One Year

by Mary McDonough

  “Maybe you’re right,” Alexis said thoughtfully. “Maybe you do all that you can possibly do and then you pray to God or whatever spiritual power you believe in to send along a miracle of—of kindness and patience and understanding and sympathy.”

  “Are you sure you don’t regret becoming a Catholic for me?” PJ asked. It was one of the topics that had come up in this second session with Roz Clinton. “It was an awfully generous thing of you to do.”

  “No,” Alexis replied promptly. “I don’t regret it. But honestly, I’m not sure how long it’s going to take to really feel like I belong. It’s so different from your experience, always being a Catholic. Like always having black hair and blue eyes, no big deal, just what’s always been there. But I have to make a conscious choice to believe. It’s hard.”

  “I’m honored you made the choice for my sake. You gave me a great gift, Alexis. I just hope I can make it worth your while. I hope I can give you what you want in return for what you give me.”

  Alexis smiled. “It’s takes two to tango. Sorry, silly cliché. But it’s true, PJ. For our marriage to be a success, I have to create a meaningful life of my own. I guess I’m learning that a husband is not meant to be a knight in shining armor.”

  “But I really want to be,” PJ said earnestly.

  Alexis took his hand. “But don’t you see, that’s not fair. No one should have to be the solution to another person’s life. I have to make me happy. It’s my responsibility.”

  “As long as your being happy includes me as your husband, shining armor or not.”

  “It does, PJ! Even in sweatpants you’re the man I want.”

  PJ laughed. “Really? I’ve been dying for you to say that.”

  “No!” Alexis shrieked. “Please, no sweatpants.”

  “Darn. One other thing. I was thinking that maybe we should tell my parents that we’re going to therapy. I want them to know that we take this marriage seriously and we’re not going to let the strain of these past months destroy something beautiful. Are you okay with that?”

  Alexis smiled. “Yes, that’s a very good idea!”

  “But I still think we should keep Grandmother in the dark.”

  “Also a very good idea!” The last thing any of the Fitzgibbons needed, Alexis thought, was for Mary Bernadette to have another heart attack.

  “Chinese takeout for dinner,” PJ said suddenly. “What do you think? We haven’t done takeout in . . . I can’t remember how long it’s been.”

  Alexis kissed her husband’s cheek. “I think it sounds like fun,” she said. “And I want spicy sesame noodles.”

  CHAPTER 129

  Megan was en route to the grocery store. She felt exhausted. She felt anxious. There was CPEE business she had been neglecting. Danica had reminded her that she had promised to make three dozen brownies for her class bake sale the next day. The night before Pat had wanted to talk at length about the conversation with his mother in which for the first time ever William had been mentioned. Megan was afraid she hadn’t paid as much attention as she should have and she felt bad about it. A few days earlier David had admitted that he was in fact scared about having surgery, and Megan’s own fears and sense of helplessness had roared into life, momentarily rendering her at a loss on how to answer his concerns. She felt bad about that, too.

  And on top of it all, she was afraid she had come to a dead end in her plan to rid the OWHA of Wynston Meadows. Leonard, and now Richard and Neal, were willing to lose Meadows’s promised twenty-five million dollars in favor of the one million dollars Megan had already secured and her assurance of more money to come, but Jeannette and Anne were still hesitant to accept the fact that the new potential sources of money were indeed real and not phantoms born of desperation. And to get a unanimous vote against Meadows, she would have to convince Joyce, Wallace, and Norma as well, and there’s where she saw real trouble. Jeannette and Anne would probably come around, but the two or possibly three who were in thrall to the Great Man would never vote against him for anything less than—than what? A truly nefarious deed.

  Okay, she thought, so what’s the worst that could happen? She might fail to get Wynston Meadows ousted from the board. The financial pledges she had secured would then fall through; the private donors she had lined up had made it very clear they wanted nothing to do with the man. The OWHA might buckle under Meadows’s bullying tactics. He might then buy historical properties from the now-bankrupt OWHA, tear them down, and put up hideous concrete office parks. He might effectively break Mary Bernadette Fitzgibbon’s spirit, if he hadn’t done that already.

