Stand by Me (22 page)

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Authors: Sheila O'Flanagan

Tags: #Fiction, #General

BOOK: Stand by Me
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‘Which leaves you.’
 
‘I asked Greg whether he would mind if Dad came to live with us ...’ Emma sounded doubtful, and Dominique looked at her curiously.
 
‘Does he mind? I can’t imagine it somehow.’
 
‘No, no, he was fine about it.’ Once again Emma sounded dismissive, and then she looked at Dominique from tired eyes. ‘As he always is.’
 
‘He’s a good guy, is Greg,’ said Dominique warmly. ‘You can depend on him in a crisis.’
 
Emma shrugged. ‘You know, sometimes I think you married the wrong brother.’
 
‘What?’
 
‘Seriously,’ Emma continued. ‘Every time you talk about Greg, you go all gooey and sentimental.’
 
‘No I don’t. I just - well, like I said, he’s one of the good guys.’
 
‘I guess. Yes.’
 
Dominique was startled by Emma’s lacklustre support of her husband.
 
‘Is everything all right?’ she asked. ‘Only you seem out of sorts.’
 
‘My mother just died,’ said Emma starkly. ‘Of course I’m out of sorts.’ She sighed. ‘Oh, Domino, I’m sorry, I just feel—’ and then she broke off as Gabriel walked over to them.
 
Emma had asked Gabriel to come to her mother’s funeral. He’d visited Maura unexpectedly a number of times while she was ill, and, as Greg had told Dominique a couple of weeks earlier, had been a real source of support to the whole family. Dominique had been pleased that her brother had helped them during a difficult time, although she had to admit to herself that she never felt entirely comfortable when Gabriel and Emma were together. Even though Emma was now married to Greg, she had too many memories of her friend sitting in her house, gazing longingly at her brother.
 
He sat down beside them and asked Emma how she was holding up. Emma replied, in a voice that was strained beyond measure, that she was fine but tired. Gabriel told her that it was natural. He asked after the baby, and then he talked about how good a woman her mother was and how her suffering was at an end.
 
Emma didn’t speak while Gabriel talked. She didn’t look at him either, but kept her head down, twisting her wedding and engagement rings round and round on her finger until he reached out and closed his hand over hers, forcing her to stop.
 
Dominique had never seen Emma so agitated before, and her heart went out to her friend. She knew that Maura’s illness had upset her dreadfully - any time she’d met her over the past few months, Emma had been anxious and prone to tears - and she hoped that the birth of her baby would bring joy and happiness back to her life.
 
She wondered how much of what Gabriel was now saying he really and truly believed. All of it, she supposed, and yet how could anyone believe all of it? How could anyone believe in a kind and gentle God who allowed decent people like Maura Walsh to suffer terribly?
 
‘I have to go,’ he told Emma, taking his hand from hers. ‘If you need anything, just call me.’
 
He stood up, and so did Dominique, but Emma remained seated on the red banquette.
 
‘You’ve been a good friend to Emma,’ he told Dominique quietly.
 
‘I haven’t done that much.’
 
‘She told me earlier that you called around to see Maura every week.’
 
‘It wasn’t any big deal.’
 
‘It meant a lot to her.’
 
‘Well, it was probably more useful than the prayers.’
 
Gabriel sighed. ‘You don’t have to be so cynical.’
 
‘I’m not. Just practical.’
 
‘Whatever you say, Domino. Anyhow, I’d best be off.’ Gabriel patted her on the shoulder and left the room.
 
Dominique turned towards Emma. Her friend’s eyes were following Gabriel as he left. There was a raw pain in them that shocked Dominique. It was more than the pain of someone who had lost a parent, deep though that was. It was the pain of someone carrying a burden that could never be eased.
 
She couldn’t, Dominique thought with deep concern, she just couldn’t still have feelings for Gabriel. Not after so much time. Not when she and Greg had had a good marriage for so long. Not now.
 
‘Would you like some tea?’ she asked Emma.
 
‘That’d be great.’
 
‘I’m going to freshen up. I’ll get it on my way back.’
 
‘Thanks.’
 
Gabriel was standing in the foyer of the hotel when Dominique walked out of the lounge.
 
‘I’m glad I caught you,’ she said.
 
‘What’s the matter?’ he asked.
 
‘It’s Emma,’ she said.
 
‘Is she all right?’ His tone was suddenly anxious.
 
‘I don’t know.’ Dominique’s eyes searched her brother’s face. ‘What do you think?’
 
‘She’s hurt and grieving and so she’s in pain,’ Gabriel said. ‘But she’ll get over that.’
 
‘It’s just . . . she was watching you as you left.’
 
‘And?’ Gabriel looked at her warily.
 
‘I just thought . . . I wondered ...’
 
‘What?’ His expression was still wary.
 
‘Oh, nothing.’ Dominique had lost her nerve. She simply couldn’t discuss Emma’s feelings with her brother. He’d dismiss them, as he always did, and make her feel stupid for thinking that way. He’d be right. Emma was in emotional turmoil right now. She’d lost her mother, and her baby was due any day. Her hormones were probably all over the place. It was no wonder she felt burdened.
 
‘Good.’ Gabriel sounded relieved.
 
