Rain and Revelation

by Therese Pautz

  Ryan prods gently until piece by piece it all unravels. Except the piece about finding Da with Paddy. That I can’t tell. His slender fingers intertwine with mine. “So now what are you going to do?”

  “That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Do I want to know who my da really is? A drunk. A rapist. Or a predator. Nice choices.”

  “They’re more than that. And less, too.” Ryan leans closer. The fine lines around his eyes deepen. He says, “You’ll be okay, you know.”

  Our faces are nearly touching. His breath is sweet and he carries on his clothes the faint aroma of citrus. My pulse is racing. Our lips meet. Soft. Warm.

  Then the server, who had disappeared earlier, appears with our salmon and almond green beans. We release hands. The space between us widens, and the air cools. For a time neither of us says anything as we eat our food. There’s a quiet buzz of conversation from the tables next to us, as more people have come into the restaurant.

  My thoughts come back to what I don’t know. What I might never know. I say, “I thought of getting one of those paternity tests. I’ve heard you can order them online.”

  Ryan butters a roll. “I’m not sure how reliable they are. You can also spend a bit more and have it done properly.”

  “I don’t have that much money.”

  “Get them to pay.”

  “Your uncle? He said he wondered but will he actually agree to a test now?” I drain the last of the wine in my glass.

  “You have some bargaining power.” When I cock my head, Ryan explains. “A teacher involved in a relationship with a student. Granted, it was a long time ago. But dear uncle does care about his fine reputation as beloved music teacher, despite what he might let on.”

  I chew my food and nod. I think about the time I spent at Mr. Walters’s when I found the yearbooks in the drawer, and the envelope that I never opened but simply put back. After folding my napkin on the table, I say, “There’s a lot to think about. And to do.”

  Ryan orders two Irish coffees and tells the server to bring him the tab. All of a sudden, he digs out his phone. “Before I forget. I just remembered that I know someone at the hospital in Castlebar who could help get you set up with the paternity testing. I wonder if I have his number here.”

  I take his phone and set it down on the table. He looks at me with a puzzled expression. I reach up and touch his rosy cheek. My body is tingling. The room is spinning slightly. I catch Ryan glancing at my respectable cleavage in the cashmere cardigan. My heart beats faster. Leaning forward, he kisses my parted lips.

  I whisper, “It can wait.”

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Birds chirp outside and the sun shines through the sheer curtains as Ryan, already dressed, kisses my neck. “Morning, love,” he whispers. He takes the sheet, which is draped over my hip, pulls it up and tucks it under my chin.

  I pull him towards me and hold him tight. “First you keep me up all night, and then you wake me at the crack of dawn.”

  “It’s nearly eight o’clock. I’ve got to shower and get ready for work.” He brushes my hair out of my face, his breath still sweet with wine. “The offer to stay at my flat is open. Not only do I make a deadly seafood fettuccine, I can be irresistible, as well.” He winks.

  “You think highly of yourself,” I tease.

  “You’ll come?” His impish smile spreads freckles across his face.

  I release him and shrug. “Unless I get a better offer.”

  He smiles and gets up. “I’ll text you the address.” As he’s putting on his jacket, he snaps his fingers as he remembers something. “Oh, and I’ll call that person at the hospital who might know about the paternity testing options.” Then he bends down and kisses me one more time, checks to make sure he has his phone, and leaves.

  I lay there awhile but can’t fall back to sleep. My mouth is dry and I have no appetite for food, only water.

  I get my laptop and, after connecting to the Internet, search Linda Graham’s name. Most recent postings highlight her teaching at the Performing Arts School in Dublin. Older ones commend her singing and theatrical performances. There’s a picture of her. While it looks like it was taken some time back, Linda doesn’t look like someone who would be friends with Ma. She looks proud, confident and important. There’s no answer when I call the number for the Performing Arts School. I hang up without leaving a message.

  Then I ring Fiona, who growls, “Who the fuck is calling me this early?”

  “Your best friend. Have you removed my number from your phone already so you didn’t know who is calling?”

