Flipping on the main switch, she allowed fifteen minutes for the pipes to fill with hot water before filling the tub. Stripping off her clothes, she sank back into the steaming bath, closed her eyes and smiled. It was wonderful to have left youth behind, to be in the middle of her life, to no longer feel the desperate yearning associated with first love. Experience was so healing. Once she'd believed there was only one man for her and if she couldn't have him for herself, his voice, his smile, his eyes, his choice of phrase, she would wake with an ache in her heart for the rest of her days. How ridiculous she'd been. How quickly she'd adapted. Jack Rafferty was a lovely man and she would enjoy seeing him again. But there would be no drama, no hard choices this time. He'd given her a tremendous gift, the confidence to know she was desired. That knowledge put everything into a different perspective.
Chapter 42
Kate
Joan Connelly hung up the phone and leaned forward her elbows on her desk. "I'll be sorry to see you go, Kate. I've really enjoyed working with you. We never did go to lunch. I guess we were both busy."
Kate smiled. "I know. It seemed like we had all the time in the world."
"I hope it's nothing anyone here has done."
"Not at all. Everyone here has been wonderful. I just need to move on." It was true. Everyone at the County Council offices was quite friendly.
"Maybe, when you come back to visit, we can get together." Joan laughed. "Wouldn't it be desperate if we became close friends after you moved to Dublin?"
"True." Kate continued to pack her personal belongings in the box. She was feeling quite strange.
The phone on Joan's desk rang. She picked it up. "Joan Connelly here. Yes, right away." She replaced the receiver and nodded at Kate. "Mr. Halloran wants to see you in the conference room. I'm to come with you. He probably wants to be sure I'm caught up on your duties."
Kate packed Evan's photo, the last of her momentos, and sealed the box with tape. "That should do it." She smiled brightly. "Shall we go?"
Joan maintained a steady flow of conversation until they reached the conference room. Then she fell behind allowing Kate to pass in front of her. "After you," she said.
Kate opened the door and stepped inside. There was a hushed silence and then suddenly the room exploded in sound. "Surprise, Surprise," voices called out, crowding around, pulling her toward the long oval table and a very large cake decorated with pink roses, the words good luck, and her name spelled out in green letters.
Kate sank into the nearest chair. "My goodness," she said weakly. "I don't—, I didn't expect—, thank you, thank you, so very much." Then she covered her eyes with both hands and burst into tears.
* * *
Dolly
She sat in the garden just outside the solarium, deep in thought, her eyes closed against the rare sunlight warming the glass. Seamus sat at her feet, nose resting on his paws, his breathing even. Something important hovered on the edge of her consciousness but she couldn't call it up enough to get a closer look at it. She felt unsettled, almost uncomfortable, with a tension she'd never felt before and that was desperate considering the way life was now compared to when she was a child, the one bathroom outside with only a toilet, a sink in the kitchen and nine hungry children pressed together in a house the size of a postage stamp.
Johannah's house was lovely with its stone walls and brick facing, two chimneys, central heat, the gates opening to long green gardens. There were rooms for all of them, Kate and Liam, Evan, Johannah and even herself, although she resented having to live here. It wasn't that she didn't love them. They were her family after all. But she didn't want to be underfoot every day. She didn't always want to say good morning or share the newspaper or talk over tea. Some days she wanted to stay in bed past nine, wear her wrap until noon and go back to bed again. And then there was the food. Johannah was obsessed with food and the preparation of meals, not quite so much as Kate was, but still more than suited Dolly. Everything had to be healthy, whole meal and nonfat, or free-range and filled with Omega 3s, all things tasteless. What was the point of eating if food was tasteless?
Dolly preferred richness, whole milk in her tea, jelly with plenty of sugar, lovely soft white bread and real Kerry butter, golden and smooth, soothing on her tongue. Despite all of that, she didn't even weigh eight stone. These fat children walking around today with their sugarless drinks, their hamburgers and pizza were doomed. Good Kerry pork, fillets of beef and marbled lamb is what they should be eating, with plenty of spuds, parsnips and carrots.
