Sunny glanced at the bed, staring at the figure nearly hidden beneath layers of gauze. Fiona’s head alone was entirely concealed, save an opening where her right eye gazed out—if she ever opened it—and a slit for her mouth and nose. “No one will know about her bastard father where we’re going.”
“Only know Fiona and I are sisters?”
“That’s right, honey.”
A toothy grin split Sunny’s lips. “I’d be proud.” Just as suddenly, her expression turned to panic. “What if Fiona doesn’t want that?”
Margaret left her chair, stood behind Sunny’s, and gave her a hug from behind her. Both were gazing at Fiona’s still form. “She’s already thought of you as her family. We’re only making it official.”
“What about you? Will you change your name, too?” Standing straighter, but keeping her hands on Sunny’s shoulders, Margaret said, “I did give it honest thought. I’ve the impression from my phone conversations with the realtor in Colorado he’d prefer to sell to a married couple. I considered having a marriage certificate made using Fionn’s name.”
“Fiona’s dead brother?”
“Yes. Fiona could play Finn or rather Fionn ’Finn’ Cavanaugh from the hospital bed. Only we would know. Ian and Edward could be witnesses.”
“Why don’t you?” Sunny asked, glancing up at her from over her shoulder.
“Because that could hurt Brigid. She cared deeply, I’m told, for him.” Margaret squeezed Sunny’s shoulders. “I’ll figure something out, we’ve got a little time.” Margaret started back to her chair and froze when she saw Brigid in the doorway. “Brigid, how—”
“Just because you’ll all be Cavanaugh’s doesn’t mean you can treat me like the old maiden aunt of this family.” Brigid came into the room and took Margaret’s place behind Sunny. “I stay as Bridget Connor, cousin extraordinaire.” She beamed, apparently proud of her announcement.
“It’s all settled then.” Margaret sat down, relieved to have her plans falling into place.
Now, if only Fiona would wake up.
Chapter Thirty-two
THE PRIEST HAD just finished performing the ceremony. Sunny, Ian, Peter and Edward present for the occasion. “Are you certain I shouldn’t perform the last rites?”
Margaret stiffened at the insinuation. It was day eight. Fiona, though stable, had yet to wake. “My husband is pulling through.” As concerned as she was, Margaret felt elation at knowing, though not legal, she had married Fiona. She wished Fiona awake to share in their moment.
“Thank you for your time, Father,” Peter said, guiding the man out the door. Margaret flashed him her gratitude. He returned less than two minutes later carrying a picnic basket and thermos. “Finger sandwiches, small snack cakes, and lemonade.” He placed the basket on a side table. In a stage whisper, he said, “I thought of sneaking something with more of a kick, but worried the guard would have imbibed and we’d be found out.” He snorted. “Man already globbed down a sandwich and two cakes.”
“Lemonade is fine, Peter,” Margaret said, placing a peck on his cheek. “I appreciate all you’ve done.”
Edward stepped close, flashed a loving smile at Peter. “The beast that put Fiona here is still loose. I could have her transported to our house. Better to keep her safe.”
“I don’t know, Edward. That’s an awful imposition.”
“Congratulations everyone.” Margaret turned to find Frank and Siobhan Galloway enter the room, closing the door behind them.
Margaret felt a moment of unease, having the owners of the mortuary in the same room as Fiona felt like a bad omen. If Margaret hadn’t come too actually like Siobhan, she’d take umbrage to their presence. However, despite the business Margaret brought to the Galloway’s with Lorraine and Eldon, she also appreciated Siobhan’s friendship and kindness, and knew Frank felt the same for Fiona. “Thank you for coming,” Margaret said.
“You’re part of our friends and family circle,” Frank said. His tone laced with sincerity. “The moment would be perfect if we had a little bit of Finn attitude interjected here.” Frank’s gaze settled on Fiona.
As if on cue, Sunny jumped off the bed where she’d been sitting, holding Fiona’s hand. “She twitched.” Sunny’s gaze darted around the room until they landed on Margaret. Tears clouded her eyes and dripped down her cheeks. The room became deathly silent. “Has she come back?” She reclaimed Fiona’s hand.
