Hannie Rising

by Jeanette Baker

  "He should be in the yard," replied Johannah.

  "I'll check on him and then take a nap."

  Evan squirmed out of Johannah's lap. "I want to see Seamus, too."

  Kate frowned. "Oh, Evan, I don't think..."

  "It's all right, Kate," said her grandmother. "You should know by now that Seamus won't hurt the boy."

  "Seamus is my friend, Mommy," Evan explained. "Don't be afraid."

  "I supposed you're right. If he hasn't savaged anyone yet, I suppose he's not going to."

  "Don't forget the Costelloes' dog," muttered Johannah, under her breath.

  "I haven't lost my hearing," snapped Dolly, "and Seamus doesn't bite." She held out her hand. "Come with me, Evan."

  The silence in the kitchen loomed overwhelmingly large. Johannah stared at the milky tea in her cup. The time was right. It was now or never. She bit her lip. "Katie," she began, "there's something I must tell you."

  Kate looked at her mother. Her eyes sparkled and her lips curved up in a lovely smile. She was so happy. Johannah's heart sank. Was this the right time? Would there ever be a right time? "I don't think you'll like this very much," she began. "I don't feature well in this story but it must be said. All I ask is that you remember before I was your mother, I was a girl younger than you and, not too surprisingly, we weren't all that different in our preferences."

  "What are you saying?"

  Johannah could feel the acceleration of her heart. There was no easy or comfortable way to do this. Better to get it over with. She drew a long slow breath and began. "Years ago Francie O'Shea was every bit as appealing to me as his son is to you and I fell in love." She spoke quickly, anxious to get the words out and be finished with them. "He asked me to marry him. The banns were posted, but it turned out he didn't feel the same about me. He was seeing Kitty O'Connor at the same time and she turned up pregnant. Of course I couldn't marry him after that so I called it off. I'd always known Mickey." She frowned. "We'd been friends for a long time. I suppose that's why I felt safe with him. That's how I justified my actions, that and the hurt and shame I felt with everyone knowing how it turned out for Francie and me." She looked over Kate's shoulder and deliberately focused on the photo she'd taken of a robin red breast bathing in the birdbath.

  "The thing is," she continued, "I jumped right into a relationship with your father and soon, very soon, you were on the way." She met Kate's eyes for the first time since beginning her confession. "We got married right away. Do you know what I'm saying, Kate?"

  For a long minute the only sound was the ticking of the mantle clock. Then Kate spoke. "I assume you mean that my dad married you not knowing if I was his daughter or Francie O'Shea's. I got that part. What I don't understand is why you waited until now to tell me this."

  Johannah shrugged. "It seemed like the right time."

  "Is that all?"

  Johannah's eyes burned with the effort to hold back tears. "I'm terribly afraid you might be entertaining the idea of meeting Ritchie in Dublin."

  Kate's question was unexpected. "Did you ever love Dad?"

  Johannah replied wholeheartedly, without hesitation. "I adored him from the very beginning. I miss him every day."

  Kate sighed, the hostility draining from her voice. "I should have asked you that sooner. It would have saved us both some anguish."

  "How do you mean?"

  "Dad told me all this a long time ago."

  Johannah's eyes widened. "Why would he do that?"

  "He knew I was interested in Ritchie. I suppose he thought it was the only effective way to nip it in the bud."

  "Was it?"

  "It served its purpose, I suppose, but it posed other problems. For a time, I was furious with you. I wanted to know who I was. Then DNA tests became accessible, my questions were answered and I grew up."

  Something was missing, something important. Johannah needed a minute to think, to collect herself. "Are you still furious with me?"

  Kate shook her head. "No, but then I suppose I always knew I was Mickey Enright's daughter." She looked at her mother. "Even if the test had turned out differently, I'd still be his daughter."

  Johannah could barely breathe. When she spoke her voice sounded very far away. "How long ago was that?"

  "Five or six years ago."

  She released her breath. "Are you saying you knew—that your father knew, and that all this time I didn't?"

  "Yes."

  "Why would you keep something like that from me?"

