The Kilternan Legacy

by Anne McCaffrey

  Then he and Simon got into a discussion about motorbikes until the headwaiter announced that our table was ready.

  “Are your children too young for bike races?” I asked him after we were settled.

  Kerrigan gave me a stunned look before he smiled. “I’m not married yet, Mrs. Teasey.” His smile became self-mocking. “You’ll find that Irishmen tend to marry fairly late, sometimes not till they’re forty, forty-five.”

  “They should be old enough to know better, then,” said Simon with unexpected bitterness. He’d started making such remarks even before I’d given the twins any idea that I was thinking of divorce. They’d always seemed fond of their father, which was one reason I’d hesitated long after I knew our marriage had turned into a sham. But suddenly their affections for Teddie had suffered quite a change. Ever since the night of the Harrisons’ party …

  “I shan’t marry until I’m at least thirty,” said Snow loftily. “And only if I’ve known the man a long, long time and can assess his weaknesses.”

  Simon snorted, but Shay Kerrigan, to my surprise, took Snow’s comment seriously and agreed that it was very wise to look for weaknesses. If you loved someone in spite of such flaws, the affection must be secure.

  “Of course, you have to be able to admit you can make mistakes, which is a mature attitude,” she went on, while Simon rolled his eyes in exasperation at her present role. “Oh, cut it out,” she said to him irritably.

  My feelings were rather mixed. I wished she hadn’t come out with such statements in front of a complete stranger; she was using phrases with which I had explained my divorce plans to my children, and Shamus Kerrigan was regarding her with a good deal of interest.

  “They don’t have divorce here in Ireland, do they?” she went on to Kerrigan. “Say, Mother, is your divorce legal in Ireland?”

  “Shut up, Snow,” said Simon. “Mother?” He appealed to me to assert maternal authority.

  “I could ask, if you’d like,” Shamus said, studiously avoiding my eyes.

  “If she isn’t, then if Daddy came to Ireland with that gushy woman he married, he’d be a bigamist and could be arrested, couldn’t he?” And she gave a funny little laugh, not at all the sound of a fourteen-year-old girl. I got the feeling that Snow would very much like to see her father in jail!

  “Here’s the food,” said Simon. “Stop jabbering and eat. This is too good to waste.”

  As though to prevent any more shock waves in the social situation, Shamus Kerrigan initiated other conversational gambits. He was good at it without being heavy-handed in directing the talk. If only I hadn’t been bothered by the fact that he was doing the pretty only to get me to give him access up the lane, I’d’ve thoroughly enjoyed myself. To give him his due, not once did a hint of the matter arise during dinner. Nor on the drive home. I mean, to the hotel.

  The twins and I were properly appreciative of the evening, and he confirmed the Saturday date. Then, as he tooled the big Jag slowly out of the parking lot, we swept into the hotel just as if we ought to. When I figured he must be clear of the intersection, we ducked back out and into the parking lot for the Renault.

  Chapter 4

  I DON’T SLEEP WELL in strange houses on unfamiliar beds. At least, that’s what I told myself when I was still wide awake at three. I was damned well lying to myself. I disliked taking the sleeping pills which my doctor had sympathetically given me after I’d innocently complained about insomnia. I’d been rather aghast when he’d obliquely advised me to “get around more,” meet new people, form new attachments, “however brief.” Mother’d suggested that, she was very broad-minded and this was a permissive society. I’d not been nearly as horrified at her tacit advice to take a lover as I had been at Dr. Grimeson’s. After that, however, I couldn’t chalk up my sleeplessness to nerves or not enough exercise: I had to admit it was the lack of sex.

  Sex, or lack of it, had never been a problem while I was married to Teddie. He liked to exercise his rights and occasionally was rather brutal about exercising them, even after I tumbled to the fact that he was having affairs and in no pain. I’m not a prude—well, not for other people—but I wasn’t going to play the suburban game, particularly after I’d decided to divorce him. I certainly wouldn’t give him a chance to get custody of the twins because of any indiscretion he could lay on me. So I sweated it out. Then—and now.

