by Karen Welch
“Before they come searching, we should go in. I’d planned to make it an early night, anyway. Fishing expedition tomorrow, you know.” He felt momentarily unbalanced, disoriented.
Without rising, she turned her face up to him, so that it was cast in the light once more. There was puzzled look in her eyes, as though she sensed his confusion. “You’re really going fishing? I thought your mother said you’d never been fishing before.”
“I haven’t, sadly. It will be a grand new adventure, I’m sure. And I want to get to know the other fellows while I have this chance.” He stood in the doorway, waiting. When she made no move, he held out a hand. “Peg, you can’t stay out here alone. Come inside and have a little fun.”
She stood, tossed back her hair and arched her brows, ignoring his outstretched hand. “Maybe I don’t feel like fun tonight. I think I’ll go find Dad. He may be ready to go home by now.”
Chapter Five
His night was disturbed by odd dreams, including one of swimming in freezing water and being attacked by a school of tiny singing fish, furious with him for having hooked their mother. When he struggled to consciousness, the inevitable morning giggles were passing his door, followed by other voices, low and slightly annoyed, progressing more slowly down the hallway.
“I suppose, but you can’t expect me to like it. Really, Father, can’t the housekeeper manage them?”
“Hannah doesn’t drive, Jack. Your aunt feels strongly there should be someone here with the little ones who can drive in case of an emergency. You’re our only option. And I would appreciate it if you wiped that sullen expression off your face.”
Simple enough to put two and two together. Jack was to be left behind with the younger children while the men went to the river and the ladies traveled to Dublin for a day of shopping. After much hashing and rehashing of the plan, which would take most of the adults away from the farm, Hannah and her teenaged daughter had been recruited to mind the children. Obviously an oversight had been discovered at the last minute. Considering that already this week one of the boys had required sutures in an eyebrow after running headlong into the garden gate and the youngest of the girls had suffered an upset stomach necessitating a trip to the chemist in town, having some means of transportation seemed logical.
Kendall stared at the ceiling, reluctant to leave the comfort of his bed for what was sure to be a slow line to the bathroom. Down the hallway, a small stampede passed, accompanied by shouted threats involving rotten eggs. He threw off the covers, bracing for another morning among the Shannons.
When he joined the queue it was only four deep and he fell silently in place behind Jack, whose red face suggested he was still nursing his grievance.
“I suppose you could go ahead of me. I’m not in any hurry now.” No mistaking the disappointment simmering behind the terse words. Kendall felt a rush of sympathy, much as he would for one of the children who’d lost a treasured toy.
“Why’s that?”
“Turns out I’m to stay here today. Old Hannah doesn’t know how to drive and apparently we’re expecting an emergency.” He pushed his shoulder into the nearest door jamb, setting his jaw against further comment.
It took less than a second to recognize the opportunity. Winning Jack’s favor would be worth far more than sitting completely out of his element on a river bank all day. “I could stay. I’m not much of a sportsman anyway. And I can drive, in the event that were called for. Correct me if I’m wrong, but you’d much prefer the fishing, wouldn’t you?”
Jack’s face turned a different shade of red, as a blush of pleasure spread up his cheeks. “I’d say! Of course, we’ll have to clear it with Aunt Addie. You’re sure you wouldn’t mind too terribly?”
“Not at all. I need some time to practice and as long as no one breaks a leg or swallows a pebble, things should be pretty calm around here.” He stifled a grunt at the force of Jack’s clap across his shoulders. “You’ll catch enough fish for the two of us, I’m sure.”
By the time everyone had eaten, dressed and piled into their respective vehicles, Kendall was feeling quite pleased with himself. The men had largely ignored his absence, but the ladies had fawned over him for his sacrifice. He anticipated a couple of hours alone with his violin as he watched Hannah’s daughter lead the children into the sunny garden with assorted balls and jumping ropes in hand.
“What are you doing here? Why aren’t you going fishing?” He barely avoided colliding with Peg when he turned back to the kitchen.