  "I didn't think you wanted to bring up the subject. It was my dad who told me, not you. There was never any question as to who my mother was. Proof of his paternity was a gift I gave to him, for raising me and loving me even though I might have been someone else's child although I think he always knew the truth. Liam and I are too much alike. I doubt he even considered the possibility that he wasn't my father and, honestly, I don't think it mattered to him at all. Apparently it meant more to you than I thought. I would never have brought this up if you hadn't started the conversation."

  Johannah was furious. He'd known all along and he hadn't told her. Why? What did it mean?

  Kate was still talking. "At least we were able to clear the air before I left."

  "Where does that leave you and Ritchie O'Shea?"

  "I told you that ended long ago. We aren't suited. Ritchie is one of those men who thinks he wants what he can't have. The truth is, he never thought of me that way at all." She finished her tea. "Are you planning dinner or shall I do it?"

  "Don't worry about me," replied Johannah. "I'm not very hungry and there's something I have to do."

  Kate looked at her curiously. "This hasn't upset you, has it, Mom? I mean, I'm grateful you didn't go away, have me and give me up to strangers. That took amazing courage. It's all water under the bridge anyway, isn't it? I mean, isn't that what Dad would say?"

  Johannah's instinct was to placate, to settle her child, to reduce the guilt Kate must be feeling for keeping the secrets of one parent at the expense of the other. But she didn't because suddenly everything became dazzlingly clear. This time she would tell the truth and never mind what anyone thought. "Actually, Kate, it upsets me a great deal, but I'll get over it. I usually do." With that, she left the room, picked up her handbag from the hall stand and headed for the car.

  Chapter 44

  Kate

  Evan sat across from his mother, staring at the row of letters on his paper, a perplexed look on his face. "What's the matter with it?" he asked.

  "You've turned the letter around," Kate explained. "It goes like this." She demonstrated the proper method of printing an s and handed the pencil back to Evan. "Do you see the difference?"

  "I like mine better," he pronounced.

  "Yours is rather nice, but I'm afraid it isn't the way your teacher expects you to learn it. Shall we try another one?"

  "You try another one."

  Kate picked up the pencil. "One more and then it's your turn. After that, we have to pick up a prescription for Nan at the chemist and," she paused, "possibly stop in for an ice cream."

  Evan immediately picked up his pencil and copied a row of perfect letters.

  His mother laughed. "Nice work. Get your jacket and we'll be on our way in a flash. It's a lovely day for a walk."

  * * *

  Garvey's grocery was filled with the usual crowd queued up at the check outs, the deli station, the off license that was no longer an off license but actually part of the store, and at the ice cream counter. Everywhere she looked, Kate recognized people she knew. Some merely nodded, others stopped to wish her well. She no longer wondered how information spread so quickly. Such was the way of a small town.

  Sean Ryan leaned over the counter and winked at Evan. "What will you have, lad?"

  "An ice cream with a flake, please."

  "The boy knows what he wants, an ice cream with a flake. What about you, Kate? Will I make it two?"

  "No, thanks, Sean. One will do it." She reached into
her pocket for her coin purse. It wasn't there. Frowning, she reached into the other one and then into her back pockets. Not there either. The queue behind her was lengthening. Feeling the heat in her cheeks, she leaned forward. "Never mind, Sean. I must have left my purse at home. I've no money to pay for the ice cream. I'm sorry."

  "Don't worry yourself, Katie. I wouldn't think of depriving the lad of his ice cream with a flake. Are you sure you won't have one as well? A free ice cream cone may be hard to find in Dublin."

  Kate laughed. "Nonexistent."

  Sean handed over two ice cream cones complete with chocolate flake biscuits. "Seriously, Katie. You'll be missed. I can't imagine what Tralee will be like without Katie Kelliher working her mischief. We'll miss you."

  Once again tears welled up in her eyes. She blinked them back and busied herself with wrapping a napkin around Evan's cone. "I'll miss you, too, Sean. I'll miss everyone."

  Back on the street, she took Evan's hand. "Shall we show your daddy how well you can write your letters?"

  Evan's face lit up. "Yes."

