The Parting Glass (34 page)

“This is such a luxury.”

“You deserve it, Peggy-o.”

She smiled at him. “Then I’ll take you up on it. I know he’ll be in good hands.”

Kieran was tiring now. Bridie took the cue and picked up a block to drop in her bucket again. This time he followed suit. On that positive note, Peggy fled the scene.

Irene was thrilled to see her. They sat companionably and watched “Crossroads,” Irene’s favorite soap opera. The show took place in a busy hotel, a revival of a much earlier version that had taken place in a motel—a creative update for Irish sociologists to ponder. Irene attempted to acquaint Peggy with the confusing lives of all the characters. Someone’s dog had been used in illegal dog fights. Someone else had hidden out in a rock quarry. By the time the episode had ended, the only thing Peggy was sure of was that she didn’t want to vacation at the Crossroads Hotel any more than she wanted to take up residence on Melrose Place.

They turned off the television, and Peggy brought Irene the snack that Nora had left for her. Half an apple, a low-fat oatmeal cookie and a glass of skim milk.

Irene took it gratefully, but Peggy noted her lack of interest.

“What I want,” Irene confirmed, “is a wedge of good cheddar and a slice of rich fruitcake. Don’t grow old, Peggy dear.”

“They say it beats the alternative.”

“That it does. Particularly when you have reasons to keep living. Since you arrived, I wake up every morning excited to see what the day brings. The bits of information you’ve turned up about my da have done my poor heart good.”

Peggy was touched. She hadn’t been sure Irene would be glad to hear the details of her father’s shady past that were coming to light. “I wish I could take you back to Cleveland, Irene. There are so many people there who want to meet you.”

“I’m satisfied just to know they’re there, although I would like to meet your sisters.”

They talked until Irene grew droopy-eyed. Peggy made sure she got to bed and that the head of her bed—hospital issue—was cranked up enough to facilitate easier breathing. No sooner had she closed the bedroom door than Finn and Bridie arrived with Kieran. Peggy said goodbye to Bridie, who was practically dancing with excitement at the thought of her upcoming holiday. Bridie went out to wait for her father in the car as he handed Kieran over to Peggy for his nap.

“A good hour, I think,” Finn said. “He used his shovel to dig in the sand and even piled it up the way Bridie showed him.”

“Thanks so much, Finn. It was a welcome break.”

“Irene’s gone to sleep?”

“I’m afraid you missed her.”

“Then I missed my chance for her check-up, too. I’ll need to come back later.”

“I can check her blood pressure and heart for you, if you prefer?”

“I prefer to come back and have supper with you both.”

She touched his cheek. “Just give Irene time for a good nap. She seems tired today. Maybe my company wore her out.”

“That I doubt.” He kissed her cheek and left.

Peggy quickly bathed Kieran and offered him a snack, but sleep claimed him halfway through a cookie. She carried him to bed and decided to join him. When she awoke an hour later, the house was silent, and she tiptoed into the living room to see if Irene was up. When she discovered she was alone she looked over Nora’s preparations for the evening meal and added a carrot and raisin salad to go with them.

The afternoon wore on. Kieran awoke fussy and inconsolable. She was surprised he didn’t wake Irene with his whining and one lulu of a tantrum that nearly brought down the thatch. At last she settled him on the front porch with a bowl of ice cubes and a pitcher of water. When every last cube had melted she gave him a box of toy cars to play with on the flagstones. After she’d demonstrated how to roll them along the stones he stopped fussing and shoved her away. Then, one by one, he turned the cars on their backs and kicked them into submission.

She was so absorbed in her son’s rebellion that she didn’t hear Finn’s car. She was surprised when she saw him coming up the walkway.

“I suspect that’s not what you had in mind for him,” Finn said.

She shook her head; then she bent and gathered up all the cars and put them back in the box. She spoke calmly. “Kieran, you can play with the cars when you don’t kick them.”

“Want some input here?” Finn asked.

“You bet.”

Finn stooped in front of the little boy who was gearing up for another tantrum. “Kieran, would you like to choose one car to play with?”

Kieran stared suspiciously at him, but the tantrum, at least, seemed to be on hold.

