Megan was surprised that he hadn’t shut her down with one swipe. She sat patiently while paper ballots were passed around and then collected by Neal Hyatt. He unfolded and read each ballot, and separated them into two unequal piles. When he was done he looked first at Wynston Meadows and then to her. “Welcome to the board, Mrs. Fitzgibbon,” he said, with an unmistakable note of relief in his voice.
“Megan, please. And thank you, Neal.”
Megan looked at Wynston Meadows and once again couldn’t quite read the expression on his face. She thought it might be surprise, heavily masked by annoyance.
“Just until the good lady returns,” he said to Megan. “If, indeed, she does return.”
What a creep, Megan thought. But what did it matter? She was on the board. Step one was accomplished.
After the meeting—conducted by Meadows and at which nothing of significance was decided or rejected—Richard Armstrong walked to the parking lot with Megan. “I’m so glad you’re doing this,” he told her. “I’ve been so worried about Mary Bernadette for the past months. Most of us have. She was trying to be so strong.”
“Yes.”
“And we were all letting her down. Not one of us ever stood up to Wynston Meadows. We valued money over the well-being of our friend and colleague.”
“It’s a complicated situation, Richard,” Megan said soothingly.
Richard glanced around, as if to be sure there was no one to overhear, but by now the parking lot was empty. “I was one of the people they quoted in that article,” he said softly. “I was the one who said, ‘Why would I lie’ about the Fitzgibbons. It came across all wrong. I was appalled when the article was published, but I’ve been too embarrassed to say anything. Please, Mary Bernadette must know that I’m her staunch friend.”
Megan put her hand on Richard’s arm. “I’m sure she does. And the others? Do you know who else gave a quote to the Gazette?”
“Not for sure, but I can make a pretty good guess.”
“Joyce or Wallace?”
Richard nodded. “Yes.”
“You know I can’t promise any miracles. I’m not even sure of my game plan yet. But you can help me impress upon every member of the board the need for complete secrecy as far as my membership goes. I mean, it must be kept from Mary Bernadette for as long as possible. Honestly, I’m not sure how she’d feel about my butting in. I don’t want to cause her more anxiety.”
“Leave it to me. I’ll have a talk with each one privately. I can be persuasive when I need to be.”
Megan smiled. “What about Wynston Meadows?”
“I suspect that if he’s asked not to do a particular thing he goes right out and does it. I think we’re just going to have to hope he turns his attention to you and away from Mary Bernadette. Lord, that sounded awful. I’m sorry, Megan.”
“It’s okay,” Megan assured him. “I’m here to draw his fire away from the original target. And to find out what he’s really up to in dear little Oliver’s Well.”
CHAPTER 107
“Remember,” Pat said, as he and Megan stood in the hall outside Mary Bernadette’s private room, “the doctor suggested we keep all stressful topics from her. And that means Wynston Meadows and the OWHA and your—your crusade on my mother’s behalf.”
“Of course.” Megan laid a hand on her husband’s arm. “Pat? Are you sure you don’t want to go in alone for a bit?”
He frowned. “I’m sure.”
Those of us who are about to die salute you. Megan didn’t know why those words had come to her just then. Or maybe she did know. In they went. Pat’s manner instantly became stiff and distant.
“Mom,” he said. “You’re looking well.”
Mary Bernadette raised an eyebrow. “Am I? I suppose I should be grateful for small favors.”
Pat nodded. “Right.”
Megan resisted a sigh. The emotional distance between Pat and his mother saddened her. Her husband was not a cold man. Megan didn’t believe that he hated his mother, no matter what he said about her. Someday soon he would have to face the fact of her mortality and make peace with the woman who had given him life.
“How are you feeling, Mary Bernadette?” Megan asked, noting that her mother-in-law wouldn’t quite meet her eye. “Are they keeping you comfortable?”
“As well as can be expected,” Mary Bernadette replied.
“That’s good.”
