"If you'll excuse me, I need a moment to cancel my meeting. Then I will discuss that…that book with you," Margaret said as she strode purposefully from the room. Her back, ramrod straight, radiated determination and fortitude as usual.
Keelin automatically straightened her shoulders. Just looking at her mother made her feel like a slob.
Idly, she let her hands trace the book. The supple leather seemed to warm to her touch again.
"Let's go," Margaret said. Keelin jumped and gasped.
"Mother! I didn't know you owned jeans!"
"Well, yes, if I ever went for a walk in the woods, Iwould need a pair, wouldn't I?" Margaret's tidy blue jeans were tucked into Hunter boots and her thick cardigan was buttoned perfectly. A plaid scarf topped her outfit and screamed "Ralph Lauren chic."
"Woods? What woods are you walking in, Mom?" Keelin asked.
"Well, the Common, of course. They have lovely trees."
Keelin had to laugh. Only her mother would refer to the manicured lawns of the Boston Common as "the woods."
"Okay, Mom. Let's go for a walk." Keelin tucked the book into her satchel and gathered her cardigan. She watched as her mother gathered her keys from the gold Hermès dish by the door, and made sure the doormat was aligned just so.
How had she come from such a woman? This wasn't a new thought to Keelin. Messy, disobedient, and opinionated, Keelin felt like she was a constant disappointment to her polite and reserved mother. She often felt like she was playing a role when her mother invited her to the society's most elite functions. Silk dresses and being seen mattered little to Keelin when she could bury her head in a book or hear some great local music. Her mom knew what every spoon and fork meant in a table setting, while Keelin preferred cider and a greasy burger from the local bar. For all their differences, a pure, strong love ran between them. It had been just the two of them for so long. She couldn't fault her mother for wanting the best for her.
As was typical of a Friday afternoon, the Common bustled with activity. The pulse of the city seemed to beatthere, as people from all walks of life flowed from the stairwells of the T, dispersing into the green of the Common and weaving between the ponds and trees. It never failed to interest her, the people she found here. Keelin had spent many an afternoon thinking about the lives of those who walked past her picnic blanket. She often played a game without really knowing why. Keelin would guess the ailments of strangers. She had no way of confirming how or why this knowledge came to her. Cancer, cold sore, cough, diabetes, sprained wrist…images flashed through her head along with emotions. It was like a game show where she had no way of knowing if she was a winner.
Keelin walked quietly beside her mother and listened as she rattled off the prices of the apartments that lined the Common. She knew all of this already, yet allowed her mother to talk. Margaret had a tendency to talk real estate when she was nervous. Eventually, they wound their way to a stone bench overlooking a small pond. Keelin idly watched a mother help her toddler feed the ducks.
"What do you know of Grace's Cove?" Margaret asked.
"Well, I know that it is a small town on the water in Southern Ireland. I know that you grew up there and didn't like the village lifestyle. I've googled it and the pictures are stunning. It really looks like a beautiful place to live. And I'd love to get out on the water there. Those cliffs are incredible! I imagine there is a ton to study," Keelin said.
"Yes, well, I'm not surprised you like the water so much, as your father was a fisherman," Margaret said.
"Yes, so you've said," Keelin said. She was surprised that her mother had brought him up. A source of bitternessbetween them, Keelin knew little of her father and Margaret rarely spoke of him.
"I understand that I made a decision to remove him from your life, Keelin, however, it was in your best interests. And look at the life that I gave you. I had my reasons," Margaret said.
Keelin stayed silent. She'd heard this refrain before. What was the point of arguing the past?
Margaret sighed. "I suppose it is time for you to know more about your heritage."
"Yes, that would be nice," Keelin said dryly as she picked at some fuzz on her sweater.
"I loved your father, deeply," Margaret said.
Keelin gasped. She had always assumed that she was an "oops" and her father was a passionate night in passing.
"Oh, Keelin, we were so young and in love. He was working to be a commercial fisherman and had plans to go to Dublin to open a commercial fishing business. That, or start a boat tour company. Either way, you couldn't keep him from the water if you had tried. Sean had quite the big dreams. He…he didn't know about you until I had left. I never told him. Leaving Ireland was one of the hardest things that I have done."
Keelin stared in shock at her mother. Margaret's cheeks were flushed, yet there was a stubborn tilt to her chin. There would be no questioning of her past decisions.
"But, how could you not tell him?"
"He ran from me. He left me, Keelin. When I found out about you, I knew that the only thing that mattered was that I give you a chance at a normal life."
"But, Mom, didn't you miss him? What was so bad that you had to leave?" Keelin asked.
"I missed him terribly. I still do. I see pieces of him in you. We aren't the same people anymore though, and that time has passed. Let me tell you about the history of Grace's Cove."
Keelin nodded and kept silent. This was the most she had ever gotten out of her mother and she wouldn't let her big mouth sidetrack Margaret from giving her the information she so desperately craved.
