Shannon's Daughter

by Karen Welch

  “I’m so sorry. I. . .”

  “Hush. There’s no need to be sorry. I should have seen how worn out you are.” Reggie shoved his way in, Alice close on his heels. “Here, let’s have the doc take a look and then I’ll get you upstairs.”

  After a cursory exam and a few hushed questions, Reggie drew him aside. “Worst time for all this to be going on. She got her period yesterday. Says it’s unusually heavy. All the stress, no doubt. And she missed her last injection, you know.” He shook his head, watching as Alice brought a glass of water and helped Peg sit. “She’s a terrible patient, frankly. Thinks she’s invincible. Best get her upstairs where she can lie down for a bit. And try to talk some sense into her, Kenny. If the two of you ever hope to have a family, she’s going to have to do better than this.”

  He chose not to comment on any of Reggie’s observations for fear of making matters worse. Instead, he knelt beside Peg again, taking her hand.

  “I can’t just leave, Kendall. I’ll be fine. Just let me sit in here for a few minutes, please.”

  “Not an option, brat. I’ll carry you up the back stairs. No one will be the wiser. Why didn’t you tell me you weren’t well?”

  “I’m not sick. I certainly didn’t expect to pass out like that. It’s silly to make such a fuss.” When she made a move to get to her feet, he hastily scooped her up, surprised to feel her slump in his arms rather than offer any resistance.

  “Alice, would you open that door for us please? Miss Shannon is going upstairs to rest. I’m sure we can count on you to keep things running smoothly down here.”

  “Yes, sir. Of course, sir. Do feel better, Miss. You scared me half to death, fallin’ out like that.”

  “Thank you, Alice. Reggie, would you mind joining us upstairs for few minutes?”

  “Not at all. I’ll just tell Maeve what’s what, and I’ll be right up.”

  Peg lifted her head to protest softly, “Reggie, please don’t tell everybody I fainted. That sounds so melodramatic.”

  “Melodramatic or not, that’s what you did, Peg. But don’t worry, I’ll play it down. Just, for heaven’s sake, start taking my advice from now on, will you?”

  “Oh, don’t worry, she will. Now, let’s see if I’m still man enough to carry you up a flight of stairs.”

  Her head drooped to his shoulder again. “I’m sure I could walk if you’d put me down.”

  He halted on the bottom tread, fixing her with the fiercest scowl he could manage. “Will you please be a good girl for once and let me take care of you? Stubborn won’t cut it this time. And I won’t have it on my conscience if you get seriously ill.”

  He fully expected her to come back with another objection, but instead she closed her eyes sighing, “Fine. Have it your way.”

  He left her resting, doubting she would take Reggie’s advice and stay there for the remainder of the afternoon. The best he could extract was a promise to eat the sandwich Alice brought, and keep her feet up for a while. Downstairs, the crowd was thinning at least. Another hour and they’d have the house to themselves.

  Reggie’s words insisted on echoing in his head. Had their family and friends really begun to assume he and Peg were headed for the altar? If the damage was already done, how would he explain it when she went back to New York and he continued his life as he must, single and celibate? As if Reggie’s comments hadn’t been enough to unsettle him, he was soon cornered in the kitchen by his mother, who had apparently been engaging in the same sort of speculation.

  “Kendall, dear, what are your plans now?”

  “I have to be back at Glyndebourne on Sunday. Until then, I’ll stay here and try to clear up a few things.” He stared at the teacups he’d just set afloat in the dishpan, hoping against hope that would satisfy her.

  “I mean your long-range plans, darling. Your plans with Peg.”

  “I don’t know what you mean. Peg will go back to New York next month. She still has a year of university to complete.”

  “And after that?”

  He managed to look her in the eye, hoping to appear genuinely innocent of her implication. “We haven’t any plans, Mother.”