  I’d about dulled my sex drive before coming to Ireland, so it was heartily discouraging to find a resurgence after just a few hours in the company of an attractive man. It just wasn’t fair.

  While I was prowling about the first floor of the house, trying to wear out my restlessness, I noticed two other patches of light in the darkness: one at Thornton’s cottage and the other at Ann Purdee’s. I also heard the thin wail of a sick child. That brought back other memories: of me desperately trying to cope with two screaming, teething infants while Teddie snored on in oblivion and then berated me the next day for looking haggard.

  I forced myself away from such reminiscences. “Remember the good times,” I’d been advised by another divorced friend. Hating him, or the if-I-had-he-might-not-have routine, is a waste of think-energy,” Betty had told me. “You loved him enough once to marry him, so you must have seen something good in the man—remember that! And let the trivia decay. Otherwise, you end up with a fine case of soul-pollution. Which, honey, is a good way to scare off any decent chance at remarriage.”

  “I don’t want to get married again, Betty,” I’d told her vehemently.

  She’d given me a sideways glance and ostentatiously fingered her new wedding band. “Oh yeah? Convince me!”

  Betty’d had a singularly dirty divorce (and given me tips on how not to have one), picked herself up, joined a singles club in Westfield, and married a widower with five children. She had four of her own, and they bought a huge house and all got on extremely well.

  “Oh, you’re at the I-hate-all-men stage right now,” she’d said. “Can’t blame you. But it passes, lassie, it passes. And then everything and anything in pants stimulates the old sex appeal.” She caught my astonished look and laughed. She was tall and rather gangly, inclined to wear old tweed skirts or blue jeans. “Even this old mare! At least you’re not one of those I-can’t-cope-alone wailers! Soon enough you’ll begin to wish you did have a male around. It’s awfully nice to have a shoulder to cry on when you damned well know you’ve been stupid.”

  “Teddie was never cried on.”

  “I don’t doubt it,” and she rolled her eyes, for she’d known Teddie rather well. “Which is to your advantage right now. You’ve been used to coping.”

  “That doesn’t mean I make the right decisions,” I said, thinking glumly of the horror of an apartment I’d taken. The walls were paper-thin. The next-door neighbors had whining kids and played their stereo so loud that we didn’t need to turn ours on except when their choice of music left a lot to be desired. The apartment had been the best of a bad selection, but I’d been so obsessed with the desire to leave the “matrimonial home” and all its associations that I’d taken the first available accommodation. The twins had been very tolerant, and we’d moved as soon as possible into an old, thick-walled house, newly converted into apartments.

  “That doesn’t mean a man will decide right the first time either,” Betty had said in her droll way. “Say, why don’t you join a singles club?”

  “Betty!” and I gave her a warning look.

  “Honey, you don’t have to marry the first man. You’d be a fool if you did. That’s how mistakes get compounded. No, you need to get back into circulation, and by that I mean just seeing a lot of different people, women and men.” Then she regarded me thoughtfully. ‘Your big problem, Rene, will be pleasing yourself for a change.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I mean, don’t try to be what you think the guy wants in a woman. Just be yourself.”

  “I still don’t understand you.”

  She gave me another long
, searching look. “What-your-best-friend-had-better-tell-you department,” she said with a sigh. “Now, look, I’m not the only one who thought you were getting the bad end of the stick from Teddie-boy. I don’t mean the fact that he was sleeping around. I wanted to bash him in the teeth for the way he’d speak to you. My God, who did he think he was? The Pasha of Persia? And you were too well-mannered to retaliate.” Betty’s breath started to get rough with suppressed anger. “And I am taking you to the next meeting at the singles club!”

  Betty would have—if it’d meant dragging me all the way—but news of the legacy arrived, and she was jubilant for my sake—and aligned herself with my kids to see that I didn’t back out at the last moment.

  “Irishmen are gorgeous.” she told me enthusiastically. “Just what you need to get back into practice.”

  In the dead of night, I wondered if she had foreseen someone like Shay Kerrigan. I’d have to write her. She’d be highly entertained. And at this distance she couldn’t match-make very actively. But such thoughts were not soothing me to sleep.

