Shannon's Daughter

by Karen Welch

  “And. . .”

  He searched for more, grasping at a straw, which thankfully seemed to satisfy her. “They had a son, Michael, but it was almost fifteen years before their second son, Sean was born. By then, the elder Michael had made his fortune, just as planned. When a third son, Patrick and a daughter, Adelaide, were born, Anna decided she wanted to take her family back to England.” He lowered his voice, letting it trail to a whisper. “But young Michael stayed behind to attend Cornell and went on to take over the bank established by his father.” He paused as Peg’s breathing slowed and her head sagged to one side.

  The doctor, followed by Hannah bearing a large metal basin of white plaster, returned. Peg opened her eyes long enough to lock his gaze. “Don’t leave me! Promise.”

  “I promise.” He took her hand, pressing it between his. “You’re the bravest girl I know, Peg Shannon.”

  “No. I’m a coward. If I could run right now, you’d never catch me.”

  He chuckled despite the lump tightening his throat. “We’re ready, doctor, though you may have to treat my hand once you’re done. This little girl has quite a grip.”

  Mercifully, she passed out during the actual setting of the ankle. Kendall had put an arm around her, bracing her shoulders against his chest, and he felt her relax a moment after the doctor grasped her foot, splinting it to its normal position. Throughout the lengthy process of applying layers of gauze and plaster, he tried not to think of Michael Shannon’s reaction when he learned of Peg’s injury. Guilt, fear and anger with himself whirled uncomfortably in his brain, tensing his muscles and turning his stomach. Here in his arms, Peg seemed a helpless child, one he had failed to protect. That her own headstrong determination had driven her up that tree made no difference. He should have been watching, should have stopped her, although he wondered if anyone really had the power to match her willful reason when she made up her mind to a thing. Perhaps her father would eventually excuse his negligence, but he felt sure he would never forgive himself for his failure.

  When the cast was drying and the doctor had packed his bags, he motioned for Kendall to join him in the entry. “I’ll come back this evening. She seems fine other than the ankle, but we’ll keep a check on her all the same. Hannah tells me she’s Michael’s girl. I’m sure he’ll be wanting a word or two with me.”

  “You know her father, then?”

  “Oh, yes. And I know he’ll be needing every reassurance that she’s all right. He’s a fine man, but something of an overprotective father. I remember the last time he brought her here, back before the war. Just a little thing she was then. She took a spill, cut her knee, and the way he carried on, you’d have thought she was bleeding to death. Try to downplay the accident, son. Not too many details, if you get my meaning. It’ll be best for everyone.”

  Turning back to the parlor, Kendall felt far from comforted by those words. He knelt once again next to the divan, noting how frail and innocent Peg seemed in her rumpled play clothes, one braid missing its blue bow. Her face was pale and tense with what he imagined to be pain-filled dreams. As he listened to the soft whistle of her breathing, he felt the urgent need to beg someone’s forgiveness. Prayer, he’d learned in recent years, had the power to at least momentarily ease guilt. It was worth a try, although he wondered if God might not have become bored with him by now.

  He started off with a heartfelt thank you that Peg had injured nothing more vital than an ankle, adding his gratitude for the doctor’s quick and competent response. He went on to the root of his present fears, that Michael Shannon would at the very least verbally thrash him to within an inch of his life for such disastrous dereliction of duty. He prayed for the strength to take his punishment like a man, not beg for understanding or try to shift the blame. Somewhere in his awkward litany he knew there needed to be a confession, an admission that he’d been selfish in remaining behind, that he had not taken his responsibility seriously. If he’d been on the job, Peg wouldn’t be lying here now with that ugly cast on her foot, would not have suffered the pain and fear of the past hour. At the vivid memory of her blue eyes wide and frightened, tears began to drip onto his hands where he’d unconsciously folded them on the sheet. Under his breath, he muttered, “Oh, God in heaven, I am so sorry!”

  “What are you doing?” Her voice was hoarse, the words slurred. He opened his eyes to find her watching him from beneath heavy lids.

  Without a thought for his dignity, he half-sobbed, “I’m praying, if you don’t mind. We Methodists have been known to do that, too, you know.”