  “But you’re obviously fond of her. And she seems very devoted to you. A girl doesn’t give up her summer abroad to help a man the way she has you in this sad situation unless she’s in love with him. I’m not blind, Kendall. I see what’s going on between the two of you. You’ve been practically inseparable all summer. I just hope you know what you’re getting into, if you are planning to marry her. And even more importantly, if you aren’t.”

  He took a deep breath, starting to count to ten, but by six he was seeing red. “Mother, you’re completely out of line here. In the first place, yes, Peg and I are very fond of one another. In the second, what we plan to do or not to do is no one’s concern at this point but ours. We’re both adults, capable of managing our own lives.”

  “Michael would like nothing better than for her to marry you. Or so he told Patrick. Are you aware of that?”

  “Yes. He’s said as much to me.”

  “Would it surprise you to know I wouldn’t object to having Peg for a daughter-in-law? As long as she made you happy?”

  His jaw dropped. He could feel the incredulous scowl twisting his face. “Mother. . .”

  “I can see it would. Don’t look so shocked, darling. I know this is a terrible time for you. I’m grateful you have Peg to stand by you, to help you through this. If you decide, when you decide, to let us in on your plans, I just want you to know, you’ll have our blessing.” She brushed a kiss on his cheek. “We’re going to be leaving soon. I hope Peg is feeling better. Reggie said she must have eaten something that upset her. The poor girl looked rung out. Tell her we missed saying our goodbyes, but I’m sure we’ll see her in town soon.” She left him staring at the soapsuds, shaking his head and wavering between laughter and tears, either of which he suspected would have been uncontrollable.

  By four o’clock the door closed on the last of the guests. Leaving Alice and Hammonds under the supervision of Mrs. Beatty, who insisted she’d rather stay busy than sit out the rest of the afternoon, Kendall gave a few brief instructions, expressed his gratitude for at least the tenth time and took himself upstairs. Cautiously creeping into the darkened bedroom, he stood over Peg for a moment, marveling that she’d actually fallen asleep above a house full of people.

  Rounding the bed, he shed his shoes and stretched beside her, propping on one arm to study her profile in the dimness until she stirred. “What time is it?”

  “Almost five.”

  Her eyes flew open. “Oh my gosh, Kendall! Why did you let me sleep so long?”

  “Because contrary to what you might believe we were managing just fine without you. Feeling any better?”

  Scrubbing her hands down her face, she moaned. “No. Now I just feel guilty. Has everyone gone?’

  “Almost. Alice and Hammonds are helping Mrs. Beatty with the last of the cleanup. They should be on their way in another hour.”

  “On their way where?” Hands pausing in midair, she blinked up at him.

  “Back to London.”

  “But I still need them here!” When she attempted to sit, he pulled her into his arms.

  “No you don’t. You have me. And I want a few days of relative peace and quiet here with you. We’ve earned it, don’t you think?”

  “I suppose.” After a moment of weak resistance, she snuggled into his side. “It’s times like this I really resent being female.”

  He chuckled against her hair. “Well, I for one am very thankful you are. Our relationship wouldn’t be nearly so exciting otherwise, I’m sure.”

  “That’s not what I mean. I don’t mind being a woman. I mind being laid low every thirty days. How would you like if your body refused to behave normally and your emotions played nasty tricks on you several days every month?”

  “Hmm. I never thought about it quite that way.”

  “Yes, well if men had to
go through this, at least it would make things more even between the sexes. As it is, you guys just roll along the same every day and we women bounce up and down like yoyos.”

  “Hardly seems fair, but on the other hand, we men are slaves to our hormones in other ways. Ladies can at least conceal their lusty response to a handsome bloke without too much effort. Men can’t control their physical reaction to a nice pair of legs nearly so well. When the blood flow heads south, there isn’t a thing we can do about it.”

  Peg laughed softly. “Legs, huh? Is that your weakness?”

  “I’m afraid so. Yours for instance, drive every rational thought from my brain. The first time I saw you in New York, I remember you were wearing that little tennis skirt and I very nearly fell down the stairs.”

