Hannie Rising Page 9

  "Until she wakes up."

  "Then we'd better hurry."

  * * *

  Dolly

  Dolly woke disoriented. Stiff and frightened, she lay on the bed and looked around. Nothing was familiar. Carefully, she eased her legs over the side and sat up. The walls were green. She'd never slept in a green room in her life. As far as she was concerned there was enough green in Ireland to last her ten lifetimes, green and gray. She preferred something bright, yellow or pink would be much better.

  Finding her balance, she crossed the room and looked up and down the hall. Where was Seamus? She walked down the stairs, through the house to the backyard. Whose house was she in and why was no one home?

  A familiar whimper reassured her. She opened the door and bent to rub the sensitive spot between Seamus's ears. Good dog, always there when she needed him. "Come, Seamus," she said, crossing the yard to the gate and unlatching it. "We'll go home now. I have no lead for you, so you must behave."

  Obediently the dog followed her, down the pebbled walkway and out on to the footpath. She stopped confused, but the dog took the initiative, urging her toward the town centre and Kevin Barry's Villas, her home since the day she stepped inside the doors as a new bride.

  Traffic filled the streets. Since when had Tralee become so crowded? There was a time when she'd known everyone coming toward her, when the walk home from town took more than an hour because she would stop and converse along the way. Where had all these strange faces come from? They were clearly not from the town or even from Ireland for that matter. Foreigners with their strange ways and their odd accents frightened her.

  Confident the dog was leading her in the right direction, she followed blindly until she recognized the egg-yolk yellow of the O'Sullivan house. For the first time since she'd awakened, her heart resumed a normal rhythm. She was nearly home. Sure enough, she passed the final curve of the street and there it was, her house, black shutters on white, freshly painted, waiting for her. She climbed the brick steps and turned the knob. How odd. The door was never locked, except at night, of course. There was absolutely no reason to do so. The neighbors looked out for each other. Most were original owners or their children. Still, all was not lost. She had a spare key hidden under the porch in the backyard. She kept it for the children when they'd come home late and didn't want to wake her.

  Dolly knelt under the back porch and ran her hand under the lip of the top step. Sure enough the key was there. She unlocked the back door. "Come in, Seamus. We're home, love. Come in."

  The dog whimpered but didn't move.

  "Come, Seamus. You must be thirsty. Come in."

  Slowly, reluctantly, he obeyed. Dolly set the key on the counter, ran the water to wash her hands and reached for the tea towel. It wasn't in its usual place on the towel rack. She opened the drawer to pull out another one and frowned. Empty. Wiping her hands on her trousers, she walked into the dining room. Nothing out of sorts here.

  Climbing the stairs on the way to the bathroom, she glanced into her bedroom and froze, horrified. Not a stick of furniture remained. Dear God! She'd been robbed! She must call the garda immediately.

  The doorbell rang. Rushing down the stairs, she pulled back the curtain and peered through the glass. A man stood on the porch. Relieved, she threw open the door. "Thank goodness it's you. I've been robbed. My furniture is gone. What shall I do?"

  Stunned, he stared at her. "Do you recognize me, Dolly? Do you know who I am?"

  "Stop playing games with me, Mickey Enright. You've been married to my daughter for thirty years. Of course I know you."

  Chapter 14

  Dolly

  He stepped into the house and looked around. The dining room table and chairs and all the living room furniture except for the recliner were still there. "It doesn't look as if anything has been stolen, Dolly," he said.

  "Upstairs," she insisted. "There's nothing left upstairs. Go and look." She followed him to the landing and watched as he checked the rooms.

  Only her bedroom had been cleared out. The two smaller rooms remained intact. Descending the stairs, he took her arm, led her into the sitting room and sat down beside her. "Think a minute," he began. "Do you remember that you and Seamus are staying with Johannah?"

  "Seamus isn't with Johannah. He's outside in the yard. What does that have to do with my furniture?"

  "Johannah felt you would be more comfortable sleeping in your own bed. She had your bedroom furniture delivered to her house."

