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Authors: JEANETTE BAKER

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IRISH FIRE (22 page)

BOOK: IRISH FIRE
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The impact shattered the windshield and nearly tore the steering wheel from his hands. But he was through. Flames surrounded him on all sides. Behind him he heard noises, men shouting, the shriek of a siren, a strange roaring. Reversing the truck he backed out leaving a six foot hole in the barn, plenty of room to go in after Annie and bring her out. Wrapping himself in a wet blanket, he gingerly tried the door handle. The metal was branding-iron hot. Keeping his hand beneath the wet wool, he forced it down and kicked the door open.

Brian, a voice shouted from a distance. Come away from there. Were bringing on the hoses.

Without responding, Brian pulled the blanket up over his head and ran into the barn. Smoke filled his nostrils and burned his eyes. Visibility was zero. Dropping to the ground, he crawled forward using his forearms. Horses screamed and the pungent smell of singed hair turned his stomach. Where was Annie? How far had he come? Desperately he moved faster. Surely he was almost there. If there truly was a God, he should be there. His arm landed on a soft mass. Afraid to hope, he reached out and felt human skin, hair and clothes. Annie. Water poured from his eyes, salt and soot mixing, running down his cheeks. He moved on pure instinct. Gathering the child against his chest, he tightened the sodden blanket around them both and stood. Turning back from where he had come, he took a chance and ran for the opening.

Immediately the air cleared. Every breath seared his throat but he could actually breathe again. A firetruck stood in the courtyard and men in yellow slickers operated high pressure hoses that even now had the terrifying flames under control.

Brian pressed his ear against Annies chest. Her heartbeat was strong. She was unconscious but she didnt appear burned.

Yellow-clad arms took the child from him and placed her in the ambulance that had suddenly materialized beside the fire truck. Smoke inhalation knocked her out, pronounced Keith Murphy, the fire department captain. He watched the ambulance circle the courtyard and drive away. Shell need to be looked at in Naas. You could use a going over yourself.

The horses, Brian managed out of stiff lips.

We got them out, all except one. Im sorry, lad.

Which one? asked Brian, although he was sure of the answer.

The Claiborne yearling. It looks like he was gone before we even got here.

Do you have any idea how it started?

Well do a complete investigation. The smoke was thick and oily. Id say gasoline but that remains to be seen.

Arson?

Aye.

Brian ran a filthy hand through his hair. Can you keep that quiet for a bit?

Have you got a lead?

I do.

Ill do the snooping myself, said Murphy, although weve got more than a few experienced men on board. Theyll know it was gasoline.

Do the best you can. Ill need a week.

Murphy clapped him on the back. Youve got it. Lets get you to a doctor just as soon as I break the news to Caitlin that her daughter is in the hospital. Ill let you tell her about her colt.

22

A
nswer the phone, will you, Caitlin? Brigid called from the kitchen as she ladled healthy servings of soup into bowls. Minestrone, Caitlin had called it. It looked and smelled like vegetable although it did have some strange looking beans and noodles floating among the greens. By now Brigid was willing to take Caitlins word for it. The girl had a gift. The soup would be delicious.

Sit down, Ben. Brigid tucked a napkin into the front of her grandsons shirt. Eat while its hot. Ill save some for your sister. No, love, use this one. She picked up the smaller of the spoons and exchanged it for the one Ben had chosen. The other is too hard for you to manage.

Grandma Lucy says the big spoons are for soup.

Brigid looked down into her grandsons twinkling brown eyes. Sometimes it was difficult to remember that he was six years old. Ill be sure t tell her you know that. However, Id like some of it t find its way into your mouth and not down the front of your shirt.

Bens cherubic smile split his face in two. Are you having some?

In a minute, love. Let me just check on your mother.

Brigid pulled her jumper over her chest against the draft and stepped into the long hallway. Caitlin stood at the door. She had wrapped a muffler around her neck and was pulling on her coat. The white cast of her face signalled alarm bells in Brigids brain. Where on earth are you goin? she asked. Dinner is on the table.

There was a fire at the Curragh, Caitlin said woodenly. Annies in the hospital.

Dear God. Brigids hand flew to her lips. Is she badly hurt?

