by Alta Hensley
The door opened and I turned, ready to see my family, yet it was an older woman who entered, a nurse I had yet to meet.
“Good morning, dear,” she said, moving to the bed. “How are you feeling today?”
“Better,” I said. “When can I go home?”
She smiled, moving around the bed to where the IV stand was. “As soon as the doctor makes his rounds. It will be a bit, but we can at least get rid of this for you,” she said. I only winced slightly as she pulled the IV needle free.
“How is Nolan?” I asked, the act of pressing a cotton ball to the puncture site reminding me of the makeshift bandage I’d pressed to Nolan’s bullet wound.
The nurse’s hesitation had my heart pounding. Had Nolan’s condition worsened? The beep on the machine quickened as if it knew I was fearing the worst. The sound seemed to prod the woman to answer.
“We’re not allowed to discuss the conditions of our patients with anyone but family.”
“They are my family,” I said without hesitation.
“I’m afraid you’re not listed as being a relative of the O’Sheas, Miss McKnight. But perhaps you can discuss it with the doctor.” The woman’s smile seemed forced to me, as if she were attempting to ensure her patient didn’t have some sort of setback. Well, to hell with that. I wanted answers and I wanted them now. I pulled the clip that monitored my oxygen intake off my fingertip and removed the blood pressure cuff around my upper arm, not particularly giving a shit that it was in the process of inflating to take a reading.
“Wait, I’ll get that,” the woman said.
“I’ve got it,” I said, allowing the leads to drop off the side of the bed and swinging my legs over the edge. “If you can’t get me some answers, then I’ll get them myself.” I stood then swayed a bit, grabbing onto the bed, closing my eyes as a wave of vertigo washed through me.
My arm was taken, and the nurse eased me to sit down on the edge of the mattress. “Just sit for a moment. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
“Please, I-I have to know,” I said, my voice quivering.
“Now, don’t worry your little head, dearie. Mr. O’Shea was in good hands. I’m positive he’s fine,” she said, giving my arm a pat that didn’t feel comforting, it felt patronizing.
“Fine? Define fine,” I said. “He was shot. He lost a lot of blood.” In case that wasn’t enough to sway her, I added, “I was there when it happened. Saw him shoot the man who was trying to kill us. I took off my shirt and pressed it to the bullet hole in his arm. So, excuse me if I don’t care about some stupid fucking rule, I believe I have the right to know how a member of my family is!”
She didn’t speak for a moment and then gave a furtive glance toward the door, as if making sure she’d have no witnesses. Evidently satisfied, she looked back at me. “Are all Americans so very—”
“Concerned about their loved ones?” I provided.
“I was going to say insistent, but I suppose concerned works just as well.” For the first time, her smile appeared genuine. “And in my professional capacity as a nurse, it is my duty to keep my patient as calm as possible. So, I’ve come to the conclusion that sharing a bit of information will alleviate the stress that is detrimental to your recovery.”
As someone who’d done a bit of dancing about the rules myself, I had to give her points for creative thinking. Smiling, I nodded. “Well said, and if needed, I’ll be glad to testify you were only attempting to keep me from going bat-shit crazy with worry.”
She told me that the bullet had gone completely through Nolan’s arm. That the bandage I’d applied had kept him from bleeding out. She explained how he’d been given units of blood to replace those he’d lost, and that while he’d be using a sling for a few weeks, he really was going to be fine and had already been discharged.
“How is that possible?” I asked. “I’m still here, and all I had were a couple of small burns.”
“You had far more than a couple,” she corrected, touching the edge of the gauze. “Some second degree. And you inhaled a great deal of smoke. You have several bruises and a few lacerations as well.” She paused and reached for my hand, giving it a squeeze. “What you did was stupid, but incredibly brave. I understand you ran into the burning barn to free the animals. You’re really quite lucky to be alive.”
