The Plan (35 page)

“You know, I don't know what it's like to lose your children,” Nora finally said, breaking the silence. “In a way, I can't possibly imagine the anguish. But,” she said, her eyes on the papered wall in front of her, “I think I have a better understanding of the pain you're feeling than most people.

“When Callum was born, I thought the entire world had collapsed. To me, having a child be born like that was worse than if he'd died at birth. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I did wish he'd died at birth. I couldn't function at all. I don't know if Callum has told you, but I couldn't even bear to hold him. I didn't get out of bed for months.”

Claire nodded. Callum had told her.

“Of course, you know this,” Nora said. “You've probably heard him tell that story a thousand times, each time he gives a speech. But, I want you to know he's not just telling some story. He's telling
my
story. And it was a long, painful, and miserable one. One that, at times, I feel I might still be living.

“The pain didn't end once I adjusted to the way Callum looked and began to interact with him. I grew to love him and, once again, I'm embarrassed to admit, loving him wasn't immediate, like it should be between a mother and her child. I had to
learn
to love him. But, even once I did that, and I loved him with a fierce and fiery passion, it still hurt. Every time I'd go to a park or see a mom in church or look
at the other children in the grocery store, being pushed in the cart, all of them with four limbs, it would hurt. I'd finally gotten out of bed, but I didn't want to leave the house. I didn't want to see what other moms had. I didn't want to see other people's children. I couldn't bear the jealousy that they got to live their lives with perfect children and I didn't. I had this little boy, who was so severely disabled, and I had to find a way to not only accept that, but to raise him so that he, himself, didn't see his frailties, but instead, saw his strengths.”

Claire sat up in bed, positioning the pillow behind her.

“Of course, there was no way to completely do that. Callum, more than anyone, was aware of his limitations. But I did my best to shelter him from the pain of this world or, at the very least, impart to him the tools he'd need to face that pain head-on and survive.”

“You did a remarkable job,” Claire said, meaning it sincerely.

“Well, that's sweet of you, dear,” Nora said, patting Claire's leg, under the covers. “I didn't tell you all that so you'd feel sorry for me or praise me.” She looked at Claire now, her eyes full of both sadness and understanding. “I told you this so you'd know you're in a home full of people who understand true pain and there's no judgement here. What you're going through is not easy. I imagine the hurt never truly goes away. Even now, I sometimes see handsome men on the street, in their suits, heading to their offices or I see a male model on a billboard, whose face isn't nearly as beautiful as Callum's, but his body is whole, and I can't help but think, ‘Why?' Even after more than thirty years, I have to ask, ‘Why?' ”

“And do you get an answer?” Claire asked.

“Because,” Nora said, and then shrugged. “That's the best answer I get. Because.” She grinned at Claire. “It's not a good answer, but it's the only one I've been able to come up with and it's the one I hold on to. Some things just happen ‘because.' And I have to learn to live with it. End of story.”

Claire smiled at Callum's mom. She liked this woman. She could see why Callum loved her so much.

“Callum says there's a plan. For him. For me.”

“Callum has more faith than me, always has. Where I see nothing more than ‘because,' he sees a true reason. I'm not there yet, but I hope to be someday.”

“Me, too,” Claire said.

“I know you're missing your babies. And your husband. And, I imagine your mam and dad. But, if you'll let us, we'd love to shower you with love today. We can't take away the pain, but we can cover you in our love.”

Claire's eyes filled with tears again. She almost didn't want to make the request, but then found she couldn't stop herself.

“Can I ask you something?” she said softly.

“Certainly.”

“Do you think I could have a hug?”

“Of course, my dear,” Nora said, her own eyes spilling over with tears. “Of course.”

She wrapped her arms around a crying Claire. The embrace didn't take away the pain, but it helped. It helped to soothe some of the hurt Claire had felt as she woke on this Christmas morning.

For now, that was enough. It wasn't the way Claire would've wanted to spend Christmas morning, but it was enough.