Peggy knew that giving children choices was an important part of their growth and learning, and autism didn’t change that. But normally, when she tried offering choices, it provoked angry outbursts.

Finn reached in the box and chose two cars, holding them out to the little boy. “Which one would you like?”

Kieran’s little eyes narrowed, and his rosebud mouth puckered in a frown.

“You may have this one.” Finn held it out. “Or this one.” He held out the other.

Kieran seemed to struggle. Peggy could almost read his little mind. Throw himself to the ground, which felt familiar and to some degree comforting, or participate in this new and suspicious game. Finally, when her own patience was beginning to fray, he stepped forward and took the car in Finn’s left hand. Then, as if he’d known all along what to do with it, he put it on the ground and began to run it along the flagstones.

Finn stood and dropped the other car in the box.

“Too many cars?” She knew her son better than anyone else did, but she was not always privy to the way his tiny mind worked.

“Maybe, but I think he staged that scene because he saw me coming down the road.”

“I don’t get it. He didn’t want you here?”

“On the contrary. Remember the day I took him for the walk during his tantrum?”

She remembered well. It was the day Kieran had used the rag doll as a weapon. “You think he was angling for another?”

“Tantrum plus Finn equals a ride on my shoulders. Add it up yourself.”

“He really is a stinker, isn’t he?”

“I think we can assume he’s quite bright, just locked away from ways to display his intelligence.”

She was warmed by his words. Intelligence was difficult to measure with autistic children, particularly those of such a young age. But even though IQ was no guarantee of a successful life, a high one was a factor in Kieran’s favor.

“Now let’s wait until he’s been a good little lad for a few minutes, then we can take him for a walk together.”

“Some days I feel like I’m in a brand-new version of ‘The Miracle Worker.’ He can see and hear, but he’s just as shut away from the rest of us as Helen Keller was.”

“And look what she accomplished,” Finn said.

“Yeah, but where’s Ann Bancroft when you need her?”

He smoothed a piece of hair back from her forehead. “Right here.”

Before they left, she went to see if Irene was up, but there was still no sound from her bedroom. By the time they returned with a calm and happy Kieran and Irene still hadn’t emerged, Peggy was growing concerned.

“I think I’ll peek in on her,” Peggy said.

Finn didn’t argue. She knocked softly, and when there was no answer, she opened the door and went to Irene’s bedside. Irene opened her eyes, but for a moment there was no recognition in them.

“I’m sorry I woke you,” Peggy said, “but you were asleep so long I was worried.”

A long moment passed. Irene’s breathing quickened. “I’m not feeling so well,” she said at last.

“Finn!” Peggy motioned for him to join her. “She says she’s not feeling well.”

“Hello, dear.” Irene spoke softly when Finn joined them. “It’s nothing to worry about.”

“I’ll check that out, if you don’t mind.” Finn sat on the bed beside her and lifted her wrist to take her pulse.

Without being asked, Peggy went for his medical bag. He accepted it with a nod. “Call me if you need me,” she told him. “I can put Kieran in his crib.”

When he didn’t call for her, she settled Kieran at the kitchen table with cheese cubes and grapes, but her mind wasn’t on her son. It was on Irene, whose pallor had been noticeable and breathing labored. Peggy was no fool. She knew the extent of Irene’s illness and the prognosis. Every day was a gift. Peggy just wasn’t ready to let go.

Finn appeared a few minutes later. “She needs to be in hospital.”

“Let me guess. She won’t go.”

“So right. She’s terrified she’ll die there.”

“She wants to die in her own bed.” Peggy knew that was Irene’s wish and, in theory, an admirable one. But Peggy wasn’t ready for Irene to die at all.

Finn shoved his hands in his pockets. “There’s a fairly new drug on the market, an injection I can give her that has a good success rate. If I do it here, I’ll need to stay and monitor her blood pressure. I know you could do that, but I should be here if it goes down too low.”

“You can stay?”

“I can.”

She realized he was asking for permission to treat Irene here at home. Peggy was Irene’s closest relative. If she objected, Irene could still override her decision, but giving permission would make his task easier. “Is there anything I can do?”

“We can take turns staying with her, if you’d like.”