  “Jaysus, Eliza, you know I hate mornings.”

  “Then why answer?”

  “The bloody phone was by my ear.”

  “I need you to do something for me.”

  It takes a while before Fiona is fully awake, but she agrees to help me when I explain what I need her to do. I have her repeat back to me the instructions I gave her, and we agree to meet in the restaurant here in the hotel around four o’clock, even though I’m checking out later this morning.

  Ryan calls shortly before ten o’clock. “Here’s the deal with the paternity testing. Each person gives a blood sample at the hospital in Castlebar, and they send it to the testing center in Dublin. Or there’s the option of going directly to Dublin. The results are back in about a week. You’re right, there are home kits, but they aren’t as reliable.”

  “First I have to convince them to do it.”

  “You’ll let me know if you need help with my uncle?”

  “I think I can manage.”

  “Then I’ll see you for dinner at my flat? Six o’clock?”

  “Lovely.”

  “I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

  “Then I might not come,” I say with a smile, and hang up.

  After showering, I check out of the hotel and drive to the hospital in Castlebar. There they draw blood and give me the release forms and instructions to give to Da, Paddy, and Mr. Walters.

  During the drive to Louisburgh, I run through what I’ll say to each of them. It’s close to two o’clock when I park along the narrow street in the town square. People and dogs amble by, and I greet them by name, making small talk with a few about the lovely weather that has finally arrived. Looking down the street, I see Da’s car parked in front of Paddy’s pub.

  The sun, high in the sky, burns my eyes, so I put on my sunglasses and walk the few streets to Mr. Walters’s house. He’s outside with Johnny in his tiny yard. When I open the gate, he cocks his head at me for a moment, then bends down and pulls out a handful of weeds. Under his breath, he mutters, “Heard you left. Couldn’t stay away after all?”

  “There are a few things to wrap up. I’m packed and heading to Dublin soon.” I close the creaky gate. “I need to talk to you about something.”

  “Is that right? Be quick. I have things to do.” He keeps weeding.

  “I want you to take a paternity test.”

  He brushes the dirt from his gnarled hands. “You think that will fix everything?”

  “It’s better than not knowing.”

  “I wouldn’t be so sure.” He straightens up and looks at me over his thick glasses. “I suggested this to your mother, and she’d hear nothing of it. Insisted Seamus was the father.”

  I thrust the papers at him. “I need to know.”

  He shakes his head and says, “Annie might be right. Sometimes the truth serves no purpose. Seamus raised you. I suppose you turned out fine enough in spite of that. I’ll not do any testing.”

  “You have to.” My voice cracks.

  “No. I don’t.”

  “If you don’t, then I’ll have no choice but to…”

  “To what?” Mr. Walters says, “You can’t force me to do anything.”

  I take off my sunglasses and look Mr. Walters in the eye. “Don’t you think the headmaster might find your past trysts with a student troublesome?”

  “You wouldn’t do that. It’d destroy your mot
her.”

  “Isn’t it too late for that?”

  Mr. Walters mutters, “She loved me and wanted to be with me.”

  I raise my voice and say, “You took advantage of her. She trusted you. Even if she wanted a relationship, you were much older and you could have stopped it. Good God, you were married, too!”

  He turns to face me. “You won’t say anything.”

  I just stare at him.

  Mr. Walters looks away. “She was a consenting adult by then. It doesn’t matter what happened before. It was a long time ago.”

  “Not everyone may see it that way.”

  As I hold Mr. Walters’s gaze and the papers, my breath quickens but my resolve doesn’t waver even though my hand trembles.

  After what seems an eternity, he snarls, “Give me the damn papers.” He snatches them from my hands. Then he whistles for Johnny who trails him into the house. The door slams shut.

  My legs feel weak as I stand tall looking at the closed door. I can hear Johnny barking inside. Turning, I swallow the sour taste in my mouth, taking deep breaths to still my pounding heart.

  Passing the grocery, I see that Fiona’s car, usually parked in front, is gone.