With that realization, Claire took a deep breath and let herself fall into an embrace, an embrace that felt like the one of a mom. The one
her
mom would have given her if she'd still been alive.

“Now that you've spent nearly every day sightseeing with my mam, I want to take you somewhere special,” Callum said as Claire came down to breakfast.

She and Callum's mom had spent the past week traveling all over Ireland, first heading into Dublin and then to areas of the country that were further away. If Claire had wanted to experience Ireland, she'd certainly done so. Not only had she and Mrs. Fitzgerald, who insisted Claire call her Nora, gone to the places Claire had mentioned she'd like to visit, but also many more. They'd seen the castles and cathedrals and prison Claire had wanted to visit and then visited the National Gallery of Ireland, numerous museums, and the remains of an old abbey, where Claire had gotten some wonderful photos amongst the ruins.

“Let's go to the Guinness Factory and the Old Jameson Distillery,” Nora had said, during one of their days in Dublin.

“I don't know,” Claire had said. “I don't drink, so I'm not sure how interesting I'll find them.”

“Oh, nonsense,” Nora had said. “You can't go to Dublin and not drink a Guinness. It's unpatriotic.”

And so, because Claire found she had great difficulty in saying “no” to Nora in any way, they'd gone to both the factory and the distillery, where Claire had sampled some of both wares. The Guinness actually tasted good to her, but she quickly learned she was not an Irish whiskey fan, and one sip was more than enough.

Nora had laughed at Claire, as she herself, quickly downed her shot.

Claire had simply shaken her head. Callum's mom was quite the character and though she and Claire differed greatly, in their zest for life—Claire tended to ease into things like a turtle, slowing gliding into the water, while Nora climbed up the high dive and jumped straight out, arms waving, a scream of elation bursting forth—Claire couldn't help but adore the woman.

Nora made for an entertaining travel buddy. Never short of a tale to tell, she kept Claire amused by anecdotes from her children's childhoods to sagas about their neighbors in both Dublin and the country. According to Nora, the city ones were too uptight with “a couple of sticks up their arses” and the country ones were a bunch of “Frankies.” Claire hadn't been sure what that meant until Callum later explained it was a less-than-complimentary name for people from Belfast, whom some Dubliners viewed as lacking in sophistication.

“Oh, really?” Claire said to Callum after he informed her he'd be the one in charge of today's plans. She poured herself a cup of coffee. Callum had already prepared oatmeal for her and it was steaming at her place at the table. Between his mom's cooking and Callum's always-ready breakfast and coffee for her every morning, Claire was getting spoiled.

“Oh, yes. Hurry up and eat, then go get dressed. We've a bit of a drive ahead of us.”

“I can't wait,” Claire said and meant it. A day alone with Callum was a gem. She'd been fully enjoying her time with Nora, and she knew Callum was getting in some much-needed bonding time with his dad and Fin, but Claire missed her time alone with the man she loved.

She was glad to see he seemed to be missing it, too.

•  •  •

It turned out that by a “bit of a drive,” Callum meant close to four hours.

“Are we almost there?” Claire moaned, more than once.

“Nearly, love. Nearly,” Callum would say. And then drive another hour.

She finally convinced him to stop for lunch in a small fishing village called Doolin, where Claire had the most amazing bowl of clam chowder she'd ever tasted, along with two slices of hot Guinness bread.

“The Irish sure do like their Guinness,” Claire noted, as she took another bite of the bread. “You even put it in your bread.”

“Aye. And in our stew, on our salmon, in our chocolate mousse, in our seafood cream sauce…”

Claire couldn't help but laugh. “I hate to think what you all do with your whiskey.”

“Well, my mam's been known to add it to a steak marinade. And her cupcakes,” Callum said.

“Her cupcakes?” Claire cried.

Callum grinned. “I should say I'm kidding. However, I'm not.”

“Oh, heavens,” Claire said, finishing up the last drop of soup. “That was wonderful.”

