In the Company of Others (40 page)

‘It just seems that families can be very hard to come by.’

‘Granted,’ he said.

‘And now that I’ve come by this one, I’ll miss them.’

‘There’s the telephone and email and pen and paper.’

‘Not the same.’

He folded another shirt. ‘We can’t be moving here, you know.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘Because then I would miss Mitford, and want to move there.’

She had gone into the bathroom when the knock came.

Liam with his hands behind his back, serious as an altar boy.

He couldn’t take another catastrophe.

‘For Cynthia,’ Liam said, presenting a fistful of flowers. ‘For puttin’ up with th’ Conors. There’s a vase under th’ sink.’

‘We thank you, Liam. Very much. Any plan yet for Ibiza?’

The blue eyes, the big grin. ‘Day after tomorrow. ’

It was a high-five kind of day.

‘Dinner will be early an’ quick this evening, six-thirty. After, we’d like you and Cynthia to come with us to Cathair Mohr—if you don’t mind.’

‘We don’t mind a bit, glad to be asked.’

‘Lorna an’ th’ niece are off seein’ castles, so no guests at th’ table this evenin’. ’t is a wee holiday for us, then ten cyclists comin’ to take up th’ slack th’ day we leave.’

‘Great news.’

‘Tad’s back a bit early; he’ll join us on th’ hill. Feeney’s with us for dinner, says bring your prayer book, we’re ecumenical this evenin’.’

He knocked on the bathroom door. ‘Did you hear that? We have an invitation to Catharmore this evening. Dinner here at six-thirty. Be there or be square.’

She came into the room and held out her hands for the flowers, happy.

‘I don’t know what’s going on,’ he said, ‘but I think it’s going to be good.’ He had to do something with the energy that surged in from out of the blue. He picked her up, flowers and all, and swung her around a time or two like in the movies. It just felt right.

Forty-three

‘Paddy’s home,’ Feeney said over dinner. ‘Looks like he’s cleared of any suspicion.’

Liam pushing his plate away. ‘Who does she want to come up?’

‘She says matters are settled with Willie Donavan, she’d like to see only family and the Kav’nas and myself. And Seamus, she says, Seamus is family.’

‘Am I family?’ Bella asked Anna.

Liam put his arm around Bella. ‘For better or for worse, kiddo.’

Tad was vested in the violet chasuble over white alb. They met in Catharmore’s front hall, greeting one another after the manner of warm acquaintances.

‘She says she’s turned her life over to God; that you came often and prayed with her.’

‘I think she was eager for you to be home.’

‘I hadn’t planned to come back so soon. The Holy Spirit literally yanked me home by the collar.’

‘What may I do?’

‘Whatever you like—pray, read a Psalm, just be here. I’d like to keep it simple, let the Spirit move. She’s set on making her confession to the whole family—can’t say I ever witnessed such an event.’

‘She seems entirely ready to be sober, to let God have control.’

‘The family are grateful, Tim, as am I. Thanks for everything.’

He grinned. ‘I was all they had.’

The others lining up in the rear hall.

‘I never got to the hard part with her,’ he said. ‘Forgiving herself.’

‘Twill take time.’

They all nodded to Fletcher as she left the bedroom. Carrying a stethoscope, Feeney entered first, then Anna, Bella, Liam, Cynthia, himself, Seamus, Paddy, and Tad. Feeney stood at Evelyn’s left, Tad at her right. The others formed a half circle around the bed, save for Paddy, who stood by the door, his back stiff to the wall.

Evelyn’s breathing was even, her eyes closed—she might have been sleeping. The early evening light came in to them; he saw a rose in a vase on her table.

Tad made the sign of the cross. ‘In the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.’ Without opening her eyes, Evelyn signed the cross with the forefinger of her right hand.

‘May God, who has enlightened every heart, help us to know our sins and trust in his mercy. Amen.’

‘Amen.’

Evelyn opened her eyes, looked around the room.

‘I made my last confession to a Roman priest and Almighty God before I was married sixty-five years ago. I confess that immediately afterward, I waged a cruel self-determination against my husband’s love of God and Church. Riley Conor was a good man, but I had taught myself to despise what was good.’

Her forefinger tapping the coverlet.

‘I confess to you, Liam, my son, that you came into this world a motherless child. I have missed the many years of knowing the kind and curious lad you were and the kind and earnest man you’ve become.’

Liam broken by this, his hand over his face, Anna’s arm around him.

‘I confess to you, Anna, that I was jealous of your beauty, your thoughtful ways, and your steadfast love of my son.’

Liam to his knees at the foot of the bed, Anna to hers.

The room and all in it, frozen but for tears—the loosing of regret.