I didn’t feel brave, I felt adrift. It occurred to me that not only had I been in this hospital far longer than Nolan, I’d yet to see any one of my men. Were the rules regarding family really that strict?
“Thank you for telling me. I’m sure they’ve been just as worried about me.” I looked toward the door. “I’m actually surprised they’ve not visited. They don’t tend to follow the rules too closely,” I said with a smile. “I’m sure they’ll want to know when I’m to be discharged so they can take me home.”
The expression on her face changed. It was no longer one of indulgence a parent would give a child. It was one of pity, as if knowing the news she was about to provide wouldn’t be welcomed.
“What is it?” I asked, then a thought had me pushing up to stand again. “I can’t believe this,” I said, looking around. “Where are my clothes? I need to go.”
“You’ve not seen the doctor yet,” she said.
“I don’t care. I’m fine. Well, not fine, I’m pissed. How in the hell could they blame any of my men for what happened? They were defending their sister. They were defending me! Dallas and those other bastards came onto O’Shea land with the intention of killing every single one of them. How the police could have arrested them… put them in some cell like common criminals… that’s just… just wrong!”
“Please, Miss McKnight, you need to calm down,” she said, reaching for me. I didn’t allow her to grab me. I went to the cabinet by the door, opening it to find it empty except for a stack of hospital gowns like the one I was presently wearing. No hanging clothes or even a bag where they’d been stored for me.
“Where are my clothes?” I repeated. “Were they taken into evidence? Do you have—”
I stopped speaking when the door opened and a man in a white coat came in. He was younger than the nurse by at least twenty years, and yet I could tell how relieved the older woman was to see him.
“Good morning, Dr. McCauley,” the nurse said.
“Good morning, Mrs. Shoney,” he replied and then looked at me, giving me a smile. “And Miss McKnight. Good to see you up and about.”
“I need to borrow some clothes, scrubs or something,” I said in way of greeting. “Mine are gone, and I need to get to the police station.” I paused and ran a hand through my hair, realizing I not only had no clothes, I had no car and no money. “I’m afraid I don’t have my purse or any credit cards to pay the bill right now, and if someone will loan me taxi… or bus fare, I promise I’ll pay you back.”
Dr. McCauley nodded, gesturing toward the bed. “I’ll make sure you get whatever you need, but please, sit down for a moment.”
“I don’t want to sit, I want to leave,” I said, my voice going shriller, and I began to have to struggle to draw in a breath, as if I’d been running.
“You need to calm yourself,” the doctor said. “I don’t like the sound of that wheezing.”
“Please, I just need to go.”
The doctor and nurse exchanged a look that had my heart skipping a beat. Something was off… wrong. “What is it?” I said. “What are you keeping from me?”
“Nurse, perhaps you could get some juice for Miss McKnight.”
“Certainly, Doctor,” the woman said, rushing out the door as if glad to have been given some task, or perhaps escaping something she knew would be unpleasant. Once the door closed behind her, Dr. McCauley again gestured toward the bed and this time, I moved to sit down on the edge. As he drew up the single chair to position it in front of me, taking a seat, I picked up the pillow on the bed, pulling it onto my lap, clutching it as if I needed some sort of anchor to keep me from just dashing out the door to find my men.
I listened to him tell me that the brothers were not in jail, had never been arrested, and no charges had been filed. He explained arson had been the cause of the barn burning and that the O’Sheas had been exonerated of all wrongdoing. The six men who’d died had all been identified as belonging to a cartel, a mafia of sorts, run by one Dallas Callaghan, the man whose remains had been found in the barn.
“He’s the man who murdered Alana, who killed their parents in America as well,” I said.
“That’s also been determined,” he said, nodding. “The O’Sheas are very well known in these parts. They are well-respected, and it is a tragedy they’ve lost yet another member of their family.”
I nodded, fighting back the wave of sadness that threatened to start tears flowing again. “It is horrible. Alana is… was such a special person. Please, I really need to see them… be with them. They are all the family I have left.”