  I went back to the kitchen and started the kettle. A hot toddy might help. Damn! No whiskey. Well, hot milk would be okay.

  The pots fell out of the cupboard with a clatter. I nearly joined them when I heard a tap at the back door.

  “Whoooo … who is it?”

  “Kieron T’ornton, Mrs. Teasey.”

  “Oh, good grief! Come in.”

  As he entered, he looked down at the door latch. “You’d best be locking that door at night, Mrs. Teasey. We’ve a lot of tinkers on the long acre, and you could lose the best things in the house for sleeping.”

  I stood there, pot in hand, staring at him because he’d a brown bottle, unmistakably the kind which held spirits, in his hand. He noticed my gaze and grinned.

  “The bahbee’s teething, and a little of this helps.”

  “I’m not teething, but if you could spare a thimbleful…”

  He strode into the room, looking blockier and shaggier than ever in the small space.

  “If you’ll permit me to drink with you? A pretty woman shouldn’t ever have to drink alone.” Then he chuckled. “That’s what I’d tell your aunt.”

  “My aunt drank?”

  He threw back his head to roar with laughter, but I made hushing noises and pointed up to indicate he shouldn’t wake my kids. He covered his mouth until the laughter subsided. “Sure and she did!”

  “Hmm. I didn’t mean to imply that she was prudish … but somehow one doesn’t think of old-lady aunts as drinkers.”

  “Don’t think of your great-aunt Irene as an old-lady aunt,” and there was strong feeling in the grin on his face. “She was a grand gal. Had she been younger or I older …” He gave me a mischievous wink and, with accustomed ease, slipped into a chair at the small table.

  Strangely enough, I didn’t feel the least bit embarrassed by Kieron Thornton’s presence in my kitchen. What harm could I come to with a man who succored teething babies and distraught mothers at all hours?

  “Is it Ann Purdee’s baby?” I asked. He hesitated before he said, “Poor little tike.”

  Then I nearly let the milk boil over, because it suddenly struck me as odd that Kieron Thornton was at Ann Purdee’s. Had she no husband?

  “She’s no man in the house, you know,” he said in a slow drawl, and I wondered if I’d been thinking aloud again. “Which is as well,” he added slowly, his eyes on mine. “One more such beating and there’d’ve been bloody little left of her, there being not much of her except willpower anyway.”

  “She dropped in on us this afternoon,” I said, matching his casualness. “To pay the rent.”

  He caught and held my eyes. “You’ve no objection to her staying on then?” There was something he didn’t add.

  I shook my head, and he smiled with relief and approval.

  “There’s a story about Ann Purdee?”

  “I’m not wide in the mouth, Mrs. Teasey, not about other people’s affairs, Irene, your aunt, was satisfied, let’s say, and helped out a bit now and again. No more than was neighborlylike.”

  I caught the hint and nodded. Ann Purdee had already struck me as a proud person whom well-meant but ill-timed generosities could wound deeply.

  “I’m pleased you thought to move in right away,” he said, taking a judicious sip of the hot milk and whiskey. “Hmmm. Very tasty.” I’d doctored it with a bit of nutmeg and sugar. “Possession is nine points of the law in any country.”

  “And there’ll be trouble?”

  “Have you spoken with Mihall Noonan?”

  “Yes, for all the good it did. I’m just as confused. And then, my aunt left a letter of instruction.”

  He was nodding, so I gathered he’d known about it. After all, Mr. Noonan had said he’d saved her life.

  “Do you think,” I asked him urgently, “that there’ll be trouble with the relatives?”

  “Not to worry, Mrs. Teasey. You were always to inherit, or so she told us time and again. God rest Queen Irene! God save Queen Irene!” And he raised the mug in a toast. “Not to worry, I said. You’ve loyal subjects here.” He inclined the upper part of his body in a bow. “Given half the chance, we’ll defend you to the death.”

  “Good God, it won’t come to that?” I was half teasing, and yet I could hear the warning, the resolution to defend, in his tone.

  “Finish your drink, pet. Get the good of it,” he said in a sort of paternal tone, and lifted my hand off the table. “It’s chilly, and you should be abed.”

