by Dorien Kelly
The hell with Michael, Liam felt his knees grow weak. He couldn’t believe this was making him squeamish, but the thought of a woman as slight as Kylie giving birth to what looked to be the world’s largest babe was more than he could handle.
“I’ll be in the dining room,” he said to Vi, then walked off while he could still do it on his own.
“Keep them occupied,” he heard Vi command.
Aye, when he went unconscious they’d be occupied enough.
Lord, she’d been so close to escaping that she could almost taste it. She and Kylie had had it well planned. Kylie would speak to Michael while Vi gave word to the rest of the family members and herded them to her house, blissful miles from the birth itself.
Instead, here she was wiping her sister-in-law’s quite wet legs and feet. There would be no leaving anytime soon, she knew. And she could nearly hear Nan’s hearty laugh from above, telling her this was just what she needed to face.
Bloody annoying know-everything spirits.
Vi had Kylie as cleaned up as she could get her. “Maybe you’ll be wanting to go upstairs and settle in,” she said.
Kylie shook her head. “After I say goodbye to my guests.”
“I’ll still make your excuses. Even Mam will forgive this one.”
“Enough, already,” Michael said. “There’s no time to talk.” He lifted a set of keys from a teacup hook on the cupboard. “Vi, would you pull up my car?”
“We won’t be needing it,” Kylie said.
“Not needing it?”
Vi had never before heard her brother’s voice reach so high. Perhaps he had a future as a tenor once his preferences turned from whiskey to music.
“I’ve been seeing a midwife along with the doctors in Tralee,” Kylie said. “I didn’t tell you before because you’ve been fretting enough already, but I want to have our baby here.”
Michael looked wildly around the kitchen. “Here?”
“Upstairs,” she corrected. “In our house, with my husband, and now it seems even with your mam and da here.”
Michael gently cupped his wife’s face between his hands and kissed her forehead. “You know I love you more than life itself. You’re the greatest miracle I’ve been given…though just now I’m also thinking you’ve lost your damn brain. We’re going to the hospital, and that’s the end of the discussion. I’ll get your coat, and we’ll have Vi follow later with a bag. You’ve that list on our bureau, right?”
Kylie said nothing, instead giving her husband a patient look.
“She’s already called the midwife,” Vi said.
Michael stepped away from Kylie and came looming close to Vi. “You knew and you let her?”
“What would you have me do? Tackle her and rip the phone from her hands? A fine sight that would have been.
“Kylie’s young and in fine health. There’ve been no difficulties with the pregnancy, from what she says. Why not here, Michael? There’s no great risk.”
Her brother’s frown was quite ferocious. “And when did you become an expert on childbearing? I’m the one who read that stack of—”
“Stop!”
Vi and Michael turned to look at Kylie, who was now leaning against the cupboard, hands low on her belly. Her face had gone milky-white, and her scattering of freckles stood out in sharp relief.
“We’re past the time to be discussing. You’d best be getting me upstairs now,” she said to her husband. “I’m feeling a bit odd. I didn’t think this was to happen so fast.”
That, Vi thought, had to be a grand understatement, for Kylie had begun to pant again.
Michael, wise man that he was, didn’t wrestle with the inevitable. “All right, upstairs, love, and no arguing, but I’m calling a doctor, too.”
“Fine,” Kylie said between shallow breaths.
“And you…” Michael shot a glare Vi’s way. “I’ll be talking to you, later.”
“One thing, first,” she said to her brother, beckoning him closer. When he was near, she went up on tiptoe. “It’s a girl,” she whispered, “and she’s going to run you mad.”
In that moment, she was sure that Michael Kilbride was a true believer.
The midwife arrived, and the doctor, too. Trying to hold the most emotional part of herself distant from the events around her, Vi ushered them upstairs to Michael and Kylie’s room. Next came Breege Flaherty and Edna McCafferty, for Kylie had asked Michael to call Breege. The women joined Vi, her mam, da, and Liam in the front room.