  "The cheek of her."

  He frowned. "This is still your home, Dolly," he said gently. "But you need company."

  The old woman's chin quivered. "Johannah works all day."

  "She's home in the evenings."

  "Who will be with me during the day?"

  "Is anyone here with you during the day?"

  She thought a minute. The high bones of her cheeks were flushed. "I suppose not," she grudgingly admitted.

  "Johannah will be worried. Shall I walk you back?"

  Dolly nodded and then she frowned. "I haven't seen you for quite some time, Mickey Enright. You were in the habit of stopping in for a cup of tea at least once a week. Where have you been?"

  He hesitated.

  "Never mind," she said, cutting off his explanation. "I suppose you have better things to do."

  "I've been away, Dolly, for more than a year. I'm not permitted to tell you where. No one else knows but you."

  Her eyes widened. "What about Johannah? Surely she knows."

  "No."

  "I've never heard of such a thing. Why would you agree to it? What about your family?"

  He shrugged helplessly. "I can't tell you that either."

  "It sounds as if you can't explain much of anything. Why, I've never heard such foolishness. When will you come out of hiding?"

  "I'm not sure, but I do know that, eventually, it will all become clear, sooner for you than most."

  "Age does have some advantages, I suppose."

  "In a manner of speaking." He smiled. "Call your dog and I'll walk you back to Johannah's."

  Ignoring the curious stares of her neighbors, Mickey held her arm until they reached the familiar porch with its border of hydrangeas. "I'll leave you here," he said. "You look tired. It's been a long day for you."

  "An unusual one," she admitted.

  "Johannah cares about you. Try not to worry her."

  "Shall I tell her you were here?"

  "That's up to you."

  She nodded. "Everything is changing for me. I'm often confused. That isn't the worst part. It's the fear I mind the most. I'm afraid of so many things. Why, do you think, that is?"

  "Because you've lived a long time. You've seen more than the rest of us and you're wary. Children are rarely afraid. Fear creeps up on us, a consequence of experience."

  "You're different," she said. "I've never spoken to you like this before."

  "We're all different. Hurry in, now. Johannah will be frantic."

  Dolly snorted. "It would be better for Johannah if I were gone."

  Mickey's mouth tightened. "There isn't a selfish bone in your daughter's body. She's not capable of even thinking that way. Appreciate her. I wish I'd done more of that."

  Her eyes clouded. "You sound as if you're going away. Are you going away, Mickey?"

  "I hope not. I sincerely hope not." He stooped to kiss her cheek. "Go inside now."

  She opened the door and watched until he walked away. Then she followed the sound of voices down the hall.

  * * *

  Johannah

  Johannah and Maura stood on opposite sides of Dolly's bed, stretching sheets across the mattress, tucking in opposite corners. Pictures that had once adorned her mother's home hung on the walls.

  "What on earth—" Dolly began.

  Turning at the sound of her voice, Johannah smiled. "You certainly had a long rest. I was just about to check on you."

  "These are my things, my bed, my pictures. What are they doing h
ere? What have you done?"

  Johannah's smile faded. "I thought you might like to have your own belongings around you. It would seem more like home."

  "But I'm not home. This is your home, not mine."

  Maura sidled toward the door.

  Johannah sighed. "Surely you remember. You agreed to stay here with me."

  "I didn't agree, Johannah. I was forced into it by that ridiculous judge, that no-nothing, Timmy Dwyer."

  "The result is the same," Johannah explained patiently. "He said you couldn't live alone. You're to live here with me." She smiled bracingly. "It will be lovely seeing each other every day, don't you think?"

  "When have we ever seen each other every day?" Dolly snapped. "What makes you think I want to see you every day?"

  Johannah recoiled as if she'd been slapped. "I just thought—"

  Maura spoke up. "It's been grand seeing you, Johannah. I'll just let myself out."

  Johannah waited for the soft click of the door as Maura closed it behind her. Then she spoke to her mother. "If you feel that way about it, we can make other arrangements. Maybe you'd rather be with Philomena or Kathleen."