‘I confess to you, Bella, that I have neglected you and bitterly judged you and your father. I know nothing of your musical gift, which is said to be from God. I know nothing of how you think or what you might wish to become in this sundered world. I pray God will allow me time to remedy this grave oversight.’

Bella’s head bowed, kneeling by her mother.

‘Paddy, I confess to you that I have treated you harshly by coddling you softly. I have warred against your brilliant mind, and consigned to you the bitter role of ne’er-do-well who cannot please me except by providing the drink.’

Paddy’s head against the wall, eyes closed, his face wet with tears.

‘I have lived a lie with all of you, even you, Seamus, whom I have treated always as a servant and not as a kind and generous man who cares for our family more dearly than we have been able to do.’

The panting. ‘Water, please,’ she said. Feeney took up the pitcher and poured and gave her the bent straw.

‘Father O’Reilly, I confess to charging you never to speak of God to me, and though you never spoke of him, you revealed him in faithful concern for my well-being, and in honoring your promise to my departed husband. James Feeney, I confess the sin of looking without feeling upon the death of your wife, and for selfishly keeping you at a trot due to my unholy love of the drink.

‘If God gives me breath, I will do all in my power to right these wrongs, and many which we’ve no time nor strength to name. And more than anything I would ask this of God—so newly known to me, and yet so long familiar—that I will be forgiven by him and by each of you, for these and other sins of which I truly repent.’

He and Cynthia went to their knees, as did Seamus and Feeney. Paddy stood by the door.

‘God, the Father of mercies,’ said Tad, ‘through the death and resurrection of his Son, has reconciled the world to himself and sent the Holy Spirit among us for the forgiveness of sins. Through the ministry of the Church, may God give you pardon and peace.

‘Evelyn Aednat McGuiness Conor . . .’ Tad made the sign of the cross over the penitent. ‘I absolve you from your sins in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit.’

Evelyn panting with exhaustion; Feeney stooping to her with the stethoscope. Paddy weeping yet, crucified.

The wafer, then, and the cup.

There was a bit of a fire in the front hall, where he sat with James Feeney.

‘I’ll be here every evening ’til things turn around,’ said Feeney. ‘On evenings when I’m late coming, I’ll be in a meeting in a church basement near the clinic. At those times when I’ve something to share with the assembled, I open by saying, My name is James, and I’m an alcoholic.’

‘How long sober?’

‘Eleven years.’

‘The other evening, you said I should keep my promise to take Cynthia to dinner. It seemed important to you.’

‘It’s the little things we fall behind in, we think they can wait. I thought I’d get around to spending more time with my wife, but my work and th’ drink took all my time. Then she died. And then I got sober. I cheated her, Tim.’

‘Do you forgive yourself?’

‘Still working on it, really, but getting there. The meetings are a lifeline for me, plain and simple.’

‘Many a church basement has such a high calling,’ he said.

‘I hope I’m not wrong in encouraging Liam and Anna to get away. I’ve been on the edge about Evelyn—God knows I don’t know whether she can make it. I think she can, but there are no guarantees. At the same time, if anybody ever needed a break, it’s those two. And along comes th’ woman with that great thatch of hair and it does look a Godsend.’

‘What happened tonight seems the important thing in the end.’

‘I agree. Yet it scared me to death for her. The rigor of it.’

‘Vital signs?’

‘Good, thank God. Thanks for all you’ve done, Tim.’

‘And you, James. Thank you. Is she good to go, the Missus Kav’na?’

‘Good to go. Keep an eye on her. Have her see her doctor as soon as you get home.’

‘Will do.’

‘I wanted you to know we’ll get an AA meeting out to Evelyn each week.’

‘How will she take to that?’

‘She’ll come around to it. She needs the company of others. We all do. Perhaps even Paddy will join us.’

The knot in his throat. ‘You’re a good man, James.’

‘You’ll come again, the two of you?’

‘We’d like that, yes.’

He had an itch to speak to Paddy, to make contact, but Paddy wasn’t about.

He went to the kitchen and had a bawl with Seamus and a laugh with Tad. Then they went home to Broughadoon and he settled their tab with Liam and knocked back a whiskey with William, who’d been badly beaten at checkers by Emily.

Their bags were down before six o’clock the next morning. Aengus arrived at six-ten. With a couple of exceptions, they were leaving with precisely what they’d brought. There had been no crazed shopping trips, no remorses, and a few euros left for their driver, who collected his hat straight off and confessed to coming in third in the dance competition.

After making a last check of their room, they stood looking out the window to the lough.

‘Sorry you missed your rainbow,’ he said.

‘I got to see another type of covenant. Much better.’