  “Why? I mean, why are you praying? I’m not going to die or anything, am I?’

  “No, but you scared me half to death, and your father’s probably going to finish the job when he sees what’s happened.”

  “Oh. Is that all? Don’t worry. I can handle Dad.” She struggled to raise herself higher on the pillow. “I thought something really awful had happened.” She eyed the cast, twisting her lips in a grimace. “Good grief, look at that thing. Oh, well, at least I won’t have to go to that stupid party now.”

  Laughter bubbled up his throat, catching on another sob. “Peg Shannon, you are by far the most vexing little girl. . .” Her eyes flashed a warning. “Sorry, young lady, I’ve ever had the dubious pleasure of knowing. I shudder to think what sort of woman you’ll grow up to be.”

  She dropped her head back on the pillow, a slow smile curving her lips. “If you’re lucky, you’ll be around to find out, won’t you?”

  He thought she might have drifted off until her eyes flew open and she exclaimed softly, “Oh, drat! You’d better call Hannah. I guess you’ll have to carry me upstairs.”

  He would ask. “Why?”

  “I have to go. Now!”

  “Go. . .?” Perhaps the drug had rendered her delusional?

  Only when she groaned in disgust at his rank stupidity did he comprehend. “Oh. Right. Hannah!”

  Chapter Six

  Kendall decided only some gross miscommunication, or possibly divine intervention, could be responsible for the fact that he was being celebrated as the hero of Peg’s near-tragic adventure. While Michael had blustered some rather harsh words upon his return, promising to discuss the matter further once he’d seen his daughter, after thirty minutes closeted in the parlor with Peg, he seemed to have a complete change of heart.

  “Young man, I owe you an apology,” was the farthest thing from what Kendall had anticipated as he waited in the kitchen. Watching glumly as Hannah prepared supper for the fishing party, he’d considered packing his bags in preparation for eviction. If the brief conversation he’d overheard between the doctor and Peg’s father was any indication of Michael’s mood, Kendall felt certain his stay in Ireland was about to be cut short.

  He’d been pleased to hear the doctor calmly answer Michael’s hissing inquisition when the two met outside the parlor door. But the doctor was armed with his professional expertise, justifying his decision to treat Peg here rather than subjecting her to the rough drive into town. He further promised that if it would make him feel better, Michael could bring her in the following day for an x-ray, although he felt sure it would show nothing but a simple fracture which he’d successfully set with a minimum of force. The two men had at least parted respectfully. When the doctor passed Kendall on his way out, he’d given him a bracing clap on the shoulder and a sympathetic nod.

  Blinking stupidly, he now accepted Michael’s outstretched hand, unwilling to believe he was getting off so easily. “Apology, sir?”

  “Peg has told me how calmly you handled the situation. It’s obvious you took fine care of my little girl, son. I’m not sure I would have done as well, myself. I tend to be overly emotional, I’m afraid, when it comes to Peg.”

  He had the presence of mind to give Peg the credit due. “She’s a remarkable girl, sir. She barely shed a tear, which is more than I can say for myself.”

  Michael smiled wanly. “You had a bit of rough day, I’m sure. And I’m afraid
I’m going to impose on you further.”

  “Anything, please, just name it.”

  “Peg wants to go back to the flat. I would have stayed here, but she insists she’ll sleep better in her own bed. I haven’t the heart to refuse her, but I’m afraid I can’t get her up those stairs. Would you mind spending a night in town? I wouldn’t ask you to drive back out tonight.”

  Without hesitating, he leapt at the opportunity to be of service, begging a minute to throw a few things in a bag. Only as he raced up the stairs did it occur to him that he and Michael would be the only ones on hand to help with whatever a young girl might need in the middle of the night. Surely one of the women in the family should take on the role of nurse?

  Back down with bag in hand, he suggested as much to Michael, who’d settled in a chair near the divan to watch Peg sleep. “The girls are coming back on the last train, won’t be here until around midnight. We’ll manage tonight just fine and Katie will be in in the morning. I suppose we’ll have to wake her now, won’t we? She looks to be sleeping pretty soundly since she took that tablet the doctor left for the pain.” Despite the chill of apprehension creeping up his spine, Kendall was touched by the tenderness with which Michael patted his daughter’s shoulder. “Peg, love, it’s time to go home.”

