Michael shot a glare Vi’s way. “I’ll be talking to you, later.”

“One thing, first,” she said to her brother, beckoning him closer. When he was near, she went up on tiptoe. “It’s a girl,” she whispered, “and she’s going to run you mad.”

In that moment, she was sure that Michael Kilbride was a true believer.

The midwife arrived, and the doctor, too. Trying to hold the most emotional part of herself distant from the events around her, Vi ushered them upstairs to Michael and Kylie’s room. Next came Breege Flaherty and Edna McCafferty, for Kylie had asked Michael to call Breege. The women joined Vi, her mam, da, and Liam in the front room.

Da switched on the television and had it playing loudly to block the sounds from upstairs, Vi assumed. Little good it did. Though it was the last thing Vi wanted, she was so attuned to the events one floor up that she fancied she could hear each breath her sister-in-law drew. Pat and Danny ventured in and out of the house, hiding in the kitchen to avoid Mam’s horrible childbirth stories, smoking cigarettes out front, and wandering out to the workshop.