Margaret rushed to the side of the bed, leaned close to Fiona’s bandaged head. “Fiona, honey, can you hear me?” She thought she heard a groan. Gently, she placed her forehead to Fiona’s bandaged temple. “Oh, honey, I’ve missed you so,” she whispered. Louder, she said, “Don’t panic, honey. You’re bandaged pretty excessively. You’re going to be all right. We’re all here for you.” Fiona mumbled something, but Margaret couldn’t make it out.
Edward stepped forward with a cup and straw. He nudged the straw between Fiona’s lips. “The water will help. Sip slowly.”
Barely audible, Fiona said one word. Tired. She fell asleep. Margaret, and the entire room of people, was nearly giddy in their excitement. Fiona continued to sleep, but at least they now had hope.
Siobhan clasped Margaret’s elbow, getting her attention. They moved away from the others. As Margaret stared at her, flicking furtive glances toward Fiona, Siobhan cleared her throat. “We both know Jimmy’s out there, and mad as a wounded bear because Sunny shot him, and Fiona’s not dead.” Margaret nodded. She didn’t like thinking about Jimmy—liked his still-breathing status even less. “Do you trust me?”
Margaret looked at the tall woman. In height and physique, Siobhan and Frank were nearly identical. Even Frank as Fatima didn’t compare to the hidden beauty of Siobhan. Her eyes radiated such depths of emotion, currently warmth, that it surprised Margaret most people only saw stoic, cold hardness in her. Margaret saw, and felt, so much more. “Yes, Siobhan, I trust you,” she said, hoping her honesty was evident in the words.
“Good,” Siobhan said. She smiled and her dark green eyes shone bright. “I have a plan.” Margaret leaned toward Siobhan. As she whispered to her, Margaret’s own smile widened.
SIOBHAN LED THE way up the back stairs to the room Fiona occupied, and Margaret followed silently. “You’ll be close to the stairs, furthest from incoming customers and activity. I placed Sunny and Brigid in the room across from you.”
Margaret glanced around at the beautiful molding and wallpaper. The banisters and doors were sturdy cherry walnut. There were windows at each end of the hall. They were large enough to allow a lot of light, and plain, unlike those on the first level, which were fully or partially stained glass pieces. Siobhan pushed open the door to the right just beside the stairwell.
Directly facing the door was a huge four-poster bed, leaving little room for the armoire on the left and a small make up table with cushioned stool on the right. The window above the table was smaller than the windows in the hall, but covered in a beautiful lace and stitched-flower design of a light lavender color, identical to the duvet covering Fiona. Despite numerous objections, Fiona had demanded the removal of most of the bandages. She still had one large bandage covering her eye, and surrounding her crown to cover stitches in the back of her head where it rested on the pillow. Fiona’s uncovered eye was closed, and Margaret assumed her sleep. Although the sleep helped Fiona heal, Margaret worried it also provided too much time to focus on what put her in that bed.
“I’ll leave you to orient yourself. Help yourself to anything you need.” Siobhan turned to leave but stopped, flashing another grin. “By the way, I took your advice and spoke with Mrs. Baumann. She’ll be cooking dinner tonight, as the new—only ever—Galloway cook. Frank, needless to say, is happy to pass on the reins.”
Margaret smiled. “You weren’t the family cook?”
“My talents never extended into that part of the house.” Siobhan grinned. “Don’t worry, none of the tools of my trade did, either.” She left.
Slowly, so
as not to disturb Fiona, Margaret made her way to the side of the bed were Fiona lay. Careful to sit on the edge, Margaret took up Fiona’s hand and held it in both of her own. Fiona flinched. She didn’t know if the reaction was automatic, or if Fiona were awake, but Margaret held on. Margaret wanted to apologize for what had happened, but knew the words could never be enough. Instead, she whispered, “No matter what else goes on in your head, honey, know this. I love you.”
Margaret felt Sunny enter the room before she saw her. She watched with a smile as Sunny slowly crawled on the bed and nestled beside Fiona. Fiona’s body tensed for a moment before relaxing. Margaret wondered if Sunny noticed, suspecting if she did, she expected the reaction and was determined to provide comfort and support nonetheless. Eyes closed, Sunny asked, a grin on her face, “How’s my sister today?”
Margaret gave a soft chuckle. “Saying that pleases you, doesn’t it?”