  Dolly crossed her arms. Her voice shook. "I don't want to live with them either. I don't want to live with anyone. I want to go home. Why can't I just go home?"

  Johannah's eyes filled. Why did this have to be so difficult? Mentally, she cursed Tim Dwyer. Was her mother really so far gone that she couldn't manage living in the home she'd been comfortable in for more than half a century? How many other women Dolly's age managed quite well as long as they had family to check on them now and then? Who would ever know if Johannah ignored the court order, sent her mother home and stopped in to visit every day? But then there was the dog, the catalyst of their problem. "Are you prepared to give up Seamus?"

  "Don't be silly. He protects me. I'm safer having him."

  "You might be safer, but no one else is."

  Dolly shook her head. "I won't get rid of him."

  Johannah drew a deep breath. "Then you'll have to put up with me, Mom. There's no alternative. I'm sorry."

  "No, you aren't. Don't say it if you don't mean it."

  Heat rose in Johannah's cheeks. Her hands clenched. "Do you think you're the only person affected by all this? Do you have any idea how the rest of us are inconvenienced?" She waved her hand to encompass the room. "This is my house. Until two weeks ago, every room was the way I wanted it. Now, there isn't a spare inch of extra space. You must be monitored all the time. Kate and Liam have arranged their schedules. I have to be home every day at half two, never mind the shopping and errands. All I wanted was to live alone, to have time to myself in my own house." Her voice rose. "You don't understand that. You've never worked a day in your life. When I say I'm sorry things have worked out this way, believe me, I'm sorry."

  The line in the middle of Dolly's forehead deepened. "What have you done with Mickey's things?"

  "Sorry?"

  "Why isn't he living here anymore?"

  Johannah sat down on the bed and rubbed her temples. "Oh, Mom. I can't do this. I really can't. It's just too much."

  "You aren't thinking about divorce?"

  "Of course not."

  "I saw him today. He came to the house."

  "No, he didn't."

  "Don't contradict me, Johannah. He came right into the house when I asked him to check the rooms. I thought I'd been robbed. My furniture was gone."

  "Mickey did not come to the house, Mom. You were sleeping. You had a dream."

  "He looks desperate, as if he hasn't been sleeping. I think he wants to come home. Men are weak, Johannah. It is our job to forgive them when they are penitent."

  Johannah stared at her mother. She'd been raised to respect her elders, never contradict, never speak up much less question or cross. Where did delusionary behavior fit in? Did it harm anyone at all? Was it necessary or even beneficial to correct her mother, her mother whose dementia became more obvious with every passing day? "Mickey and I are fine, Mom," she said wearily. "When he wants to come home, he'll be welcome."

  "He said something very odd."

  "Did he?"

  Dolly nodded. "He said he'd been away for a year and that he couldn't tell me where. He said you didn't know either."

  "He's wrong. I know exactly where he is."

  Dolly waited expectantly. Johannah stood. "I'll hang the rest of the pictures after tea. Would you like to help me set the table?"

  "I'll have it in the sitting room in front of the television where I always do."

  Johannah bit her lip. "Are you sure you wouldn't like to sit at the table with the rest of us?"

  "Are we expecting someone?"

  "Kate, Evan and Liam. They're staying here."

  "I don't believe I know Evan."

  "Yes, you do, Mom. He's Kate's son, your great-grandson."

  "Really?" Dolly looked interested. "I must be very old. Am I old, Johannah?"

  Johannah's laugh was nearly a sob. No sane person would believe this conversation. "Not terribly."

  "Mickey said I was closer to answers because of my age."

  Johannah laughed. "Mom, does that sound like something Mickey would say? I mean, can you remember him repeating anything close to the slightest bit profound?"

  Dolly's lips pursed, pulling her mouth into that odd position Johannah found disturbing. "He said it today. I think he's right."

  "Okay. I'll leave you alone for a bit while I start our tea. Maybe Mickey will stop in and you can have it together."