The look he tried to hide by ducking his head had me more frightened than I’d been in the barn or in the gunfight. I was scared, and yet I had to know. “Look, whatever it is, please, just tell me. I’m a big girl. I can handle it.”
“They’ve asked me to relay the message that they don’t wish to see you,” he said calmly, as if he wasn’t destroying my entire world.
“What do you mean, they-they don’t want to see me?” I asked, not believing what I was hearing. “You must have gotten the message wrong.”
Shaking his head, he opened the chart he’d carried in and removed something… an envelope. Holding it out, he said, “Mr. O’Shea, asked me to give this to you when you were well enough to leave the hospital. You don’t need to worry about the bill. Cal’s paid it.” The door opened, and he stood as Nurse Shoney entered, a tray in her hands. “Thank you, Nurse,” he said, moving the chair he’d been using out of the way and pulling the rolling bedside table closer so she could put the tray down. “Have your breakfast and read what’s in the envelope. I’ll be back to give you a quick exam to see if I believe you are ready for discharge.”
The doctor came closer, laying the envelope I’d not taken beside me on the bed. “I don’t know what’s in here, but I do know the O’Sheas are good people. Whatever it is, I’m sure it is for the best.”
I didn’t know how he could sound so cheerful, so positive because I knew he was lying. Just as I had lied earlier. I couldn’t handle this… I couldn’t handle it at all.
“Read the letter, ” the nurse said once the doctor had left. “It’s far better to know than to imagine all sorts of things, don’t you think?”
I thought it would be far better if none of this was happening. Far better if I’d awakened to my men… the men I loved at my bedside. But, they hadn’t been, and weren’t even waiting to see me. All I had of them was the envelope. I finally picked it up, slid my finger beneath the flap, and pulled out a stack of money and two pieces of paper. The first appeared to be some sort of travel voucher.
My hands were trembling as I unfolded the second to see it was a letter. I scanned it and then shook my head, positive I’d read it wrong. After a moment, I forced myself to read the letter again.
Dear Monet –
Please understand that this was not an easy letter to write, but it needed to be done. First, it kills us that you were injured, that you witnessed something so horrific. We know that while you were forced to pretend so many things, you were truly friends with Alana, and, for that, we thank you.
What we did was wrong. Taking you from your home, destroying your store... your life, is unforgivable. We aren’t asking for forgiveness, but we do hope you allow us to do what we can to try to restore your life to you.
The money enclosed is strictly to help pay for things you’ll need on your trip home. The travel voucher will direct you to a private plane to fly you back to the States. Having no passport makes it impossible for you to fly commercially, but your flight home will be quite comfortable. We are setting aside additional funds to purchase the house of your choice, furniture, clothing… anything you need to make your home. We know nothing can replace the store your grandmother left you, but please know we will fund a store and, of course, inventory when you are ready to start anew. An additional sum will be placed in an account of your choice. We know money won’t make you forget all we put you through, but it is our hope it will help you begin a new life in America.
As we said, we had no right to take you, and we know how angry Alana would be if she knew what we’d done. You allowed us to appear to be better men than we are—something we did not earn but for which we are grateful.
Our hope is that you find a good life, a better life because you deserve that and so much more.
Four names followed, four men whom I’d come to consider far more than my family and while I had no doubt that Cal had penned the letter, all four had signed as if agreeing they didn’t want me. They weren’t here to greet me, to take me home because I wasn’t their bride… I wasn’t even their girl. They truly were sending me away.
Lifting my eyes, I had to admit, I’d not read it wrong. The words remained the same. But why? After all we’d been through together. How could they toss me away as if I was nothing? I’d made Alana a promise… a promise I wasn’t going to be allowed to keep. Instead, according to the letter, I was supposed to forget everything that had happened. I was supposed to go back to America? As if I’d simply been away for a bit of a holiday.
Suddenly, I was no longer trembling in fear of what I might discover. I was shaking in anger.