  No, Megan thought, tightening her grip on the wheel, I cannot fail. I simply cannot.

  CHAPTER 130

  Mary Bernadette Fitzgibbon was back home on Honeysuckle Lane. As she crossed the threshold, she said a silent and fervent prayer of thanks. She was installed in one of the armchairs in the living room and asked if she would like a proper cup of tea. She said that she would, and Megan went to the kitchen to prepare it. Banshee screamed her welcome and jumped onto Mary Bernadette’s lap. Mercy stood by the chair, tongue lolling and tail wagging. Mary Bernadette was glad to see them all.

  David and Danica had made a huge WELCOME HOME sign and hung it over the door to the kitchen. Jeannette, Danny, and Maureen came by to deliver the cards and flowers gathered from her hospital room. (The balloons had been disposed of long before.) Katie and Bonnie stopped by bearing a plate of Mary Bernadette’s favorite raspberry scones, warm from the oven.

  As soon as the excitement of her arrival had settled down, and the twins had gone outside to play, Mary Bernadette expressed her intention of surveying the house to be sure that nothing had been broken or put back in a wrong place and that everything was as spic-and-span as she had left it. She was eager to reestablish herself over her domain. But her family wouldn’t allow her to climb the stairs to the second floor, so she had to be content to inspect the rooms on the first floor. She found that everything was in order. She felt a bit disappointed that things had carried on so well without her. But she thanked her daughter and daughter-in-law for their efforts.

  “I’m so happy to have you home in time for my birthday,” Paddy said when Mary Bernadette had taken her seat again. “Grace said that she’ll make the cake, to spare you the effort.”

  “I’m perfectly capable of making my husband a birthday cake,” Mary Bernadette replied briskly. And then she said, “But if Grace wants to do it, then of course she may.”

  “And you don’t have to worry about the everyday running of the household,” Grace said. “We all know how hopeless Dad is with the domestic arts—sorry, Dad—so Katie and Bonnie and Megan and I have made a housekeeping and cooking schedule. We’ll rotate duties among us.”

  Mary Bernadette opened her mouth to protest.

  “Now, Mom,” Grace went on in that annoyingly mock severe tone she seemed to have adopted in the past weeks. “We’re not intending to usurp your kingdom, just to help out while you regain your full strength. I’m sure you see the wisdom in that.”

  In fact, Mary Bernadette did see the wisdom in her daughter’s argument. “And now,” she said, “I must admit to feeling a bit tired.”

  Megan and Pat wished her a pleasant rest and went off to fetch the twins. Grace and Paddy escorted her into the small first-floor bedroom that David sometimes used; it would be hers until she grew stronger. Banshee immediately settled herself on the bed and began to purr.

  Paddy kissed her cheek and Grace closed the door behind them. Mary Bernadette was alone. How, she thought, did I suddenly become so old that I can permit myself a nap? She was tired, but sleep didn’t come right away. Instead, she stared up at the ceiling, Banshee tucked under her arm, thinking of the difficult changes she would have to accept. She knew that she should wholeheartedly accept the assistance so generously offered her. But it was hard not to chafe under what she felt to be restraints on her will and her independence.

  She remembered then an old bit of wi
sdom her father claimed to have heard from his own father. “Have sense, patience, and self-restraint, and no mischief will come.” All these years later and Mary Bernadette could still clearly remember sitting at her father’s feet before the peat fire in their home. She had loved him dearly. But how well had she adhered to his words of wisdom?

  Banshee roused herself and stepped onto Mary Bernadette’s stomach, where she curled into a ball. Before long the two ladies had fallen asleep. Mary Bernadette did not dream.

  CHAPTER 131

  “I’m on pins and needles, Neal. What made you call this meeting?”

  Megan was at her desk in Annapolis, addressing her fellow board member via her computer screen. Around Neal, in the main room of his gallery, were arranged Richard, Anne, Leonard, and Jeannette.

