One Year

by Mary McDonough

  “Alexis!” The rosary hit him in the stomach and fell to the floor in a glittering pile.

  “Why don’t we just get a divorce and end this nightmare!” she shouted.

  Even as the words were coming out of her mouth Alexis knew that a divorce wasn’t what she wanted, but her desperation was so great, the feeling of being trapped and unknown was so strong, she just didn’t know what salvation she might hope for.

  PJ picked up the rosary beads and held them in his fist. His face was a mask of horror and disbelief. Alexis thought that it probably mirrored her own.

  “No one in my family gets divorced,” he said coldly. “It’s simply not done.”

  “Even if they’re miserable?”

  PJ didn’t respond.

  Alexis laughed even as she felt tears stream from her eyes. “Well, maybe you’ll be the first, the trailblazer, the innovator!”

  “No! We absolutely cannot get a divorce. My grandmother would be devastated!”

  “I don’t care about your grandmother! How would you feel if I left you?”

  “I’d feel . . .” PJ’s voice suddenly became almost pleading in tone. “Alexis, the thought of divorce never crossed my mind. Things are tough right now, but they’ll get better. I promise.”

  “Will they?” Alexis shook her head. “PJ, sometimes I feel like a stranger to myself. I feel like I’m turning into, I don’t know, some alien being. I can’t even remember what I was like before we got married, before I met you and your family.”

  “That’s ridiculous, Ali. Listen to what you’re saying!”

  Alexis took a deep, shuddering breath and wiped the tears from her cheeks. “I never wanted things to be this way.”

  PJ took a step closer to her. “You knew what my family was like when you married me,” he said. “I told you how close we were.”

  “Yes. You did. But I had no idea they could be so . . . so overbearing. So suffocating. Not all of them. Not your grandfather. Not your parents.”

  “So you’re blaming my grandmother again!”

  “No. Not entirely.” I’m blaming you, she thought. And I’m blaming myself, too. But I don’t want to say that out loud. I can’t, not yet.

  “You can’t ask me to abandon my family, Alexis. I simply won’t do it.”

  Alexis looked at the man she had promised to love and cherish until death parted them. “Not even for me?” she asked.

  PJ had no reply.

  “Then maybe we should get a divorce,” she said sadly. “Maybe I’m not the right wife for you. Next time, you should let your grandmother choose the woman you marry.”

  PJ looked down at the string of rosary beads still clenched in his hand as if it were a foreign, somehow poisonous object. And then he tossed it onto the couch and stalked to the front door.

  “PJ, wait!” Alexis cried.

  A moment later she heard his truck tear out of the driveway. What had happened to the mild-mannered man she had fallen in love with and married? She prayed that he wouldn’t do something stupid. If he got hurt it would be her fault, and in spite of her anger she didn’t know how she would live with the crushing guilt.

  Alexis dropped to her knees. She felt utterly hopeless. She was afraid of what she might do. She was afraid of what she might fail to do. “Oh, God,” she whispered to the empty room. “Help me. Please, help me.”

  CHAPTER 91

  Mary Bernadette was alone in the kitchen when it happened. Her vision blurred. And then, her vision went away. And then, her vision came back again.

  The event had taken place in less than a second. Well, perhaps it had been more like thirty seconds, but it had passed and her vision was once again perfect. No harm had been done. Nothing at all was the matter. Mary Bernadette closed her eyes and opened them again. You see? There is nothing wrong.

  Still. What if it happened again while she was behind the wheel of her car or crossing Main Street during a busy time of the afternoon? What if it happened while she was receiving Communion at mass, with the entire congregation a witness to her debility?

  Don’t be silly, Mary Bernadette scolded, slapping her palm against the counter for emphasis. No one would have to know that you had gone blind for a moment. Not even Father Robert. Didn’t Paddy always say you could have gone onto the stage?