“Good lord! What are you doing here?”
“I asked first.”
“I stayed behind for emergency support.” He grinned. This morning, Peg looked very much a child, dressed in pale blue shorts and shirt, her braids tied with matching ribbons.
“What?”
“In case someone should get sick or hurt, the mothers in the family decided there should be someone who could drive them to the nearest hospital. I volunteered. Now you. Why didn’t you go shopping with the ladies?”
“I have a perfectly good dress, if I decide to go to the party at all. And I told Hannah last night I would stay to help with the kids. I thought it might actually be quieter here than following everyone around Dublin all day.” She started toward the door, her eyes on one of the boys who was already scrambling up a tree at the edge of the garden. “Crazy kids. They keep trying to get a look at the babies in that bird’s nest. Good thing it’s too high for any of them to climb.”
He debated following her outside. “I think, before something happens that requires my attention, I’ll try to get in a little practice. You’ll fetch me the moment one of them tumbles off the roof, won’t you?”
“Sure. Play by a window, so I can hear you.” She turned back with a teasing smile. “I’ll see if you’re good enough to be famous.”
Collecting his violin from his room, he returned to the first floor, deciding a spot by the window in the rear parlor might be just the thing. Nothing too distracting here, although he doubted Peg would be able to hear him over the noise in the garden.
He lost himself for a time with Brahms, enjoying the calming sense of oneness with his instrument and the music. It took some time for the clamor of voices to disturb his concentration. In fact his pulse seemed to respond before he recognized something was happening outside.
When he reached the garden gate, the unknown started his heart pounding in earnest. Instinct, he assumed, had set off an alarm before his eyes could absorb the sight. Beneath the tree, the children were gathered in a ragged circle, gazing up into the branches. He caught a flash of blue, and was able to make out long legs wrapped around a limb some distance from the trunk. Without thinking, he shouted “Peg!” and sprinted across the low flower beds toward the grassy border of the garden.
From high above, her voice, muted and a trifle shaky, answered. “Don’t yell! You’ll scare the mother bird.”
From the jumbled commentary of the children he learned that one of the baby birds had fallen from the nest as a result of someone—several names were bandied about accusingly—jostling the branches. Peg was returning it to the nest, while the mother bird hovered anxiously overhead observing the procedure.
“Peg, please be careful! Are you sure that branch will hold your weight?”
She took a second to glance down. “It sure wouldn’t hold Seamus.” The children laughed, while Seamus, the stout lad whose greeting had bruised his shoulder the first night, tucked his head and blushed.
He watched her reach into the pocket of her blouse, gently drawing out a handful of downy feathers. With a cautious nod to the bird above her head, she stretched her arm upward. “There. You’re safe now, little guy. We’re sorry to have upset you, Mother. Aren’t we?” This last was pointedly directed to the mob below, which responded with a chorus of contrite murmurs.
“Now come down from there before you break your silly neck!”
In no more than the blink of an eye after he’d uttered those reckless words, the
bird dove toward the nest with a cry that sounded anything but grateful. Horrified, he watched as Peg dodged the assault, attempting to maintain her balance. With a muffled shriek, she dropped in agonizing slow motion, arms and legs extended in a ludicrously elegant pose, to the ground. He shoved aside a child or two to reach out, as though he might break her fall, but by the time he skidded to the far side of the tree, she was flat on her back on the grass, her face white and a look of surprise in her wide eyes.
“Peg, oh my God, are you all right?” Stupid question, he told himself, as he knelt beside her. She closed her eyes and he saw with the clarity of panic that she wasn’t breathing. “Peg!”
A gasp, the most beautiful sound he could imagine, burst forth as she opened her eyes and struggled for air. “You’ve just had the wind knocked out of you.” His voice sounded absurdly calm and rational over the drumbeat of his heart. “Lie still. Does anything hurt?”