  “I think,” he said, “that I might just have the information we need to finally put an end to the disaster that is Wynston Meadows.”

  “Well, come out with it then,” Leonard urged.

  “You all know my friend Harry Duran? He’s an agent with Hollytree Real Estate.”

  There were murmurs and nods in the affirmative. “He’s got a good reputation,” Megan noted. “And he donates to the OWHA.”

  “Well,” Neal went on, “as in any given industry, word gets around, even things that are supposed to be top secret, deals and promises and the like. And just this morning Harry had it on good authority from a friend of his at Toth Realty that since he’s been resident in Oliver’s Well, Wynston Meadows has been in secret negotiation—through his lawyers, of course—with the Baker family.”

  “The owners of the Branley Estate,” Richard said.

  Megan could not restrain a grin. Patience, she told herself. We haven’t won yet.

  “One and the same. It seems that he’s intending to buy the estate for himself. And, though it’s unclear if the Bakers know this bit of the story, he’s planning to tear down what survives of the old buildings, clear all that lovely land, and put up a housing development.”

  Jeannette put a hand to her heart.

  “I can’t say that I’m surprised,” Megan said. Surprised and cautiously elated, she added silently.

  “Are you sure of this, Neal?” Leonard asked.

  “As sure as I can be. Harry wouldn’t have passed along the information if he didn’t take it seriously. Now the question is, what do we do with it?”

  “I can’t believe Mr. Meadows has been going against the OWHA all along. Pretending to be our benefactor.” Anne sighed.

  “While still holding on to his money,” Jeannette said angrily. “And treating the rest of us like doormats.”

  “I say we confront him at the next meeting.”

  “You know as well as I do, Leonard, that he’ll deny any wrongdoing,” Richard said. “He’ll say it’s only a nasty small-town rumor.”

  “But that might be enough,” Megan argued. “What I mean is, even the rumor of a board member acting for personal gain could very well turn away other potential donors, or even our long-standing ones. We tell him we can’t afford the possible fallout.”

  Richard shook his head. “I hate to be the naysayer here, but to that Meadows will say he’s got more money than all other donors put together, so who cares if the rest go scurrying off.”

  “And Joyce and Wallace and Norma might still think it’s worth the risk to keep him around,” Jeannette said gloomily. “I don’t understand what they hope to gain from the man.”

  “Who was it who came up with that silly rule about needing a unanimous vote to dismiss someone from the board?” Anne asked.

  “Some oddball in the board’s storied past,” Leonard said. “The point is, the time’s come to act. I suggest that at our next meeting we reveal that we’ve got new financial backers lined up, and then we present the information that Meadows has been acting against the interests of Oliver’s Well, and not only regarding the Branley Estate. What about his wanting to cancel the Independence Day Parade and cut the education program? We just might get that unanimous vote.”

  “We have to try,” Neal said. “That’s for sure.”

  Megan nodded. “Just be sure we make no mention—not even a hint—of what new business we’ll be addressing. Maybe the element of surprise will work to our advantage, not so much with Meadows but with Joyce, Wallace, and Norma. The last thing we need is for one of them to get wind of our intentions.”

  “Mum’s the word,” Neal agreed. “Shall I call this clandestine meeting adjourned?”

  “See you all on the battlefield,” Megan said. “Good night.” And she went downstairs to pour herself a cautiously celebratory whiskey.

  CHAPTER 132

  It was six o’clock in the evening. Grace was out at the grocery store. Paddy was in the kitchen, heating one of the casseroles Bonnie had provided. Mary Bernadette was propped against a pile of pillows in the bed in the little first-floor bedroom, several unopened novels by her side. She had been home for two days and still the house seemed almost frighteningly quiet after all that time in the hospital where one never had a moment’s peace. Machines beeping and whirring and voices, always the voices, of nurses and doctors and visitors and the patients themselves, complaining or crying out, whispering or weeping. Mary Bernadette had longed for the blessed peace of her home on Honeysuckle Lane.

