The Plan (33 page)

“Getting there,” Claire said, swallowing to keep the nausea down. It wasn't just the speed that was making her dizzy, though that was extreme. Claire found herself closing her eyes, whenever they reached an intersection or they merged onto a road, certain they were moments from being struck head-on as they careened into oncoming traffic. Though that never happened, because the traffic wasn't oncoming at all. No matter how many times, per second, Claire reminded herself the turns Patrick was making were not only legal, but correct for the side of the road he was driving on, she still grimaced each time he made one.

If Patrick was aware of her uneasiness, he didn't show it. Jilleen had been correct when she'd say he'd want to interrogate Claire. The questions had begun the moment he'd slid into the seat next to her.

By the time Claire was done answering all his questions, at least
the ones he was able to fit into their forty-five-minute drive home, she felt she had a clear-cut image of how he'd been as a politician. Patrick left no stone unturned, covering her education, employment, hobbies, habits (“Not to worry! I know everyone has some vexatious ones”) and past travel.

He'd even managed to learn about Gia during his questioning of her college friends. The only topic he didn't probe into was family relationships, which proved to Claire she'd been correct the moment she'd seen the look on Jilleen's face. Callum had told all of them about her parents, Jack and the kids.

It was just as well. She hadn't really expected him not to tell them. If she were dating a man who'd lost his entire family, she was certain she would've told her family about it before she brought him home. That is, if she still had a family to tell.

Plus, having them all know, in advance, really made life easier for her in a number of ways. She didn't have to wait for the right moment to tell them. Didn't have to watch the awful looks on their faces when they heard her tale. Didn't have to do the telling at all.

“So, Claire, what do you want to see and do while you're in Ireland?” Fin asked her as they pulled up to Callum's parents' home.

Callum had been right. His brother didn't look a thing like him and it wasn't just because Fin had two arms and two legs. He was so blond Claire could have mistaken him for Swedish or Swiss if she hadn't heard his Irish brogue and been told he was biologically related to Callum. Despite his light hair, Fin resembled his mother more than his dad. Whereas Callum looked a lot like his dad, both men bearing chiseled features and a thin build, Fin was a bit more on the hefty side, like his mom. His belly rolled a bit over his belt, most likely a result of good home-cooked meals and a lack of time to exercise. He also wasn't as tall as Callum, though Claire knew that was a ridiculous comparison since Callum wasn't technically as tall as Callum, either.

His eyes were blue, but not the kind of blue Callum had. Whereas, Callum's eyes were a deep cobalt-blue, Fin's eyes were a lighter, powder-blue, which reminded Claire of the soft blue of Luke's old baby blanket. Fin's eyes weren't nearly as striking as his brother's, but they were kind, and they put Claire at ease.

“Well, I'm not sure,” Claire said, her voice hesitant.

“Oh, don't let that innocent act fool you,” Callum called out from the back seat. Claire could see the boys were now using the stump of Callum's arm as if it were a gun, taking turns moving it, shooting imaginary bullets at one another. “She has a folder as thick as your thumb, full of notes of where she wants to go.”

Claire turned around in her seat and glared at Callum for calling her out.

“Go on,” Callum continued. “Tell them where you want to go or I'll have to do so. Because I certainly don't want you missing out on anything you have your heart set upon.”

“Truly, Claire, tell us,” Nora said as she opened the side door to the van and gingerly stepped out. “We'd like to know what an American might think exciting about Ireland.”

Claire opened her door and got out, too. “I'd like to see the Dublin Castle and one of the churches, either St. Patrick's Cathedral or the Christ Church Cathedral. And I'd really love to visit Kilmainham Gaol.”

“Ah, the prison,” Patrick said, as he walked to the back of the van to retrieve Callum's chair. “They've an excellent tour there.”

“She'd also like to kiss the Blarney Stone,” Callum piped up.

“But I know that's close to three hours from here,” Claire said, not wanting Callum's family to feel as if she planned on imposing her plans on all of them. “I understand if we aren't able to fit that in on this trip.”