Da switched on the television and had it playing loudly to block the sounds from upstairs, Vi assumed. Little good it did. Though it was the last thing Vi wanted, she was so attuned to the events one floor up that she fancied she could hear each breath her sister-in-law drew. Pat and Danny ventured in and out of the house, hiding in the kitchen to avoid Mam’s horrible childbirth stories, smoking cigarettes out front, and wandering out to the workshop.
Dusk slipped into nighttime, and Michael popped downstairs to say that all was well and they expected it wouldn’t be too much longer. Her brother was a disheveled mess. Vi couldn’t begin to imagine how Kylie looked. Feeling none too collected, herself, she moved on to the kitchen for a glass of water. Liam came along, and they sat opposite each other at the kitchen table, hands meeting and clasping midway across its surface. They talked of nothing of consequence, but for Vi, Liam’s presence made the room an island of calm.
“Vi! Where are you? She’s here! The baby’s here!” came a cry from the front room some time later.
Vi pushed to her feet. “She’s here. Thank God she’s here.” She rushed to join her family, Liam on her heels.
She wasn’t quite sure what she’d been expecting to see—a babe in pink, cooing, perhaps. What she had was Mam hissing at Da to turn off the television, Pat and Danny looking bashful, and a midwife, tired but content.
“Mam and baby are well,” the midwife said. “And the new da will be bringing baby down to meet you as soon as the doctor’s finished looking her over.” Just then a shrill squall drifted down to them. “As you can hear, her lungs are working just fine.”
It was another thirty minutes before Michael joined them, a bundle in his arms.
“This is Margaret Mary Kilbride, named for Kylie’s late mam.” He gazed down at the babe, and Vi wondered if she’d ever before seen such love. “I think we’ll be calling her Maggie.”
“Named for Kylie’s mother, you say?” Mam asked, sounding quite slighted.
“Well, Mam,” Pat said, “at least you know what you’ll have to do if you want the next one in your name.”
Emotions too close to the surface and bubbling higher, Vi laughed, then quickly covered her mouth with her hand as Mam glared at her. Liam looped an arm about her waist, and she was thankful for his steady presence.
“Patrick Anthony,” Mam said, “you’d best be watching your mouth or the next one will be named after you.”
Michael came to stand on the other side of Vi. Her heart swelled near to breaking as she looked at this new little life.
“You and Kylie did fine work,” she said.
“Aye, we did, didn’t we?” He smiled at Vi. “Would you like to hold her?”
Her palms grew immediately damp and her stomach knotted. “I—I…”
“Don’t be worried,” Michael said. “She’s like her mother…not nearly as fragile as she looks.”
Vi had held friends’ babies countless times, but she couldn’t seem to lift her arms, nod her head, or even make an excuse.
“Saints above, Violet,” Mam said, moving in front of Michael. “One would think you’d never seen a baby. Let me hold the child.”
Michael handed his daughter over to his mother, and it seemed to Vi that the room stilled. Mam fussed with Maggie’s blanket a bit, then said, “Fine work, indeed. Pity, though, she wasn’t twins. Now, Violet, hold out your arms like a good auntie.”
“I’m…I’m needing some air,” Vi said and bolted from the house, not even first look
ing for her cape.
The night air bit into her skin as up the hill she went, away from the warm light of the house, nearly stumbling in the darkness. When she reached Michael’s workshop, she felt for the door and stepped inside, not even bothering to switch on the light. She wrapped her arms tightly around herself, hoping to hold at least some of the damn selfishness inside.
“If this was a test, Nan, I’ve failed,” she said.
Nan gave no answer, though Vi soon heard human footsteps approaching.
“Vi, are you in there?” Liam called.
There was no dignity to be gained in hiding. “I am.”
He came inside and turned on the lights. Vi focused on the toes of her shoes, telling herself that she was doing so only to let her eyes adjust and not out of a sense of shame.
Liam drew her into his arms. “Are you all right?” he asked.