In all fairness, Johannah was not a proponent of fast food and she was a fine cook, taking her time to put a lovely meal on the table. But outside of meals there was nothing in the refrigerator except yogurt and fruit and neither of those appealed to Dolly at all. She didn't want yogurt or apples with her tea. She wanted a proper crème cake, a vanilla or fruit scone with plenty of jam and butter, none of this Flora polyunsaturated stuff.
It wasn't just the food. Dolly missed her friends. They didn't stop in and visit the way they did in Kevin Barry's. The trek up to Ballyard was a deterrent to anyone over the age of sixty and Dolly's crowd was well over that. She wanted to go home but it looked like that was out of the question. A thought materialized in her mind. Perhaps she should go somewhere else, somewhere that catered to people her age. Quickly, before the idea was formed properly, she pushed it away. Those places were for old people. She wasn't old, at least not that old, not yet.
A shadow fell across the potted flowers beside her and a voice she recognized spoke. "Hello, Dolly."
She shaded her eyes. "Mickey, is it you? How lovely to see you. Sit down and I'll put the kettle on."
"Maybe later." He sat beside her. "How are you?"
She sighed. "I'm grand," she said automatically and then stopped. "No, I'm not. I don't like it here. I want to go home."
He smiled. "I know what you mean."
She considered him thoughtfully. "I imagine you do."
"Kevin Barry's is no longer possible."
She nodded. "I suppose I shall have to go into a facility."
He looked startled. "Hardly that."
"What else is there?"
"A Senior Citizen's Community would be a better choice, for now."
"For now?"
He looked up at the sky, a bright, cloudless blue, unusual for Ireland. "Your condition is manageable now, but you understand that it will get worse?"
"What condition are you referring to?"
"You forget things, Dolly," he explained gently. "Too often you're confused and frightened. No one should feel like that. Moving here with Hannie was a step, but she's not here during the day. Kate may be leaving soon and Liam needs a place of his own. You'll be alone. It's time to move on."
She opened her mouth, intending to contradict him and then stopped herself. He was right. The ugly truth was out and she had no argument. "I've seen those places," she said, her voice trembling. "I don't want to go."
"You're confusing a senior citizen's community with a nursing home. You won't be a prisoner, but there are other alternatives."
"How do you mean?"
He pulled his chair around to face her and took her hands in his. "It might be possible for you to return to your own home in Kevin Barry's if you agree to have someone stay with you, someone trained."
Her mouth thinned. "I don't want a stranger in my house."
"You could interview and find a woman to suit you. Wouldn't that be better than anything else we've already discussed?"
Dolly frowned and looked down at her lap. She didn't recall a discussion. Perhaps it wouldn't be so bad if she had a companion, someone to help her with the shopping and care of the house, someone she could count on to remember where everything was, someone to have lunch with in town. "I suppose so," she said slowly and looked up to meet his gaze, steady and reassuring, on her face. "I must have truly lost my mind, Mickey. I thought you died."
He smiled. "The thing is, Dolly, you haven't lost yo
ur mind at all."
She touched his cheek. "You feel real. Are you real, Mickey?"
"Yes."
A look of horror distorted her face. "You haven't come for me, have you, because I'm not at all ready."
"No, Dolly," he said gently. "You've some time left. I came back to sort things out with Johannah and the children, but I must leave soon."
Her relief was almost humorous. He would have laughed if he'd felt the least bit like laughing.
"It was kind of you to take time with me," she said formally.
He kissed her cheek. "You're my family. My wife is your daughter, my children your flesh and blood."
"You always were a good man, Mickey. I like—"she corrected herself, "liked you."
"I wasn't good enough, I'm afraid."
"Johannah misses you. We all miss you."
"I know that."
"I suppose I should tell Johannah that I've decided to hire someone to care for me."
"You're a strong woman, Dolly Little. I have faith in you."