  Kelliher's Hardware was abuzz with activity just before closing. Maired was behind the register. Evan ran to her. "Hello, Nan. I learned a new letter today. Do you want me to show you?"

  Mindful of the ice cream, Maired hugged him. "I certainly do. I'll ring your dad and he can watch as well." Pointedly ignoring Kate, she pressed the intercom switch and summoned Dermot from the back room.

  He arrived immediately, smiled at Kate and swung Evan to his shoulder. "It's grand to see you both. Is everything all right?"

  Kate swallowed. He really was quite good-looking, not sexy and dangerous in the Richie O'Shea way, but broad-shouldered, solid and reliable. "Evan wanted to show you his letters. He's mastered nearly all of them," Kate explained.

  "Shall we go upstairs and find paper?"

  "I'd like to see them, too, Dermot," his mother announced.

  "All right. Find us a bit of paper and we'll put Evan through his paces."

  Minutes later, with chocolate flake and the remains of vanilla ice cream smeared across his mouth and cheeks, Evan laboriously printed out two rows of credible letters, A through S.

  Maired clapped her hands. "Brilliant, just brilliant."

  Dermot grinned. "I'm proud of you, lad. Well done."

  "Tomorrow, I'll learn T, and then all the rest. I'll show you all of them, every day."

  Like a menacing cloud, silence descended over the three adults. Kate looked at Dermot, his friendly gray eyes and the new haircut. Most likely the credit went to the strange women sitting with him in Manor. She cleared her throat. "It's getting late. You'll be closing soon and we need to go."

  "Kate." Dermot laid his hand on her arm. "There's something I want to show you. Do you have a minute?"

  "Of course. Come along, Evan."

  "If you wouldn't mind." Maired bit her lip. "Leave the lad with me while you visit. I don't get to Dublin very often."

  Kate swallowed and nodded. She hadn't considered Maired but, of course, she would be one more casualty of their leaving. "Your mother hates me."

  Dermot's hand found her elbow. "She doesn't hate you, Katie, not any more than you hate her. You're two different people. She can't see beyond what she's always known and she can't be blamed for being satisfied with what she has, just as you can't for wanting more. She's a bit jealous of you, you know, although she'd never admit it."

  Kate stared at him. "You resented my wanting more."

  "That was my mistake. I fell in love with you because of the kind of person that you are and then I wanted you to be content with the status quo." He shook his head, "No, with less than the status quo. Your friends were cashing in on the Celtic Tiger, buying land, building homes. I didn't pay enough attention to what you wanted, what you should have had."

  They were in the flat now, a flat much neater and more organized than the one Kate left months before. "You're not entirely to blame, Dermot. I made mistakes, too."

  He picked up a long cylinder and unrolled it on the table. "This is what I wanted to show you."

  "What is it?"

  "A lot, two acres in all, with a rise here." He indicated with his hand where the slope elevated. "The view of the valley and the mountains is breathtaking and here, you can see the lights of the town after the sun sets."

  "I don't understand."

  "It's for you, Kate. For us. Look at this." He unrolled a set of blue prints. "These are tentative, of course, but the permit is for three thousand square feet, four bedrooms, three baths, a sitting room, large kitchen, laundry and dining room. Over here is an attached area for a commercial kitchen. You could start your own business. Liam said he would help with a business plan and a website. Just because we live here doesn't mean you can't expand with clients all over the country."

  He'd done all this for her.

  "I haven't settled on the details yet because I wanted you to help me design it." He stood back. "It's all here, if I can convince you to come back to me."

  She couldn't look at him. "You want me to come back, after everything I've done."

  "I'd want you back no matter what you'd done." He took her hands. "I love you, Kate. I always have. That won't change."

  She had to ask. "Who was the woman I saw you sitting with at Manor?"

  He looked puzzled. "What woman?"

  "Blonde, attractive. I'm sure she's not from Tralee."

  "I don't know who—"

  "She was with you and Evan in the coffee shop at Manor the day I came back from Dublin."

  His forehead cleared. "That's Evelyn Fleming. She's the estate agent I bought the site from."

  The estate agent. Of course. Suddenly she was terribly ashamed. "I can't believe you did all of this for me."