“I was just needing a moment to collect myself.” She hurt down to her bones with the worry she’d had for Kylie and with the knowledge that she was so much less than the woman she aspired to be.
“Understandable,” Liam said. “It’s been quite a day, hasn’t it?”
“Overwhelming,” she replied.
Vi inhaled deeply, both to calm her nerves and to catch the scent of the workshop. Tangy cedar overlaid other less distinct wood scents, making a perfume that she loved.
She and Liam stood silent for a while, and she began to believe that she might yet survive this night.
“I remember the day Meghan was born as if it were yesterday,” Liam said, putting out that small flicker of hope she’d just admitted to.
He slid his arms lower on Vi’s waist, but didn’t let her go. “Hard to believe it was over twelve years ago.”
“I’m sure,” she said, wishing she could cry “Any bloody topic but this!”
“I haven’t been the best of fathers.”
“Nor the worst, either. Meghan knows she’s loved,” Vi said, easing from his embrace and eyeing the door. She’d best get home and feed Roger, and then—
“And I know what I’ve missed, too.” He shook his head. “I never thought I’d be saying this, but seeing your brother’s child and missing mine so…”
He was going to have her heart to dine on, wasn’t he? It took none of Nan’s vision to know what was coming next. Vi steeled herself for the blow.
“Have you thought of having children, Vi?”
She forced a smile into place. “What, and upset Roger? He’s been an only child for far too long.”
“I’m serious.” He took her hands, and she wondered how he could miss the way she was trembling.
“Vi? Are you in there?” called Danny from just outside the half-closed workshop door.
Vi slipped her hands free. “Aye, Danny. Me and Liam, both.”
Her gaze locked with Liam’s and shame was hers again. She’d done a poor job of hiding her relief at the interruption, and hurt a man she loved.
“Breege and Edna need running back to the village,” Danny announced, oblivious to the charged emotions around him. “Both don’t like to drive after sundown, they say. And they won’t have me or Pat take them, as they’ve seen the way we drive.” He made a scoffing sound. “Heathens, Edna called us.”
“I’ll run them back,” Liam said. “Would you like to come now, Vi?”
She forced her voice into cheerful tones, though she knew there was no fooling Liam, nor any need to fool Danny, who was more forthright than sensitive. “I’ll stay on a bit, if you don’t mind. Pat or Danny can run me home.”
“I’ll come back,” Liam said.
“You really don’t need to.”
“I’m thinking I really do. And at least come back to the house for your cape. It’s freezing out here.”
So it was.
Vi escorted Liam and Danny to the house, took Liam’s kiss on her cheek before he left, then went to the kitchen, switched off the light and sat at the kitchen table. This time, should someone come in, she’d run for those beehive huts as she should have yesterday. She’d never felt so utterly desolate. Or devastated.
She curved her arms into a semicircle on the cool wood of the table, then rested her head, too. The front room’s television was set to some sporting event or another, and she supposed that her parents and the twins were in front of it. The ecstatic portion of the family Kilbride was no doubt bonding upstairs. She closed her eyes and tried to put herself someplace more personally peaceful, but remained anchored to Michael’s kitchen.
She didn’t doze, but still had lost track of time when she was roused by the sound of her mother’s voice in the dining room.
“Where do you suppose Violet’s got herself off to?” Mam asked.
“She must be with Liam,” her da replied.
“She could have at least said goodbye, don’t you think?”
“I think the night’s been a wild one. A lapse in manners can be forgiven.”
Chairs scraped the floor, and china rattled a bit. She imagined her parents were taking seats.
“We’re grandparents, now,” she heard her da say to her mam, wonderment in his voice. “It’s a fine thing, isn’t it, Maeve?”
“I’ve always loved babies,” her mother said. “They’re so perfect…so unspoilt.”
Vi had never thought she’d agree with her mother on anything, but she, too, had been stricken—aye, that was the word—stricken with the beauty of that little girl, messy, red and ready to squall as she was.