  I enter Paddy’s pub. Inside is Da, slumped alone at the bar with his hair standing on end and his wrinkled shirt hanging over his trousers. He doesn’t look up until I’m standing next to the bar. Seeing me, he knocks the stool over backwards as he stands up to hug me. As usual, he reeks of cigar smoke and stale whiskey. He grips me tightly and buries his head. “Eliza, baby, I didn’t know where you went.”

  I pull back, looking around the empty, dark pub. “I need to talk to you. Paddy, too.”

  “He’s in back talking on the phone.” Da runs his hand over his grey stubble. “You had me worried half to death leaving. Taking your things, too. And in that bloody rain.”

  I cross my arms. “I’m not staying.”

  His face drops and his eyes water. “But where will you go? This is your home.”

  “Not anymore.” I slip behind the bar and pour myself a Diet Coke. Without meeting his eyes, I say, “Things have changed. You know that.”

  Da rights and remounts the stool. He clutches his glass with both hands. Looking down, he mutters, barely louder than a whisper, “I’m so sorry you…um…saw…”

  From behind the bar, I look at the framed pictures of Da and Paddy in their rugby uniforms on the far wall. Taking a deep breath, I ask, “How long? With Paddy.”

  Da takes a big swallow and stares into the empty glass.

  “I want to know.” I run my hand along the polished wood on which I did my homework.

  “A daughter should never find her da like that.” Tears flow down his ruddy cheeks.

  “How long?”

  Da sighs. “Since school.” His voice lowers. “Off and on. We both tried to stop, but couldn’t. We just kept coming back to each other.”

  “Did Ma know?”

  He shakes his head. “Not at first.”

  “But you told me that she didn’t like men.”

  Da shrugs his massive shoulders. “She and me were…together…a couple of times before we got married. Then a couple of times afterwards.” He rubs his chafed knuckles. “It was a hard pregnancy. After you came along, she only had time for you. It suited me though. Made it easier.”

  “What does that mean?”

  He reaches for the whiskey bottle and fills his glass. “It was hard for me to be with her. I could do it. Most of the time anyway.”

  “Then why did you marry her?”

  “You wouldn’t understand.” He takes a big gulp, nearly draining the glass.

  “Try me,” I say.

  Without looking at me, he says, “It was Paddy with your ma. In the pasture. I found his keys by her. I knew he followed her home and…” He chokes back tears and wipes his nose on his sleeve. “I talked to him the next day, and he didn’t remember anything. But he didn’t deny it.” He looks past me to nothing in particular. “I never told your ma it was Paddy.” Da fills his glass again and takes a swallow. He says, “It was Paddy’s idea that I seduce her in case she was pregnant. He could never marry her.”

  “Why not?”

  “She hated him. He liked Linda before, and it drove your ma mad. That’s why we thought they might have a thing for each other.” He takes another swallow. “But we never knew for sure.”

  Light streaks through the unwashed window. My stomach feels hollow. I take the information sheet and release form from my bag and slide them across the bar. “I want to know who my father is. You and Paddy need to go to the hospital in Castlebar and give some blood so they can send it in to test your DNA with mine.”

  Da starts sobbing. He buries his head in his arm. I feel like I’m watching a stranger grieve. When his sobs turn to whimpers, I say softly, “Please, enough of the secrets. Enough of the lies. If you ever loved me, do this. For me.”

  With his nose dripping, Da looks up. His bloodshot eyes are rimmed with tears, and he says, “I do love you. Always have. You’re my daughter regardless of any damn test.”

  For a moment, I can’t speak. I grip the bar tighter. “Get Paddy to do it, too. I don’t care what you say or do to make it happen. Here’s the address and the contact person.” I slide the papers closer.

  Da nods, grabs the papers and stuffs them into his shirt pocket without looking at them.

  “And I want you both to have the lab release the information to me. I want to see it first. Understand?”

  Da lowers his eyes. “Aye.”