‘I hope you’re not so jaded by surprise that you can’t handle one more.’

‘Never too jaded by surprise, darling.’

‘We’re not going home,’ he said.

She gave him a fierce look. She was ready to go home; he had stepped in it with his bloody surprises.

‘Three nights in Dublin’s finest hotel,’ he said, pedaling. ‘In the center of the best pubs in Ireland. A room right next to the elevator. A nice car anytime we want it.’ No way could he cancel another reservation. ‘The high life, Kav’na, the
high
life.’

‘And shops, I suppose.’

‘Shops, shops, and more shops, Anna says. We must take something home to Puny and the twins, after all.’

She smiled. The sun came out in the room. ‘And Sammy and Kenny and Pooh and Jessie,’ she said.

‘Absolutely. And we mustn’t forget Louella.’

‘We can’t forget Louella. And Lace and Dooley, of course.’

‘Of course. And Marge, who’s half Irish, and Hal.’

He was flying.

The luggage was going into the boot when they heard the crunch of gravel. Paddy had walked down with Seamus and the Labs to see them off. Liam and Anna came out, and there was Bella, looking dazed with sleep, and soft, somehow, and Pud—good Lord, Pud with his old loafer, he took out his handkerchief—and William, who wasn’t fond of rising before ten, here he was dressed to the nines, and Lorna and Emily in their aprons and clogs, and then Maureen, the Sunshine of Broughadoon. He kissed her on both wet cheeks and she asked if he’d got his handkerchiefs and he said he had.

He shook hands with Paddy, but no words were exchanged. There was another sort of connection, brief but somehow fluent.

They had gathered like an inn staff seen in a travel brochure, yet something more—very much more—he, saying
Dhia dhuit
because it was all he could think to say, and they saying
Dhia is Muire dhuit
, and Come again please God, and Aengus passing out a new business card citing himself as president of Malone Transport.

Then they climbed into the car and Aengus closed the doors and turned the key in the ignition, and they were waving through the rear window as the Volvo coughed its way into the lane.

There was the long bed of the lough, still sleeping in its rising mist, and the low mountains beyond seeming close enough to touch. He handed his wife the other handkerchief, and though they were watering Ireland to beat the band, he realized he was happy in some oddly excruciating way.

Thanking:

Joe McGowan; Tommy Gillen; Trina Vargo; Stella Mew; Cassie Swift Farrelly; Diane L. Wright; Reverend Anita Kerr; Peadar Niall Little; the Very Reverend James Ronayne, PP; John McGuinness; Andrew Higgins Wynd-ham; Sara Lee Barnes; Edith Currin and her lovely neighbor, Kathleen Farrelly; the managing staff of Newport House, Newport, County Mayo; Simon O’Hara of Coopershill, Riverstown, County Sligo; Paddy and Julia Foyle, Quay House, Clifden, County Galway (ask for the Napoleon Room); Cromleach Lodge and Country House Hotel, Castlebaldwin, County Sligo; Fiach O’Toole of the Garda Technical Bureau, Sligo Town; Gard Faillon; Gard Riley; the Reverend Father Dennis McAuliffe; Aoife Kavanagh, Irish Georgian Society; Mike Thacker for help in many particulars; John Diven; Karin Wittenborg, University Librarian, UVA; Paula Newcomb, friend and bridge guru; Hunter Smith; Roger Birle; Andrew O’Shaughnessy; Chief Timothy Longo, Charlottesville City Police; Jerry and Rosalind Richardson; our U.S. ambassador to Ireland, Dan Rooney; the American Connemara Pony Society; Jessica Waldman, Questroyal Fine Art; John E. Bishop; Polly Andrews; Roualeyn Cumming-Bruce; Don and Janemarie King; Bruce and Jim Murray; Peter Sweeney; the Reverend Monsignor Chester Michael; Albert and Donna Ernest; Ashley and Steve Allen; Phyllis and Frank Joseph; the Reverend Monsignor Francis Gaeta; Barry Dean Setzer; Brenda Furman; Candace Freeland; Virginia St. Claire; R. David Craig; Randy Setzer.

Dr. Thomas R. Spitzer, Director, Bone Marrow Transplant Program, Massachusetts General Hospital; David Krese, DDS; David M. Heilbronner, MD; Joann M. Bodurtha MD, MPH; Barbara Post, MD.

Tim Short, MD; Polly Beckwith Hawkes, FNP; the Very Reverend Arfon Williams, Dean of the Cathedral Church of St. Mary the Virgin & St. John the Baptist, Sligo.

Special thanks to my editor and valued friend, Carolyn Carlson, who walked with me on the pilgrimage of this work.