“It’s only when they grow older, eh, love?” her father said. “That’s when the road grows rocky.”
“That’s when I have to admit I failed.”
“Failed?”
“Yes, failed,” her mother said flatly.
“You and your affair with perfection! Have you looked at our children? All are either doing something they love or are on their way to it. We made our mistakes, and they thrived anyway.”
“You’re too easy on the lot of us. Others have doctors and accountants for children, and we’ve turned out former convicts and starving underachievers.”
“We have content children,” Da said, apparently unwilling to take a full dose of Mam’s bitterness. God knew Vi was reeling from what she’d already heard.
“Our children might not be what you want, but they’re not starving or criminals…no, not even Michael,” Da said. “They are as they wish. Is that so damn bad? And have you listened deeper to those tea ladies with their children grown to be doctors and accountants? Christ knows I’ve had to, lately. It’s not so bloody feck-all perfect with them, either.”
“Michael, language!”
Vi half-smiled into the circle of her arms, imagining her mother’s appalled expression.
“I’m right though, aren’t I?”
“I suppose,” her mother conceded. “But don’t expect the tea ladies to be admitting it.”
Da chuckled, and then the room fell into silence.
“You know,” Da said after a bit, “Maggie coming into the world tonight has made me sure of one thing. We’ve got to seize our happiness now…and seek our forgiveness. We’re getting no younger.”
“And what is your happiness, Michael? Is it leaving me in Kilkenny?”
“No, it’s being needed. It’s having a purpose again, not wandering about our house, dreaming maybe I’ll get the old job back, and wondering how many more days I can go on if I don’t.”
“I see. So I’m not a part of this at all.”
“Of course you are! But I need you to bend far enough to see that our life’s not going to be what it’s been for all these years. I won’t stay in that house, Maeve, and be useless. And if that means we move, I want it to be us, and not just me.”
“But I don’t want to have to.”
“And I’d like my hair to stop thinning, but that doesn’t change matters. We’ve had our good days…and plenty of them, too. We need to build new ones, and we need them with all our children.
“I know you feel the children�
�s struggles reflect on you. But they’re grown now, and what they do is their choice. They can call you or not, and see you or not. Can you try, Maeve, to let go of some of the anger? We won’t be seeing much of them if you don’t.”
Mam’s answer was slow in coming.
“I can try, not that they’ll even notice.” The words were laden with skepticism, but still more positive than what Vi had prepared herself to hear.
“And can we try to be kinder to each other, too?” Da asked. “Can we find those good days again?”
Silence stretched so long that Vi began to wonder if she’d dreamt what she’d heard thus far.
“I suppose we should,” her mam said. “It’s only right with a grandbaby to be thinking about.”
“God love and protect Maggie, but I’m thinking of us right now. Do you want to try again for me?”
Her mother’s answer was muffled. Vi lifted her head and listened more acutely.
“What did you say while sipping that tea?” her da asked.
A teacup rattled. “I said I do, Michael Kilbride, as you damn well knew.”
Her da laughed. “Language, now, Maeve.” There was the scrape of a chair against the wood floor, then a moment’s silence. “And I do, too,” said Da after what Vi wagered was a kiss, startling as the thought was.
Mam’s laughter was a sound rarely heard, but it rang out now. “Look at us, practically marrying again in a dining room. It’s mad.”
“Aye,” Da said. “But we’ve made our promises, and once we head home the real work begins.”
Vi resettled her head against her arms and moved back into her world of one. She should be happier at this moment, for at least her parents were going to try again. Instead she felt nothing except exhaustion and emptiness.
After more china rattling and the sound of shoes against the floor, Vi heard the door between the dining room and the kitchen open. She didn’t lift her head, and if the soul who peeked in—be it Mam or Da—saw her, they didn’t say a word.
She was becoming more of a ghost than Nan Kilbride.
Chapter Nineteen
Better a good run than a bad stand.
—IRISH PROVERB