Shannon's Daughter (40 page)

Chapter
Thirty-Nine

Each
day in the week that followed presented new challenges.
 
Funeral arrangements, meetings with the
doctor, decisions regarding his grandmother’s care, the funeral service itself
and the small luncheon following, the reading of his grandfather’s will and a
conference with his banker.
 
Without Peg
at his side, he couldn’t imagine he’d have come through it all with his sanity
intact.
 
If there were questions he
failed to ask, she gently suggested them.
 
If there were things he failed to comprehend, she seemed to sense it and
prod for more information.
 
When it came
to the grim prospects for his grandmother’s future, Peg found a way to ease
even that, spending hours sitting by her hospital bed and filling the sterile
room with flowers and familiar trinkets from home.
 
Had he once accused her of taking control as
though that were a flaw?
 
Now he
understood the true worth of her gift for ferreting out a solution and implementing
a plan with a confident directness belying her youth.
 

The
orchestra granted him an additional week off to settle matters, as though the
monumental task could be accomplished so quickly.
 
He’d known that everything would pass to him
at some point, but he never gave a thought to what that involved.
 
Completely out of his element with
investments and accounts, not to mention the upkeep of even a small property
such as the house and acres now transferred to his name, he was staggered at
the prospect of learning to manage them even briefly.
 

“I
suppose I should have this all
liquidated.
. .if
that’s the term. . .and see where I stand.”
 
Waving a hand over the stack of ledgers and files on the desk, he leaned
back in the creaking chair and rubbed his eyes.
 
“Grandfather should have known better than to think I could be trusted
with all this.”

“But
it’s really not that much.
 
I took a peek,
assuming you wouldn’t mind, and it’s all very straightforward.
 
At least you’ll never have to pinch pennies
again.”
 
Peg took a post behind him,
gently massaging his rigid shoulders.
 

“What
do you mean?”

“I mean
you’re a far wealthier man than you were a week ago.
 
Did you even listen to what Mr. Estes was
telling you?”

He
groaned as her fingers dug deeper.
 
“I
tried, but all I got out of it was something about diverse holdings and
deferred taxes, which meant absolutely nothing to me.
 
I’m a musician, not a stock broker.”

“Well,
let’s just say you’re a relatively wealthy musician now.
 
Your grandfather left everything in very good
shape, secure investments, no debt and a nice piece of property with its own
trust.”

“What
does that mean?”
 

“It
means it has its own bank account to pay for things like maintenance and
taxes.”

“Really?’

“In
terms even a musician can understand, yes really.
 
You don’t have to sell anything unless you
want to.
 
You’ll have a nice income from
the portfolio and a lovely home to enjoy as well.”
 

“What
on earth would I do with all this?
 
I
barely have time to tidy my flat as it is.”

“You
won’t have to clean the house, or keep up the garden.
 
You’ll hire someone to do that for you.
 
I’m sure Mrs. Beatty will stay on for a time,
although she should have someone younger to help with the heavier work.
 
And there must be someone qualified to take
care of the grounds and do repairs when needed.”

“Good
heavens, Peg, I’ll never be rich enough to afford an entire staff for this
place!”

“Depends
on what you mean by rich.
 
But there’s no
question you’re much better off than the average struggling violinist.”
 
She spun the chair around and eased onto his
lap.
 
“Can we spare just a minute to
discuss ‘us’?
 
I need to ask your
permission for something.”

“Since
when do you ask permission?”

“I’m
going to ignore that question.”
 
She laid
a hand along the side of his face, gently brushing her thumb across his
cheekbone.
 
“You look so tired,
Kendall.
 
Still not
able to sleep?”

“I
think I did better last night.
 
Not quite
so many dreams.
 
Maybe if you slept with
me. . .”

“I
thought you didn’t feel right about that, here in your grandparents’ house.”

“The more
I think about it, the more I feel sure they’d understand.
 
And it’s my house now, apparently.”

“It
is.
 
And that’s what I wanted to ask you
about.”

“Ask
away.”
 
He held her closer, settling her
head on his chest.
 

“I’d
like to stay on, after you go back to Glyndebourne.
 
We can’t just leave your grandmother in the
hospital without someone to keep an eye on things, and there’s a lot here in
the house to be sorted through, clothes and personal effects.
 
I could get them organized and then when
you’re back, you could decide what to do with them.”

“But
what about your studies?
 
And you’re due to meet Connie in Paris soon,
aren’t you?”

“I was
supposed to meet her this week.
 
I sent
her a telegram.
 
And I think I’ve sat
through enough lectures and looked at enough paintings to last me for a
while.
 
I want to do this.
 
Please let me.”
 
Raising her head, she waited expectantly for
his answer.

“You’ve
already done so much.
 
I couldn’t have
survived this without you.
 
But I can’t
ask you to do more.”
 
A nameless fear,
bordering on panic, blossomed in his chest.

“You’re
not asking me.
 
I want to do this.
 
It’s not as if you’ll have time to do it
yourself.
 
And feeling the way you do
just now, I doubt you’d be able to anyway.
 
It will be easier for me.
 
