Megan and Pat had decided to keep David’s surgery from Mary Bernadette and Paddy for the time being. The older Fitzgibbons were upset enough about what was happening with Wynston Meadows. Upset, but not willing to let his machinations interfere with their upcoming Easter celebrations.
“You do so much for the family,” Megan had told her mother-in-law over the phone. “The least I can do is make Easter dinner for you.” Characteristically, Mary Bernadette had refused. “The day I can no longer cook a meal for my family is the day they lay me in the ground,” she had said stiffly. Megan had known better than to argue; it was common knowledge that it was near impossible to soothe the proud. Well, Megan would insist on cleaning up after the dinner; if she enlisted the help of Alexis and the twins, the work would be done before Mary Bernadette could finish her protest.
Megan filed the latest correspondence from David’s doctor. She would never, ever forget how excited she and Pat had been when they learned she was pregnant after so many years of trying and failing. They had not told either set of parents—or PJ— about the decision to pursue in vitro fertilization. The doctor had been honest with them. “It might not work the first time,” she had said. “It might not work at all.”
But they had been extremely lucky. Megan had conceived on the first attempt. The pregnancy had been fairly easy, and it was thought that the delivery would be without incident. Danica had arrived first, howling up a storm. David’s entry into the world had not been so easy.
From the very first, Megan had the distinct feeling that Mary Bernadette blamed her daughter-in-law for her grandson’s misfortune. Megan had felt bad enough, wondering if somehow she might have been responsible for her son’s cerebral palsy—in spite of the doctors reassurance that she was not to blame for the challenges her infant son would face—without having to endure her mother-in-law’s silent but felt condemnation. The fact that Danica had come into the world without trauma had only served to create another layer of guilt and discomfort.
Pat, too, had experienced his own emotional trials. Bonding with his second son hadn’t come easily (not uncommon, a doctor had assured them), and that had made him feel guilty and angry and remorseful all at once.
Trouble had visited anew when Pat announced to his parents that he and Megan had decided not to have the twins baptized. Paddy was too well mannered to openly protest his son and daughter-in-law’s decision. Mary Bernadette had no such compunctions. “You’re making a terrible mistake,” she had declared. “Mark my words, there will be consequences for this lapse. There’s no excuse for alienating your children from God.” Really, what could you say to that?
Megan sighed. In keeping with her promise to visit the elder Fitzgibbons more often, she was going down to Oliver’s Well for Palm Sunday weekend. The twins would stay home with Pat, who more than likely would not take them to church. At some point during her visit, Megan was sure Mary Bernadette would say, “I’m assuming my son and grandchildren aren’t attending church tomorrow?” And Megan would respond with a neutral comment, something on the order of, “I really don’t know what their plans are.” To which her mother-in-law would reply, “And why don’t you know their plans?”
Suddenly Megan experienced a wonderfully absurd vision. She saw Mary Bernadette standing before the pearly gates of Heaven.
“So,” Saint Peter asked her in his booming and imperious voice, “what makes you think you’re worthy of eternal life with God?”
And Mary Bernadette replied, in just as booming and imperious a voice, “And what makes you think that you are?”
CHAPTER 52
Megan was in Mary Bernadette’s kitchen, wrestling with a craving for a grilled cheese sandwich while worrying about her son’s marriage. She would have to have been blind and deaf not to pick up on the tension between PJ and Alexis at dinner the night before. PJ had pointed out that Alexis had failed to pick up a container of milk as he had asked her to. Alexis had replied that she assumed he was perfectly capable of buying a container of milk all by himself. Then she had pointed out that except for their honeymoon, PJ had never traveled. PJ had replied, somewhat stiffly, that the state of Virginia offered all that he could ever imagine wanting and that if Alexis was restless there was nothing stopping her from taking a plane to parts unknown. Well, maybe there was nothing to worry about. Maybe PJ and Alexis were simply experiencing the ordinary, absurd grumpiness that was so much a part of any marriage.
