“So, what’s the deal with boys?” Grace asked Danica, when she had come back to the kitchen and dropped into a chair. “I mean, do you like them?”
Danica made a comically horrible face. “The deal with boys is that they’re dumb! Well, not all of them. David’s okay and Dad’s all right. And PJ and Grandpa, too. But most of them are stupid and boring. Besides, I have soccer and debate team and schoolwork. I don’t have time for boys. I mean, if I wanted to hang out with them. Which I don’t.”
Grace nodded. “You know, you’re pretty smart. Maybe someday you’ll think about becoming a nun. We work to empower women. We fight for peace and social justice.”
“And you pray, of course,” Mary Bernadette added.
“That, too.”
Danica considered this for a moment. “That’s all great,” she said finally, “especially the fighting part, but I do really like shopping.”
“Shopping,” Alexis said, “is definitely a good thing.”
“Well,” Megan told her daughter, “you’ve got plenty of time to think about your future.”
“Look, Maeve is waking up! Can I hold her?” Danica asked, jumping up from her seat and going over to her niece, who was making little mewling sounds.
“Of course,” Alexis said. “Do you remember how I taught you to pick her up?”
Danica rolled her eyes. “Seriously?”
Paddy, Pat, and David were in the backyard, watching PJ’s progress on a garden shed. Paddy, good with his hands, offered suggestions. Pat, not good with his hands, had no suggestions to make. David watched with a critical eye.
“Did Marty give you a professional discount on the lumber?” Paddy asked his grandson.
“Yup. And I’ll give him one when he finally decides to deal with that overgrown, weedy lawn of his.”
Paddy shook his head. “Don’t count on that happening any time soon. His lawn has been a disgrace since I’ve known the man, and that’s over thirty years. If I was still what I used to be I’d take a mower to it myself, whether he liked it or not.”
It was true that his wife’s illness had taken a toll on Paddy, but good things had also come from the time of crisis. Mary Bernadette had mellowed in the aftermath of her distress, and Paddy felt a comfort in his marriage that had long been missing. That indeed was a blessing.
“So, what’s this girlfriend of yours like?” Paddy asked his younger grandson.
David shrugged. “I don’t know. She’s nice.”
“Does she have a name?” PJ asked.
“Duh! Her name is Emma.”
“Is she a good student?” Paddy wanted to know.
David laughed. “Yeah! She’s, like, the top of our class.”
“And she’s pretty.”
“Dad!”
Pat shrugged. “What? She is.”
“Yeah,” David admitted. “She’s pretty. Not that it matters or anything.”
David’s surgery the previous July had been a success; he felt strong and in far less pain than he had been before the operation. He was now fascinated by golf. This pleased his father, as he, too, was fascinated by the game, though he wasn’t very good at it. David and Pat now routinely spent Saturday mornings at the golf course, sending balls wildly into the air and narrowly avoiding getting hit by their own clubs.
“You know,” Pat said to his older son, who had just muttered in frustration, “you could have just bought a prefab shed.”
“Where’s the challenge in that? David, hand me that box of nails, will you?”
David did so.
“Maybe someday you’ll join Fitzgibbon Landscaping,” PJ suggested. “We could rename the company The Fitzgibbon Brothers Landscaping.”
“No thanks,” David said. “I’m going to law school.”
“Well, maybe when you’re in high school you can work summers for me.”
“You just want cheap labor, don’t you?”
Pat clapped David on the back. “You’ll make a fine lawyer, my boy!”
“Just like his father,” Paddy added.
Pat smiled. These days he felt closer to his father, as well as to his mother, than he ever remembered feeling. Though Mary Bernadette was still the domineering woman she had always been, it was not as consistently. And his parents seemed happier together. Pat hoped they had rediscovered some of the emotional intimacy his father had told him was lacking in their marriage. His own marriage to Megan was as good as it had ever been, which was excellent. Pat was happy, too, to see Grace more often. He had great fondness as well as great admiration for his sister. And he was thoroughly besotted with his granddaughter. No doubt by the time she was old enough to talk, Maeve would have him wrapped completely around her little finger. Pat couldn’t wait.
“Do you remember the time you tried to build that fort in the backyard, Pat?”
Pat turned to his father. “What do you mean tried to build? I built a fort.”
Paddy chuckled. “It lasted about three minutes before the entire thing collapsed on itself.”
David hooted and PJ grinned. “I guess talent skips a generation,” PJ said to his father.
PJ felt very grateful at that moment. Well, pretty much at all moments since the awful few months the year before. Life was not perfect, but it was good. He was still learning how to pay attention to his wife in a way that mattered to her, but this process was helped by the fact that Alexis had developed her own interests and was establishing her own identity apart from—but in relation to—his. He knew that he had acted unfairly, expecting her to ease in to his own life without any real support. He had failed to understand that she was a complete person of her own. There had been no malice in his thinking, just ignorance, which he had come to realize was often just as bad.
With the help of Roz Clinton—he and Alexis saw her once every six weeks—he was also learning how to fully separate from his grandmother while still expressing his love and respect for her. It wasn’t always easy to say no to Mary Bernadette—saying yes had been a habit for a very long time—but she, too, had made an effort to let him live life on his own terms. It wasn’t a huge effort, but it was enough that both he and Alexis had noted. And then, of course, there was his gorgeous, angelic, and absolutely perfect infant daughter.
Megan appeared at the back door then and called the men in for dinner.
“Finally,” David said, and hurried ahead of his elders.
Alexis had made a Middle Eastern feast, complete with hummus, baba ghanoush, tabouli, pita, and lamb kabobs.
“It’s not at all hot,” she assured Mary Bernadette, whose expression was wary. “And it’s all good for you.”
“It smells awesome,” David announced.
The Fitzgibbon family took their seats at the table in the living room. Even with the table’s two extra leaves, it was still a tight fit. Alexis thought it was cozy. Paddy said grace and they began their meal.
“So,” Grace said, spooning tabouli onto her plate, “I’ve done some research on places to stay in Dublin and Cork. There are a few options that look good for all of us, considering our varying budgets.”
“I can’t believe we’re finally going to Ireland,” Danica said. “I am so psyched.”
“A family pilgrimage,” PJ said. “Four generations all together.”
“As long as my Mary continues in good health,” Paddy said, taking his wife’s hand.
“I swear by the Almighty Father, His Loving Son, and the Holy Ghost—and the Virgin Mary, of course—that I will! Now, would someone pass me that—what did you call it, Alexis? Baba-something? It’s very tasty.”
Alexis smiled. “Baba ghanoush,” she said. “And gladly.”
KENSINGTON BOOKS are published by
Kensington Publishing Corp.
119 West 40th Street
New York, NY 10018
Copyright © 2015 by Mary McDonough
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any means without the prior written consent of
the Publisher, excepting brief quotes used in reviews.
Kensington and the K logo Reg. U.S. Pat. & TM Off.
Library of Congress Card Catalogue Number: 2015931006
ISBN: 978-0-7582-9349-7
eISBN-13: 978-0-7582-9350-3
eISBN-10: 0-7582-9350-X
First Kensington Electronic Edition: May 2015
One Year Page 41