Fuck you! I thought, crushing the letter in my hands.
“What’s that?”
Startled, I looked up to see Nurse Shoney standing by the table that held a breakfast I’d never eat. Realizing I must have spoken out loud, I said, “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean you… I meant…” I paused and then straightened and shook my head. “I guess you were right. I guess I’m not family after all.”
“No, I wasn’t right, and neither is Doctor McCauley,” she said. “You don’t strike me as one who would buy into all that ‘for the best’ malarkey, so don’t go disappointing me now. What happened to that spirited girl who was ready to take on the entire police force for her men?”
“But…” I began and then stopped and looked down at the letter in my lap and then back to her. “You’re right, and I’m not going to go down without a fight.”
Her smile was wide as she nodded. “That’s the spirit. Like the doctor said, the O’Sheas are good people, but, well… they are also men. Men who are hurting. And, you, child, are their family, whether they know it or not. Now, get dressed while I arrange for some transportation.”
“I don’t have any clothes.”
“Sure you do. Hang on.” She left, and I smoothed the letter out, reading it one more time. When she returned, she was carrying a suitcase. “Seems like those men who ‘don’t care’ packed you a bag. It was at the nurses’ station.” She tilted her head to the side. “Shall I instruct the driver you’ll be going to the airport or—”
“I’ll be going home to the O’Shea farm,” I said. “I’m going to be telling my men I’m not going anywhere.”
“Good for you,” she said, lifting the suitcase up onto the bed. “Our men may be pigheaded old coots, but nothing persistence and love, and the occasional kick in the magairli can’t cure.”
I might not speak Gaelic, but I had a pretty good idea of what she meant. And, if I was going into battle, I needed fortification. Opening the suitcase, I chose some clothing and headed into the bathroom. The nurse followed, giving me instructions on what I needed to do to protect my injured skin in the shower. After I’d stepped out of the stall, she had me use one towel to dry my injured skin, another for the rest, explaining I needed to keep the two separate. It took me only a few minutes to re-dress the healing burns and pull on my clothes. After brushing out the tangles and drying my hair, I smiled as my new friend handed me a small bag, opening it to find some cosmetics. I hadn’t worn makeup in months, but I was going into battle
. A bit of war paint couldn’t hurt. Once I had done all I could, I left the bathroom.
“Thank you, Nurse Shoney,” I said, impulsively reaching out to give her a hug. “For everything.”
“Call me Nessa, and you don’t have to thank me,” she said. “Now, my nephew is on his way. You’ve got time to eat… and don’t bother arguing, missy. If you are going up against the O’Shea brothers, you’re going to need your strength.” She lifted the lid covering the plate, and I smiled. Instead of the typical hospital fare, I saw a plate heaping with what I’d learned was considered a hearty Irish breakfast. Fried eggs and thick sausages sat beside a pile of toast and slices of bacon. A small bowl held what American’s considered baked beans but were called Irish beans here. I’d been positive I’d not be able to eat a bite, but without a word of protest, I perched on the bed and ate every single thing on the plate, drank the juice and a cup of coffee. When the door opened again, it was to admit Nessa and a young man she introduced as her nephew Jimmy.
“You can wait for the doctor to discharge you, or I’ve taken the liberty of bringing in a release form a patient can sign,” she said, holding out a chart. Not about to take the chance that the doctor would use my bit of wheezing as an excuse to keep me longer, I scrawled my name at the bottom.
“Wish me luck,” I said, slipping the letter and money into the pocket of the skirt I’d found in the suitcase.
“I have a feeling you’re not going to need luck, but if your men don’t fall in line, you just give me a call.”
Jimmy chuckled as he shook his head. “She’s not kidding either. Aunt Nessa doesn’t put up with any sh… uh, crap.”
Nessa laughed. “That’s right. The Scot’s Nessie has nothing on me. She might be bigger, but neither one of us is someone you want to tangle with.”