I don’t
have the memories to deal with.”

He
closed his eyes, resting his head against the back of the chair.
 
“I never thought it would be this
difficult.
 
I keep wishing I could have
one more chance to talk with him, to ask him things I need to know, to tell him
how much I appreciated all he did for me.
 
He was here one day and gone forever the next and I don’t know how to
deal with all this alone.”
 

“I can
imagine what you’re feeling.
 
It’s what I
fear most myself at times, being left to carry on.
 
But you’re not alone.
 
Please let me help you.”

The
panic threatened to turn to anger.
 
“But
that isn’t fair to you.
 
You just turned
twenty-one.
 
You’re on the summer holiday
of a lifetime.
 
You should be out having
fun, running free without a care in the world.
 
Why should you tie yourself to me, to a situation which only seems to grow
worse with each passing day?
 
Why,
Peg?
 
Why me, when you could have your
pick of men who could give you everything you deserve?”

Her
eyes clouded with an emotion he couldn’t quite fathom.
 
“How can you ask that?
 
Haven’t I made it clear that you’re the only
man I need, the only man I’ve ever wanted?
 
Why do you push me away, if you care for me the way you say you do?”

“Push
you away?
 
No, that’s not what I
meant!
 
I’m only trying to point out that
you could have so much more with someone who isn’t saddled with such a sorry
past and no future to offer you.”

She got
to her feet, backing away toward the windows.
 
Beyond her, he could see the garden shrouded in mist and the chair in
which he knew his grandfather’s last moments were spent.
 
His chest clenched and the weight of
hopelessness settled on his shoulders.

Peg,
watching him warily, began to speak; at first he had trouble retrieving the
train of their conversation.
 
“Our
futures are what we choose to make them.
 
I don’t see how I can make it any clearer that I want mine to include
you.
 
I know you’re going through a
terrible time.
 
I know you’re grieving
and you’re probably frightened by all this responsibility.
 
I’m not asking you to
offer
me anything.
 
I’m
asking you to let me help you.”
 
When he
couldn’t find words to respond, she shrugged her shoulders and he watched the
cool façade begin to crumble.
 
“I love
you, Kendall.
 
You’re not just my lover,
you’re my best friend.
 
I can’t bear to
see you suffer without trying to help.
 
But if you keep arguing against everything I offer to do, eventually,
I’ll just have to give up, won’t I?”

Before
he could say anything, she turned and ran from the room.
 
He listened to her footsteps pounding up the
stairs, heard her door close on the landing, and still sat staring out the
window at the gray landscape.
 

Eventually,
the realization that he might have ruined the one good thing remaining in his
life washed over him.
 
Granted, they were
both on edge and emotionally drained, but if Peg’s reaction had been excessive,
his arguments against her offer had sprung from unwarranted despair.
 
He’d been pitying himself, bemoaning the
disruption of his orderly little life, and that pity had led to his pushing her
away, encouraging her to leave him to wallow in misery on his own terms.
 

With
heavy steps, he trudged to her door.
 
Without knocking, he opened it a crack and peered in.
 
Peg stood at the window, staring out at the
gray dusk, her arms tightly folded across her body.
 
Crossing to her, he gently rested his hands
on her shoulders.
 

“Remember
that summer in Ireland when you broke your ankle?
 
You were stumping around on those crutches,
in danger of breaking something else, and I kept insisting you let me carry
you?”

She
nodded slowly.

“You
refused my help, and then fell face first crossing the garden at the
farmhouse.
 
I was furious, remember?”

She
sniffed.
 
“You called me a stubborn,
ornery little chit.”

“I
did.
 
My manners tend to suffer when I’m
sleep-deprived.
 
But I apologized later,
if I recall.”

“You
said it was true I was stubborn, but you shouldn’t have called me ornery.”
 
She sniffed again and sighed deeply.
 
“What’s your point, Kendall?”

“I find
myself in much the same position.
 
You
told me then you had to learn to walk on those crutches, because I wouldn’t be
around to carry you forever.
 
And I’m
trying to tell you I can’t afford to become dependent on you now, because you
won’t be around to take care of me later.
 
I know you want to help, and I love you for it.
 
I’m just afraid of the mess I’ll make once
you’re gone, if I don’t learn to manage on my own.”

She
sighed again.
 
“I understand that.
 
But if you let me put things in order for you
while I can, won’t it be easier once I’m gone?”
 
She turned to face him, and he saw the tracks of recent tears on her
cheeks.
 
“Before you answer, think about
this, too.
 
If I don’t stay, your
grandmother will be alone.
 
She needs me,
even if you pretend you don’t.
 
Do you
really feel comfortable leaving her when you have to go back to work?”

He
closed his eyes, defeated by her argument and the pain twisting her face.
 
“No.
 
I’d thought maybe I could hire someone to sit with her, to keep me
informed.”

“You
could do that.
 
And you may have to after
I leave, but for now, why not let me do it?
 
And why not let me put the house in order and help you learn the ins and
outs of managing things here?
 
Do you
have someone better in mind, someone you trust more than you do me?”