The Good Daughter (23 page)

“What do you think happened when they got home?”

“What do you think happened?”

The pain was back in Kit’s middle, and her heart suddenly hurt. Not adrenaline hurt, but fear hurt. “I think he…got mad.”

“I think he got mad, too.”

Kit took a sip from her latte, not an easy feat when her hand was shaking so badly. “I don’t like this,” she whispered. “Don’t like it at all.”

Jude just watched her.

She put the coffee down. “No family is perfect. I realize every family has its own problems, and every family has its way of handling problems…as well as their own way of disciplining. But I have a problem with corporal punishment. I have a problem with people—adults—losing control. Have a problem with adults abusing their power. Makes me sick.”

“The world is full of violence.”

“That doesn’t make it right!” Her gaze fell on the ring on his hand that he’d wrapped around his ceramic cup. It was an enormous silver-and-brass ring with a raised figure of Mary. Her brow creased. “You’re Catholic?”

He glanced down at his hand. “No.”

“But…isn’t that the Virgin Mary?”

“Yep.”

“Why do you wear that ring?”

He took his hand from the cup and balled it into a fist. It was a big hard fist with scarred knuckles. “Mary helps me fight.”

Kit’s mouth dropped open and she stared at him, shocked. “Can’t believe you said that.”

He flexed his fingers, briefly admiring the ornate ring before reaching for his cup to sip his coffee. “It is what it is.”

“You mean, you do what you want to do.”

Jude shrugged. “Pretty much.”

Kit frowned. “And Delilah? She’s your neighbor—” She broke off as her phone rang and she glanced down at the number. Tommy. And Tommy never called. “Sorry. I need to get this,” she said to Jude before answering. “Tommy? Everything okay.”

“No,” her brother said brusquely. “Mom’s in the hospital. Dad’s been trying to reach you, but I think he’s been calling your house number. You need to come.”

T
he hospital room was packed with people when Kit arrived, all family. Lots of Brennans—Dad; Meg; Cass; Dad’s brothers, Uncle Joe and Uncle Pat; plus Mom’s older brother, Jack Donahue, a retired San Francisco city cop who’d moved from the city down to San Mateo after he’d retired, and his wife, Linda.

Kit walked in on a nurse scolding everyone that there were far too many people in the room, that patients were allowed only a limited number of visitors, and that they had more than exceeded that number, when she spotted Kit and lifted her hands in protest, exclaiming, “Oh, no! No, no, no. Half of you must go. There’s plenty of chairs in the waiting room—”

“And why would we wait out there when we want to be here?” Kit’s dad boomed.

“Because it’s policy, Mr. Brennan—”

“Firefighter Brennan.” He pointed to his brothers and Tommy. “And that’s Firefighter Brennan, Firefighter Brennan, and Firefighter Brennan,” and over to Uncle Jack, “And that’s Officer
Donahue. As you can imagine, we all respect and appreciate policy, but there’s no way we’re going anywhere when my wife needs her family now.”

The nurse’s mouth gaped open then closed, and clutching her small computer notepad, she marched stiffly out.

“Tom,” Mom croaked reproachfully from the bed. “She’s just doing her job.”

“She can go do it somewhere else.”

“We shouldn’t even be here,” Mom said. “There’s nothing wrong with me. Just tired.”

Kit hugged Meg and Cass before pushing through the wall of Brennan men to reach Marilyn’s hospital bed. She was relieved to see her mother awake and alert despite the oxygen tubing. “Mom, you okay?” she asked, taking her hand

Mom gave Kit’s hand a faint squeeze. “Yes.”

“What happened?”

“A lot of nonsense if you ask me,” she grumbled, her voice breathy.

“Mom collapsed,” Meg said, a tissue clutched in her fingers. “On the bathroom floor.”

“I did not,” Marilyn protested.

“You did, too,” Dad said brusquely. “You were out cold when I found you.”

“I fainted, Tom.”

He faced her, expression ferocious. “You could have hit your head, got a concussion or worse.”

“But I didn’t.” Her eyebrows lifted significantly, challenging him. He might be a lion but she was a lioness.

“You don’t listen to me,” he growled.

“I’m an adult. I wanted to go to the bathroom on my own.”

“And look what happened.”

“Nothing happened, Tom!” she snapped.

Dad turned away, shoulders hunching, and Kit felt a rush of sympathy for her father. Poor Dad. He took his job as husband so seriously. She could only imagine how he felt when he found her mom unconscious on the floor. Of course he’d rush her to the emergency room. The hospital represented safety.