She took another wheezing breath. “My ankle.” If possible, her face blanched a shade whiter.
Following her pointing finger down her left leg, he drew his own gasp. “Right.” He cringed at the angle of her foot, the toe pointing east rather than north. His next words were foolish, he knew, but the first to come to mind. “Just a little twist. Some ice should fix you right up.” On the heels of that inanity, he shouted at the top of his voice for Hannah.
Chaos ensued. Very quickly, Kendall acknowledged this was far from his finest hour. He barked at the encroaching children, barely stifling the stream of oaths rising in his throat. He growled at Hannah’s daughter, who had apparently wandered from her post for a nap by the garden wall, and now hung on the edge of the crowd wearing a scowl of drowsy confusion. When Hannah finally shuffled up clicking her tongue, he demanded to know what had taken her so long.
“I was ringing the doctor. Soon as I saw her fall, I knew we’d be wanting him here quick as possible. Surgery’s closed this morning, it being Thursday, but his house is just up the road a mile or so. He’s on his way.” Her calm perversely exacerbated his panic.
“What do we do in the meantime? She can’t just lie here on the ground!” Through it all, Peg had not stirred, keeping her eyes tightly closed. Only the vice-like grip on his hand assured him she was conscious.
“Best not to move her before the doc has a look.” Leaning over, Hannah said softly, “Hold on there, darlin’. We’ll have you patched up soon enough.”
Abandoning hope of any further action, he turned his focus to Peg. Resting his free hand on her forehead, he asked hoarsely, “Does it hurt horribly?”
She wrinkled her nose, which brought a lump to his throat. “Yes. But if you’d stop yelling, it might not hurt as bad.” Opening her eyes at last, she stared up at him, her pupils dilated and tears clinging to her lashes. “I’m sorry. I thought I could do it.”
He felt his own tears well. “No, I’m sorry. But you could have been killed, you silly girl. Are you sure nothing else hurts? What about your neck, or your back? Ribs?” His brain generated a series of further horrors as he gazed down the still length of her body.
“Who knows? All I can feel is my ankle.” Sighing, she closed her eyes again. “Kendall, promise you won’t leave me. And don’t let him do anything awful to me, please? I’m scared to death of doctors.”
“Don’t you worry, I’m right here. But why are you scared of doctors?” He wondered if it might be best to distract her. All color had drained from her face now, even her lips were gray. In the back of his mind he thought shock was a possibility.
“I just am.” Her voice faded, and he felt her fingers relax around his.
“Peg, don’t faint! Stay with me!” He turned to Hannah, his heart pounding. “Smelling salts? Now!”
For a woman of considerable girth, she made astonishing speed across the garden, returning with a vial of salts and a wet towel. “Peg, sweetheart, can you hear me?” Afraid to lift her head, he held the vial beneath her nose, the rising fumes making his eyes water. “Peg, come on, don’t do this!”
With a cough, she tossed her head to one side. “Okay!”
He heaved a sigh of cautious relief. “How much more terrified do you want to see me?”
“Why are you terrified? I’m the one on the ground.” Her lids drooped, but a smile twitched at her lips.
“I’m imagining what your father’s going to do to me when he sees what I let happen.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll take all the blame. Just don’t leave me alone, okay?”
The doctor’s car was in the drive. Oddly, instead of finding comfort in that fact, his pulse quickened. “Not a chance. Trust me?”
“Yeah, sure.”
What followed might have hurt him as much as it did Peg. The doctor, a kind-faced man in tweeds, knelt next to Peg and began a systematic examination with barely a word of greeting. With every prod, Kendall cringed and screwed his face in sympathy. After a thorough assessment, the doctor ordered Hannah to prepare a place in the house where he might treat his patient. “Young man, can you carry this young lady into the house without help? I’ll brace her foot, but we’ll have to go very slowly.”
“Of course. Peg, can you put your arms around my neck?” He carefully slid his hands beneath her shoulders and knees. “Peg?” But she was out again, a result of the doctor’s gentle twisting of the ankle. When he reached for the vial of salts, the doctor shook his head.