  I could feel the cold even with the warm, laced milk in my tummy. And I could see the lightening of the sky through the kitchen window. “Good Lord, what time is it?”

  “Half three. We’ve short nights in the summers here.” He downed his drink and rose, pocketing the bottle of liquor. “Sleep sound, and God bless!”

  He was out the door, softly humming a tune that was vaguely familiar.

  I did sleep soundly. Very soundly. Until the thudding on the front door penetrated my sleep, and I felt Simon shaking my shoulder urgently.

  “Mom, it’s that Kelley guy.”

  The presumptuous manner of knocking added to my fury at his unheralded arrival. Perhaps it was close to ten in the morning, but I don’t fancy being awakened by people I’m avoiding. I tried to open the window, but it was too tight.

  “I’ll tell him to go away,” Simon said, starting down the stairs.

  “No, I’ll handle him!” I grabbed up my coat, more concealing than my flimsy dressing gown, and nearly tripped down the steep, short stairs. “What do you mean by pounding on my door in that fashion?” I demanded as I threw it open.

  Brian Kelley, hand poised for another whack on the panels, stared at me, popeyed, his face gone white. Only for a moment, though, for he rapidly recovered his poise, his ruddy complexion, and his accumulated frustration.

  “Are you Irene Teasey?”

  “And whom else were you expecting in this house? And why have you been pursuing me? I left specific instructions that I would contact you.” Then I belatedly realized that I shouldn’t know what Brian Kelley looked like. “I assume, that is, that you are the persistent Brian Kelley.”

  “I am.” He made a movement as if to enter the house, and I closed the door just slightly to emphasize unwelcome. Simon and Snow had ranged themselves on the stairs, and I was glad of their moral support.

  “Well?” I said, tapping my foot.

  “I have been trying to get in touch with you, Miss Teasey, to present a very fair offer.”

  “For what?”

  “Why, for this,” and he spread his chunky-fingered hand to indicate the house and grounds. “A very good offer, considering there are sitting tenants, and your circumstances.”

  “Which circumstances?”

  “Why, that you have to sell.”

  “Who told you that I have to sell?”

  “Well, you’ve the death duties to be paid. I happen to know that they’ll be pretty stiff on
a property like this.”

  “Will they?”

  He wasn’t liking my attitude at all. “I’ve a firm offer of twenty-five thousand pounds. That would be sixty-five thousand dollars!” He seemed impressed, and I refused to be. “You’d still get home with money in your pocket.”

  “Mr. Kelley, you seem to know a lot more about my affairs and my plans than I do. Among other points, you’ve neglected to take into consideration that my great-aunt’s will has not yet been probated. Until it is, nothing can be done about buying or selling.”

  “If you accept this offer, Miss Teasey, you might find that probate is only a question of time.” He was unctuously implying aid.

  “I’m given to understand that it’s only a question of time anyhow.”

  “You’re in Ireland now, Miss Teasey.” The threat was stated now.

  “So I am, come to take up my inheritance, and comply with the terms of my great aunt’s will…” The piggy eyes informed me that Mr. Kelley knew the terms of that will. “… And her letter of specific instruction, which I intend to follow to the spirit and law.” Well, he didn’t know about any letter, that was certain. “Now, if you do not leave my premises I shall be forced to get the shotgun for which I obtained a license from the Cabinteely Gardai yesterday.” That really shook him, and he backed out of the doorway and the small porch.

  “You’ll be sorry you turned that offer down, miss.”

  I slammed the door behind him, and while Simon was shaking the clasped hands of victory above his head, we heard the choleric Mr. Kelley starting his car.

  “Mom, you were great!” Snow said, chortling with pleasure.

  “Who does he think he is, threatening you? Could he really hold up probate, Mom?” Simon wasn’t the least bit upset about that prospect.

  “Don’t know and I don’t care, but I’ll ask Mr. Noonan,” I said, inordinately pleased that I had actually outfaced a man.

  “Among other things, you’d better get that license today,” Snow said, then sighed. “If only you’d stood up to Dad like that once in a while …”