“Did you get to ride in an ambulance, Mom?” Kit asked playfully, trying to ease some of the tension in the room.

“No, thank God. Your father knows I’d never forgive him if he put me through that.”

“So what’s the plan? How long are they going to keep you?”

“They’re not keeping me,” she answered tartly.

Meg and Tommy Jr. exchanged glances. Mom saw. She tried to rally and sit up in bed, but didn’t have the strength and fell back into her pillow. Meg moved forward to help but Mom brushed her away with an irritated wave of her hand. “Stop it. Stop fussing over me. All of you.” She broke off, and gasped, unable to catch her breath. Her inability to breathe just made her angrier. “I’m dehydrated and weak but not dead, and I’m not going anywhere for weeks yet. So stop treating me like an invalid. It’s annoying.”

Kit’s lips twitched. Batten down the hatches. Mom was in a feisty mood tonight. “So what do you want, Mom?” she asked.

“I want to go home.”

No one said anything. Normally Dad or Meg might have argued with her, but neither said anything now, both still sensitive from being at the receiving end of Mom’s temper.

“There’s no reason for them to keep me,” Mom wheezed defiantly. “I’m just a little dehydrated and anemic. Anemia’s nothing new. Low red blood cells. Normal part of bone cancer.” She’d run out of air again and everyone waited for her to finish. Eventually she added, “They’ve given me epoetin alfa. I’m getting fluids. There’s nothing else they can do. I’ll rest better at home. You know I will.”

“You always get achy from the epoetin, Mom,” Cass reminded her. She shared Marilyn’s brisk approach to life, death, and catastrophe, and Kit had always wondered if that was an innate part of their personalities or a result of their medical training. “If you stay here tonight, your nursing staff will make sure you’re comfortable, and then the worst of the joint pain will be over in the morning and you’ll be far more comfortable being moved home then.”

Mom fidgeted with her blanket, glared at the IV in her arm. “I didn’t want to come tonight. I’ve too much to do at home but Dad didn’t listen.”

“Dad did the right thing,” Tommy Jr. said gruffly, feet planted wide, arms crossed over his chest. It was his father’s stance. Solid. “It never hurts to have everything checked out, and you know that if the shoe were on the other foot, you would have done the same thing.”

Mom’s eyes flashed and she pressed her lips together in silent protest. Kit again fought the urge to smile. When Mom was in battle mode, she was a Celtic warrior.

“Tell me what you need to do at home, Mom,” Kit said lightly, hiding her amusement, knowing this was the mom she’d always remember. Spirited.

“Have to finish packing for the cruise—”

“Marilyn,” Dad said warningly.

She didn’t even acknowledge him. “Clothes are packed, but not toiletries and there are still a few things in the drier.”

Meg shook her head. “Mom.”

“Be practical,” Tommy Jr. added.

“This is nonsense,” Dad said flatly, refusing to play this game. “There’s no cruise, and your mom knows it—”

“Nonsense?” Mom interrupted, fighting to sit up but unable to do so. “How dare you, Thomas Brennan? I’ve looked forward to
this trip for weeks. It’s what’s kept me going, knowing I’d be with all of you, enjoying my grandkids—”

“They can come see you here,” Dad said, out of patience.

“And skip the cruise?” She made an incredulous sound. “Absolutely not. The children are excited about the cruise. It’s their first cruise. I’m not going to take that away from them.”

“Then let them go,” Uncle Jack said, frowning at his sister. “But Tom’s right, Lynn, you’re not going. You can’t travel like this. Tom would have to push you around the ship in a wheelchair—”

“Which I don’t mind, and we’ve already discussed bringing Mom’s folding wheelchair with us.” Dad waved a hand. “But that was before your red count brought you to your knees. There’s no way you can fly now—”

“I’ll have the oxygen canisters,” Mom said breathlessly, shifting awkwardly and wincing as the IV pulled on her arm. “People fly with oxygen all the time. And they have those people who can wheel you on board the plane—”

“Mom!”
Meg threw her hands up into the air. “Seriously! Can you even hear yourself? You’re sounding exactly like Gabi right now—”

“I was thinking Bree,” Tommy Jr. said grimly, brow furrowed. “She’s never been too troubled by logic or reason.”