“Don’t. Let’s get her into the house first. No need to cause her any more pain than necessary.” He smiled sympathetically. “She’ll be fine. Here we go now. Easy, slow. Good.” He continued to coach each step as they crossed the garden.
Hannah had spread clean sheets on the divan in the front parlor. The doctor eyed the surroundings once Peg was lowered onto the cushions. “Good enough. Let’s have another look now.” When Kendall failed to move, continuing to hover over her, he laid a hand on his shoulder. “Son, you’re going to have to let me do my job. I’ll take good care of your sister, I promise.”
“She’s not my sister. We’re. . .sort of cousins. And I promised I’d stay with her. Can’t we bring her around now? She’s so. . . still.”
The doctor studied him for a moment, as though he were seeing more than he’d expected. “Fine. But you’ll have to turn your back. It’s hardly proper for a ‘sort of cousin’ to witness my examination of a young lady. Hand me the salts. And if you tell anyone I let you stay in here for this, I’ll be forced to call you a liar.”
By the time the examination was completed, Peg was reclining on pillows against the arm of the divan, sipping a glass of cider and looking slightly more normal. Other than the wariness in her eyes, she appeared to be coping pretty well. Kendall, on the other hand, couldn’t seem to stop shaking. While the doctor was delicately examining her ankle, she eyed him suspiciously. “I didn’t scare you that badly, did I? Maybe you need to sit down.”
“No thanks. I’ll be fine. How are you doing?”
Before she could answer, the doctor produced a vial and a syringe, prompting the blood to once again drain from her face. Kendall took the glass from her hand when it began to visibly tremble.
“I’m going to give you an injection now, my dear. This will relax you and make setting that ankle much less painful.”
“No! I can stand the pain.”
“Now, see here. There’s no need to look like that. Just a little jab, and then you’ll feel much better, I promise.”
Peg, her eyes wide and imploring, turned to Kendall, her grip crushing his fingers. “Do I have to? I’m an awful baby about needles.”
Kneeling beside the divan, he pulled her head to his shoulder, pressing her face into his shirt. “Don’t look. It’ll be done before you even know. I don’t like them either, but if this helps, we can stand it, right?”
“Fine, then why don’t you take it?” She was rigid in his arms, bracing for the jab.
“There we go. All done. Now just rest a bit while I get the plaster mixed. You’ll start to feel sleepy in a fe
w minutes.”
When the doctor had gone, she leaned back on the pillow with a sigh. “I don’t want to go to sleep. Talk to me, please.”
“About what?” He shifted his position, trying to find a comfortable spot on the thin carpet.
She thought for a minute, staring grimly at her ankle. “The family history. I warned you there’d be a quiz, remember.”
“Ah.” He tried to focus, doubtful he’d be able to remember much in his current state, but willing to indulge her whim. “How far back should I begin?”
“Oh, just the recent history will do. Start with Grandfather Shannon.” The injection was taking effect. Peg settled deeper against the pillow, her lids drooping. When she spoke again, her voice was slightly thick. “I think that’s a very romantic story, don't you?”
“The way he met your grandmother, you mean? Yes.” He was relieved when the tale came easily to mind.
“Tell me.” She passed her tongue over her lips and sighed. “I’m listening. I just want to close my eyes for a minute.”
He began the story, pitching his voice low and finding a rhythm he hoped might lull her to sleep. “In 1892, Michael Shannon left Carlow County for New York, taking a ship from Liverpool. On that ship was also a young lady named Anna Haskill, from Thirsk, in Yorkshire. She was going to New York as maid to a young bride, and he was going to make his fortune.” He paused, thinking Peg might have drifted off.
“And. . .”
“They met on the trip over and Michael fell in love with Anna. She, however, did not return the favor. It took some time, once they reached America, for her to accept his attentions and eventually agree to become his wife.”