Megan looked to her husband, who seemed to be out of conversation. He just stood by his mother’s bedside—not close enough so that he could touch her or she him—his arms at his side, his expression set. Megan repressed a strain of annoyance. Couldn’t he at least make an effort? “All’s well at the house,” she told her mother-in-law. “The animals are being looked after. We’re keeping things tidy.”
“Thank you.”
“We should be going,” Pat suddenly blurted.
“It was good of you to come,” Mary Bernadette said, her dignity intact as always. “I’m feeling rather tired now, anyway.”
Megan went over to Pat and took his arm. “Good-bye, Mary Bernadette,” she said. “Sleep well.” And then she led her stone-faced husband out of the room.
CHAPTER 108
The room was crowded, what with Mary Bernadette’s bed and equipment, the three men, and the profusion of cards and flowers that were still pouring in, days after Mary Bernadette’s admittance to Oliver’s Well Memorial Hospital.
Every surface but the floor was covered with vases; Grace had begun stuffing two or three bouquets into one vase in order to make room for those still coming. There were forty get-well cards—PJ had counted them—and three Mylar balloons. Mary Bernadette had suggested that PJ bring the balloons home for Banshee and Mercy to play with.
PJ had smiled. “You mean, to deflate.”
“I won’t deny that I don’t really care for balloons,” his grandmother had acknowledged. “I don’t find them appropriate for people over the age of eight.”
This afternoon, Father Robert had come by to pray with Mary Bernadette. He informed PJ and his grandfather that he would be reading Psalm 103.
Paddy and PJ each bowed his head and folded his hands before him. Mary Bernadette, sitting up in the bed, did the same.
“Bless the Lord, O my soul,
and all that is within me, bless his holy Name.
Bless the Lord, O my soul,
And forget not all his benefits.
He forgives all your sins
And heals all your infirmities;
He redeems your life from the grave
And crowns you with mercy and loving-kindness;
He satisfies you with good things,
And your youth is renewed like an eagle’s.”
“Excuse me. I’m sorry to interrupt.” A nurse stood at the door to the room, an apologetic smile on her face. She beckoned to PJ with her forefinger, and he followed her out to the hall. He returned to his grandmother’s room a few minutes later. He knew he was scowling, but he couldn’t help it.
“What’s wrong?” his grandfather asked in a low voice, as the priest read on.
“A massive bouquet of flowers,” PJ replied. “That’s what’s wrong. From Wynston Meadows.”
“Where is it?” Paddy asked.
“I threw it in the trash where it belongs.”
“You might have offered it to the nurses to give to someone who has no flowers from a loved one.”
PJ shook his head. “I didn’t even think of that, I was so mad. Can you believe the nerve of that man, sending flowers to the woman he’s trying to destroy? The hypocrite wants her dead and out of the way.”
“Name calling won’t help matters.”
“But that’s what he is, Grandpa, a hypocrite.”
“Who is that you’re talking about?” Mary Bernadette’s voice rose over Father Robert’s, causing him to stop midsentence.
Paddy took a step closer to his wife’s bed. “Now, don’t trouble yourself, Mary.”
“It
’s nothing Grandmother,” PJ added. “Sorry, Father Robert.”
Father Robert nodded and continued with the prayer.
“For he himself knows whereof we are made;
he remembers that we are but dust.
Our days are like the grass;
We flourish like a flower of the field;
When the wind goes over it, it is gone,
And its place shall know it no more.”
PJ leaned in to his grandfather. “Couldn’t he have chosen something less grim?”
“The psalm was your grandmother’s wish,” Paddy explained.
We are but dust. PJ had never imagined what his life would be like without his grandmother. He knew, of course, that she would die. Everybody died. But it had never occurred to him that most likely he would go on living after her. He would have to go on living, especially when his wife was pregnant with his child. The thought was daunting and filled him with equal measures of fear and determination.
Father Robert finished reading the psalm and offered a final blessing. “I’ll leave you with your family, Mary Bernadette,” he said then.
“Wynston Meadows,” Mary Bernadette said when he was gone.