  But could she really act her way out of sudden blindness? All right, she thought. I am frightened. What of it? Nothing would ever induce her to worry anyone in her family by telling them what had happened—or to go to a doctor. It had been a momentary aberration, a glitch in her otherwise hardy system. Maybe she was dehydrated. Jeannette had often suggested that she drink more water. Fine, then, Mary Bernadette thought, going over to the sink. I’ll have a glass of water.

  She brought the glass to the table and took a seat. Banshee, with her usual emotional acumen, appeared from nowhere and jumped in Mary Bernadette’s lap. “Your mother is getting silly in her old age,” she told the purring cat. “Thinking that she had gone blind.”

  There came a knock on the front door. It was Jeannette’s signature knock, three short raps followed by two. With some reluctance Mary Bernadette asked Banshee to get down. She was not in the mood for company, especially that of her oldest friend. Old friends were the ones who recognized you through even your best, most distorting of disguises.

  “Are you all right, Mary?” Jeannette asked at once when Mary Bernadette had opened the door. “You look troubled.”

  “I’m perfectly fine.”

  “Well, I don’t believe you.”

  “Believe what you like.”

  Mary Bernadette led her into the kitchen. “Would you like a cup of tea?”

  “Don’t go to the trouble, Mary.”

  “It’s no trouble whatever.” Mary Bernadette set about preparing the tea, putting the kettle on to boil, fetching the milk from the fridge and the sugar bowl from its place on a shelf. She put out a plate of cookies and measured loose tea into the pot. Then she brought the teapot to the table and sat across from her friend.

  Jeannette gave her a searching glance. “Mary,” she said, “I’ve been thinking. Maybe it would be best if PJ dropped out of the running for the Stoker project. After all, the bids just came in, thanks to Mr. Meadows’s delaying, and they haven’t even been considered yet, and you know as well as I do that Mr. Meadows is not going to cast his vote for Fitzgibbon Landscaping. And he’ll strong-arm others to vote against PJ, too.”

  “No.” Mary Bernadette shook her head and wished that she hadn’t as it resulted in a sharp pain at the very top of her head. “That’s a terrible idea,” she went on. “For PJ to give up now would be to admit wrongdoing, and he’s done nothing wrong. And neither has any member of the Fitzgibbon family.”

  “I know you’re entirely innocent, Mary, you and Paddy and PJ. But sometimes it’s best to turn the other cheek.”

  “No,” Mary Bernadette said. “Not in this instance.”

  “Well, I hope you know best. I don’t like what this is doing to you, Mary, not one bit. And I don’t mind telling you.”

  Mary Bernadette didn’t reply.

  Jeannette sighed. “I’ll let myself out,” she said. “Thank you for the tea.”

  When Jeannette had gone, Mary Bernadette sat very still. She wondered how many other members of the OWHA thought she should instruct PJ to relinquish the disputed contract. The thought of facing a delegation of her peers requesting PJ’s withdrawal from the competition filled her with dread. How would she ever show her face in Oliver’s Well after such a humiliation? All that she had worked for, all the sacrifices she had made . . . would it all be for naught because some wicked man from D.C. had taken a violent dislike to her?

  Banshee appeared again, gave an uncharacteristically soft mew, and jumped into her mistress’s lap. Mary Bernadette laid her hand on the cat’s back and realized that her hand was trembling.

  CHAPTER 92

  “And Danny and Maureen are doing well?” Megan asked. She was sitting at her desk
in her home office, eyeing an untidy stack of paperwork relating to a legal case on which she was currently working.

  “Yes, just fine,” Jeannette replied. “It’s Mary Bernadette I am calling about.”

  I might have known, Megan thought. “What is it?”

  “I suggested to her that PJ might withdraw his bid from the competition for the Joseph J. Stoker House job. Just to calm things down a bit in the family.”

  “Let me guess. Your suggestion didn’t go over well.”

  Jeannette sighed. “I’m afraid she’s pretty angry with me right now. It’s not the first time, though, and it certainly won’t be the last.”

  “I’m sorry, Jeannette.”

  “I am, too. I’ve never seen Mary be so unreasonable.”

  “Yes. She’s more prickly than ever, that’s for sure.”

