The Parting Glass (57 page)

Peggy shrugged again.

“I think perhaps he’s not as easy to put behind you as you’re pretending.”

“It’s not easy at all.” Peggy looked down at Kieran, and her eyes filled with tears. “But it’s necessary.”

She arranged to be elsewhere when Finn came to see Irene that evening. She had avoided his early morning visit, too, pretending she was too caught up helping her sisters pack to peek out and say hello. This time, though, she left the house, strolling with Kieran along the path overlooking the beach. He was still feverish, despite a recent dose of the third fever reducer she had tried. She hoped the ocean breeze would cool him a little. He didn’t fuss or try to climb out of the stroller. He leaned forward, propping himself on his arms, and sat perfectly still in that position, an inert lump of humanity who seemed to be giving up on the world around him.

By the time they returned, Finn had come and gone again. She fixed Kieran applesauce and cereal, which he refused, and warmed up Irene’s dinner, which she picked at without much success. Peggy ate a little, then prepared another cool bath for her son, hoping it would bring his temperature down far enough that he could finally sleep comfortably.

By the time she put him to bed his temperature was only a bit above normal and she had coaxed him to drink some juice. He went without protest, closing his eyes from exhaustion before she covered him with a light blanket. He coughed, babbled something in a hoarse voice, then, as she stood beside his bed, fell into a restless sleep.

She played cards with Irene for a little while, one ear tuned for sounds from her bedroom. Irene tired quickly, and Peggy helped her get ready for bed.

Irene apologized. “Too many late nights with your sisters. I’m afraid I’m done in.”

“You sleep well tonight, and stay in bed in the morning. The house won’t rock on its foundations.”

“It was such fun having them here, like a houseful of daughters.”

“I was afraid it was a bit much for you.”

“It did me a world of good. I’ve wanted you, all of you, to know about my father for a very long time.”

Peggy, in the midst of hanging up Irene’s housedress, turned. “Then you knew about us? Before you contacted us, I mean?
Well
before?”

“I knew from some digging long ago that your grandfather married and had two children late in his life. I’ve known about you and your sisters for…” She paused, as if counting. “Six years. You see, I hired a man in the U. S. to find out what he could. A private investigator.”

“And you didn’t get in touch with us then?”

“I wasn’t sure what to do. I didn’t want you to feel burdened by the presence of an old woman you didn’t know. I thought I might just put the story in a letter to be delivered at my death. Eventually I realized you might feel as cheated by that as I did. So once I had a computer, I decided to contact you.”

Peggy took her hands. “I’m so glad you did. We all are, Irene. And you know it has nothing to do with the money. Who knows if Megan will ever find it?”

“I have great confidence in your sister. Once she sets her mind to something, she comes through. Isn’t that so?”

Peggy had to admit it was true. “Don’t forget, though, they’ve torn the saloon from stem to stern in this latest renovation, and if anyone found anything of value, we certainly didn’t hear about it.”

“My mother knew exactly where in the saloon my father hid that money, but she didn’t tell me the location, of course. She wanted no part of it and wanted me to have no part of it, either. She only wanted me to know that he was a good man with a good heart, and that she didn’t profit from his mistakes in judgment. She was fond of simple lessons, a good mother until the moment of her death.”

Peggy fluffed Irene’s pillows and helped her swing her legs under the duvet. “Sleep well. You’ve given the Donaghue sisters a new mystery to solve. We’ll enjoy every minute.”

Irene wished her good-night and closed her eyes.

In the living room again, Peggy wandered aimlessly, straightening sofa pillows and newspapers, sweeping Banjax’s fur off the hearth. She wasn’t ready to go to sleep. There was too much to think about.

The telephone rang, and she dove for it, afraid it might bother Irene. The voice on the other end was familiarly deep.

“Peggy?”

She lowered herself to the chair beside the desk. “Hello, Finn.”

“You sound out of breath.”

“Irene just went to bed. I didn’t want the phone to wake her.”

“It’s a bit early for sleep. Is she all right?”

“Just tired from so many visitors.”

“How’s Kieran?”

She was almost surprised he had asked. Certainly it opened up a topic he would not want to discuss. “No better.” Her tone was uncontrollably curt. “Thanks to the Irish medical establishment.”