“More than you know,” Sunny said. Sunny opened her eyes, her expression losing their earlier jovialness. “We buried Lorraine and Eldon at the same time. I’m happy I didn’t have to attend a service for Fiona.”
Reaching across Fiona, Margaret caressed Sunny’s cheek. “I am, too, honey. She’s safe with us now. Soon as Fiona’s ready, we’ll be on that train to Colorado.”
“Margaret?”
“Yes, honey.” Margaret saw a flash of panic in Sunny’s eyes.
“Do you think she’ll be mad I didn’t kill Jimmy, that I only wounded him?”
Margaret thought she saw Fiona’s brow furrow, but it was smooth in an expression of sleep now. “If she’s mad about anything it will be you taking her gun in the first place.”
“I did it for her, because she’d do it for me.”
“That’ll be the only reason she’ll ground you for four years and not twenty.”
Sunny grinned, levered onto an elbow, and planted a loud kiss to the forehead over Fiona’s good eye. “As long as she gets better and isn’t mad about my new certificate.”
“She’ll get better, sweetie. You officially being Sunny Cavanaugh will make her proud.” Margaret sensed, rather than saw, Fiona tremble, and realized she was listening. Fiona was also holding back her emotions. “Sunny, could you go make a cup of tea for me, please? I’ll sit with Fiona for a while. Get yourself a sandwich first, and take your time.”
“Okay.” Sunny kissed Fiona again before carefully hopping off the bed and out the door.
Margaret got up and closed it, before turning back around. “Welcome back, love.”
FIONA HURT EVERYWHERE. It took three tries before her vision, only one eye, adjusted to the lighting in the room. She’d been conscious off and on for the last day or so. Unable to track time had her uncertain how long she’d been lying here. This last time it took all her willpower to stay still and not react to Sunny’s words. As soon as she heard the door close, Fiona cried. It started with the release of a few tears, but they continued to build until Fiona lost control.
Margaret returned to the bed and Fiona could tell she took great care to be gentle when she sat, Margaret pulling her into an embrace. Fiona’s first reaction was to pull away, the contact initially frightening her. If felt like forever before Fiona’s emotions were spent, her body fatigued. Margaret must have sensed it, because she slowly released her hold and returned Fiona to the pillow. When she felt she could speak again, Fiona asked, “How?”
Margaret gave a shrug. “Brigid’s father, a few favors, and…well, a few greased palms.” Margaret placed a hand over Fiona’s. Shifting with the pretense of getting more comfortable, Fiona extricated her hand and clutched the blanket to her chest tightly. If the hurt expression on Margaret’s face were any indication, Margaret knew it was intentional.
“What else have I missed?” Fiona asked.
Sitting back silently, Margaret was quiet for a long time. When Margaret reached to lay a hand on Fiona’s again, Fiona flinched before she could contain her reaction. Margaret inhaled deeply, stood, and rushed to the door. “I’ll leave you to rest.” She turned the knob and opened the door.
Fiona knew inaction or remaining silent could push Margaret away for good. Part of her believed that would be the best for Margaret—for her. She would need to give Margaret up, but couldn’t do it yet. “Please, give me time, Margaret. I just—” Her emotions were so confused, she had no words.
With the barely perceptible nod, Margaret left.
“ISN’T THIS A pretty picture.”
Margaret woke from a half-sleep to a voice she’d hoped never to hear again, but knew she would. She shifted carefully to a sitting position, mindful of a still healing Fiona beside her. Jimmy stood in the doorway with a smirk, a revolver in his hand and pointed in their direction. Margaret and Siobhan had made their exit from the hospital easy, hoping Jimmy would follow. What she hadn’t expected was that it would be so soon. She wasn’t ready. “It’s my have and haven’t yet, both already in bed together. How convenient?”
“What are you doing here?” Margaret asked. She suspected the answer, of course, confirmed by his comment. She needed to stall, plan an escape safe for her and Fiona. Margaret needed time. Involuntarily, her gaze darted to the gun on the nightstand, and then to the baseball bat leaning at the foot of the bed. She hadn’t planned smartly. Fiona stirred beside her.
“You’ll never reach either in time.” Jimmy stepped into the room, as if this were a meeting of friends. He gingerly rolled his left shoulder, flipped on the light, and stabbed the gun in Fiona’s direction. “Then I’m going to pay her little tramp back for shooting me.”