Shes alive, thanks to Brian. Keith Murphy is waiting for me in Naas.

Ill find someone to stay with Ben and follow you.

Caitlins face crumpled. Oh, God, Mum. What have I done? She never wanted to come here. I should never have brought her here.

Brigid crossed the floor and folded her daughter in her arms. Hush, love, she crooned, holding the dark head against her shoulder, marveling at the unfamiliar feel of it, wishing shed felt comfortable enough to do it long before. You mustnt blame yourself. It isnt your fault. It must have been an accident.

Caitlin pulled away, scrubbing at her eyes. Ive got to go. Annie needs me. I want to be there when she wakes up.

Brigid walked her to the door. Ill follow you as soon as I find someone to care for Ben. She watched Caitlin back the car into the road and winced as she rounded the corner too quickly and nearly clipped the right fender in her haste to be on her way. Praying that her daughter would arrive in one piece, Brigid returned to the kitchen. Ben was nearly done with his soup.

Wheres Mum?

She sat down across from him. There was a fire at the Curragh. Annies been hurt. Your mum is goin t see her at the hospital. Ive got t get Mrs. Finch t look after you so I can help your mother and Annie for a bit.

What happened to Annie?

Come here, love. Brigid held out her arms to him. Ben slipped out of his chair and climbed into her lap. We dont know yet. Thats why I have t go and find out.

Will you come back and tell me?

Of course. Go t bed for Mrs. Finch tonight and Ill be back here in the mornin. She hugged him. Not t worry. Well sort it all out.

Annie lay curled up on her side in the hospital bed with one hand under her cheek. Caitlin pulled the blanket up over her shoulders and smoothed out the wrinkles. She bit her lip. Annie looked so peaceful, ethereal almost, like an angel.

Her eyelids fluttered and opened. Her eyes met Caitlins. She smiled. Mama? she whispered.

Caitlin leaned forward. She breathed in the sweet, warm breath that was her daughters. A lump formed in her throat. Yes, love. Im here.

Sleep with me, Mama.

Careful not to disturb the IV, Caitlin climbed over the guardrail, nestled in beside Annies slight body, and wrapped her arms around her daughter.

My throat hurts.

I know. Relief swept over Caitlin. Oh, Annie. Im so glad youre all right. You scared me to death.

Im sorry, Mama. The childs voice grated like sandpaper.

Caitlin soothed her. None of this is your fault. Go to sleep now. Ill stay here with you.

I need to tell you something, Mama. Brian told me to tell you.

What is it, love?

Its not so bad here anymore. Its different and I like my school in Kentucky better, but I dont hate it like I did in the beginning.

Do you mean that, Annie?

Yes. Brian told me to tell you.

Did he? Caitlin felt a surge of warmth flood her chest. Daddys expecting you and Ben back in Kentucky for Christmas. You havent changed your mind about that have you?

Annie shook her head. No. But, Ill miss you.

Tears choked Caitlins throat. Ill miss you, too, but I can stand it if I know youll be back.

The child turned to her, fit her body against her mothers, and buried her face in Caitlins shoulder. The steady beating of the small heart, the charred smell of her hair, the trusting fingers curled around her mothers handall that she had nearly lost terrified Caitlin. Pressing her lips against her daughters forehead, she whispered tenderly. I cant live without you, Annie. Nothing is worth that.

Annie smiled and closed her eyes. Caitlin looked at the small face with its promise of beauty, at the thin eyelids delicately etched with a faint smudging of blue veins, at the small vulnerable mouth and obstinate chin. Annie, lovely, difficult, misunderstood Annie. Her heart broke. She began to weep, silently, shoulders shaking, tears coursing down her cheeks.

John OShea was not much for conversation but he could be counted on in any emergency. Brigid didnt hesitate to call when she needed him for a ride. He came immediately, without asking a single question. She told him what she knew of Annies condition.

He clucked sympathetically. Poor little lass, he said when shed finished. Call me when youre ready to come home.

Thanks so much for everythin.

Dont mention it. I hope everything goes well for the child.