  “Could it be something as simple as high blood pressure?” Jeannette wondered.

  “We’ll never know. Not without Mary Bernadette agreeing to see a doctor. You know what she says. God will decide when it’s her time to go, not the medical establishment.”

  “Yes, but do you think she would be willing to take her pressure with one of those machines you can buy at the pharmacy?” Jeannette asked. “She’d be in the privacy of her own home.”

  “Doubtful. But Paddy might have more luck persuading her than either of us.”

  “Do you think so? I know it’s probably terrible of me to say this, but sometimes I wonder if she’s heard a word he’s said in the past fifty years.”

  “I wonder that, too. But who else stands a chance of getting through to her?”

  “PJ?” Jeannette suggested.

  “The problem with PJ is that he’s in complete denial about his grandmother being a fallible human being. It’s not very healthy, I know. When something does happen to prove her human, PJ is going to be hit very hard by the reality.”

  “And I daresay what with the, well, what with the tension between PJ and Alexis these days—it’s obvious to everyone, Megan, no need to deny it—he might be even less likely to consider that his grandmother needs help.”

  “You’re probably right,” Megan said. “I really worry about those two, PJ and Alexis. They’re so on edge with each other.”

  Jeannette sighed. “Do you remember how the year started on such a happy note? And now, so much seems to be at risk.”

  “How are you holding up under the pressure at the OWHA?” Megan asked.

  “Not all that well, I’m afraid,” Jeannette admitted. “I fear that I’m betraying Mary Bernadette by not speaking out against Mr. Meadows or by quitting the board in protest. But I’m not sure that either of those actions would really make a difference. Honestly, I’m not even sure the man knows my name. What would it matter to him if I walked out? He’d see it as one less minor annoyance for him to put up with. One less silly old lady.”

  “It’s a terribly frustrating situation.”

  “I wish I could say that trust in God will see everyone through, but I’m afraid my faith isn’t what it used to be.”

  Whose is, Megan thought. “Thanks for keeping me up to date, Jeannette.”

  “She would hate it if she knew we were talking about her this way, you know. Worried. Concerned.”

  “I know,” Megan replied. “Which is why she’ll never find out. Bye, Jeannette.”

  Megan frowned at the corkboard over her desk. Why, she wondered, was the board of the OWHA putting up with Wynston Meadows if he was causing them such distress? From all she had heard his behavior was far from professional, and the members had to suspect by now that he didn’t care at all about historical Oliver’s Well. Were they so overwhelmed by the Great Man that their courage and good sense had completely abandoned them? Didn’t it occur to them that other people besides Wynston Meadows had money and that if they really wanted to purchase the Branley Estate they could go about it in some other way, step up their fund-raising efforts for one? No doubt Wynston Meadows had created a bit of a mess, but there were always methods by which a mess could be cleaned up. You just had to employ some creative thinking.

  It’s official, Megan thought. I’m angry at Wynston Meadows for his bad behavior and I’m annoyed with the board members who are acting like frightened children. Maybe I should stick my nose in where it might not be wanted and call Leonard DeWitt. He’s got—

  The buzzing of her cell phone interrupted this consideration. It was Alec Clare.

  “Got a few minutes to talk about next year’s CPEE budget?” he asked.

  “Sure,” Megan said. All thoughts of the OWHA went out of her mind.

  CHAPTER 93

  Alexis felt that she had lived the last two days at breakneck speed. She had certainly lived them in the deepest secrecy.

  The last time she and PJ had had sex was the night they had reconciled, and so much for reconciliation. Since then they had had that terrible fight when she had thrown her rosary at him. She was still appalled at her behavior and still angry with PJ for so thoroughly rejecting her suggestion that they see a therapist.

  And now, this.

  She had always been regular, so when her period failed to appear on its appointed date she had rushed to a pharmacy in Lawrenceville, a town where, she hoped, nobody would recognize her. The last thing she wanted was the rumor mill to get grinding. The test told her that she was pregnant. She had immediately called her doctor and made an appointment for that very afternoon. It had been hard to bring a smile to her face when the pregnancy was confirmed, hard to accept the congratulations of the nurse practitioner when she had given her a stack of informational brochures about prenatal health and nutrition.