  “We had fun then, didn’t we, getting to know each other? That seems so long ago now.” She buried her face in his shoulder and sighed. “This is nice though, just being with you here. I could get used to it, I think.”

  He held her for a time, stroking her shoulders and trying to think no further than the rare, sweet calm of the moment. Time enough to discuss the improbability of many more of these moments, or how they were going to deal with the depth of the hole they’d blithely dug for themselves.

  “Kendall?”

  “Yes, love?”

  “What’s wrong?”

  He drew back to look down on her face. “Why do you ask?”

  “Because I can hear your heart beating. One minute it’s calm and slow, the next it speeds up, thumping like you’ve been startled. Since there’s nothing out here that would cause that, I can only guess it has to do with what’s going on there.” She gently touched his temple. “So what’s wrong?”

  “You are far too perceptive for your own good. I was planning to keep my ‘startling’ thoughts to myself for tonight.”

  “Sorry. Now tell me. Please.”

  “Um. Where to begin?”

  “How about just getting to the heart of the problem?”

  “No stalling, eh?”

  “No.”

  He took a deep breath. “It seems our friends and families are already planning our wedding.”

  Her head came up abruptly, eyes wide and incredulous. “What?”

  “Oh, good. At least you’re as surprised as I was. I was a bit concerned you were in on it and just sparing me.”

  “What are you talking about? And who exactly are you talking about?”

  “In the course of an hour, both my best friend and my mother felt compelled to bring up the subject of our pending nuptials.”

  “Kendall, stop being silly. Everyone thinks we’re just friends. Well, maybe Agnes knows there’s more, but she would never tell on us.”

  “It didn’t take Agnes tattling to put them on to us, sweetheart. As Mother pointed out, she isn’t blind and neither apparently is anyone else. When you took your little turn in the kitchen, Reggie pulled me aside and after pointing out what a terrible patient you are, he advised me to see that you take better care of yourself if we ever plan to start a family.”

  “Oh! He didn’t! Why would he. . ?”

  “Because he can see how I feel about you. He’s right, you know, in thinking that I’d want to marry any girl I cared this much for.”

  With a moan, she dropped her head on his chest. “And your mother?”

  “You’ll be relieved to know she’s all for the match. And your father, too. He told Patrick as much.”

  “What are we going to do?”

  “Nothing.”

  “But we can’t just let them think we’re planning to get married. Between my father and your mother, they’ll have everything arranged down to the old shoes and rice without even consulting us.”

  He chuckled, struck by the truth of that statement. “Probably. But if we say anything, or do anything to try to convince them otherwise, it will likely lend credibility to their suspicions. Our only course, the way I see it, is to go about our lives as we should in hopes they’ll get bored with the idea and leave us alone.”

  “And just how are we going to do that? And still spend time together?”

  “Ah, now that’s just the kind of question that has my heart rate jumping about. But there’s no help for it, Peg. We’re going to have to see less of one another, and by less I mean not only spend less time together, but spend that time in less intimate circumstances.”

  “But. . .”

  “No buts, brat. They’re on to us. And for them, the fact that we’ve been sleeping in one another’s beds can have only one acceptable outcome.”

  “We’ll just have to more discreet then.”

  “No, we’ll have to spend some time apart. As in miles apart. Where is Connie these days?”

  “In Rome, or maybe Spain by now. But what does Connie have to do with this?”

  “You’re going to join her, wherever she is. To make up for missing out on Paris, you’re going to hop on a plane and spend some time basking in the Mediterranean sun.”

  “And what will you to be doing, assuming I agree to go?”

  “Working, of course. And there’s no assuming, brat. You’re going. I’m closing up the house when we leave on Sunday. Your work done here, you’re going to finish up your summer holiday in style.”

  “Is that right?” No mistaking the rebellion in her voice.

  “Yes, it is. We can’t talk them out of what they think we’ve been doing, since they’re in fact correct. All we can do is stop doing it, get on with our respective lives and let the notion die a natural death.”

