The Parting Glass (61 page)

“No. I fell off the wagon last night. Tonight I go to AA. Tomorrow I see my priest. It’s about time, isn’t it?”

“Priest?”

“To help me deal with whatever I still need to deal with. I—I don’t think I wanted to feel better until now. Now I know that I do.”

She didn’t know what to say. He didn’t look steady on his feet. Conversely, he looked better than she’d ever seen him. More relaxed, and at the same time, more determined.

“About Kieran,” he said. “Going to the pub was good for one thing, at least. I overheard a snatch of conversation, and it started me thinking. Peggy, have you heard of the gluten-and casein-free diet for autistic children?”

She was having problems concentrating. Finn, a different Finn, was back in her life after she had bade him goodbye twice before. She was thrown off balance yet again.

“There’s a theory,” he went on, “a fairly complicated one that we can explore thoroughly later, that the incomplete digestion of certain proteins creates elevated levels of peptides. The theory goes that these peptides are biologically active, and in some individuals may even cause the symptoms of autism.”

Now she was mentally paging through the thousands and thousands of documents she’d read after Kieran’s diagnosis. “That’s familiar, but I discounted it. I decided to put him on a diet with no additives instead. The wheat-and milk-free diet seems unhealthy, and most allergy studies didn’t corroborate it, did they?”

“That’s because the problem is more toxological than allergic in nature. More a poison to the system than a sensitivity. And the unfortunate result is like hallucinogens to the brain.”

“What are you saying, Finn?”

“I’m saying that Kieran’s behavior improved markedly both times he was ill recently. First when he was teething, and second when this occurred.” He nodded toward the bed. “Both times he stopped eating. He was drinking juice or water and little else. Am I right?”

She tried to remember. She thought that perhaps he was. “But couldn’t that simply be the illness? Or even a coincidence?”

“Let’s find out. Put him on a wheat-free, dairy-free diet for three months, Peggy. That’s the suggested time to see if the diet’s working. I’ll help you come up with foods he can eat. We’ll watch his behavior and see if the new regime has any effect. I’m not saying I believe it will, and certainly not that it will cure him. I’m just saying that it might help, that we have some evidence already that it
has
helped, even when we didn’t make the connection. And anything that helps, even a little, anything that makes it easier for you to work with him and easier for him to participate, is worth almost any trial. Are you willing?”

Her mind was buzzing, her heart lifting with hope, as it would in the future every time she heard about something new that might help her son.

But her ears heard one word she hadn’t expected to hear again.

“We?
We’ll
watch his behavior?
We’ll
put him on a diet and come up with foods he’ll eat? What is this
we?
”

He set the chart down and came to stand in front of her. His eyes were sad, and he didn’t smile.

“I’m not much of a bargain. I’ve got a lot of work to do before I’m out of the emotional woods. But for the first time my feet are on the path, and I’m heading in the right direction.”

He reached for her hands and grasped them in his. “The last time I fell in love, I lost almost everything. But like other decisions I made, I wouldn’t, couldn’t, change that one, either. Not even with all the pain it brought at the end.”

“Last time, Finn?”

Now he smiled. “Let me get my life straightened out. Let me come to you whole.”

“Come to me?”

“To say all the things I shouldn’t say right now. I want you to hear them when you’re sure of me.”

She was sure of him now. She supposed she had nearly always been sure of him, even though the past few days had been a particular trial. Sure that the Finn everyone else had known would be back one day. Sure that he was the man she had waited to love.

And she was sure, too, that he was right. He needed to find his way back to himself without obstacles. He needed to be certain he was ready to love again.

She thought she might be able to wait as long as he needed.

“But you’ll be around?” She squeezed his hands. “Around to help me with Kieran’s diet?”

“I’ll be around as much as you let me, Peggy-o. There’s no place else I want to be.”

She kissed him then. It was the natural thing to do, and for the first time it felt completely right. He clung to her, pulling her against him as if he’d feared that he had lost
her,
too. She felt the warmth of his body, both the strength and gentleness in his grasp.