“And why wouldn't you?” Patrick said. “You're here for two weeks. Plenty of time to get to Cork.”

“She's worried because she's read that some of those places aren't exactly wheelchair accessible. And, despite my agility on my legs, she fears those tiny stairs and uneven halls would be rough for me.”

“And she's right,” Nora said matter-of-factly. “But why is that an issue? I love going to all of those places and,” she leaned in to Claire and continued with a stage whisper, “Callum would be bored silly in most of them. Wherever you want to go, you let me know and I'll drive you there myself.”

Claire peered into the van at Callum, who was still trapped in the back row with his nephews. Jilleen had run inside to use the loo as soon as they pulled up to the house and Fin was struggling to get a crying Keara out of her seat. No one had attended to the two blond boys, who still had their hands all over Callum as if he were one of their stuffed toys. Callum, to his credit, seemed nonplussed by the physical affection and Claire found that endearing. He nodded reassuringly at Claire as she looked at him, wide-eyed and nervous. She wasn't sure she was ready to spend that much time alone with his mother. He mouthed, “You'll have fun,” and winked.

“Okay, Callum,” Patrick said, finally wiggling Callum's chair from the back and gliding it up to the side of the van. “This chair used to fit in here better before we added all these extra seats for your nieces and nephews.”

“It used to fit right in the middle of the van,” Callum explained to Claire, as he freed himself from the boys and slid around the middle row. “I could roll right in. The vehicle used to have a ramp.”

“But we removed that part when we decided to convert the van to make it more useful to our current occupation—taxi driver for our grandchildren.”

“Plus, once I started driving on my own, we rarely used the van anymore.”

“True,” Patrick said, steadying the chair as Callum hopped down into it.
“Once Callum had his license, we rarely saw him. It was if he'd found his sea legs, so to speak.”

Jilleen was back at the van now, reaching inside to retrieve her boys. “Come on. Hurry now. We haven't got all day. Grandma's serving tea.”

Claire had to remind herself, as they all made their way into the house, that by “tea” Jilleen did not mean a hot beverage. Instead, she meant dinner, the family's main meal for the day.

It smelled delicious in the house and Claire, who hadn't eaten since they left Atlanta sometime yesterday, was embarrassed to hear the grumble of her stomach when she walked into the dining room.

“Someone's hungry,” Fin said jovially, as he strapped Keara into her highchair.

“I'm sorry,” Claire said, her face reddening. “I guess it's been awhile since I had anything to eat.”

“No need to apologize,” Callum said, rolling up behind her. “The fact you're so ravenous will make Mam's day.”

He put his hand gently on Claire's hip, and she smiled at him. It felt so odd to be in the home where Callum grew up. It was larger than she'd expected. She'd assumed most people in Europe and the UK lived in tiny homes. The kind of homes Ikea had in mind when they designed their space-savvy furniture.

As Callum explained to her after dinner, they were an unusually well-off family for that part of the world. “My dad came from family money, and then he was a solicitor and, finally, a politician. We have a smaller home in Dublin, right in the city, but as a family, we mostly spent our time here.

“It was cozier,” he said. “But also, much more accessible to me and my chair. It's not easy to make a brownstone in the middle of the city wheelchair ready, no matter how hard you try.”

The first thing Claire had noticed was how adaptive his home was to Callum's disability. All the doorframes were wider than average
and there were ramps to both the front and back doors. Callum's bedroom was on the first floor and, when Claire peeked in there, she saw all the furniture was low to the ground. Even the dresser was long, and not tall, with two rows of three low drawers. The light switch in Callum's room reached Claire at mid-thigh. The mattress was on a pallet on the ground. The desk was designed like an architect's desk, but had the shortest legs Claire had ever seen. The poles in the closet were the height of Claire's waist.

“Well,” Claire said when she first walked around his room. “This is an interesting room.”

“Looks like a dwarf lives here, doesn't it?”

