Hannie Rising Page 6

  "Not at all," her mother insisted. "He's a very friendly dog. Those Costelloe lads have it out for me. They were walking their ridiculous little mutt and Seamus ran outside. It was their fault."

  "Never mind that. Finish the story."

  "He just wanted to play, but the little dog growled and barked. What was Seamus supposed to do?"

  Johannah's hands clenched. "What did he do?"

  "He defended himself. No one was hurt. I ran outside and one of the Costelloe boys, I never could tell them apart, began shouting and picked up the dog. That's the end of it." She thought a minute. "Do you think the twins could be a bit strange?"

  "In what way?"

  "They're very feminine, aren't they?"

  The Costelloes had been out of the closet for years. "Let me read this." Johannah scanned the document and then reread it more carefully. She moaned. "You have to go to court. They're claiming you owe them fifteen hundred euro for veterinary bills."

  Dolly snorted. "Ridiculous. I won't pay it. No one can make me pay such a sum."

  "Mom," Johannah explained gently. "If the judge decides for these people, you'll have to pay."

  "I won't," her mother insisted. "They're out to get me those Costelloes. I won't pay. It's outrageous. Where would I find such a sum?"

  Johannah sighed, mentally deducting the fifteen hundred from her cash account. Where indeed?

  Chapter 9

  Kate

  It was a typical Irish wake. This time the deceased was Jane O'Grady, Dermot's mother's first cousin, who'd died at the age of ninety-one. First cousins, like brothers and sisters, aunts, uncles and parents, were considered immediate family, the wake, the Rosary prayers and the funeral Mass too important to miss.

  Kate, just off from her job, hesitated at the door of Hogan's Funeral Home. She wasn't related to the O'Gradys and she was no longer living with Dermot. Although her attendance wasn't mandatory, she would pay for it if she opted out. She was a Kelliher by marriage and if she didn't at least make the rounds of the family, kneel before the coffin with an obligatory prayer and stay a minute to chat in the adjoining room for a cursory appearance, her name would be bandied about in every household from here to Cork City.

  Arranging her features into what she hoped was an expression both mournful and sympathetic, she entered the mortuary and approached the family members seated in a semi-circle around the elaborate coffin. "I'm so sorry. She was a lovely woman," she said, repeating the phrase over and over, making her way through the relatives until she reached Dermot's mother.

  Maired Kelliher's mouth, already flat and prune-like, flattened even more. She ignored Kate's outstretched hand. "You've quite a nerve," she hissed against the younger woman's ear. "You should be ashamed of yourself."

  "I'm so sorry for your loss," Kate repeated woodenly.

  Dermot was next. Reaching for her hand, he kissed her cheek. He kept his voice low, but at a pitch his mother could hear. "Never mind her. How are you, Katie?"

  "I'm well, Dermot," she whispered. "Thanks for asking. Will I keep Evan this weekend?"

  "Not at all. I'll be around after the service tomorrow to collect him."

  Kate's head ached miserably. He was a good man. Why did he have to be so good? It made everything worse. "I'll have him ready."

  "Say hello to Liam and your mother."

  "I'll do that. Take care, Dermot." Feeling too guilty to remain under the microscope of his family, Kate decided against praying by the coffin and left the room to find her mother.

  Johannah, a polite expression on her face, was surrounded by what looked like a tight coven of middle-aged women all speaking at the same time. No matter how awkward she felt, Kate wasn't about to broach that group. She'd made her appearance, satisfied the conventions. Maybe it would be better if she left immediately. It would give the gossips less to talk about.

  "Giving it over to them, Kate? I thought better of you." Her brother's voice, low and mocking, stopped her flight to the door.

  She faced him. "I'm not the only subject of their conversation. When they finish with me, they'll start on you, or maybe it will be the other way around and you'll be first."

  Liam's eyes gleamed. "Not at all. I'm the one doing the responsible thing, moving back home, helping out, going on to university, enduring the desperate commute to Limerick. You're the devil's temptress, leaving your husband, robbing your child of his dad, taking up with—"

  "Stop right there. There's no taking up with anyone. This town isn't big enough to weather that one and I wouldn't act so superior, Liam. You're a grown man living off your mother. You can be sure the gossips will be out in full force over you, too."