Oh, to heck with it, Megan thought, going to the fridge for the sliced American cheese her mother-in-law always kept on hand. She took the package of cheese to the counter and retrieved the loaf of bread from the breadbox. She reached up to the magnetic rack along which Mary Bernadette’s knives were stored in order of size, and as she did so she saw, through the window over the sink, the cottage door open. PJ stood just inside. Alexis rushed out past him. PJ seemed to be calling her back. Alexis whipped around to face him, arms raised over her head. It was clear that they were shouting at each other. In a moment, PJ slammed the door, and Alexis turned and ran toward the house.
Megan put a hand to her heart. The pantomime had suggested such anger.
A moment later the back door flung open and Alexis came stomping in. When she saw her mother-in-law she stopped cold. “Oh,” she said. “I didn’t know anyone was here.”
Megan forced herself to smile. “Just me.”
“I saw Mary Bernadette and Paddy drive off earlier. I thought . . .”
“They had an appointment with the eye doctor. Mary Bernadette thinks Paddy needs a new prescription. I know, I know they’re his eyes, but . . .”
“I left a library book in the living room. I just came to get it.”
“Yes, I saw it on the coffee table. A biography of Julia Margaret Cameron. A photographer, wasn’t she? Did you enjoy it?”
“It was okay,” Alexis said.
Megan indicated the loaf of bread and the stack of sliced cheese on the cutting board. “I’m making myself a grilled cheese sandwich,” she said. “Would you like one?”
“No, thanks.”
“I know I shouldn’t be eating this when I’m going to be having one of Mary Bernadette’s calorie-laden meals later, but I’m in the grips of a craving.”
Alexis smiled a bit. “I’ve been craving Twinkies lately. It’s weird because I don’t even like Twinkies. I never did. But I ate them when I was a kid because my best friend did.”
“Maybe what you’re really craving is your old friend,” Megan suggested carefully. “Or your childhood, a simpler time.”
Alexis looked at a spot on the wall above Megan’s head. “I never thought of that.”
“PJ used to like Twinkies. Once his grandmother saw him eating one at our house, and let me tell you, she was not amused.”
“Because they were artificial?”
Megan gave Alexis what she hoped was a conspiratorial look. “Because they weren’t made from scratch by his loving mother.”
“Oh.”
Megan turned away and busied herself with making her lunch. “How are you and PJ doing these days?” she asked.
“Fine,” Alexis replied quickly. “Great.”
She’s a terrible liar, Megan thought. “That’s good. Because the first year of marriage can be pretty difficult, no matter how much you care about each other.” Megan turned back to her daughter-in-law. “I remember Pat and I having some real blowups. They meant nothing much in the end, but I remember feeling so upset at the time, like things would never get better.”
Alexis cleared her throat. “Well, we’ve been married for over a year now, so . . .”
“Yes.” Megan went over to the stove and turned on the gas beneath a large cast-iron skillet. “Still, there’s so much to learn about a person once you’ve moved in together.”
“I guess. But PJ and I already knew each other pretty well before we got married. I guess we’re just lucky.”
“Well,” Megan said, “I’m glad.”
“I really should
get going. To the office.”
“Do you often go to the office on a Saturday?” Megan asked.
“You know what Mary Bernadette says. The Devil finds work for idle hands.”
Megan smiled. “Yes, she does say that.”
Alexis turned toward the living room, and then turned back. “Do you think she really believes in the Devil?” she asked.
“I think,” Megan answered, “that she believes in Evil, with a capital ‘e.’ ”
Alexis nodded. “Enjoy your sandwich,” she said as she went through to the living room. A moment later, Megan heard the front door open and shut.
After lunch, Megan placed a call to her husband in Annapolis. Briefly, she outlined the scene she had witnessed between their son and his wife.
“So,” she said, “I tried to get Alexis to open up, but it was a complete failure. She clearly didn’t want to talk to me about her personal life.”