“Um, kind of.” In Atlanta, Callum's house was wheelchair accessible, but most of the fixtures and furniture were the normal height and his bed, though Claire hadn't spent a whole lot of time in it yet, was definitely of average height, but Callum did have a stepstool next to it.

“I spent my youth on the ground,” Callum said, by way of explanation. “I was rarely in my chair. I crawled on the floor, using my arm to drag me around on my bum. I use my chair a lot, now that I'm an adult. I got used to having to do so when I lived in a dorm in college. You look a little weird crawling on the floor and I was desperate to fit in as best I could once I left home. But, as a kid, I spent more time on this floor than in any wheelchair and certainly more than on my prosthetics.”

“I see.”

“I love my home in Atlanta. Don't get me wrong. And, I'm used to using my chair most of the time, and my legs at other times, but I am, truth be told, most comfortable bumming around on the floor.”

He was in his chair now, but Claire saw something in his eyes that troubled her. Was he asking her for something? Permission? Acceptance?

“Are you saying you'd rather not use your chair while you're at home?”

Callum glanced away from her. He seemed incapable of meeting her eye. It startled Claire. It was the first time since they'd met, he'd seemed at all uneasy with her. Vulnerable. Worried she wouldn't fully embrace him as he was.

“Callum, if you don't want to use your chair here, that's fine with me. Honest,” she said, turning her head toward him. “It won't bother me.”

“It won't make you uncomfortable?” he asked, his eyes fixated in such a way, she wondered if he were challenging her to say she'd be bothered by it.

“No,” Claire said, though that wasn't completely true. She had rarely seen Callum, up until this point, getting around on the ground. He was most always in his chair or on his legs. Still, she knew that, however he got around here in Ireland, she would get used to it. Most everything became normal once you experienced it long enough.

Callum looked like he might want to say more, but then shook his head and didn't.

Claire felt this might be the best time to change the subject.

“So, Fin and Jilleen sure do have a lot of kids.”

Callum smiled then. “They sure do. Good thing all those chiselers are so damn cute.”

“I'm assuming that means children.”

“Aye.”

Callum and Claire left his room and returned to the living room where the rest of the family had gathered after tea. The conversation was light and easygoing, with a lot of teasing and even more laughter. Claire had been so worried she'd feel uncomfortable with Callum's family and was relieved to realize she not only felt welcome, but perfectly at home.

She looked over at Callum, many times, during the evening. He would smile back at her, but she could sense an uneasiness in his eyes. She noticed, despite their conversation earlier, he never got out of his chair, even when his family asked him if he was going to ride along for the whole visit or relax a bit.

“You're home, buddy,” Fin said, as he and Jilleen got up to head home. He had a sleeping Emmet in his arms, while the other three kids slept on the couch. Fin would have to carry each of them out to the car, one by one. “No need to act like you're in front of a crowd. We know the true you.”

“And love you,” Nora said, running her hand along Callum's back as she came to kiss Fin and the sleeping Emmet good-bye.

Callum and Claire said good-bye to Fin and Jilleen. They'd all see each other again tomorrow for the evening church service. It would be Christmas Eve and the family had plans to all go to church together. After that, Fin, Jilleen and the kids would come back to Nora and Patrick's home to spend the night, so they could all wake up together on Christmas morning and experience the children's excitement together.

Claire was a bit concerned about watching someone else's children open their presents with joy on Christmas morning, as she mourned the loss of her own, but pushed the thought from her mind. Christmas was still two days away. She couldn't think about it just yet. That was a worry for another day.

When the others were gone and Nora and Patrick had said they were heading up to bed, Claire looked at Callum and shrugged.

“Guess it's just you and me.”

He'd smiled at her, but it wasn't the same vibrant smile she was used to.

“You must be exhausted,” Callum said. “Jet lag isn't for sissies.”

She was exhausted, but not as tired as she'd expected to be. Her
long sleep on the plane had helped her avoid the crash once they'd landed in Dublin.

“Want to talk for a bit?” Claire asked.

“No. If it's okay, I'd like to head to bed,” Callum said. “You might not be exhausted, but I am.”