Peggy guessed that she would not have to wait much longer after all.

chapter 40

M
egan let herself into the house on Hunter Street and from the hallway gazed through open doors at the rooms beyond. She hadn’t been sure what she would find with three generations suddenly free of the woman in their lives, but the house looked the way it always did. Clean, orderly…home. She was more than grateful.

“Niccolo?” She hadn’t called to tell him she was coming back, which had been a wise decision, considering her trip had been painfully extended due to bad weather and airline labor disputes. Now her voice echoed through empty rooms.

Niccolo wasn’t home. She indulged in one cynical moment culminating in “Of course he’s not, he’s never home,” before she caught herself. He’d had no way of knowing she would arrive today. Even she had given up hope that she might. So why should she expect him to be here waiting with open arms?

She left her suitcase in the hall and wandered into the kitchen. In Ireland it was midnight, but her appetite was back in Cleveland and shouting for dinner. She opened the fridge and pulled out what looked like fresh leftovers. Nothing Niccolo cooked stayed around long. Rooney had been known to eat Nick’s pesto tortellini right out of the Tupperware.

She found spaghetti with clam sauce and plopped a portion into a bowl for the microwave. Another container yielded salad, and that went into another bowl for a dollop of dressing.

At the table she stared at her lonely meal and felt a twinge of annoyance. She had so much to tell her husband, and he wasn’t here to hear it. She wondered if this was the way he had felt when she abandoned him. Nobody to talk to, no chance of fixing what was wrong.

The front door opened, and footsteps sounded in the hall. She peered around the doorway, hoping to see Nick.

Rooney appeared instead, dressed in clean but wrinkled trousers and a green polo shirt he favored. She suspected it reminded him of the saloon, where green polo shirts were the standard dress for staff.

His face lit up in a smile when he saw her. Since she was never quite sure how she would be greeted, she felt warmly welcomed.

“Back…” He nodded.

She was pleased he remembered that she’d been gone. “How are you, Rooney?”

“Doin’ okay.”

She motioned to a seat at the table and got up to fix him the same dinner she’d made for herself. “You’re hungry?”

He wrinkled his forehead in concentration. Sometimes even the simplest things were a stretch for him. “Guess so.”

“Well, I’ll get you dinner. Have a seat.” She got the same containers out of the refrigerator and fetched a can of cola to go with the food, pouring it over ice as the spaghetti warmed.

“Do you know where Josh is?” She handed him the cola, then went back to the counter to dress his salad. “Or Nick?” she asked as casually as she could.

“Josh…” He took two big sips. He often forgot to drink as his day progressed, and one of Megan’s jobs was to keep him hydrated. “Camping.” He smiled, glad to have the answer available.

She snapped her fingers. “Oh, that’s right.” Josh had just started his senior year, and the senior class began with a week-long camping trip at a state park. She was sorry she hadn’t been here to help him get ready. She hoped Niccolo had taken up the slack.

“Got a new sleeping bag,” Rooney added. “Soft. Says it’s warm.”

It sounded as if Niccolo had made certain Josh was all set. She was glad to hear it.

“And Nick? Do you know where he is?” she repeated.

“Missed you.”

She looked up from dressing Rooney’s salad. “What did you say?”

“Missed you. Moped like a lovesick teenager.”

She stared at her father. Rooney was so much better, but this kind of observation was rare. His strange private world was too often the only one he lived in. “Did he? I’m glad to hear it.”

“I missed your mother.”

She went to the table. “Oh, and you remember that?”

He looked puzzled, as if that was the silliest question he’d ever heard. “Still miss her.” He took the salad from her hand. “You think it goes away? Missing people?”

Her eyes filled with tears. “No, of course not. I’m sorry I sounded surprised. I miss her, too, you know.”

“You’re like her. I’m glad.” He started in on his salad.

Megan took her seat again. “Rooney, you had a good marriage, didn’t you? Even with the troubles you had?”

“Not easy for her. I know that. Something’s wrong with me. Loved me anyway.”

Megan covered his hand with hers. “Yes, she did. And so do we.”

“Missed her every day. Hard to get up in the morning.”