  The move wasn’t accomplished without incident. Peg roused only enough to drape limp arms around Kendall’s neck, moaning words to the effect that he’d better not drop her. The cast seemed to have added a good fifteen pounds to her not insubstantial frame, and he felt the strain across his shoulders as he carried her through the house.

  Their eventual arrival at the car produced an awkward moment. There was no graceful way to place her in the rear seat, although he tried various angles of approach, all in vain. Inadvertently banging her head on the doorframe did bring her around momentarily. She responded with an angry grunt and a not so girlish punch in the general direction of his chin.

  “Sorry! Can you at least scoot yourself across the seat. I’ll lift your cast, all right?” They finally succeeded in getting her arranged more or less comfortably on the seat. Hannah passed a pillow and blanket in, cautioning him to go gently on the trip into town.

  “Wouldn’t want to upset her, you know. She hasn’t eaten and those tablets can be hard on the tummy.” Leaning in the window, she said gently, “You take care now, dearie. You’ll be right as rain in no time.” Peg’s response was a drowsy snort.

  About three miles over hill and down dale and in the rearview mirror, he noticed Peg moving restlessly. “All right back there, darlin’?” Michael asked, reaching a comforting hand in her direction.

  “No! Stop! I’m gonna be sick!” Reaching up, she grabbed a fistful of Kendall’s shirt, tethering him to the seat. “Stop, now!” she ordered through clenched teeth.

  “Let go of me, Peg! You’re choking me!” Released from her grasp, he’d steered to the verge, flung himself out of the car and opened the rear door in time to snatch up the blanket and thrust it in more or less the necessary position as Peg hunched forward. Somewhere on the periphery he was aware of Michael moaning in sympathy, but he seemed to have put some distance between himself and the current unpleasantness.

  When the retching finally ceased and the now sadly soiled blanket was discarded in the roadside hedge, Peg lay back on the pillow with a sigh and promptly fell asleep again. For the remaining five miles into town, Kendall held the car to a crawl, wondering what further horrors awaited. His faith in Michael as any sort of nurse had evaporated when the man stood by while he, Kendall, held Peg’s head as she heaved. He considered going to the station to meet the train and commandeering Adelaide’s services for the night.

  With that idea still a comforting possibility, he coasted to the curb in front of their destination. While Michael went ahead to open doors, Kendall was left to figure out the best way to extract the patient from the car. She was barely awake, and obviously disoriented. When he touched her shoulder, she muttered “Stop, Connie. I don’t want to go to the old dance,” and swatted the air with a limp hand.

  “Come on, old girl. Can’t you help me out even a little bit here? Just slide toward the door so I can get my arm around you.” He watched her struggle to gather her wits, screwing up her face as though preparing to move mountains. “That’s it, sweetheart. Just a little further now.”

  “I can’t! I’m just too tired!” To his dismay, she slumped forward, head in hands, sobbing pitifully.

  He had the irrational urge to do the same. “Please don’t cry, Peg. Here, give me your hands. I’ll pull and you push, how’s that?” This time she came close to easing out of the car, and he awkwardly slid his hand beneath her knees, wondering what damage might be done to his spine when he lifted her.

  “Don’t! I can walk.” He’d heard drunken school mates speak more coherently. Whatever that tablet had been, he questioned the wisdom of dispensing anything so potent to a minor.

  “No you cannot walk. There’s a twenty-pound cast on your leg. Look! Surely you haven’t forgotten that!”

  She stared at the cast, a look of surprise dawning in her eyes. “Oh. Will you carry me? I can’t walk.” In the dim light of a nearby streetlamp, her face was touchingly innocent, the smattering of freckles standing out in stark relief against her pallor. Something in the area of his heart twisted at the sight.

  “That’s the plan.” He took advantage of the moment to heft her into his arms, turning to find Michael had been standing patiently in the doorway throughout the scene. “Just hang on, now. We’ll get you upstairs to bed in no time.” No idea where that bit of optimism had come from. Trudging up that narrow staircase without further damaging one or both of them seemed doubtful at best.

