There You'll Find Me (39 page)

“I have to. I’ve waited an eternity for this.”

He opened my passenger door as the morning mist covered us both. “You could stay here, and I could show you some sexy vampire tricks.”

I leaned up on tiptoe and kissed his lightly stubbled cheek. “I don’t even want to know what that means.”

“Finley, your brother—”

“I know.” I slid into the seat and buckled in. “But I’m going to play for him.” I had added the last few measures. It was finally perfect.

“And you’ll let it go.”

Beckett raised a brow at my pause.

“Yes, then I’m sure I’ll let it go.”

He drove me to the Shannon airport, where he reluctantly let me off at the curb. “I could go with you.”

“You could. And that’s really sweet of you. But I need to talk to my parents. Alone.”

“Promise you’ll be back?”

“One way or another.” Even if it was just to get my stuff and say my good-byes. My parents were serious about my health. There was a really good chance I wouldn’t be finishing this year in the program.

Beckett helped me with my bag, then pulled me in for a kiss. I relaxed into his arms, loving the feel of his strong chest and the security of his embrace.

“Be careful,” he said. “Call me if you need me. Night or day.” He gave Bob a pat on the head, then walked around to his driver’s side. “And, Finley?”

“Yes?”

“You’re gonna rock this thing.”

I nodded and pulled my jacket tighter around me. “I think I will,” I said. “It’s right this time.”

For the next hour and a half, I waited for my plane in a crowd of screaming babies, a woman yelling into her phone, a man three times the size of me, plus two nuns who looked ninety if they were a day.

In all these things, I am more than victorious .
. .

“Flight 1028 to New York now boarding groups two and three.”

With nerves jittery from caffeine and adrenaline, I handed the woman my ticket and walked onto the plane. I was really doing this.

Crawling at a snail’s pace, I followed the line as we made our way to our seats, stopping to let passengers fill overhead bins and make the transition into their seats.

I finally sat down in 12C, smiling at the woman knitting on my right who occupied the window seat. I pulled out my iPod, wanting to catch a quick listen of Will’s song before takeoff. I was just putting in my earbuds when my phone rang.

“Forgot to turn that off.” I scrambled into my bag and dug out my phone. “Hello?”

“Finley, it’s Belinda. From Rosemore. I wanted to let you know Cathleen took a turn for the worse last night. She’s not expected to make it through the day.”

My bubble of happiness shattered. “I’m on my way to my audition.”

“Honey, I just wanted you to know. If you were here, she wouldn’t even know you were in the room.”

“Did her sister ever show up?”

“No.”

“Mrs. Sweeney’s all alone?”

“We’re here.”

But it wasn’t the same. She didn’t have someone to brush her hair. Or hold her hand. Or read her Stephen King.

Or play the violin.

“I’ll see you when you get back,” Belinda said. “No worries. She knew you cared about her, she did. And that’s what’s important.”

And the line went dead.

Mrs. Sweeney was alone. Just like she’d been her entire life, with no one to care about her—except the staff.

But I had to get to New York. My entire future depended on this. This was me reclaiming part of my life. Sharing my tribute to Will. I could feel good about the fact that I had put in my time with Mrs. Sweeney. Been one of her only friends.

I held my phone and absently touched the screen as my mind spun.

Before I knew it, I’d pulled up my pictures and my fingers automatically went to a familiar set.

And then I was looking at my brother’s face. The last photo he’d sent me, just two days before the explosion. Will stood in the middle of a dusty, barren plot of land surrounded by smiling children holding books. His kids. His school.

It was a picture of life. Of joy.

Of love.

“Excuse me.” I gathered my bag, then reached overhead and extracted my carry-on. “Excuse me.” Waddling through the aisle, I found the first flight attendant.

“Is there a problem?” the petite blonde asked.

I wanted to do what would honor Will the most, not chase another patch for this heart.

“Miss, is there something wrong?”

“Yes.” But I was about to make it right. “I’m supposed to be somewhere else.”

When the taxi dropped me off at the nursing home, I bypassed the nurses’ desk and went straight to Mrs. Sweeney’s room.

Please let it not be too late, God
.

Pushing open the door, I took a breath as I found Mrs. Sweeney right where I left her last, lying in her bed. But this was not the Mrs. Sweeney I knew. She was still as the room, her face pinched in discomfort. Her skin looked pale against the sun that had managed to trickle in through the crack of her curtain.