  “And what about Christmas, when I come back to England? They’ll know nothing’s really changed.”

  He hesitated. That was something he’d hoped to ease into later, once phase one of his plan had proven its merit. “Look, sweetheart, maybe Christmas is too soon. And you’ll have so little time. . .”

  “You don’t want me to come?”

  “Of course I want you to, but it might be better not to. We have to accept that this thing goes beyond the two of us. Much of my life is a lie as it is. I refuse to expand the deception to include everyone who cares about us. And most of all, I refuse to drag you deeper into the lie.”

  She expelled a long sigh and for a time lay quietly in his arms. He heard the sound of a car’s engine below the window and voices suggesting Alice and Hammonds were preparing to leave. Shortly thereafter, the front door closed, the car drove away and he thought he detected a final click of the front gate’s latch. Mrs. Beatty had promised she’d return in the morning to see to their needs. He could picture her trudging off down the drive, as she’d done each evening for so many years.

  “Are you hungry, love? I’m sure supper’s in the oven for us.” He hugged her closer, suddenly craving her warmth.

  “I guess. We can’t stay here all night like this, can we?”

  His arm was numb beneath her. “Hardly. Much as I love having you in my arms, one of said limbs has lost all sensation.”

  She sprang up, turning to face him. “I’m sorry!” Another second and tears welled in her eyes. “I really am sorry. I never meant to put more pressure on you.”

  “I know. And it isn’t as if I haven’t been a willing participant in this affair. But the time has come to slow things down, don’t you agree?”

  “If that’s what you think we should do. I’m not sure it will really convince them, but maybe after a few months. . .”

  “Let’s not plan. Let’s just see what happens. Who knows, there’s always the chance my situation might change and I’ll be able to do the proper thing eventually.”

  “The proper thing?”

  “Marry you, brat.”

  She stared for a moment, tears still clinging to her lashes. “You really want to be married, don’t you? That’s what would make you happiest?”

  “Of course it is. Call me old-fashioned, but I’ve always believed in marriage, as an institution and as the best way to achieve contentment.”

  “And you think we could
have that. Contentment, I mean?”

  “Of course I do. Peg, I love you. And I think you love me. We’re compatible in every sense of the word. I know there are some logistical issues, but nothing we couldn’t work out. It’s only the fact that I made a horrible mistake all those years ago that’s forced us to this unholy arrangement of ours. Yes! I believe we could be truly content together, downright happy, if we gave it half a try.”

  Watching as she gazed past him out the window, he imagined she was digesting the idea. Noting the grim set of her lips and the dullness in her eyes, he wondered at her thoughts, but decided not to push the subject. It wasn’t as though such a happy ending seemed likely. But a man could dream, couldn’t he, if dreaming eased his conscience?

  London—1956

  Chapter Forty

  Those days following his grandmother’s funeral would provide Kendall with bittersweet memories in the months to come. By the time Peg returned to London and he to Glyndebourne, she had arranged to fly to Rome to join Connie and her mother, eventually returning to New York with them in mid-August. Their final farewell was awkward and rushed after the sweet pretense of the previous days, said on the threshold of her suite at Brown’s before he dashed back to Victoria to catch his train. With no idea what the future held, neither seemed to find the energy for more than a lingering gaze and one last tender kiss.

  They wrote, at first long, thoughtful letters which soon dwindled to less frequent missives padded with unnecessary details and gossip. Agnes was the subject of their correspondence for a time, after she abruptly decided to take a position in Dublin at the end of the first school term. Her decision, she wrote to Peg, was due to the fact that Devin O’Rourke ran off to marry his heretofore unheard of fiancée, whom he’d somehow gotten in the family way. “Agnes is done with men, she says,” Peg wrote in her first letter of the New Year. “She still thinks you may be one of the few ‘good guys’ around, but she warns me to be careful. Even ‘good guys’ are men.”