  "I hope it isn't too late." He lifted her chin, forcing her to look at him. "Kate. Tell me it isn't too late. Tell me you aren't going to Dublin with Ritchie O'Shea."

  The tears flowed freely down her cheeks. "No, Dermot. It isn't too late, not if you still want me and I'll never go anywhere with Ritchie O'Shea."

  "Thank God," he said, and held out his arms. "Thank God."

  Chapter 45

  Johannah

  At first she was unsure of where to go but then it seemed sensible to head toward town and the spot where she'd met him in the first place. The Daily Grind was closed but she pulled into an empty spot on the street, turned off the engine and climbed out of the car determined to wait for as long as it took for him to show up. She knew he would. He always did.

  Leaning against the window of the cafe, she propped herself up with one leg. If only she smoked. Smoking would pass the time. People seemed to enjoy their cigarettes. They endured pouring rain, extreme cold and eventual cardiac arrest just for a few puffs of tar and nicotine.

  She felt his presence before she heard him. When he said her name she wasn't startled.

  "Hello, Hannie."

  Turning, she looked at him, wondering why it had taken her so long to recognize who he was. Her anger surged. She struggled to subdue it. "Hello."

  "It's late for a latte, but you already knew that."

  "Yes."

  "So, what brings you here?"

  "I think I should be asking that question, as well as a few others."

  His thrust his hands into his pockets. "Such as?"

  "Do you know that I don't even know your last name? What is your last name, Patrick?"

  He hesitated before he spoke, his words cautious, a man finding his way, not sure of the path he should follow. "I'm not sure what you mean."

  "You know exactly what I mean. Why did you do it?"

  Watching the emotions play across his face, she knew the minute he understood and blushed at her own ignorance. How could she have overlooked the obvious? Every gesture, every movement was Mickey's. Now that she knew, everything fell into place and she was angry. "Why didn't you tell me?"

  Minutes passed before he spoke. Finally, he answered. "When did you know?"

&
nbsp; "Today. It was something Kate said, an expression that reminded me of you. Maybe I always knew."

  "And you accepted it, not questioning your sanity or wondering how such a thing could be possible?"

  "I believe in God."

  "That doesn't explain anything."

  "Of course it does," she said impatiently. "Life is full of miracles. I'm a social worker. I've taken courses in psychology. I've read Elizabeth Kubler-Ross. There are books filled with study after study about those who die and are brought back." She glared at him. "Do you think you're all that special?"

  "Hannie." He laughed helplessly. "Why are you so angry?"

  "You knew Kate was your daughter and you didn't think to tell me." She pointed at the spot in the center of her chest. "You struck a blow to my heart, Mickey Enright. You let me suffer and wonder. You have no idea of the guilt I carried. Did you do it on purpose? Were you so resentful that you couldn't put me at ease?" She turned to face him, her finger prodding his chest. "Wasn't it enough that I looked the other way and catered to every whim you ever had even when you came home without your paycheck and reeking of drink?" She was crying now. "Wasn't it enough that I loved you more than life itself and that I wanted to throw myself into the grave with you rather than live without you? How could you have kept silent? Didn't you know what it would have meant to me?"

  He stared at her, opened his mouth and then closed it again. He reached for her hand. She let him take it. "I didn't know you felt that way, Hannie. Honestly, it had become so unimportant to me that I thought you felt the same. Kate was always my daughter, from the moment I felt her kick inside your womb. She asked me, you see. Apparently Francie told Ritchie and he told Kate. It was important for her to know. I didn't even care about the results of the test. I didn't think you would either. So much time had passed. We had a life together, Hannie. We loved each other. All of that didn't matter."

  Somewhere around the words, Kate was always my daughter, her anger began to fade. By the time he said, I didn't even care about the results, it had nearly disappeared. All that was important stood before her in the flesh, Mickey Enright, her husband. The trappings of the man who called himself Patrick had completely dissipated. He was all Mickey now, from the square, substantial height of him to the piercing blue of his eyes. She stared at him hungrily. "I can't believe I didn't know you from the beginning," she whispered. "I've wasted so much time."