Cass moved to Mom, untangling the IV tube and smoothing the needle and tape on the back of her thin wrist. “Mom, the rocking of the ship isn’t going to help your nausea,” she said calmly. “It would be better to cancel this trip and have everyone gather up here. If we call Sarah now, they can change their flights and rebook them for San Francisco—”

“No.”
Mom’s voice shook. “I’m not disappointing my grandchildren. They’re going on this goddamn cruise and so are all of you! And so help me, if one more of you argues with me—” She
broke off, panting with exertion. “I’m your mother! And you
will
respect me.” Again she struggled to catch her breath. Tears glittered in her eyes. She bit her lip, horrified that she was losing control. “We are taking this cruise…and if you fight me…I am done with you. Will not…speak to you ever again.”

Meg walked out of the room. Tommy Jr. soon followed. Cass glanced from Mom to Dad and back again. She leaned over Mom and gave her a kiss on the forehead. “Okay, Mom,” she whispered, before stepping out in search of Tommy.

Uncle Jack shook his head in disgust. But Aunt Linda approached the bed, patted Mom’s arm. “Stick to your guns, Lynn,” she said, then took Jack’s hand and tugged him out.

Uncle Pat and Uncle Joe slipped out without saying anything, leaving Kit and Dad alone with Mom.

“You’d really not speak to your children again?” Dad said gruffly, eyes watering.

Mom had to concentrate on breathing for a moment. “That includes you,” she rasped.

“You’d do that to me?” His deep voice cracked.

“Take them on the cruise for me,” she said, looking small and flattened.

Kit pictured a blow-up beach ball that had been deflated and her eyes stung.

“Without you?” her father demanded.

Mom nodded once.

Dad swallowed hard, started to speak, then stopped himself. He walked out of the room, into the hall, and returned immediately. “I don’t want to go without you.”

“But you will have to go on without me.” Mom’s eyes met his and held. She struggled to smile but didn’t quite succeed. “The family must survive without me—”

“And we will,” he said hoarsely. “But you’re not gone yet. There’s plenty of time for cruises later—”

“I’m not going to die while you’re gone, what fun would that be?” Mom said with a hint of laughter in her voice. “When I go, it’ll be in grand fashion, but that’s weeks, if not months, away.”

“But this cruise was for you, Mom,” Kit said from the foot of the bed, where she’d been biting her tongue, trying to stay silent.

Marilyn shook her head. “No, it was for
you
. All of you. To be together, as a family. To remember that there is so much strength and love in this family—” She paused, breathed, breathed some more. “And that when you’re gathered together, you have me with you, even if I’m not physically present.”

“Stop sounding like Jesus, Mom,” Kit muttered, blinking hard. “It’s terribly aggravating.”

Mom barked a laugh. And then she smiled at Kit. “That felt good.” Her voice was hoarse but she sounded happy. “Needed to laugh. Must do that more.”

Kit exhaled slowly and managed a watery smile. “I’m going to say something, and I don’t want you to get mad, and threaten to never talk to me again because that would be really lousy.” She held up a finger to keep her mother from speaking. “I agree with you about the cruise. And I think everyone should go. That is, everyone but me.”

“Kit!” Dad growled.

“Of course you have to go,” Mom said.

Kit shook her head. “Mom, the only way everyone can go is if someone stays home with you, and I want to stay home with you.”

Mom started to protest, then stopped and frowned.

“This is ridiculous,” Dad said. “I can’t go and leave you, Marilyn. You know I can’t.”

Mom held his gaze for a long time. Her eyes had become very bright. “I never ask you for anything, Tom, because you love me so much you give me whatever I ask for. And I’ve never wanted to take advantage of that.” She needed a moment to catch her breath
to continue, and a tear trembled on her lower lashes. “But I’m asking you now to please do this for me. Please take our children on this trip and enjoy them. Enjoy the family we made.”

“I’ll be with Mom, Dad,” Kit said quietly. “She’ll be okay.”

A spasm of emotion tightened his face and his eyes turned a brilliant watery blue. “I’ll miss you, Marilyn.”

Mom looked at him steadily. “Take lots of pictures. I’ll want to see everything.”

K
it didn’t get home until eleven, and it took her another hour to unwind so that she could sleep. But it wasn’t a restful sleep. She kept dreaming about Mom and Dad and the family, and it was so intense that when she woke to her alarm at six-thirty, she felt exhausted and teary.

It was a relief to get to school and know that soon she’d be sucked into the hectic pace of Fridays. Kit didn’t know why Fridays were always a little more frenetic than other days, but they were, and this morning she welcomed the structure, activity, and routine.