‘Funerals, eh,’ said Dominique shakily. ‘They make you think, don’t they? Sometimes thoughts you don’t want to think.’ This time her mind flitted to her own worries - wondering whether Brendan truly understood how she felt about having more children; afraid that her fear and her selfishness could harm their marriage.
 
Gabriel looked at her. ‘Are you thinking any thoughts I can help you with?’ he asked carefully. ‘Anything, anyone in your life upsetting you?’
 
‘There’s no need to do the priestly thing with me,’ she told him. ‘I can manage without it, thanks.’
 
‘I’m not being a priest, Domino,’ said Gabriel. ‘I’m being your brother. You never ask me for help with anything but you know I’m here if you need me.’
 
All of her life Dominique had found it difficult to separate Gabriel her brother from Gabriel the priest. Even now. She told him so.
 
‘I wasn’t always a priest,’ he reminded her.
 
‘You were always a bit of a saint, though. More than brother.’
 
‘What about the time you climbed the apple tree and I got you down before Mam or Dad found out?’
 
‘You were keeping the peace,’ she responded with a sudden smile. ‘
And
you made me say three Hail Marys on my knees in the garden shed as penance.’
 
‘Well, the time I got half killed by Dad for robbing sweets from the corner shop, then?’
 
‘You never did!’ Dominique was astonished. ‘I don’t remember that.’
 
‘You just have a selective memory,’ Gabriel told her.
 
‘Rubbish,’ she countered robustly. ‘You were definitely saintly. Despite your criminal past.’
 
Gabriel laughed, and she smiled. Then she nodded and took a deep breath.
 
‘What about Emma?’ she asked abruptly.
 
‘What about her?’ His eyes darkened.
 
‘I worry about how she might feel about you. Especially now. She seems so troubled, and I worry about what that might do to her and Greg.’
 
‘Ah, Domino, don’t be silly,’ he said firmly. ‘She loves Greg. She’s having a baby. But she’s gone through a difficult time and she feels a bit isolated down there in Cork without any of her old friends. She likes having someone to depend on.’
 
‘She’s made plenty of new friends,’ said Dominique. ‘She always has people around her. Besides, she should be depending on Greg, not you.’
 
‘Sometimes we can’t always depend on the person closest to us,’ said Gabriel. ‘Sometimes we need to reach out to someone else.’
 
Dominique stared at him. ‘Are
you
all right?’ she asked. ‘In your isolated parish? Without someone close to you?’
 
‘I have God,’ he reminded her.
 
‘So we’re both OK then,’ she said.
 
‘Yes,’ said Gabriel, and hugged her.
 
And for the first time in a long time, Dominique hugged him back.
 
 
Emma had her baby two days later, in Cork.
 
Brendan, Kelly and Dominique travelled down at the weekend to see the latest addition to the Delahaye family - an eight-pound, eight-ounce boy who was the image of Brendan, with his tuft of dark curly hair and his bright blue eyes.
 
‘Good grief,’ said Dominique to her husband when she saw him. ‘Just as well I know you and Emma were never alone together. He’s a mini you.’
 
‘He’s a fine figure of a man,’ said Brendan, who was letting his nephew grip tightly to his index finger.
 
‘He sure is.’ Dominique felt her voice catch in her throat.
 
‘D’you want to hold him, Domino?’ asked Emma, who was sitting in an armchair. She was wearing make-up, but there were dark circles under her eyes that even copious amounts of Touche Éclat hadn’t banished. ‘He’s the most placid baby in the world,’ she added.
 
Dominique picked up baby Lugh and gazed at him while he stared at her from his wide eyes and then, as though he’d committed her to memory, closed them again.
 
‘Please let me hold him,’ begged Kelly. Dominique made her sit down, and then she put the baby in her daughter’s arms.
 
‘He’s so cute!’ cried Kelly. ‘I wish he was ours.’
 
Dominique said nothing. She wished that she didn’t feel so damn guilty every time she saw a baby. She wished that she didn’t feel like the person who had prevented Brendan and Kelly from being part of a bigger family. They were fine the way they were. It wasn’t her fault.
 
‘Fair play to you,’ Brendan told Greg as he slapped him on the back.
 
‘Thanks.’ Greg looked as tired as Emma, and slightly bemused at his new status.
 
June and Barry arrived with their three children and they all cooed over baby Lugh too. Then the children were told to go outside and play, while the adults sat around and talked.
 
There were two conversations. The men talked briefly about the baby, but quickly turned to sport and the ineptness of the county team selectors (a recurring conversation when they all got together). The women stuck to baby stories, with June dispensing lots of tips to Emma about looking after her new arrival. Dominique stayed quiet. She didn’t feel that she had much to offer. Unless, she thought with a sudden spurt of amusement, Emma got immersed in depression too. Then she’d be the absolute must-know person among them.
 
She’d always found June irritating. Her older sister-in-law had a superior air and a way of making Dominique feel young and flighty, especially when she dished out her regular advice on childcare and running a home. She was also very glamorous. Unlike Emma, who was high-street fashionably stylish, June’s wardrobe was heavy on designer names and chunky jewellery, and she usually wore lots of make-up and musky perfumes - Brendan had once commented to Dominique that you always knew when his sister had been around because her scent lingered long after she’d gone. Even though she didn’t see her that often, Dominique felt intimidated by her.

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