"Shall I tell her about you?"
"As you wish."
"You're thinking she won't believe me."
"I doubt she will, but it doesn't really matter, does it?"
"No," she said after a minute. "It really doesn't."
"I'll leave you now, Dolly. Take care of yourself."
"Will I see you again?"
"You will, but not here, not in Tralee or even in Ireland." He squeezed her hand. "Does that frighten you?"
She thought a minute. "No. I'm relieved to know you'll be there to greet me."
He kissed her cheek. "I'll be seeing you."
"Slan Abhale, Mickey."
Chapter 43
Johannah
Maura poured herself a glass of wine, sat back in the chair, looked around Johannah's lovely garden and sighed. "It must be comforting having all this space and no one to hear when you flush the toilet."
"It is," Johannah agreed. "I've always been grateful that Mickey inherited this house."
"You've taken great care of it, Hannie. The stone work and the flowers give it just the right touch. I envy you."
"My mother wouldn't agree with you."
Maura frowned. "You sound as if you're insulted."
"I am, in a way."
"For heaven's sake, Hannie. She gave you a gift. She's moving back to her own house and leaving you in peace. It's what you wanted, your home back. Now that Kate and Liam are moving out, too, we should be drinking champagne."
"I suppose you're right." Johannah rubbed the etching on the globe of her glass. "I've become accustomed to having all of them here. I'll miss them, even my mother."
Maura chuckled. "Not for long, I guarantee it."
Johannah shook her head. "You're not the one coming home to an empty house."
"You won't be either if you play your cards right."
"How do you mean?"
"You've been about with Jack Rafferty for the better part of a month now. Didn't you tell me he was only staying a week? I'm your best friend, Hannie. What's going on?"
Johannah leaned forward, propping her chin on her hand. Why wasn't she over the moon about Jack Rafferty? Once, he would have been everything she wanted, handsome, intelligent, sophisticated and clearly interested in her. "I'm not sure," she said honestly. "I can't put my finger on it. It's as if I'm waiting for something. I know he's staying on my behalf, that's obvious, although he's never said so which prevents me from telling him to move along."
"Why would you want to do that?" Maura was losing patience.
"There are no bells and whistles."
"Sorry?"
"You heard me. He doesn't excite me."
Maura was staring at her, brown eyes wide and disbelieving. "Are you mad?"
Johannah laughed. "I know it sounds ridiculous."
"Hannie," Maura protested, "you're fifty years old. Bells and whistles are for children."
Johannah picked up her glass of wine for the first time. "This is lovely, isn't it? When Mickey was alive, I didn't drink at all, probably because he did so much of it."
"Do you know what I think?"
"Not really."
"I'm going to tell you anyway." She stopped, arrested. "What has Mickey's drinking got to do with anything?"
Johannah's cool green eyes rested on her friend's face. "I had bells and whistles with Mickey and I had bells and whistles with Francie. I'm capable of feeling bells and whistles. Without it, I can't imagine trying to make things work. How hard that must be."
"Maybe it isn't hard at all, if the person you choose doesn't have anything wrong with him."
"Don't be ridiculous. Eventually everyone is annoying. He'll bite his nails or become impatient or insist on the least expensive of a particular brand, or else the most expensive. He'll be pretentious or too blue collar or he'll resent my children and grandchildren. He'll want to go to the Bahamas instead of Paris and he'll be bothered because I spend so much time with you. No one is perfect, Maura. It's the bells and whistles that allow us to love someone despite all the imperfections."
"You're very particular. Do you know that?"
"Not at all," replied Johannah. "I love you and you're filled with imperfections."
"Hannie Enright! What a terrible thing to say." Curiosity won out. "What's wrong with me?"
"Let's see. Where shall I begin?" Johannah held up her fingers and began ticking them off. "You can eat until you're sick and never gain a pound. You never forget to write thank you cards. You say exactly what's on your mind without agonizing for days wondering if it's right or wrong. You have four children who are absolutely perfect and never forget your birthday. Your husband is alive and well and he adores you. Your hair curls naturally in all the right places and everyone loves you desperately."
