The Promise of Home (35 page)

“I hope so,” Kevin said. “And I think Kyle is really lucky. You don't have any sisters, do you?”

Claudia laughed. “Nope, just my brother, but I've got a lot of friends. A lot of
single
friends. Maybe I can set you up on a blind date once we're back from our honeymoon.”

“Really?” Kevin finally cracked a smile. “Are you serious?”

“Sure, if you're up for it.”

“Huh. Well, what the hell? I guess it's worth a shot.”

Claudia beamed. “It definitely is.”

A moment later, Kyle entered the kitchen. “All right,” he said. “I think we should get going. You ready?”

“Yes,” Claudia said. She stood up and took Kyle's hand.

“Have a great time,” Kevin said with a wink at Claudia. “And I'll be looking forward to my date.”

“Date?” Kyle asked with a puzzled expression as they left the kitchen.

“Oh, I'm going to try my hand at playing Cupid,” she said. “I'll explain later.”

They quickly changed out of their formal attire and said goodbye to their families and guests. Their overnight bags were already packed and in the cab of Kyle's truck. Ruth handed them a small portable cooler just before they got inside. “I didn't see either of you eating much, so I packed some food for you to take. There's some of the cake in there, too.”

“That's so nice of you, Ruth. Thank you so much for everything,” Kyle said.

Claudia hugged her tightly. “We couldn't have asked for a more beautiful reception. And congratulations on your new bed-and-breakfast. It really is amazing.”

Rowen ran up to Kyle and grabbed him around the waist. “You be good,” he told her as he squeezed her around the shoulders. “Don't you run your grandma and grandpa ragged. We'll be back tomorrow night.”

“Don't worry, we're going to have a great time,” Peggy said. “Now get going, you two, before the snow gets too deep and you end up stuck on the side of the road on your wedding night.”

“Are you finally going to tell me where we're going?” Claudia asked once they were on the road.

“Ummm, no. I'd rather you see it,” Kyle said. “You only have to wait another hour, though.”

“Thank goodness,” she said, sliding her hand along his thigh.

“So, what was Kevin saying?” Kyle asked. “About the date?”

“I was trying to cheer him up. Misty cheated on him with another guy—treated him like crap. I feel so bad for Kevin. He really deserves to meet a nice girl, so I'm going to try to set him up on a blind date with one of my friends.”

“Really? That would be awesome!” Kyle grinned at her. “You know, I didn't say anything to you, because I didn't want you to think it was a big deal or that I wouldn't handle it, but Misty made a couple passes at me. She even texted me after Thanksgiving, wanting to hook up for fun. Can you believe it?”

“What?” Claudia looked at him with her mouth slightly open. “Are you serious?”

“Oh, yeah. I texted her back and told her that I was madly in love with you and that she should fuck off and stay the hell away from Kevin. Not that I usually use words like that, but I was so disgusted. I wanted to use language she'd understand. I blocked her number, too.”

“There aren't words bad enough to describe her. It's a good thing you didn't tell me all this before now. I trust you completely, but I really might've killed her.”

Kyle chuckled. “I know. So, you're not mad? I didn't want it to ruin our wedding or the time before it. I made it clear to her that she was no longer invited, but I haven't told Kevin what she did. I've been trying to figure out how to do that.”

“I don't think you have to,” Claudia said, and she filled him in on the details of Kevin's breakup. “He's done with her and looking toward the future, so he's in a good place. And so are we.” She rubbed his thigh gently, and Kyle put his free arm around her so she could rest her head against his shoulder.

After several minutes, they managed to get out in front of the storm, and they made great time the rest of the way.

“Lake Placid?” Claudia asked as she saw a sign.

Kyle just smiled.

A few minutes later, her eyes grew wide. “ ‘Mirror Lake Inn Resort and Spa,' ” she read as they pulled into the parking lot. “Oh my God, I've heard of this place. It's supposed to be incredible!”

Kyle smiled again. “It is.”