  I pour the full glass of Diet Coke into the sink and walk out from behind the bar. There’s the smell of a peat fire long since extinguished and ale freshly spilled. Da is slumped on the stool. I put my hand on his heaving shoulders and say, “I know that you did what you thought was right at the time. Do what’s right now.”

  I leave quickly before he can see the tears streaming down my face.

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  When I arrive at the Clew Bay Hotel, Fiona is sitting on the outside patio wearing oversized sunglasses and smoking. She flaps her arms. “Darling, here!”

  The people at the next table lean in and whisper while staring at Fiona, who is displaying her taste in low-cut apparel.

  Fiona hugs me while holding her cigarette high. “I got it,” she whispers in my ear. “No one saw me.” The server brings two pints of ale that Fiona apparently ordered. She grips the glass with her manicured nails. “Good idea to meet here. No one knows us.”

  “I actually stayed here last night. With the rain and all.” Another grey-haired couple wearing sweats and trainers joins the people at the next table. I ask, “How’d it go?”

  Fiona pats her bag as her eyes dart around. “It was exciting sneaking in.”

  “Any problems?”

  “No. It was right where you said it would be. I waited until Weird Willie left on his bike with that damn dog. I had to talk to Mrs. O’Reilly at the chemist until he was far gone.”

  “Did she see you go to his house? Did anyone?”

  “Not a soul.” Fiona lowers her voice and points her cigarette at me. “I just walked down the street minding my own business and pretended to knock on his door. I tested it, and it wasn’t locked. Quiet as a bloody church mouse I was.”

  Fiona reaches into her bag and pulls out the manila envelope fastened with a string. “There was nothing else there except the yearbook you told me about.”

  I take the envelope and hold it like a fragile egg. “Did you open it?”

  “That’s fucking insulting. Don’t you trust me?”

  I narrow my eyes. “Not since Mikey.”

  “Kiss my arse. How many times do I have to apologize?”

  I look away.

  Fiona lights another cigarette and flips her hair back. “I could have looked, but I told you I wouldn’t. You’re worse than me mother.”

  Even though I’m not sure she’s telling the truth, I say, “Okay. I’ll believe you.” />
  Fiona leans forward. “Jaysus, Eliza. What’s inside?”

  My hands are sticking to the envelope. “Dunno. I just remembered seeing it in the bedside drawer when I was staying there after the surgery. I’ll look at it later.”

  Fiona blows smoke out the side of her mouth. “You think it’s important?”

  I shrug. “It’s probably nothing, but for some reason it bothered me that I never looked inside. It was with the yearbook that had Ma’s pictures in it.” I rub my fingers over the bulging envelope.

  “Let’s open the bloody thing.” Fiona reaches for the envelope, but I tuck it inside my bag and pull it close. She sinks into her chair and pouts. “After all that I did for you?”

  “You’re a love. Really. Sorry I bit your head off. But it’s nothing.” I lean forward. “Besides, I want to know what happened with Jake. And Hunter. How’s he?”

  “Who knows?” Fiona takes a long gulp of the ale. “But Jake’s a can of piss. I made a holy show before they left. You should have been there.”

  “Wish I was. But you’ll find someone else.”

  “Bloody right.” Fiona flags the server and orders another round. “Remember that fat American staying in the cottages who bought my bra his first night here? Well, let’s just say I have my bra back and didn’t have to pay a thing.”

  “Not even one night of mourning?”

  “Turns out his da is a big shot at Coca Cola. He’s swimming in money and more than happy to spend it on me.” Fiona flicks her ashes over the side of the table onto the path rather than into the glass ashtray. “Jake can kiss my arse.”

  Fiona rails on Jake, and I keep nodding while my mind drifts to the envelope. It’s probably nothing, I tell myself. Just papers. He probably won’t miss it. A part of me feels guilty. Then I think of Ma. I start to get warm and take off my jacket. Wrapping my hands around my glass, I listen to Fiona blather on about Jake. When I say she can do better, she flies off, recounting all his faults.

  Fiona says she has to pee. After she goes inside, I take out the envelope and unwind the string. I peek inside. There are three bundles of letters and cards separated by binders.