  Liam lifted an eyebrow. "Are you telling me you didn't know Ritchie O'Shea was back, that all this maneuvering was coincidental? I know you, Katie. Don't expect me to believe that."

  "Believe what you want. It's true. You try managing in that tiny little flat, working your life away for nothing."

  He stared at her. "What's your game, Kate? Are you trying to pressure Dermot into leaving the business? Because if you are, you're a fool. It's the biggest hardware store in town, not to mention the auto parts and the electrical. Dermot's the only son. If you put in a bit of time now, you'll have it made in the years to come. I wish I had a family business to take up. Our dad was a great one for the craic but providing for his family wasn't his strong point. Without Mom, we'd be scratching to make a living."

  Kate frowned. "That isn't very a very nice thing to say about your father."

  "Maybe not, but there you have it." He flicked her cheek. "I'll say goodbye to Mom and then be on my way. Don't do anything you'll regret. Dermot's a good man."

  It was an auspicious time to make an exit. Kate caught her mother's eye and waved, motioning toward the door. She saw Johannah nod and then quickly, so as to avoid anyone else speaking to her, Kate scooted out into the rainy evening. Breathing in the clean, cold air, she stopped to open her umbrella. At first she didn't notice the stream of smoke drifting up, disappearing into the night, or the man standing under it. Then he spoke.

  "Hello, Kate."

  She knew him at once. His wasn't a voice that Katie Enright would forget. Turning slowly, very slowly, so as to hold the moment, she lifted her eyes to his face. "Hello, Ritchie."

  "It's been a long time."

  "Yes."

  "You're married."

  "Yes."

  "With a child, a son."

  "Yes."

  "My mother told me."

  Kate swallowed. "Did she?"

  He moved out of the shadows and faced her. She tried to fix her eyes on his, to keep her curiosity from showing, to prevent the hunger of her glance while at the same time searching out the changes a decade can make in a man's face and form.

  Unfair, was the word that first jumped out at her, unfair, but typical, and just as she expected. He was still desperately handsome, clean-shaven and square-jawed, with heavy-lidded blue eyes and a shaggy head of copper-brown hair that hadn't the slightest intention of thinning. Ritchie O'Shea was born under a lucky star. Nothing had changed. Nothing at all. Her fingers curled into her hands.

  He stepped closer. "How are you, Katie?"

  She was conscious of the intimate appearance of their encounter, the two of them alone, outlined in the light from the streetlamps. A rush of heat stained her cheeks. "I'm well, thank you. Don't pretend that it matters."

  "You're still angry."

  "I'd say so."

  "Ten years is a long time to carry a grudge."

  "Some might agree with you. I don't."

  He threw back his head and laughed.

  She looked around nervously. "Try to remember this is a wake."

  "I might have known you wouldn't spare me, Katie Enright. You'd be the one all right to hold my feet to the fire. What must I do to be forgiven for not taking you up on your offer to run away with me?"

  She stared at him. "Is that what this is about, your stalking me here at Mrs. O'Grady's w
ake? You aren't thinking you can take up where you left off, are you Ritchie? Because, really, you have no business here. If it's forgiving you want, find someone else. You won't be hearing the words from me."

  He looked at her for a long minute, one side of his mouth turned up in the old way. Then he dropped his fag and ground it out with his foot. "I'm sorry about your dad."

  "Thank you."

  "If you think I woke up that morning intending to break your heart, you're wrong. I just never thought of you that way. It wasn't possible. You know that. But people change, Kate. Maybe I've changed my mind."

  She folded her arms against her chest. "As you said, it's not possible. Go along now. We've finished our conversation."

  "For now. Goodbye, Katie. Remember me to your mother."

  She watched him walk away, anger and hurt and something she didn't recognize raging in her chest. For the second time in less than a week, she found herself battling tears.

  A man waiting at the bus stop turned around. Embarrassed, Kate pressed her fingers against her eyelids.