  But now, the quiet seemed oppressive. There was too much time to think, and she didn’t want to think. For one, she had realized that in the past few days she had lost almost all interest in knowing the latest news about the OWHA. Not once had she asked for a copy of the Oliver’s Well Gazette; not once had she even thought to call Leonard or to question Jeannette when she stopped by. She suspected that her sudden disinterest was a result of her spiritual despair, and she had prayed for God to lift her from the depths. But in the pit she remained.

  She thought about other things, too. She had come to see that it wasn’t only her family who had suffered because of choices she had been making for the past fifty some-odd years. By erecting such a strong guardrail around her heart she had deprived herself of so much happiness as well. Over the past weeks she had watched how her son and his wife behaved when they were together, how simply and truly affectionate they were, how warm and comfortable they seemed. It was a sad thing to admit, but she and Paddy hadn’t experienced that sort of easy intimacy since before William’s death. So many years! She was so very sorry now for having deprived her husband of her whole self. She was ashamed of it, but she felt envious of the relationship her son and daughter-in-law shared. She realized now that she longed for a sort of love with her husband it might be too late to cultivate. Paddy had stuck by her through all of life’s vicissitudes. He had never once complained. He was a quiet hero of a man. And oh, how she loved him!

  Paddy came into the room with her dinner on a tray. He stopped short when he saw the tears streaming down his wife’s face. He put the tray carefully on the bedside table and took her hand in his.

  “Now, Mary, what’s wrong?” he asked gently.

  “Will you forgive me, Paddy?” Mary Bernadette pleaded. “Will you forgive me?”

  Her husband leaned down and gently kissed her forehead. “There’s nothing to forgive, Mary,” he said. “Absolutely nothing.”

  There was nothing more for either of them to say.

  CHAPTER 133

  “I’ve been given a reassignment to Virginia,” Grace was telling the other Fitzgibbon women, gathered in Mary Bernadette’s kitchen. “The order has granted me a year, and we’ll see after that.”

  “Paddy will be so relieved,” Megan said.

  “I’m glad, too. Where will you be working?” Alexis asked.

  “At the hospital, in the pastoral care department. I’ll be visiting with patients in their homes once they’re released. I’ll try to help them deal with the emotional fallout of their illnesses. I’ll pray with them if they want me to.”

  Alexis shook her head. “I could never do what you do.”

  “My daughter h
as a gift,” Mary Bernadette said. “A true calling.”

  Grace turned to her mother. “And Mom, now that you’re confined to the house for a bit, I’m going to introduce you to the wonders of the Internet.”

  “I have no interest in the computer.”

  “Too bad. You’re a captive audience. I’ll get you set up on Skype so you can be in touch with your grandchildren. And we bought you and Dad each a cell phone.”

  “Oh Lord.”

  “Don’t take the name of the Lord thy God in vain, Mom.”

  “Yes, dear. But those things are supposed to give you cancer.”

  “And frogs give you warts. You’ll learn to take the phone with you when you go out. And to be sure that it’s turned on.”

  “Since when have you become so bossy?” her mother asked.

  Grace grinned. “I’ve always been bossy,” she said. “Just not with you.”

  Mary Bernadette laughed. The sound was so unexpected that Grace, Megan, and Alexis exchanged looks of surprise.

  “Well,” Mary Bernadette said then, “I’m afraid that I need a nap.” She got up from her chair and walked slowly out of the kitchen, Banshee dashing ahead.

  Grace spoke softly, though they had heard the bedroom door close. “Did you notice that since Mom’s been home from the hospital she hasn’t once asked about the OWHA? At least, not in my hearing.”

  “Nor in mine,” Megan said. “It’s as if she’s lost all interest.”

  “Or she’s pretending,” Alexis suggested. “Maybe she’s secretly talking to one of her friends on the board.”

  Megan shook her head. “Her friends would never break their promise of silence. And Mary Bernadette wouldn’t give any credence to the likes of Wallace or Joyce or Norma. No, I think for some reason we can’t fathom she’s lost interest.”