“I’m right here, Papa,” she said. “I’m right here.”
“Rose of all Roses!” he said. “Rose of all the world.”
“Yes, Papa.” Faye pulled a book of poetry from the shelf, scanned the pages for the poem he was remembering, the one about dim tides hurled upon wharves of sorrow, a sweet far bell, the same white stars. “I have it, Papa,” she said, her hand on his. She read to him in distilled light, waiting with him for the angels.
“Fiadh.Macushla,” he said, his voice small.
When he fell back to sleep, Faye called William. “Come this morning. Bring everyone.”
Faye pushed the breezy curtain aside at the sound of cars in the drive. The reflection on the windshield of William’s truck—trees beginning to bud, patches of blue in a gray sky—made it hard to see inside. She raised her hand, fingers spread, like she was putting it to prison glass. Maeve’s red sedan pulled in behind William, who was out of the truck now. Maeve’s husband, Sam, took Dylan from the back seat, and the four of them walked toward the house. The front door opened quietly, reverently even. Dylan’s head was on Sam’s shoulder. Faye hugged Maeve, touched Sam’s arm, pecked her grandson’s cheek. “He had a rough night. He’s resting now, kind of in and out.”
“Ahhh,” Thomas said weakly. “What have we here?” His eyes were open, still lit.
“You have visitors,” Faye said.
Maeve and her little family went to Thomas’s bedside. William hung back with Faye.
“No Molly?” she asked.
William shook his head. “I tried. She slept at Jonie’s last night. She said she didn’t want to come. I didn’t want to force her.”
“She understands, though, right? You made her understand?” Faye asked. “It’ll be worse for her if he dies and she doesn’t come. We can’t stop this. I wish she wouldn’t be so—” Faye stopped herself. She knew her criticism wasn’t helpful, but Molly’s anger at everything was exhausting. William told Faye to stop trying to change Molly. “Let her be,” he said. “She’ll come around.” Faye had tried every trick. Anger only fueled more anger. Offer sympathy, and Molly screamed to stop feeling sorry for her. And making light of her mood enraged her even more. Whatever it was, it was certainly not funny. Nothing was funny.
“Yes, she knows,” William replied. “I told her to be home by noon. We can try again.”
Faye glanced at her watch, as if it would show the sand spilling out of what was left of her father’s life.Don’t wait too long.
Maeve’s little boy stood next to Thomas’s hospital bed, hands stiff by his side. Maeve was only a little older than him when Jean died, and now, here she was, married with a child of her own and another on the way, though she wasn’t even showing yet. Faye took a step closer when Thomas put his hand on the boy’s head.
“Be a good lad,” he said, managing a wink at Maeve, who bent to talk to her grandfather quietly. Sam, still a practicing Catholic, bowed his head.
Faye watched as if she were hovering over the scene. Maeve wiped her eyes, made room for William when he put a hand on Sam’s shoulder. He was so kind to the boy—the man—though, privately, he confessed he found Sam dull.
“You know,” William said, not quietly like Maeve, but in full Irish voice, “You’re probably the best friend I’ve ever had. Thomas, do you hear me? Thank you for trusting me with your daughter. Thank you—” His voice cracked as he bowed his head. “For everything.”
Thomas’s eyes fluttered. He struggled to speak. “You’re a good one,” he croaked, patting William’s hand.
William nodded, blinking back tears. Thomas closed his eyes again.
Sam hoisted Dylan onto his hip. Maeve came and stood next to Faye. “I’m so sorry, Mom. This is awful.”
Faye glanced at Maeve’s belly. “How are you feeling?”
“Don’t worry about me. I’m fine.”
Faye swallowed. “Did you make any headway with Molly?”
“I called her last night. She told me to lay off. She’s really mad. I guess at Grandpa for dying?”
Faye knew Molly was hurting almost as much as she was. “Dad said she should be home by now. I hate to ask, but could you maybe sit with Grandpa a little more and then go check ...?”
“Yeah, Mom, sure,” Maeve said. “I’ll drop Sam and Dylan off then go out there.”
Faye hugged Maeve, marveling as always at how she had feared Maeve’s life would be so difficult. But it had come together so neatly. She had a part-time job at a law firm. She was a good wife and mother. When William had a mild heart attack, Maeve had been right there to pitch in while he recovered. And Faye knew she tried to be a good sister, although Molly made it hard on everyone. Faye hoped it wouldn’t get worse.
Chapter Nineteen
1987