  "I couldn't help overhearing. Are you sorted out?" he asked.

  She nodded.

  "Because if you're not," he gestured toward the bench beside him. "There's room here."

  She fumbled in her pocket for a handkerchief. "Thank you, but—" She shook her head. What had she sunk to, scrubbing her eyes in front of a stranger? She should run away immediately. But she didn't.

  He continued to watch her. Kate wasn't frightened. He was older, somewhere around sixty, with a kind face. It was still early and nothing ever happened this early in Tralee. She was sure she didn't know him, but something about his expression was familiar and strangely compelling.

  She sat down beside him. "Are you from the town?"

  "I've just arrived." He held out his hand. "My name is Patrick."

  She took it. "I'm Kate Enright."

  "Enright?"

  She flushed. "Actually, it's Kelliher. Enright is my maiden name. It's just that I don't feel married right now."

  "I see. I assume that man you were talking with wasn't your husband."

  Kate shook her head. "That's Ritchie O'Shea. He's just come back from the States."

  "Ritchie O'Shea, the saxophone player?"

  "Do you know him?"

  "Everyone knows him. It's probably good that he isn't your husband."

  "Ten years ago I thought we had potential." She hesitated. "Then something happened and he left me to emigrate. The next thing I heard he was married to an American girl."

  "You're married, too, I heard, and you have a child."

  "Yes." Kate's hands twisted in her lap. "That isn't working out very well right now."

  "Any particular reason?"

  Kate shrugged. "It isn't what I expected."

  "What isn't?"

  "Marriage."

  "Ah." He smiled. "Let me guess. You thought the excitement would continue."

  She shrugged. "Yes, as well as the romance and prestige. Relief, too, I suppose."

  "Relief?"

  "Yes. I thought all the worry about finding someone and being wanted and actually beginning my life was over. Never again, I thought, would I have to be out there, looking for someone to love me, worrying that I'd never be chosen."

  He looked startled. "But you're a lovely girl. Why on earth would you worry about such things?"

  She smiled. "I don't think anyone ever thinks of herself as being lovely enough. Most women don't think they're good enough, smart enough, attractive enough." Her laugh was hollow. "I suppose we have the fashion models to thank for that."

  "Good enough for what?"

  Kate shook her head. "Anything. Everything."

  "What went wrong with your marriage?"

  "I'm not sure," she said slowly. "It was all right in the beginning. We had the same dreams, a house in the country, both of us working, a bit of travel now and then. Dermot can be very funny and clever. But Maired, Dermot's mother, wanted him to assume more of the business, we never did anything together anymore and then Evan came along. Not that I regret Evan," she said hastily, "but it seemed as if no one ever listened to me. I felt I was missing something." Her eyes welled. "If I knew what it was, I wouldn't be such a mess. The thing is, Dermot is a really good man, but he's a bit myopic when it comes to money and I can't seem to get through to him. I have no influence. Shouldn't a wife have influence?"

  "The Kellihers are fine people. Most would say you'd made a good match."

  "There's more to a successful marriage than banking on future prospects. Besides, it's Dermot's mother who has the money and she doesn't believe in sharing. Not that she should. It's hers after all." She played with the fringe on her umbrella. "I can't believe I've blabbered like this. You're a total stranger. I apologize for boring you."

  "Not at all, but I wasn't talking about money. It's character that's important. Dermot Kelliher has character and he chose you which shows his remarkable good sense." He changed the subject. "I suppose you miss your father."

  "Every day."

  Minutes passed.

  "Do you feel better?" he asked after a bit.

  She thought a minute. The frown disappeared from between her eyebrows. "I do. I really do." She laughed and stood. "Nothing's changed, but I do feel better. Thank you, Patrick." She held out her hand. "It was very nice meeting you."

  He shook it. "My pleasure."

  It was only later, after she paid off the babysitter and had tucked Evan into bed that she thought back on that odd conversation. She didn't recall telling him about Mickey, yet he'd asked if she missed her dad.

  Chapter 10

  Johannah

  Johannah sat on a bench beside her mother directly outside of the courtroom. She glanced at the clock overhead. Unless things moved along more quickly, she'd never make it to work today.