“Excuse me, Grandmother?” PJ said.
“That’s who you were talking about earlier. Wynston Meadows. What is he up to now?” she demanded. “I have a right to know.”
PJ looked helplessly to his grandfather. Paddy cleared his throat, opened his mouth, and closed it again. He went over to the bed and took his grandmother’s hand. “It was nothing,” he said firmly. “I was just letting off steam.”
Mary Bernadette searched his face with her bright, keen eyes and PJ knew she knew that he was lying.
“You’re right,” she said, withdrawing her hand from his. “The man is a hypocrite.”
CHAPTER 109
“Fitzgibbon Landscaping. This is Alexis speaking. How may I help you?”
“Alexis, it’s Morgan.”
Alexis put her hand to her heart. She was thankful that she was alone in the office.
“Hello.”
“I had to call. I heard about Mary Bernadette’s stroke. I’m so sorry. If there’s anything I can do to help, please let me know.”
“Thank you. There’s probably nothing. Her daughter’s here now and she’s pretty much got everything under control. And my mother-in-law is here most times, too.”
“Good. Alexis? Are you there alone?”
Alexis nodded and then, realizing the futility of the gesture, said, “Yes.”
“Look, Alexis,” Morgan went on, his tone urgent. “I really need to apologize for . . . for what almost happened the other day. It was wrong of me, but . . . The thing is, I’m falling in love with you. I know I shouldn’t be, but I can’t seem to help it.”
Alexis was shocked. She had been so concerned with her own troubling emotions she had never stopped to give real consideration to his. He had been falling in love with her, not just playing a game, not just killing time. Not that she had ever really suspected him of trifling with her emotions but . . . She felt herself blush with shame. “I . . .”
“Can you honestly say that you don’t have feelings for me?”
“No,” she whispered. “But I’m married.”
Morgan laughed unhappily. “I’m aware.”
Alexis didn’t know what she could say to him. She was determined to stick by her decision not to see him again, even as a friend. She didn’t entirely trust herself, and she all too clearly recalled Maureen’s cautions about the gossip mill in Oliver’s Well. And, most important, she loved her husband and was soon to bear his child.
“You deserve better than me, Morgan,” she said finally. “I’m a bit of a wreck right now. Aside from being married, I mean.” Not exactly the most eloquent way to put things, but it was all she could manage.
“Alexis—”
“No. Morgan, listen to me. Nothing can happen between us. I can’t see you again. I mean, not deliberately. If we run into each other in town . . .”
“I should nod politely and walk the other way?”
Alexis swallowed hard. “Yes,” she said. “That’s the way it has to be.”
“I’m not happy about this, Alexis,” Morgan said, his tone mournful. “But I’ll abide by your decision.”
“I’m sorry for hurting you, Morgan. I’m sorry for leading you on. I promise I didn’t do it purposely.”
“I believe you.”
“I should go now. Someone might come in. . . .”
“All right,” Morgan said. “Good luck, Alexis. I hope life is good to you.”
She couldn’t bring herself to reply. She quietly hung up the receiver. She had not told him that PJ refused to see a therapist. She had not told him that she was pregnant. Those things were private. She had no right to share them, and he had no right to know them.
This, she thought, was what life was really about. There were constantly difficult choices to be made and challenging promises to be kept. There were sacrifices to be offered for others. There was unhappiness and sorrow to bear. There were consequences to be paid. How naïve she had been when she married PJ Fitzgibbon, how airy her ideals, how false her notions of marriage. In spite of all evidence to the contrary she had thought, no, she had expected it all to be so easy.
With a supreme effort Alexis forced herself to return to the work of helping to run her family’s business. And at the end of the workday, she would drive to Oliver’s Well Memorial Hospital and pay PJ’s grandmother a visit.