“Well, that’s not surprising, is it?” Pat replied. “She probably sees you—and me—as the enemy.”
“I wish she wouldn’t.”
“You know, I’ve often wondered if a girl like Alexis would tire of a guy like PJ. Don’t get me wrong,” Pat said. “I love my son. But his sights don’t seem to be set very high. And from what we know, Alexis has had a lot more experience of the wider world.”
“And yet, she chose PJ,” Megan pointed out.
“True.”
“Besides, I’m not sure how worldly she really is. She might have traveled a bit, but there’s something naïve about her.”
“Really?” Pat said. “I don’t think I’ve ever paid enough attention to her to know that. That’s terrible of me, isn’t it?”
“Normal enough. Besides, we haven’t known her for all that long. It might be different if we all lived in the same town and spent more time with each other.”
“Speaking of living in different places, when are you coming home? I miss you.”
“You mean, the twins are driving you crazy.”
“That too.”
“After church tomorrow,” Megan told him. “It’s Palm Sunday, remember.”
“Oh. Right. You’re a good woman, Meg.”
Megan shrugged. “I kind of like playing a member of the idiot mob when the Passion is read aloud. I mean, in real life, when do you get to call out, ‘Crucify him!’ without being thrown in jail?”
“Meg! You had better not let my mother hear you say that! She’d brand you a heretic and inaugurate a new Inquisition.”
“Don’t worry.” Megan laughed. “It’s my own dirty little secret.”
CHAPTER 53
PJ pulled into the parking lot in front of Fitzgibbon Landscaping headquarters. His grandfather—accompanied by Mercy—was just getting out of his car. Paddy had driven to the office on his own because in a little while he was headed to Westminster to visit a recently widowed friend.
Mary Bernadette had made some noise about God resting on the seventh day and couldn’t it all wait until the morning, but his grandfather, in a rare show of opposition, had replied that winter came fast upon the lazy and that it was never a good idea to put off until tomorrow what you could accomplish today. Not even Mary Bernadette could argue with that reasoning.
Fitzgibbon Landscaping was located on the outskirts of Oliver’s Well on a road that was also home to what had once been Danny’s construction company, a lumber yard, a small brewery, and a bike repair shop. The company’s headquarters included the small building that housed the office, a tiny kitchenette, and a bathroom for employees; a parking yard for clients and workers; and a barn-sized building for the storage of landscaping equipment.
Paddy unlocked the door of the office and Mercy bounded in ahead of them. “Two o’clock,” Paddy said, looking at the clock over the reception desk. “I should be out of here by two-thirty if I’m going to get to Charlie’s and then back home for dinner.” He went over to an old metal filing cabinet to search for information on a client who was giving PJ a hard time. “The man was always a bother,” Paddy had told his grandson. “Born mean.”
PJ went over to his wife’s desk, once his grandmother’s, and sank into the ergonomic chair Alexis had ordered, with some opposition from Mary Bernadette, who didn’t see why a plain, old-fashioned office chair wasn’t good enough. PJ rubbed his eyes. His wife’s unhappiness was wearing him out. When the Passion had been reenacted at Palm Sunday services that morning, she had only mumbled the words. She had been silent when the other members of the congregation had recited the Apostle’s Creed, and by the end of the sermon she had shredded her palm stalks into tiny curling strips. At one point PJ had been sorely tempted to ask why she had bothered to come to church at all if she was going to act so disrespectfully. As if she just didn’t care. And Alexis had always been someone who cared. She had always been so earnest in her emotional commitments. It was one of the first things about her that had attracted him so strongly. And now . . . now it seemed that Alexis was a million miles away from him.
His mother had been with them at church. Before she got into her car to head back to Annapolis she had taken him aside and reminded him that he could call her at any time. Then she had told him that she loved him. For one crazy moment PJ had wanted her to hug and comfort him like she had when he was little, before the twins had come along. But it was only for one crazy moment.