“Over my dead body,” Fiona whispered, paling as she tried to sit up. Was it from the strain or seeing Jimmy after what he’d done to her?
Of course, Jimmy would hear her. “Gladly,” he glared at Fiona, then smirked at her. “When I’m done.”
Margaret knew she had to distract him. More than that, she needed to keep Jimmy away from Fiona. She stood. Jimmy swung the gun barrel toward her. With his attention on her, Margaret asked, “Why’d you have to kill Eldon?”
Jimmy smirked. “He’d outlived his usefulness. I’ve made the connections I needed.” He licked his lips with the crude smacking noise. “Soon, I’ll be richer than him. I’ll be able to buy and sell bitches like you. Maybe I’ll even take over your place. Figure you’re gonna sell. Saw the trucks emptying the place.”
“Too late,” Margaret said. Fiona moaned, having shifted to the side of the bed. “Sold the place already.” Luckily, she’d been able to sell to Janice, who was familiar with the place and wouldn’t destroy the more pleasant Graham memories.
“Well, I’ll get bigger and better,” Jimmy assured her.
“Gaudy’s more like,” Fiona said, her body swaying even in her sitting position. Margaret appreciated Fiona sharing the diversion of Jimmy’s attention, but Fiona’s complexion was turning a frightening shade of green.
Jimmy growled. “What would you know, you stupid bitch? Couldn’t figure out you ain’t no man.” He smirked and Margaret could almost feel the malice rolling off him like drops of ice. “At least now you know how to be female.”
Fiona gave a pain-filled cry, stood up and nearly toppled over. Having sensed Fiona’s reaction from the moment Jimmy started speaking, Margaret launched herself across the bed, coming to her feet on the other side in time to catch Fiona. She noticed a shadow behind Jimmy about the same time he was mere inches from them.
Jimmy gasped, growled, and then dropped to his knees, his free hand clutching at the back of his thick neck, his gun thudding to the floor.
“Nighty-night,” Siobhan said, lowering the needle held in her hand. “Better get her back in bed.”
Margaret looked at Fiona then. Sweat was beading on her brow, her nightgown dampened, and her body trembled. “Hey, hey, honey.” Margaret helped her sit, and then lay down, before pulling the covers over her. Fiona didn’t fight, not even when she placed a kiss to Fiona’s lips. “Rest now. Jimmy’s taking a trip where he won’t hu
rt anyone again.”
“But—”
“Shush. Trust me.” There was a soft knock on the door, and Margaret waved Fred inside. “He’s all yours, Detective Morton.”
Fred snorted. “For what I’m about to do, I’m just plain old friend Fred.” With Siobhan’s assistance, they dragged Jimmy from the room.
Margaret turned her attention to Fiona. “Do you need a pain pill, honey?”
Fiona shook her head slowly. “Make sure Sunny’s okay?”
“I will.”
“Margaret?” Fiona paused, eyes shifting side to side as if trying to focus on one of too many thoughts. She said nothing else.
Margaret hurried from the room and went to the bed in Sunny’s room. She shook her until Sunny squinted tired eyes at her. “Fiona needs to see you.”
They returned, Fiona glancing between them. “Stay with me?” she asked. Sunny climbed onto the bed and promptly fell asleep. Fiona shifted so she was closer to the middle. Margaret reached for the light switch. “No.” Fiona’s voice was full of panic.
“Okay, honey,” Margaret said. She started toward the bed, but stopped. Fiona hadn’t wanted her too close, pulled away or flinched if she did. Margaret couldn’t stay, couldn’t be the one to hurt Fiona further. “Um, I’ll just stay in Sunny’s room with Brigid.”
“Please stay,” Fiona said, hesitantly meeting Margaret’s gaze. “Don’t leave.” As Margaret approached the bed, Fiona turned on her side toward Margaret, wincing. Fiona flashed her a crooked smile. “Still tender.”
Margaret lay down, twisting to her side and facing Fiona. “Tell me if I need to leave.”
A sob escaped Fiona’s lips. “Please, Margaret, be patient.”
Margaret placed a hand to Fiona shoulder. She hoped her next words would come true. “We have forever together.” For a long time they both just lay there. Finally, Fiona fell asleep. Margaret followed soon after.
Speakeasy, Speak Love Page 23