“I see. You don’t have overworked, impatient doctors in the U. S.?”

“Of course we do. But in the U. S. I also have friends who would gladly have looked at my son in an emergency and helped me get him the best treatment.”

There was a long silence. Peggy wondered if it was time to hang up. Then Finn spoke.

“I’m not the best person for that, Peggy.”

“I know you
think
so, yes. That’s not the same thing at all. And I’m afraid I’ve figured out something else. Kieran and I don’t matter to you, Finn. If we did, you would have helped us. I deserve a man who can be a real partner and a father to my son. For some reason it’s taken me this long to realize it, but I’m not selling myself short anymore.”

“Well, that’s concise.”

“Be glad it’s concise. Don’t ask for the unabridged version. You wouldn’t like it nearly as well.”

“The part about me being a selfish bastard?”

Anger shot through her, anger she had tried to control. Her voice choked with tears. “No, the part about you being afraid to live again. The part that says you believe you’re God Almighty and that you and
only
you held the lives and destiny of your family in your hands that day. The part that thinks every decision you make is so important that the world stops on its axis whenever you falter!”

“I’m hanging up now.”

“You should have hung up sooner.” Peggy slammed the receiver back on the cradle and dropped her head in her hands.

She heard a noise, but she didn’t look up. She knew who it was, and that her own voice had awakened her. She felt Irene’s hand on her shoulder. “Go ahead and cry it out, dear,” Irene said.

“I’m in love with him. That’s why this hurts so much.” Peggy was as astounded as she was sorry. The love she felt for her family was effortless. The love she felt for Kieran had rushed forth at the instant of his birth as if it had grown with him in her womb. As difficult and heartbreaking as his autism could be, it had only made her love her son more.

But this…this was something different, something that defied all logic or attempts to eradicate it. She had not considered a life with Finn. Now, considering one without him was agonizing.

“I have to get out now,” she said through her tears. “Before I’m in too deep to try.”

“He’s everything you want him to be and more. How could you not fall in love with him? You saw the real man, not the shell.”

“He has everything invested in not being that man anymore.”

“And you’re young and impatient.”

“I’m young and logical. And I know when I’m up against something I can’t change. He treats you, Irene, because he loves you too much not to. But not treating Kieran—”

“That’s because Kieran reminds him of his sons, Peggy. Can’t you see that? I’m an old woman, and I’m dying. Even Finn knows that no matter how much magic he pulls out of his black bag, he can’t manage eternal life. He can live with those odds now, can’t he, knowing that his job is only to make my ending comfortable, perhaps to stave it off a bit? But your son has a long life ahead, just as his own sons did. And he can’t help but make that connection.”

“He has to help it!” Peggy wiped her eyes on the hem of her T-shirt. “You can’t love if you can’t act. Love
is
action, not words or thoughts. And it’s a lot bigger than some sexual impulse that comes and goes at the sight of a young woman’s breasts or lips. It’s intentional and definite, and the way you show it is by acting for the good of each other and for the relationship.”

“You’ve given this some thought, I see.”

“No, I’ve been trying
not
to think about it. I think I knew if I
did
think about it, everything would be finished between us. Then this hit me smack between the eyes and I couldn’t
not
think about it anymore.”

“You’re worried about Kieran, too, that’s part of it.”

“Of course.” Peggy reached for a tissue on the other end of the desk. “If he’s not better when he wakes up tomorrow morning, I’m going to take him into the emergency room in Castlebar. I’ll sit there all day if I have to, but somebody has to treat my son.”

“A very good plan. We’ll have Nora drive you. She won’t—”

A wail interrupted Irene. Peggy jumped to her feet. “There he is. I woke him.”

“No, you weren’t that loud, dear.”

Peggy was already halfway across the room. She was afraid that Irene was right. Kieran’s wail did not sound like that of an annoyed child awakened from a sound sleep. It was a thin wail, and it spurted unevenly, as if he was struggling for breath.

She found him sitting up and forward, leaning on his hands. She lifted him from his crib and was shocked at how hot he was. She didn’t need a thermometer to know that his temperature had risen again, this time to a dangerous level. And he was drooling, as if swallowing was too painful to attempt. “Kieran?”