  Alexis, sitting at her kitchen table, pushed the pile of brochures away from her. She felt horribly torn between sorrow and joy. On her wedding day she had taken a vow to “accept children willingly from God.” At the time she had considered it worthy of a giggle, given that everyone over the age of eleven knew that God wasn’t the one who made babies. Now, unexpectedly pregnant . . . well, there was absolutely nothing to giggle about.

  One thing was for sure. She was in no rush to tell her mother. “What were you thinking,” she would say, “getting pregnant by a man with whom you’re miserable.”

  What had she been thinking? Why had she been careless enough to get pregnant now? Had she, unconsciously, been hoping to bind PJ closer to her? Had it been a desperate tactic to turn him away from his grandmother and toward her, the mother of his child? And what did the fact of the pregnancy say about any feelings she had had for Morgan Shelby? Could she really have been falling in love with him if at the same time she had allowed herself to get pregnant with her husband’s child?

  Alexis rubbed her temples. No. She had not been in love with Morgan. She had harbored feelings. She had thought that she needed him. But she had not loved him, and she knew this now without a doubt because in spite of her distress she was happy to be pregnant with PJ’s child. Not Morgan’s child. Her husband’s.

  But what if her marriage couldn’t be saved? Alexis looked at her wedding ring—Aunt Catherine’s wedding ring—and remembered the morning she had walked away from the Day in the Life project. She had gone to the office where she had browsed websites in search of a new wedding ring, but in the end she hadn’t had the nerve to buy one. She might have been bold enough to turn her back unceremoniously on the OWHA, but she had not been bold enough to replace her wedding ring in such an underhanded manner.

  Alexis reached for one of the brochures. The Importance of Vaccinations . Childhood disease wasn’t the greatest thing she feared. The greatest thing she feared was bringing a child into a home rife with unhappiness, a home on the brink of destruction.

  Slowly, she got up from the table and went into the bedroom. She took from the closet the box in which she kept the notes and small tokens of affection PJ had given her since the earliest days of their relationship. The earliest days. Alexis had been a college freshman and PJ a junior. A mutual acquaintance introduced the
m in the lobby of the movie theatre on campus. Alexis had fallen instantly in love. PJ Fitzgibbon was the most beautiful man she had ever seen. From that first moment there had never been any doubt in her mind that he was the one with whom she would spend the rest of her life.

  But PJ hadn’t felt the same way, at least not at first. He hardly seemed to notice her in the following weeks. More than once he had passed her on the quad without a greeting. He was rumored to be dating a girl at another college. But Alexis was steadfast. She vowed to wait for him to realize that she was his bride. She knew that someday he would. So she watched and worshipped from afar until one magical day he did notice her. And since that precious moment they had been inseparable. Until now.

  Among the cards and dried flowers and ticket stubs and funny drawings, Alexis found a piece of paper on which, in PJ’s familiar hand, were written the words with which he had proposed. “O woman, loved by me, mayest thou give me thy heart, thy soul and thy body.” He had taken the words from a book of native Irish wisdom and lore collected by Lady Wilde, mother of Oscar. To Alexis, his proposal had demonstrated the measure of the man that he was. Romantic. Thoughtful. Devoted. Yes, that PJ Fitzgibbon was the man Alexis had loved. He was the man she still loved. He was the man with whom she had pledged to spend the rest of her life.

  Now the question was, did that man still exist?

  CHAPTER 94

  Two days later Alexis stood at the kitchen window, watching for her husband’s truck. She had decided that she could no longer carry the burden of her secret alone. And PJ had every right to know that he was going to be a father.

  At a quarter after five he came through the front door of the cottage. He looked tired, almost haggard. For a moment Alexis hesitated. She didn’t want to add to his troubles. But then she had to speak. For better or worse. In sickness and in health.