  They reached the second floor with only a little less effort than he’d feared. Winded and mildly light-headed, he followed Michael into Peg’s bedroom. Waiting while he turned back the bedclothes and plumped the pillows, Kendall took a moment to check the patient. “How’re you doing? Ready for a good rest, I’ll bet.”

  “I guess. Dad, I’m hungry. Is there anything here to eat?” Although her voice was still slurred, she seemed far more alert than only a few minutes earlier.

  “Is it wise to eat, after. . .well, you were pretty ill back there.” His own voice sounded notably strained. He wondered just how long it took to prepare a bed for an injured princess as Michael smoothed the sheets and further adjusted the pillows.

  “There now. Where’s your nightie, darlin’?”

  “I don’t need it now, Dad. Kendall, put me down, will you?” She wiggled impatiently, which he accepted as a positive sign that she was returning to normal.

  He settled her on the mattress, certain he heard a complaining crack from his lumbar region as he stood upright again. “How’s that?”

  “Good. Wonderful actually. I’m feeling much better. Dad, I really need something to eat. Please.”

  “Very well. I’ll see what Katie left in the icebox. Kendall, what about you? Did you get your dinner tonight?”

  He realized he hadn’t eaten since morning. “No, sir. But don’t trouble yourself on my account.”

  “Nonsense. I wouldn’t mind a bite myself. You stay here with our little patient and I’ll put together a picnic for us, how’s that darlin’?”

  “Fine, Dad. Thank you.” She turned her eyes up to Kendall, eyes much clearer and brighter now. “I’m sorry. Did you hurt yourself lugging me around like that?”

  “Oh, nothing permanent, I’m sure. How are you feeling?”

  “Better. Don’t let Dad give me another of those tablets, even if I’m screaming with pain. Ugh! If that’s what it feels like to be drunk, I’m never taking a drink! That’s for sure.”

  He chuckled, instinctively reaching out to smooth her matted hair. “You’ve had more than your share tonight, kid. How’s the ankle?’

  “What ankle?” She managed a weak but nonetheless impudent grin. “I’ll bet you never volunteer to mind a bunch of kids again, huh?”
/>
  “Not if you’re in the lot. Seriously, Peg, you could have broken your neck. Promise me, no more tree climbing. I’d hate to hear that you met an untimely end rescuing another baby bird.”

  “You were really scared, weren’t you? That’s very touching, considering you only just met me a week ago. I told you we were going to be good friends, remember?”

  “I’m not sure how many friends like you a fellow can survive.”

  He excused himself from the “picnic” of stale sandwiches and ginger ale and collapsed on the bed in the tiny spare room, not bothering to turn back the covers or undress. Exhausted as he was, the residual adrenaline allowed him to do no more than doze. There was always the possibility Peg would need something and he wondered if Michael would be up to the task. Based on his observations of the two, he’d concluded Peg was more parent than child, and Michael followed her lead if not blindly, then certainly with one eye closed.

  Between bites of her sandwich, Peg had convinced her father to take his nightly sleeping medication, insisting that she could manage fine by herself, while glancing in Kendall’s direction implying his inclusion in her vision of self-reliance. Peg, it seemed, was her father’s guardian as well as his filter from the harsh realities of life with a pubescent daughter. He could only imagine her portrayal of the day’s events, given Michael’s almost jovial mood now. Behind the easy conversation and her convincing smile, the pain in her eyes should have been evident to any observant parent. Kendall was certainly aware of it, so much so that he felt a compassionate twinge in the region of his solar plexus, as he watched her performance.

  He drifted toward sleep with his ears open, listening to the two say good night. It was Peg who offered reassurance and Michael who responded gratefully. Much like his own relationship with his mother, he realized. Years of protecting and pampering had almost convinced him that sort of thing was normal, but now he was struck by the injustice of a girl like Peg, already motherless, coddling her father at a time when she herself was suffering. Punching his pillow, he rolled over on the narrow bed and told himself it was none of his business, that in another few days, his time with the Shannons would be nothing more than fading memories.