He stared at her as he so often had, as if he wasn’t certain who this demanding woman was. But this was not autism looking back at her. Kieran’s gaze was fixed and his breathing so shallow that for one terrible moment, she wasn’t certain he was breathing at all.

She had made a terrible mistake. She had not followed her own good instincts and taken her son elsewhere for a second opinion. She’d allowed herself to be bullied by a nurse she had never seen and a physician so overwhelmed that he had taken every shortcut when examining her son. Kieran’s life was at risk now because of it.

Irene came to the doorway. “How is he?”

“Irene, call Nora. Please. I have to get him to Castlebar this instant. There’s no time to wait.”

“Mother Mary…” She clumped away, but by then Peggy was frantically reviewing what she could do to aid her son until Nora arrived. His breathing was labored, but he wasn’t coughing. It might be pneumonia. She also knew something about croup, about the sudden onset after a drawn-out illness, about the struggle to breathe. It was common enough, and usually responded to—

“Steam…” She wrapped him in a thin blanket and ran toward the bathroom, closing the door behind her. Then she turned on the tap, tearfully grateful when hot water poured forth. Without a heater that kept water at a constant temperature, hot water at this hour was never guaranteed.

She turned on the shower and stepped inside the tub, pulling the curtain around them and aiming the showerhead directly into the drain so they wouldn’t be splashed. It seemed like forever before steam began to fill the enclosure. She turned her son away from her shoulder and toward the showerhead, praying that the steam would ease his breathing. Kieran was too sick to struggle.

Minutes passed, and as she’d known it would, the steam began to wane as the last of the day’s hot water drained away. She turned off the tap but continued to stand there, hoping the remaining wisps would help.

“Peggy…”

“Come in.” Peggy heard a door open and close.

“Any better?”

Kieran was still sucking in air as if it was coming to him through a narrow reed. “No. Did you get Nora?”

“Finn’s coming.”

For a moment Peggy thought she hadn’t heard her right. “I asked you to call Nora.”

“But Nora’s not a doctor, is she? Finn will take you to the hospital. He’s on his way.”

Peggy could imagine that conversation, but she didn’t care. Whatever Irene had said to Finn had done the trick. He was coming, although she was sure this was the last place he wanted to be. And Finn would drive faster than Nora, who nourished a distrust of anything with an engine.

Peggy stepped out of the tub. Kieran’s hair lay in wet curls against his scalp, and his cheeks were bright from steam and fever. Each labored breath was audible, and his little heart beat frantically against his mother’s chest.

“They might admit him,” Peggy said. “I’ve got to get a bag together.”

“Tell me what to pack.”

“A change of clothing for the trip home.” Peggy hoped there would be such a thing. She was nearly frantic with worry.

“And clothes for you, as well. A toothbrush…” Irene hurried away, moving faster than Peggy had ever seen her.

Peggy followed when the last of the steam was gone, finding her purse and tucking it under her arm, lifting an extra blanket to stuff into the diaper bag, a picture book Kieran had shown a little interest in yesterday. Just yesterday her son had sat on her lap, letting her turn the pages and point to the figures on each page. As sick as he’d felt, he had tried to croak out dog. She had been sure of it.

Her eyes filled with tears, and she clutched him tighter.

The front door closed with authority. She heard footsteps coming toward her room and Finn appeared.

“Let me look at him.”

She was not so foolish as to refuse. She lowered herself to her bed with Kieran on her lap, and Finn stooped in front of them. She saw that he’d brought his medical bag and already taken out his stethoscope to warm against his palm. He asked her to take off Kieran’s pajama shirt, then sat and watched the little boy breathe. “How long has he been struggling like this?” he asked after what seemed like forever.

“Just since he woke up.”

“Tell me what else you’ve noticed. Fever, appetite, abdominal distress?”

She told him everything she had observed, then detailed her phone call to Beck’s office.

He spoke softly to the unresponsive little boy as he placed the stethoscope against his chest and listened. Not satisfied, he placed a hand against Kieran’s chest and pushed gently at the end of several breaths. Kieran jerked once, but didn’t move away, absolute proof he was very ill.