CHAPTER 110
Mary Bernadette was restless. She kicked at the thin sheet covering her legs. It still wasn’t settling right. She leaned forward and straightened it with her hands. The sheet felt scratchy. She sat back against the pillows and sighed. She was sure that she would mend more quickly in her own home than in this place of sickness and death. If only she was allowed to do something productive instead of lying like an invalid!
There was no use in pretending that she wasn’t worried about the health of the OWHA, especially after that disgraceful and utterly false bit of “news” had aired the previous Saturday. She had demanded that the family keep her fully up to date, but so far not one of them had even brought her a newspaper, supposedly on doctor’s orders. Her own husband and grandson had lied to her on the day of Father Robert’s visit. Something had happened and they were keeping it from her. She was annoyed and insulted. Everyone was being condescending to her, treating her like a child. Just last evening she had called Neal Hyatt in the hopes that he might tell her if Wynston Meadows had made any further incursions on the good reputation of the OWHA. But Neal, as charming as always, had managed to tell her exactly nothing. And just that morning when the doctor had been in to see her, he had reminded Grace that her mother was in a delicate condition and needed complete rest. “You try telling her that, Doctor,” Grace had replied. They had been talking about her as if she weren’t even in the room!
There was a knock at the door, and in came Grace and the twins.
“I was just thinking about you, dear,” Mary Bernadette said with a smile.
Grace raised an eyebrow. “What did I do wrong?”
Mary Bernadette ignored her daughter’s question.
“How are you feeling, Grandma?” Danica asked. The poor girl looked frightened. She was twisting the end of her braid and her eyes were wide, as if she were trying not to cry. It might be the sight of the ugly machines and the hanging bags full of God knew what sort of fluids that upset her, Mary Bernadette thought. She hoped it was that, rather than her own appearance. She knew she wasn’t looking her best, but she had applied the powder and lipstick Grace had brought her and her hair was freshly brushed.
“Just fine,” she told her granddaughter. “Don’t play with your hair.”
Danica took her hand away from her braid.
“When will you be getting out of here?” David asked.
Grace chuckled. “You make it sound like she’s a prisoner in a jail.”<
br />
David turned to his aunt. “For someone like my grandmother,” he said quite earnestly, “this is a jail.”
Mary Bernadette was touched. How acute the boy was! “As soon as the doctors say I may leave,” she told him.
“I hate hospitals,” Danica said fiercely.
“I don’t think anyone really likes them,” Grace said, putting her arm around her niece’s shoulders.
“The people who get better in them don’t mind hospitals so much,” David pointed out. “I mean, I know that my surgery isn’t going to be fun or anything, but at least when I get back home I’ll be able to walk better.”
This child must not die, Mary Bernadette thought. There must be no more loss. David was smart and self-possessed. He would take the Fitzgibbon name far.
“Well, I’m never going to the hospital,” Danica declared. “Ever.”
Mary Bernadette smiled. She admired her granddaughter’s determination.
“Let’s not think about that,” Grace said briskly. “Let’s focus on making this visit a pleasant one for your grandmother.”
“Danica, tell me about school,” Mary Bernadette asked. “Are you getting good grades?”
“Yes, but I’d rather tell you about soccer, Grandma, if that’s okay.”
“Of course.” Mary Bernadette had no interest in sports of any sort, but if they were important to her granddaughter, she would do her best to pay attention.
“Once she starts,” David warned, “she never stops.”
Grace laughed and Danica managed a smile before launching into a story about a game and one of her teammates and a gross injury and an awesome goal. Mary Bernadette listened and nodded and smiled in what she hoped were appropriate moments.
At least, she thought, the children weren’t treating her like some sick old lady. She could take a good deal of comfort in that.
CHAPTER 111
Megan was at home in her office, urgent paperwork relating to the CPEE to her right, several e-mails from her colleagues at the law firm waiting to be answered, and a form from the hospital where David would be having his surgery to be filled out and mailed. But first, there was OWHA business to which she had to attend. She still felt a bit anxious about the task she had taken on, but to the other members of the board she would have to be worthy of Mary Bernadette—in other words, she would have to show only strength and determination.
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