“Not as wonderful as where I'm taking you. Are you ready to go, my love?” Callum stood up from the table. He was wearing his legs again which, to Claire, seemed so odd. It was funny how, a little more than a week ago, seeing him without his legs or his chair had seemed unusual to her and now seeing him standing seemed so strange.

“Lead the way.”

•  •  •

Claire was relieved when Callum finally pulled into a parking lot and said they were at their destination. The sign in front of them read “Cliffs of Moher.”

“You are the worst car tripper ever,” Callum said. “How did I drive across the country with you this year and not know that?”

“I guess I hid it well,” Claire said. “Or maybe I only bitched to Alison.”

“Poor Alison,” Callum muttered. “Okay, time to get out.”

He opened the car door and went around to the trunk. Walking back over to Claire, she noticed he was holding an aluminum forearm crutch.

“What's that for?” Claire asked, surprised. In all their time together, she'd never seen Callum use a crutch.

“I think I may need this today. We'll be doing a good deal of walking and look…” He took her arm and turned her around.

At the end of the parking lot was an enormous staircase. It seemed to go on forever.

“Um, how are you going to climb those?” Claire asked, the hesitation in her voice heavy.

“Very, very slowly.”

“Isn't there a ramp?”

“Not one that will take us as far up as I want to go,” Callum said, adjusting the crutch.

“I don't know about this,” Claire said, looking again at the staircase. There had to be a couple of hundred steps there.

“Come on,” Callum said. “It'll be an adventure.”

“If you say so,” Claire said.

As Callum had said, they took the steps slowly. Callum was not great with steps on his best day, but with the incredible gales of wind hitting them now, each step seemed to take twice as long as normal.

Claire wanted to ask him, again if he really wanted to do this, but stopped herself. It was clear he did or he wouldn't have driven her four hours here. Whatever was at the top of these stairs was important to him.

Dozens of people hurried past them during their hike. Callum didn't seem to mind and, frankly, neither did Claire. She'd learned, over the past months, life with Callum had to be taken at a slower pace, even though he did his best to move at full steam. It was simply that his full steam ahead was slower than most.

They said few things to each other as they climbed. Claire asked
him what was so special about these cliffs, but all Callum would say is, “You'll see,” and then struggle to mount a couple of more steps. Claire felt a few drops on her arm and she prayed, fervently, the rain would hold off. She couldn't imagine getting all the way to the top and then have it pour on them.

Her prayers were answered when, just as they reached the last few steps, the sky cleared and the sun came out.

“I did it,” Callum said, his breath rapid, a ring of sweat on his collar.

“You did it,” Claire said, smiling up at him.

“Let's find a place to sit,” Callum said. “Before we go any further.”

“Further?” Claire said. “We're going to walk more?”

Callum winked at her. “It'll be worth it. I promise.”

They found a bench and took a few minutes to let Callum rest and catch his breath. Claire was tired, too. The steps weren't easy to climb, even if you did have two legs. Claire had lost her own breath a hundred steps ago.

Claire leaned back on the bench and looked around her. There were a number of tourists, all milling around, looking over the long stone wall in front of them. Claire could see a bit of the cliffs from where they sat, but mostly she saw sky, the view obscured by the people and the wall.

They sat in silence for a bit until finally Callum said, “Okay, let's go,” and got to his feet again.

Claire wanted to ask him if he was sure he didn't want to rest a bit longer, but she refrained. She knew when Callum made up his mind to do something, he planned on doing it. Now.

The two of them walked over to the stone wall and looked out. Any breath Claire had left in her from the upward trek was taken away the moment she saw the view.

Massive cliffs sprung from the water along the coast, as far as the eye could see.

“They're magnificent,” Claire said, her voice reverent at their majesty.

“They span five miles,” Callum said. “On a clear day, you can see the Aran Islands, Galway Bay, Aill Na Searrach and Hags Head, all in the distance.”

“I'm speechless,” Claire said.

“Well, that's something different. You, with no words?” Callum said, bending to kiss her head. “Come on.”