  "Nothing for me, Johannah," Dolly called after her. "I don't eat in the middle of the day. Ten pounds too lean is better than having an extra tire around your waist."

  Johannah waited until she was in the kitchen with the water pulsing full strength into the sink before she allowed herself to curse.

  Chapter 15

  Kate

  Dermot tried to smile but couldn't quite manage it. "I didn't realize you felt this way, Katie. Why did you never tell me?"

  Kate smiled sadly. "I did tell you. For years I've complained about how small the apartment is. I've asked you, begged you for a place of our own, away from your parents."

  He sighed. "Moving doesn't make sense. We pay nothing to live here. We have no debt. Why can't you understand that? Everything you want will come later. Our retirement will be fabulous."

  "Dermot, I'm not even thirty years old. I don't want to think of retirement. What if we don't make retirement? My dad didn't. I want something now. Don't you see how much resentment your way of thinking has caused?"

  His voice was strained. "I didn't realize it would come to this. I had no idea you wanted to leave me. You never said you hated the work."

  "I've a degree, Dermot. I'm a certified dietician." She shook her head. "To be fair, I didn't always hate it. It happened slowly. By the time I realized how I felt about this place, I'd already been at it for years. You needed me to help out. It seemed churlish to quit when you couldn't afford the extra help."

  "I still can't afford the extra help."

  "I can't wait any more, Dermot. It's killing me. Your mother hates me. It's hard coming here, trying to deal with her."

  "I didn't realize she was in so often."

  Kate stared at her hands, the fingers tight as a tourniquet in her lap. "More now than ever. She wants me to leave. She says she'll take my place until you find someone else."

  "She could never do that," he said quickly.

  Kate shook back her hair and looked at him directly for the first time since the beginning of this most difficult conversation. "I think it would be best. We should keep our distance, Dermot. We're separated."

  "But not divorced."

  "No. Not yet."

  "Well then." His smile was forced. "I don't see why we can't be adults and continue as usual. I need the help and you're experienced."

  "I need to find a job, Dermot. I need the money. I can't continue living with my mother and not give her anything for food or util
ities. You must find someone else, someone whose salary you can afford. We aren't on the same page anymore. I don't want to be here. I want to move on. Do you understand?"

  "Whatever you want, Katie. As long as you're happy. That's all that's important."

  His eyes were so warm and kind and filled with compassion that she wanted to hit him.

  "Don't Dermot."

  "Don't what?"

  "Don't be so decent. It makes everything harder."

  "I can't help that. It's me, Katie. I can't be anything other than myself."

  She groaned and headed for the door. "I'll leave you the car but I need it next Tuesday. Is that all right?"

  "Of course. I'll pick up Evan for the weekend. Give you a bit of a break."

  "Find someone to take my place, Dermot. I won't be back here." Pulling the door closed behind her, she stood in front of the store, under the lintel waiting for the rain to stop, attempting to compose herself. It was after five, nearly dark, and her mother was expecting her for tea. Johannah had invited a friend and she wanted everyone there. Kate had planned on making dessert, contributing her labor since she couldn't contribute anything else. She really had to find a full time job, one that actually paid a decent salary. Evan's knickers were past wearing and he'd outgrown his shoes and trousers. Although it made perfect sense for Dermot to support his son, pride kept her from asking, and she'd die before she approached her mother. But where could she find work in her field in Tralee? She'd have to look in Cork or Dublin. The complications were enormous. An afternoon shower, heavy and slanted, flooded the footpath. How could she have left the house without an umbrella?

  She waited for a full five minutes and still the rain poured down. Just as she was about to make a run for the taxi idling on the corner, a blue Yaris pulled up to the curb and a familiar copper-brown head leaned out the window. "You'll be drenched in this downpour. Climb in. I'll drive you home."

  For half an instant, Kate considered refusing him. Then, replacing reservation with practicality, she climbed in. "Thanks, Ritchie. I forgot my umbrella. You can drop me at my mother's."