PJ looked at the framed photograph next to Alexis’s computer. It had been taken on their honeymoon in the California wine country. They had been so very happy then. He wished he knew how things had gone so wrong so quickly. He wished he knew if he was somehow to blame, but try as he might he just couldn’t see what he might have done to make Alexis so miserable. He loved his wife. He treated her well. He wouldn’t dream of doing otherwise. Tears welled in PJ’s eyes, and he lowered his head so that his grandfather wouldn’t see his distress. When he had composed himself, he saw that Paddy was holding a folder stuffed with papers. Mercy was sniffing at the jar of candy in the reception area.
“Grandpa,” he said, “can I ask you something?”
“Of course, though I can’t guarantee I’ll know the answer.”
PJ smiled, as he was expected to do. “When you and Grandmother were first married, did you fight a lot?”
Paddy cleared his throat. “Oh,” he said, with a wave of his hand, “I hardly remember. That was a long time ago, PJ, over fifty years now.”
“Yes,” PJ pressed, “but I’m sure you have some memories of those days. Back before you had kids.”
“Well, that was before the business, too,” his grandfather said. “Money was tight. I was working shifts at the old furniture factory in Somerstown and your grandmother was keeping house. She was a whiz at managing the budget. You’d have thought we were millionaires, the way she kept everything looking new and neat as a pin. And the meals she would cook could have put a professional chef to shame.”
“Yes,” PJ said. “I wish Alexis would . . .” He wasn’t quite sure how to go on.
“Now, Alexis is a young woman. And young women these days have other things on their minds besides cleaning and cooking, as well they might.”
“Oh, I know. It’s just that sometimes I think she’s just lost interest in—” In me, PJ said silently. And I need her.
“You two need a break,” Paddy said heartily. “Why don’t you take your lovely wife away for a few days? A change of scene will do you good. A breath of fresh air helps clear the head. I can handle things back here.”
PJ shook his head. “Now’s not the time, Grandpa. Not with Meadows making trouble. How would it look if I left town just when my family is under attack?”
“Your wife is worth the risk,” his grandfather insisted. “Your marriage is worth any sacrifice. Consider it, PJ. Now, I should be on my way. And don’t be late for dinner. You know what your grandmother is like.”
PJ managed a smile. “Punctuality is a virtue.”
Carrying the file pertaining to the grumpy client, Paddy left the o
ffice with Mercy trotting along behind him. PJ sighed. He didn’t feel particularly enlightened by the conversation, but he supposed that he hadn’t really expected to. Verbal communication wasn’t a big strength of the Fitzgibbon men—or, of his grandmother, for that matter. Still, he knew that his grandfather loved him as much as he loved his own son, and that was a great comfort.
PJ turned on the computer to check the account of a client who claimed to have been billed incorrectly. Alexis was in charge of billing, and so far she had never made a mistake. But there was always a first time, as Mary Bernadette often said. Suddenly, he realized that he hadn’t told Alexis they were expected at his grandparents’ house for dinner. She should have assumed the invitation ; all holy days and holidays were celebrated at Mary Bernadette and Paddy’s. PJ sighed. Then why did he anticipate another fight when he got home to the cottage?
CHAPTER 54
Alexis turned the car onto Travis Lane. It was a gloomy day, drizzling since dawn and not predicted to get any brighter. The weather fit her melancholy mood. Am I melancholy, she wondered. Or am I simply depressed?
Well, there was plenty to be depressed about; Alexis strongly suspected that her mother-in-law had witnessed that stupid argument on Saturday. It had all been so silly. PJ had done a load of laundry into which he had accidentally tossed one of Alexis’s delicate bras. It had come out of the dryer in tatters. Alexis had demanded an apology. PJ had refused to give one. “You shouldn’t have left it in the bathroom,” he had said. “I just scooped up everything that was hanging on the towel racks.” The argument had escalated to a screaming match, stopping short only of foul language and name-calling.
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