Megan wondered why none of them had given Rooney credit for these deep feelings. Sometimes he wasn’t able to articulate them; sometimes he probably wasn’t aware of them. But Kathleen Donaghue’s absence was as much a part of his life as the air he breathed. She was filled with a renewed wave of love for the man who had fathered her.

“What made your marriage good? Do you know?” The microwave sounded, and she got up to get his dish, wiping her eyes on a napkin as she did.

He laughed, as he sometimes did when a question seemed foolish. “Love.”

“Well, sure. I know that part. But it takes more than that, doesn’t it? You can love someone and still not be able to understand them, can’t you?” She set the spaghetti in front of him, and he abandoned the salad to dive into it as she seated herself again.

He was halfway through before he answered. “You talk, she listens. She talks, you listen.” He looked up, clam sauce on his chin. “Nothing hard about that.”

She wondered if it could be that easy. She and Niccolo hadn’t quite met those standards. He had talked, but had she really listened to what he said? Or had she listened for the things she was sure she would hear?

And how could he have heard what was really bothering her when she had never found the courage to tell him?

“Very wise.” She looked down at her plate. Her appetite had fled. Rooney, on the other hand, was finishing quickly. He rose a few minutes later and took his dishes to the sink. The gesture touched her. This was definitely Rooney at his most lucid, and she loved every second of it.

“Peggy called.” He started from the room.

She had planned to call her sister as soon as it was 7:00 in Ireland. Now she was sorry she hadn’t called right away. Peggy was probably wondering why Megan wasn’t home yet. She hoped her sister had talked to Jon, because Casey had kept him up to date every hour of their delay.

“Kieran was sick, but he’s better.” Rooney left the room.

Megan stared after him, mystified. She suspected, though, that she wasn’t going to learn any more from Rooney.

She had already learned the things she really needed to know, anyway.

The doorway filled again. She hadn’t heard the front door close, but now Niccolo stood there. As she watched, he opened his arms.

She jumped to her feet and ran to them, circling his waist with hers.

“You were gone too long,” he said into her hair. “And I missed you from the moment you left.”

“Oh, I missed you, too. More than I can say.”

“You could try.”

“Damn you, Nick, what’s marriage done to me? When we’re not together, I feel like something major is gone.”

He set her away so he could see her face. “Me, too.”

“I know why we were having problems.”

“So do I.”

“Me first, okay? Rooney just set me straight.”

“Rooney?”

She feasted on his face. He looked tired, but wonderful. She imagined he had worked nonstop since her departure.

“In a nutshell, he said the secret to a good marriage is that when one person talks, the other one listens. I realized that neither of us know how to do that. Me, I just solve problems. Period. I listen to myself, and only myself because for a long time I was the only one available.”

He smiled and stroked her hair. “Megan, it pains me to say this, but there were
always
other people for you to listen to. You just never wanted to.”

She winced. “Okay, maybe so. But I think we’ll both agree that independence was more important for me than for girls raised in a more normal family.”

“I’d definitely agree with that.”

“And you, Nick. You were taught to listen to one voice only.”

“God’s. Yes.” He nodded. “Listening to a wife was definitely not one of the classes they taught at the seminary.”

“I’m sorry,” she said. “I thought I was listening, but all I heard was that you were more interested in your job and showing people through the tunnel than you were in me. I never listened to your reasons, and I never told you I was taking it very personally. Not in so many words.”

“Megan…” He touched her cheek. “I’d fall at your feet if you’d let me. And I was doing all that work out of some misguided belief that that’s what husbands do. They provide for their wives, even if their wives don’t need providing for. I was treating our marriage like I’d treated my church, trying to do everything in sight to make it run properly. I’m sorry, too.”

She grabbed him by his shirt and hauled him closer. Then she kissed him. Hard. Even though that much effort took all her energy.

She stepped away at last. “We need a time every week when we concentrate on us. Just us. Dinner out, maybe, where nobody can disturb us and we can talk about what’s really important. And I promise I’ll tell you what I’m feeling, really feeling. Then, even if you’re swamped the rest of the week—”