I sat in my usual chair and picked up her hand. The tears that had become my constant companion of late fell hot and quick. “Mrs. Sweeney,” I whispered. “I . . . I have so much to tell you. I didn’t go to New York. I wanted to be here, with you. Because my brother’s gone. And nothing I do is going to get him back or make up for what happened. But you taught me that—that I need to live for the people who are here and let go of the bitterness and anger. It sucks away your life, and I’m tired of living like that. But being here with you? He would’ve loved that. He would’ve loved to have met you.” My voice thickened. “I wanted to tell you that even though neither of us wanted to hang out with each other in the beginning, I grew to love it. Our talks, even though I was the one doing most of the talking. Reading your scary books. Just seeing your face. You’ve changed me.” Her hand was cold in mine, and I could feel her every bone. “And I think you’re brave. For what you did for your sister. I want to be brave like that. So . . . I’m going home. Back to America.” The words came out fractured and hitched as the decision hit my lips in the same instant it settled in my mind. “I need to get my head straight about some things, and I’m going back. I know I can’t stay here. But I’m not leaving you. I’m going to be right here the whole time.”
The whole time it takes for you to die. To leave this world and leave me
.

But this time, I wasn’t going to be angry. And I wasn’t going to blame anyone. Because it had been a gift.

“Mrs. Sweeney, where you’re going there isn’t going to be any more pain or hurt. You are going to be loved and adored and happy. I can see you dancing in heaven now with your son. Smiling, laughing.” I took a moment and rested my head on my arm, quietly crying as life slipped away. “Thank you,” I whispered. “Thank you for being my friend. And for all you taught me. For all you trusted me with. I will never forget you. Never.” I pulled out my phone and pressed buttons until the song played. “I redid this ending. For us.” I smiled, thinking how proud Sister Maria would be.

A knock sounded behind me, and turning, I saw a familiar face standing in the door.

“Hello,” I said. “Come in.”

Fiona Doyle took one look at her sister and began to sob. “I wanted to talk to her. To tell her I was sorry. To thank her . . . and I’ve lost my chance.” Mrs. Doyle held on to the rails of Mrs. Sweeney’s bed, her shoulders shaking. “It’s too late.”

Standing, I took Mrs. Doyle’s trembling hand and joined it with Mrs. Sweeney’s. “It’s never too late.”

Three hours later, in the dark of the room, surrounded by Nurse Belinda, Fiona Doyle, and me, Cathleen Sweeney took her last labored breath. And stepped into the arms of Jesus.

Because I believed she was in heaven.

Finally living her life.

When I left the nursing home, I placed one more important call.

“Mom?” The green of Abbeyglen splayed all around me as I stood outside and breathed it in, capturing its beauty with my heart and mind, and making a silent promise that one day I would return.

When I’d completely healed.

When I was whole.

“I didn’t get on the plane. No, I’m fine. I mean . . . no, I’m not okay. Mom, I need to come home.”

In all these things, I am more than victorious through Him who loves me
.

“I’m ready to come home.”

Epilogue

Two years later

T
he fall wind makes a grab for my hair as I run across the campus of the New York Conservatory. My shoes swoosh across the cut grass as the sun warms my face. I hold the string tighter in my hand and stop and watch overhead.

Where my white kite dances and soars above.

“I thought we were studying for midterms.”

I turn and find Beckett Rush standing behind me, a backpack slung over one shoulder and laughing eyes trained right on me.

“It’s too nice a day. We need a break.”

“You sound more like a senior than a freshman.” He walks to me, wraps his arms around my waist, and kisses my warm cheek. He gestures to the kite. “Did you learn this in your support group?”

The one I go to once a week. The one I’ll be leading beginning next month. “Nope. Did you make a decision about that script?”

“Da’ and I are still discussing it.”

Since Beckett’s only doing one movie a year now in between his studies at NYU, he has to make it count. And so far he has. Last year he got a Golden Globe Award for his portrayal of a young Charles Dickens in a small indie film. Good roles are starting to come his way.

And so far, no biting required.

“Bring it back in a bit,” Beckett says. “Your kite’s getting too far out.”

But I don’t.

Instead I think of it touching heaven, sending a hello to my brother Will. To Mrs. Sweeney.

This Christmas Beckett and I will return to Ireland, to visit some of his mother’s relatives and to put flowers on Mrs. Sweeney’s grave. Which is right by her son’s.

The woman who taught me to let go. Let God in. And mend.

To let love fly like a kite in the clouds, untethered by darkness and hurt.

Four years ago my brother Will died, and my world crumbled into a million tiny fragments.

Two years ago I went to Ireland.

I met an arrogant vampire, an angry old woman, and a mischievous nun.

And I met God.

Who slowly, painfully, divinely pieced me back together.

A huge gale blows across the commons. “Hold on to it, Finley.”

Beckett reaches for my string.

But it’s too late.

I let it go.

Acknowledgments

T
his book kicked my tail, so my tail and I would like to thank:

Everyone at Thomas Nelson Fiction for all you do for my books and for me.