Maura grinned. "You're right. I must be absolutely obnoxious. I can't imagine why you would want me for your friend. I know what your worry is, Johannah. You're afraid of making another mistake. Mind you, I don't think Mickey was a mistake, but you had your share of disappointments. I won't go into them now. It isn't kind to speak ill of the dead. I think you don't want to believe there could be a future with a perfectly acceptable man because you're afraid of being hurt if he doesn't meet your expectations of the perfect man. The really ironic part of all this is that you accept your friends, your co-workers and your blood for who they are, but you hold the men in your life to a higher standard." She stood and kissed Johannah on the cheek. "I'll take my imperfect self off now. Milo is waiting for his dinner. I'm assuming you'll be giving Mr. Rafferty the sack. Despite everything, I think you'll be sorry. Ring me when it's over and we'll take a long walk."
Johannah watched her until she passed through the gate and her car disappeared down the road.
Gathering up the glasses and the bottle, she walked through the sunroom into the kitchen, poured the wine remnants into the sink, threw the bottle into the recycler and began washing the glasses.
"Hi, Mom."
Surprised, she turned to see her daughter standing in the doorway. "Kate. I didn't hear the car. Where's Evan and your nan?"
"They're coming. Dermot dropped us off. It's actually his car."
"Really." Johannah turned back to the sink. "I thought the two of you chose it together."
"You know what I mean." Kate walked into the kitchen and began filling the kettle. "Nan will be wanting a cup of tea."
"Did I hear my name?" Dolly appeared holding Evan's hand.
"I'm making tea, Nan. Sit down and I'll pour it in a flash. I'll pour yours, too, Mom."
Johannah shut the water off. "To what do I owe this honor, my entire family, except for Liam, home to have tea with me?"
"I found a place in Dublin."
"Already?" Johannah felt a sudden sick twisting of her stomach. "Where?"
"In Dublin 9. It's a lovely area."
"We're going to be Dubliners," Evan crowed.
Johannah left the dripping glasses on the counter and sa
t down beside her mother. "You're all leaving at once. I won't know what to do with myself."
"I doubt that," said Dolly. "You can't have been thrilled to have us all foisted on you."
"Believe it or not, I've grown accustomed to it," Johannah admitted. "I shall miss you."
Evan's smooth forehead creased. "Don't you want us to go, Nan?" He looked at his mother. "Can Nan come with us?"
"She won't want to do that, Evan," said Kate quickly. "Nan lives here. Her job is here, just as mine is in Dublin."
His lip quivered. "When shall we see her?"
Johannah held out her arms and he climbed into her lap. She buried her face into the folds of his sweet, sweaty neck. "I'll see you every month," she promised, "and I'll bring you something every time."
He stared at her solemnly, as if gauging the strength of her vow. Finally he nodded. "All right. I'll wait for you."
Kate looked stricken. "Are you terribly upset, Mom?"
"Good heavens, no," Johannah lied. "You've found a job in your field which isn't easy to do. You must live your life, Kate. I'm thrilled for you. Of course, I shall miss you, but Dublin isn't America or Australia, thank God. You'll be just around the corner."
Kate poured three cups of tea and sat down, smiling first at Dolly and then at her mother. Johannah was puzzled. Something wasn't right. Kate's voice was hollow and she looked as if she was trying very hard to convince everyone she was happy.
"I can't believe the luck I've had," she said. "The flat came up unexpectedly. I'd nearly given up hope of finding something so close to where I'll be working. It's a lovely Victorian with large rooms and two baths. The photos are beautiful."
Dolly looked perplexed. "When did you go to Dublin, Kate? We've been together all afternoon."
"On the Internet, Nan. It's called a virtual tour. Everyone does it these days."
Dolly pushed her tea away. "I've changed my mind about the tea." She looked around. "Where's Seamus?"
Hannie Rising Page 27