They had the Adirondack Suite, one of the lake-view signature suites with a stone fireplace and a whirlpool tub. Claudia could only stare at the columns of birch bark, twig, and cedar and the rustic wooden frame on the enormous king-size bed. Through the window, they could plainly see the rush of snowflakes flying past as the storm caught up with them.

“It really is just like our first time,” Claudia breathed. “I think this might have been worth the wait.”

“What do you say we try out the tub first?” Kyle asked. He came up behind her and slipped his arm around her waist.

Claudia stroked his hand with her own and reached out to lower the window shade. Then she turned toward him and began unbuttoning his shirt. “First the tub,” she agreed, planting a light kiss on his bare chest. Feeling the warmth of his skin against her lips sent a rush of electricity down her body. “And then?” She looked past him, toward the bed.

Kyle took her face in his hands and lowered his mouth to hers. “And then I intend to take my wife into that huge bed and make love to her for the rest of the night.”

In his office in the parish house on Saturday night, Father O'Brien read over his homily for the next morning's Mass. Every so often, he glanced around and felt a renewed gratitude that he was still there, able to enjoy and be a part of this place. And then there was Elizabeth, the wonder of her finding him and of feeling a love reawakened after eighty years.

He looked down at two envelopes sitting on the corner of his desk. The first was a business letter from a medical laboratory confirming that he and Elizabeth were siblings. After seeing the spoon, he'd had no doubt, but the modern marvel of DNA testing had made it official.

The second envelope held two old, handwritten letters. One of them was from his mother to Mary, written when they'd been corresponding. He'd had no idea that they would develop the friendship they had. When he'd suggested they start writing, it had been merely to give two similar individuals—one isolated in a great white house in Mill River and the other a long-term patient at the Brattleboro Retreat—a constructive activity.

And yet, his mother had confided to Mary so much. He'd read all of the letters since Emily had dropped them off in Patrick McAllister's old briefcase, and it gave him joy to know that his mother had regained her memories over the years. Mary, with her penchant for helping, must have seen in his mother another person who needed her, albeit from a distance.

Father O'Brien unfolded the first letter and read it again:

October 24, 1971

Dear Mary,

I write this letter with a heavy heart, for I have learned that my older brother, Frank, has died. I visited him in the hospital two days ago, and we said our goodbyes then, because the doctor told us his infection wasn't responding to treatment and his organs had begun to shut down.

Frank told me something very upsetting during my visit, something he had kept from me for nearly forty years. My baby girl, Grace—the one I told you about, who died only a few days after she was born, didn't actually die at all. I don't remember much from back then, as I was very ill, but I do remember her. She was born prematurely at less than four pounds. I named her with Michael and Frank sitting beside me, right before her baptism.

Frank told me that he knew I would've done anything for that baby, but in my condition, I wasn't capable of taking care of an infant. I was so grief-stricken over Niall's death that I didn't even recognize her or Michael, and the doctors couldn't tell Frank when I might be myself again or if I ever would be. Frank also detested orphanages. He told me he'd heard about too many orphans being mistreated…or worse. So, he arranged for Grace to be adopted by a childless couple—good people, he assured me—although back then he told me she'd died. She was so small and weak at birth that the doctors didn't expect her to survive, and Frank felt that if I ever got well enough to realize my daughter was gone, it would be easier to come to terms with her death than her having been adopted. Plus, I imagine Michael would have objected strenuously if he knew Frank was attempting to find a new home for Grace.

Mary, I find myself pining more for my lost child than my late brother. That may be terrible to say, but it's true. There aren't words to describe how upset I was with him when he finally told me the truth. The difficulty I had carrying that baby, and all the trouble Michael went through to provide for me when his father couldn't…I fought harder for Grace than I'd fought for anything my whole life. In the end, she was taken from me, and I was too sick to realize it.