  Dolly looked composed in black trousers and a gray wool coat, her white hair curling in a tight helmet around her head, her jaw set as if she were about to do battle.

  "Don't be nervous," Johannah reassured her. "Just explain what happened."

  "I'm not nervous. I'm angry."

  The Clerk opened the double doors. "You may come in now."

  Johannah led her mother to the third row of seats and sat beside her. The Costelloe twins sat on the opposite side of the courtroom. There did not appear to be a lawyer with them.

  "All rise for the Magistrate, the Honorable Timothy Dwyer," the Clerk announced.

  Johannah stood. Dolly made no move to rise.

  "Stand up," Johannah whispered. "You have to stand."

  "I don't," replied Dolly, "not for the likes of him. That's Timmy Dwyer, the cheek of him to be sitting up there, presiding over this courtroom. He's Eileen Dwyer's son from the Stacks and a troublemaker if I ever saw one."

  White-faced, Johannah, slid her hand under her mother's elbow. "Mom, you have to stand. I don't care who he is or how you feel about him. He's the judge and he'll be the one deciding your case."

  Dolly folded her arms against her chest. "I won't."

  Johannah fought to contain herself. She cleared her throat.

  The judge caught her eye. "Is there a problem, Mrs. Enright?"

  "May I speak to you privately, Your Honor?"

  "Approach the bench, please."

  Dolly refused to budge. Climbing over her mother's legs, Johannah made her way to the bench and spoke softly. "Is there another way to do this? My mother suffers from dementia and today isn't a good day."

  The Magistrate frowned. "Are there good days?"

  "Fewer and fewer," Johannah admitted.

  "If it were up to me," he said, flipping through the papers in front of him, "I'd tell you to take her home, but the Costelloe family has suffered damages. I'm sorry, but unless your mother accepts culpability, the issue must be heard in court. Will she agree to that?"

  Johannah sighed. "No."

  "Then, we will have to proceed."

  Johannah took her seat.

&
nbsp; The judge nodded at Dolly. "Mrs. Little, please stand."

  For some inexplicable reason, she recognized the voice of authority and complied.

  "Do you understand the charges against you?"

  "They're lying."

  "That remains to be seen," replied the judge. "Do you understand that you are being sued for the sum of 1500 euro, a sum equal to the medical bills sustained by the Costelloes for veterinary services performed on their dog after he was attacked by a dog belonging to you?"

  Dolly's mouth was set. "Their dog is fine. I saw him just this morning when one of them," she indicated the twins, "took him for a walk."

  "Are you aware, Mrs. Little, that the Costelloe family has two dogs? Only one of them was attacked by your—" again he looked at his paperwork, "by Seamus."

  "Seamus did not hurt either of their dogs."

  "I have the veterinary bill here, Mrs. Little. The charges are specific."

  "How do I know it was Seamus and not another dog?"

  The Judge's eyebrows rose. "For what purpose? Presumably, if someone else's dog inflicted injuries, he, not you, would be here today answering charges."

  "The Costelloes don't like me and they've never liked Seamus."

  "It isn't difficult to imagine why," the Judge said under his breath. "Mrs. Little, there is a witness who saw the incident. I have no alternative but to find in favor of the plaintiff. You are hereby ordered to pay the Costelloes 1500 euro. Do you have that amount with you today?"

  Dolly turned her back on the bench, folded her arms and stared at the wall.

  Johannah spoke up. "She doesn't have that amount with her."

  "Do you?"

  Johannah shook her head. "No."

  Judge Dwyer turned to the Costelloe twins. "Is a payment plan acceptable to you?"

  Simultaneously they shook their heads. One of them spoke. "We're already out of pocket fifteen hundred euro. We must have the entire amount immediately."

  Again, Johannah spoke. "I'll write a personal check today, if that's acceptable."

  "Perfectly acceptable," replied the Judge. "Before I dismiss this case, I must issue you a warning, Mrs. Enright. Your mother needs supervision and her dog would be better served by someone who can give him exercise. I don't want to see her in my courtroom again. Is that possible for you?"