She waved him off and hurried into the hospital lobby. Caitlin was at the desk talking to a man with a white coat and a face that looked much too young to be trusted with the care of her granddaughter. At least Caitlin didnt look as if her world had fallen apart. Brigid breathed a sigh of relief. Annies injuries couldnt be too serious.

Caitlin introduced her. Dr. Moore, this is my mother, Mrs. Keneally.

Brigid nodded. Close up he looked even more like a teenager. How is Annie? she asked.

Ive just gone over her condition with your daughter, said Dr. Moore. Shell explain it to you. If either of you have questions, please ask. Ill be here for the night.

Brigid sniffed. Hes a bit young, isnt he? she asked after hed left them.

He seems all right. Caitlins mouth quivered. Annie is going to be fine, Mum. Shes asleep now. Theyve given her enough to sedate her for the night. She has a sore throat from the smoke but thats all. Were very lucky. You can look in on her if you want but they told me to go home for the night. Im going to stop by the Curragh and see Brian. Hes been hurt and hes not picking up the phone. I wont be long.

Dont worry about me. John will pick me up. Be careful, her mother said automatically, her mind already in the hospital room with her granddaughter. The roads are wet.

Caitlins soft kiss startled her. Brigid touched her cheek in disbelief and watched the daughter who was least like her walk down the hall to the exit. How long had it been since Caitlin had kissed her? Twenty years? Twenty-five?

Brigid smoothed the covers over the sleeping child. Deep in her own thoughts, she never heard the door open or the harsh intake of breath behind her. The first indication that someone else was in the room was a firm hand on her shoulder. When she heard the voice that went with it, she stiffened.

I heard what happened and came right over, said Father Michael Duran.

Quickly, she pulled two tissues from the pack beside Annies bed and held them to her nose. Annies not dyin, Father. There was no need for you t trouble yourself.

Martin told me what happened. He met Brian Hennessey on the way to the doctor. He looked down on the sleeping child. Is there anything I can do?

No, thank you.

His hand fell from her shoulder. For Gods sake, Brigid. Youre a hard woman. Let me do somethin.

Brigid turned on him, her eyes throwing blue sparks. The old Michael Duran, the one who refused her when she needed him most was back. Like a vulture with black wings he stood there, eyes remote, cheeks carven, waiting for the worst that could happen. We dont need your help, Father, not this time.

Martin told me about the fire. Ive grown close to Annie since shes come to Saint Patricks.

Annies a lovely child.

Shaking his head, he smiled painfully. You always did have your share of pride, Brigid. You were wasted in Kilcullen.

She stood silently, her posture stiff and straight, her arms folded, the look on her face that told him he wasnt welcome.

He moved to the other side of Annies bed and looked down on the sleeping child. Reaching out he touched the dark curls spread across the pillow, twisting a single strand around his finger. Then, ever-so-gently, he rubbed the back of his hand across the small cheek. Shes like you, he said, under his breath. Not the coloring but the bone structure.

Brigid was having none of it. Have you eyes in your head, Father? Annie is the image of Caitlin.

He nodded. Caitlin is also like you.

It was true. Not many saw it because of the differences in eyes and hair but from the moment Caitlins features began to take shape, her lineage had been impossible to deny. Brigid had forgotten that or perhaps shed chosen to ignore it over the years. Caitlin with her love for language, her tenacity, the quick intelligence that had lifted her above her classmates, her rejection of the boring, the mundane, the unnecessary, and backward portions of her lessons at Saint Patricks, shared many of the same qualities as both her mother and daughter. How ironic that Michael Duran, of all people, had noticed.

I havent been a good priest for you have I, Brigid?

She stared at him in amazement. Regret, she could have told him, was part imagination, a net woven during long dark lonely evenings, as much a part of her life as his. Dont be so hard on yourself, she said instead. It wasnt a priest I needed, but youve helped a few.

Name one.

Martin, she said promptly. Youve been a help to Martin OShea. You gave him peace when he sorely needed it. Its because of you that hes a priest.

He laughed. You always did manage to have the last word, Brigid. Its one of the qualities I admire in you.

Why are you really here, Michael? I need to know.

Bending his head he told her, forming words shed wanted to hear thirty years before, words that no longer mattered.

BOOK: IRISH FIRE
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