Frank didn't have any information about the child—the names of the adoptive parents or where they lived. He worked with another priest in New Hampshire to arrange it, but it was done quickly and in secret. I've made inquiries to various state agencies and offices of the church, but no one has been able to find any record of her other than a funeral Mass conducted in the spring of 1935, which I now know was not reflective of the truth.

I'm nearly eighty, Mary, and I don't expect that I'll live long enough to find my Grace. But you're younger than I, and you have more resources at your disposal. Could you find it in your heart to take up the search? I have no idea whether she is still living or where she might be. She might not be alive, and if you discover as much, or if you fail to locate her, I pray you'll not say anything to Michael, for it would break his heart all over again. But if she can be located, it would mean the world to Michael to know what happened and to meet her. After all he did for his baby sister, he deserves it.

My fondest wishes,

Anna

The second, shorter letter was written by Mary and addressed to him:

March 14, 1973

My dearest Michael,

I hesitate to even write this letter, knowing how it would upset you to read it, and not having even decided whether to give it to you, but I feel I must put what I know to paper.

I'm enclosing this note with a letter I received from your mother concerning a baby sister you once had. I won't repeat everything in Anna's letter here, but I wanted you to know that I used every means at my disposal to try to determine whether your sister had in fact survived and been adopted. My written inquiries and telephone calls uncovered very little information about her. I arrived at the same conclusion your mother had, that no paper records exist beyond the church record of her funeral.

I did, however, have Jack Gasaway look into the matter. I didn't know whom else to ask, but since the Gasaways had handled my legal affairs for years, I knew I could trust them and that confidentiality wouldn't be an issue. Jack and his son were able to travel to the Burlington area on my behalf and meet with officials of the Colchester parish. The officials put them in touch with a woman who had worked as Frank's secretary years ago. She was quite old, but she remembered clearly one night when Frank arrived at the church with an infant and asked her to hold it. Together, she and Frank drove with the baby to New Hampshire to meet another priest waiting to take the child to an adoptive family. This woman trusted Frank implicitly, and she never questioned what he was doing or why. Unfortunately, the Gasaways weren't able to find any further information about the baby.

I know that your mother wished you not to know anything about your sister if I couldn't confirm that she was alive and locate her. I wanted so much to be able to do this for you, Michael. You're my closest—my only—friend. You've given me so much over the years, and here was something precious—the gift of your sister—that I might be able to give to you in return. It pains me terribly that I couldn't find her. But I believe she lived when you had been told otherwise, and that she might still be out there somewhere.

You know that I am not a devoutly religious person, but I do pray that somehow, someday, you and she will find each other again.

With all my love,

Mary

Sitting in his chair, Father O'Brien closed his eyes. It was clear that Mary had decided not to share the letter with him while she was living, or to reveal what she knew about his family and sister, but he wasn't angry with her. He was sure she'd made the decision in order to spare him certain agony. Just as Grace had said, there had been no Internet back then, and if he'd known she was alive and couldn't find her, it would have cast a painful shadow over decades of his life.

Mary's face materialized in his mind. She was smiling, and he got the feeling that wherever she was, she was overjoyed. He, too, was happier than he had felt in years. For so long, he'd thought of Mary McAllister as the sister he'd never had. It seemed almost too good to be true to think that his real sister had survived, and that he had the chance to get to know her and the rest of her family—
his
family—in addition to the lifetime of memories he had of his time with Mary.

Father O'Brien opened his desk drawer and removed the two spoons that he now kept there: Mary's silver teaspoon, and his mother's clover-patterned sugar spoon. He could almost feel the warmth in his heart radiating down his arm to warm the metal in his hand. It was a sign, he was sure, that Mary and his mother were together, happy, and smiling.

He'd already accepted an invitation to spend Christmas with Grace—or Elizabeth—they hadn't quite worked out what he should call her. But it didn't matter. Regardless of the challenges ahead, regardless of any changes that might come with the New Year, he'd been given a bit more time on Earth. He intended to continue spending as much of it as he could with
all
of his family—his sister, his congregation, and his beloved community of Mill River.