Rain and Revelation (17 page)

My family. Broken, but whole. Distant, but close.

Ma reaches for my hands across the table and straightens her spine. “I want to live the rest of my life the way
I
want to. I don’t want to take care of anyone but
me
right now. That doesn’t mean that I don’t love you. I do, more than you know.”

“You just don’t need me anymore,” I say and wipe my face with my sleeve.

With her gaze intense, Ma squeezes my hand. Her hands are warm and moist. She says, “You need to live your own life. Don’t live it for me or anyone else.
You
have to choose now what you want to do. Not to please anyone. Not to take care of anyone.” I push away from the table and go over and hug Ma. Our tears mingle when she presses her cheek against mine. As we hold each other, Ma says, “Live without regret. I know I’m going to from now on.”

Chapter Thirty-Three

As the engines whine and the flight attendant talks through the usual emergency procedures, I take out my cell phone. There’s a new text from Ryan. “I will miss you. Let me know when you land.” I stare at it for a moment and then shut off the phone, stuff it into my bag, and rest my head against the window.

Next to me, in the middle seat, a woman bottle-feeds an infant. “For her ears, so they don’t pop,” she explains. The man on the aisle, wearing a business suit, buries his nose in a newspaper. I smile and take out my earphones to listen to the music that Ryan loaded onto my iPod for the trip, but hold the wires in my hand instead and look out the window just as the plane separates from the runway.

As the plane ascends, Dublin shrinks to a miniature city. Buildings and cars look like toys. The September sun slices through the clouds and ricochets off the surface of the Irish Sea.

“Are you going to visit family in New York?” asks my seatmate as she slips a pacifier into her baby’s mouth.

“No,” I say. “I’ve just always wanted to go to America. I’ll travel, maybe visit some people I’ve met over the years. My family owns a bed-and-breakfast, and the American guests always invite us to come over.”

“Lovely. Will you be gone long?” the woman asks.

“Hard to say.” I reach down, yank my bag out from under the seat and I stuff the boarding pass of my one-way ticket inside it.

The plane barks steeply, making a u-turn to the west. Below, the sun shimmers off the water. As we pass over the coast, wispy clouds blanket the lush, green countryside and the rocky shoreline rimmed by white surf.

Then it is gone.

I settle into my seat, close my eyes, and try to envision a new future while committing to memory every detail of the home I’m leaving.

Acknowledgments

This book could not have been written or published without the love and support of my husband, David Graham. He has passionately encouraged my writing, spent countless hours reading and editing it, and cheered me to the finish line. It is his book as much as mine.

I am grateful to my family for their encouragement: my children, Andrew, Connor and Kate; my mother, Elizabeth Jane Pautz; and my sister, Liz Christopherson, who read the first draft with a keen eye and made invaluable suggestions.

Many friends have supported and assisted me on this journey: Jeanne Cotter; Janet DesLauriers Morris; Laura Braafladt; Judy Walker; Paula Baker; Char Mason; Joan O’Neill; Maggie Kirkpatrick; Sonia Cairns; Terrie Wheeler; Pat Hoven; Beth LaBreche; Terri Shepherd; Andrea Grazzini; Don McNeil; William Studer; and Anne Nicolai.

Finally, t
hank you to Mary Carroll Moore (writing instructor extraordinaire), the countless writers I’ve been privileged to know and learn from through classes at the Loft Literary Center and Madeline Island School of the Arts, and Ryan Scheife at Mayfly Design.