She nodded. “You have the medication with you?”

“I knew this day was coming.” He left the kitchen. She waited until Kieran seemed to be done, then she set him on the floor and cleaned up.

In the living room, she turned on the television and put in a tape of “Sesame Street,” a treat he was rarely given. Kieran had too much to do and learn to spend his time watching images flicker across a screen, even creative, educational programs. But this unexpected bonus would keep him occupied for a little while, at least.

When he was settled and murmuring excitedly to himself, she went to stand in Irene’s doorway. “How are you doing, Irene?”

“I don’t want to go to hospital.”

“I know you don’t. But I don’t want to lose you, either.”

“I…I want to find out what happened—”

“To your father, I know. We’re closing in on it. You’ve got to stick around, even if that means a short trip to a place where they can take care of you.”

“I’m not going…anywhere.”

“Well, if I had any doubts you were related to me and my sisters, they’re all gone now.” Peggy went to her bedside. “Look, promise me you’ll let Finn and me decide if you get worse? Please? You know we’ll do what’s best for you, don’t you?”

Strains of “One of These Things is Not Like the Other” drifted in from the living room while Irene considered.

“Let’s…just see,” Irene said.

Peggy frowned at Finn, but he nodded. “I think the injection I gave her will work. If it doesn’t, I’ll thump her on the head, throw her over my shoulder and dump her in the back seat of my car.”

Irene smiled and drifted off to sleep.

“Tell me about the drug,” Peggy said softly.

“It’s a synthetic version of a natural human hormone. Essentially, it dilates arteries and veins. It’s manufactured using recombinant DNA technology, and it’s reported to be more effective than nitroglycerin for shortness of breath in circumstances like this one. It needs to be given in low dosages, though, or hypotension can occur. That’s what I’ll be checking for.”

Even under the circumstances, she was thrilled to be discussing medicine with him. Some women wanted roses and soft music. Peggy found chemistry and physiology a turn-on. Quietly but avidly, they discussed treatment alternatives as Irene dozed. Peggy thought the old woman’s breathing had eased by the time Finn stood.

“She’s not out of the woods, but we might have turned the tide.” He grinned ruefully. “Pardon the mixture of metaphors. I was a doctor, not a language professor.”

“You
are
a doctor.” Peggy considered her next words carefully, but if she and Finn were to have any kind of relationship, she needed to say the things that were on her mind. “You didn’t have any trouble making a decision about this, Finn. You acted decisively and quickly.”

“She gave me no choice.”

“And if she had, would you have done anything differently?”

“I would have done it in hospital, where she could be carefully monitored.”

“But the treatment would have been the same.”

“What is it you Americans say? I’m a sucker for technology?”

“One of the most important things I learned in med school was not to overtreat. A doctor has to know when she’s accomplished her goals. Sometimes it’s easy to assume illness when health is present.”

“I don’t think you’re talking about Irene.”

“No, I’m talking about you.”

“One decision does not a doctor make.”

“One after another does.”

“Not here, Peggy, and not now. This isn’t the time for this discussion.”

“No, but it was the time to begin it.” She rose on tiptoe and kissed him. She almost expected to be rebuffed, but he put his arm around her waist and pulled her closer.

When Peggy stepped away, she glanced at Irene. The old woman’s eyes were open, and she was smiling.

chapter 22

B
y the time Irene drifted into a more natural sleep, Peggy had fed Kieran supper and given him another bath. All the outdoor play had taken its toll, and he went down earlier than usual for the night.

She was dishing up two plates when Finn came into the kitchen.

“How’s she doing?” Peggy put an extra helping of roast potatoes on his plate. Nora’s were always superb, even reheated.

“I think she’s turned the corner.”

“She didn’t eat any supper.”

“Did she have a good lunch?”

Peggy tried to remember. “Just soup, but she finished a whole bowl, and Nora makes it with lots of lean meat and fresh vegetables. And she had a snack in the afternoon.”

“She’s been sipping water every time she wakes up. I think she’ll be fine. I’d rather let her sleep than force her to eat. She’s exhausted.”

“Our dinner’s all ready.” Peggy took the plates over to the table and motioned for him to sit.

“Would you like to take it outside?”