“It sounds as if you might be changing your stance on this? Is that correct?”
“Well, I don’t know if I would say I’m changing it, but everything certainly doesn’t feel so black-and-white. I guess there are two sides to every story.”
“Interesting commentary from a bystander in the crowd here outside High Court buildings. Begging the question: What does this mean for Kate O’Hara’s case? Is the tide of public opinion shifting in favor of the defendants? And most important of all, how is all of this playing to the judge? Hannah Slattery,RTé News.”
* * *
Declan and I watched the evening news reports from my kitchen table, Rosie between us in her wheelchair.
Regardless of public opinion, truth be told, Fiona Marsh’s testimony had made a huge impact on me. I also thought that the judge seemed relieved to finally hear something positive about Madeleine and her family, and for once I was starting to understand why the vaccination issue hadn’t been so clear-cut for them.
Of course, I didn’t say anything like that to Declan. He had optimism in spades and kept telling me that everything was going great.
While I was working very hard to take his advice, I was also trying to envision Rosie’s future and mine once this case was over.
Regardless of what happened, I had started to think about the idea that we would probably have to move. Outside of the obvious discomfort of living in a community where I could possibly run into the family I’d sued, I knew we couldn’t continue living in this house, which being on two floors was wholly inappropriate for Rosie’s incapacitation.
There must have been something distant in my expression, because Declan abruptly stopped talking.
“Hey,” he said gently. “Are you there? You seem a million miles away this evening.”
I offered him a tired smile. “Sorry.” I pulled the bowl of chicken soup I’d been helping Rosie with closer to me and glanced around, trying to organize my thoughts.
Seemingly reading my mind, Declan jumped up. “I’ll get a napkin,” he offered and grabbed the kitchen roll.
He returned to me a moment later and put the napkin in front of Rosie. I was about to mutter an automatic thanks but was startled when she in a somewhat mumbled and garbled way got in before me. “Thank you.”
My mouth dropped open and my heart lifted as I looked from Rosie to Declan in delight. “Good girl, sweetheart, that was amazing!”
Whenever she initiated communication or worked to say something—which she tried really hard to do—I felt hope spring from within me. She was getting there and that meant so much.
“You are so welcome, Rosie,” replied Declan with a grin, placing a gentle hand on her shoulder. “Anytime.”
I would be lying if I said I didn’t like having him around and sharing these little moments of positivity with him. There was something so comforting about his presence—the way he seemed to fill a room. Thankfully, Rosie seemed to feel the same way.
Interrupting my thoughts, he asked, “Are you hungry, Kate? Can I get you anything?”
He seemed to always be aware of what and how often I was eating. I knew I could stand to put on a few pounds—it was just sometimes I didn’t have the time or the appetite to eat three square meals a day. Regardless, I was touched by his concern.
“I will after I put her to bed,” I said quietly. “And...thank you.”
For the next few minutes the three of us sat in companionable silence as Rosie finished her soup. While Hazel was looking after her during the trial, I was determined to use her only when I wasn’t around—not just because I was hoping to achieve a new normal, but also to try to control the scarily expensive medical-care bills appearing on a monthly basis.
I picked up the bowl and stood to take it to the sink at the same moment that Rosie offered up a pretty large yawn. She got tired much earlier these days, another side effect of the trauma her brain had suffered.
“Ready for bed, sweetheart?” I asked.
Declan took the bowl out of my hands without asking and, smiling gratefully, I grasped the handles of her wheelchair and pushed her across the wooden floor to the base of the stairs. Unclipping the strap, I put my arms around her in an effort to lift her up (my daughter wasn’t heavy, but she was no longer as easy to carry as she used to be).
Declan’s touch on my back caused me to pause and I turned around to face him.
“I can carry her up, if you’re OK with that?”
Glancing at his broad shoulders and strong arms, I welcomed the help. “If you’re sure you don’t mind? I hate to...”
“Not in the least.” He got close to Rosie and smiled. “As long as you don’t, either, Rosie?” Her eyes brightened immediately and I knew she was fine with it, too. “I’m going to help you up to your room, OK?”
Seconds later, she was cradled easily in his arms and I was following them up the stairs. I couldn’t deny that it was lovely having someone ready to take on some of the load that had been piling on my shoulders.
