Where We Belong

by Fox Brison

  I sped back to the turf eager to get it finished. Tea and lunch with Biddy and Pat.

  Brianna for dessert.

  ***

  I heard the siren from several fields away; it carried on the wind and echoed amongst the mountains, an ominous blaring from what at first appeared to be a fleet of emergency vehicles. I immediately stopped what I was doing and peered into the valley below trying to locate the fire, but saw only one solitary set of flashing blues and they were attached to an ambulance headed towards -

  “Patrick,” I whispered.

  I sprinted to my quad . If I was being timed I’m sure I could have made the next Irish Olympic team. The pain in my chest wasn’t from the exertion, it was from guilt. I should have listened to my instincts, I should have gone with him.

  I reached Biddy and Pat’s just as the paramedics were wheeling him outside on a trolley. “Patrick,” I cried, taking his limp hand in mine. His deathly pale face was swallowed up by an oxygen mask and his watery eyes were suffused with pain and fear. “It’s going to be alright,” I murmured softly, even though every indication intimated otherwise.

  “Oh, Elisha, he collapsed not long after he came home.” Bridget grabbed on to me. I hugged her tight and my anxiety was mirrored in her quivering body.

  “Mrs Doran, we have to get your husband to the hospital.” The paramedic spoke firmly, but compassionately.

  “Go, Bridget, I’ll see to everything here.” I herded her towards the ambulance whilst she fired orders at me.

  “He’ll need pyjamas and clean underwear,” she began rambling. “And wash things. The sheep’ll and the chickens… make sure to turn the immersion off.” She swiftly spun as if to go back to the house. “There’s an apple pie in the oven.”

  “I’ll see to it,” I promised.

  “Mrs Doran.” This time the paramedic’s tone was sharper urging Bridget to hurry up. I caught his eye and knew speed was of the essence.

  I practically threw Bridget into the back of the ambulance. “I’ll bring everything he needs don’t worry, you take care of Pat.” The doors slammed shut and they were gone like the clappers. My head was in a spin. It had been mere seconds but already I was bereft. Panic washed over me, followed by rationality, followed by panic again. I should have come back with him. If I’d been here…

  “Christ, Leesh, get your head in gear,” I berated myself, choking on tears.

  I couldn’t afford to think like that. First job? “Bri…Bri, can you hear me?” The line was crackly but at least there was a signal.

  “Hey, sweetie, is everything okay?” Her first enquiry was calm and collected. I couldn’t answer, guilt garrotted my throat. “Leesh? Sweetie?” Her second question was mildly alarmed, and the third? When I remained silent that was hysterical and frantic. “Leesh, oh my God, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

  I finally replied after several hitching breaths. “I’m… I’m fine,” I gasped out. Inhaling deeply I managed to say in one long wail, “It’s Patrick, he’s been taken to hospital. Oh God, Bri.” It began to hit me. I couldn’t let it. Bent double I held my stomach. “I’m up at the house. The ambulance just left.”

  “What happened?”

  “I don’t know! Bridget said he collapsed. Listen, I told her I’d pack Pat a bag and meet her at the hospital, but I have to check on the sheep and make sure the farm is locked up.”

  She answered my question before I even asked it. “I’ll be there in two minutes.” We hung up and I stood waiting.

  The sting of tears tormented my eyes. Pat wasn’t merely a friend and neighbour.

  He was family.

  Chapter 40

  Brianna

  I dropped everything and quickly filled Dominic in before I left. “Go! I’ll hold down the fort,” he said without a moment’s hesitation. I was out of the office and in my car in less time than it took Lizzie Yarnold to get to the bottom of a skeleton run.

  Elisha was pacing the yard and talking on her phone when I arrived at the farm. She hung up as soon as she saw me pull in. “I tried to go in,” she said quietly. “I…” She looked so small and I wanted to make everything better for her. That didn’t mean I wasn’t worried too. Patrick had come to mean a great deal to me over the past few months.

  “Come here.” She leaned into me and I cradled her tenderly until her body stopped shuddering. “Sweetheart, he’ll be okay. Whatever’s happened, he’s still as stubborn as ever.” I kissed the salty tears from her cheeks.

  “You’re right he won’t go anywhere, he’d be too afraid he might miss something.” She hiccoughed a laugh.

  “Exactly. Now go do whatever you have to, and I’ll pack his bag.”

  Thrusting a wrinkled carrier bag at me she said, “Use this.”

  Bless her. “For his clothes,” I agreed, even though I didn’t. “Then we’ll go straight to the hospital. Okay?”

  “I’ll be half an hour, tops.” Taking a couple of steps she spun and wrapped her arms around me. It was an embrace that conveyed far more than words ever could.

  “I’ll be here waiting.” I kissed her again, this time on the mouth. “I love you.” I didn’t mean to say it, it definitely wasn’t the right time but I wasn’t sorry. Elisha was momentarily startled, before her expression softened and the tension which had been ever present from the second I arrived was alleviated – not completely, but enough. She didn’t say it back, but funnily enough I wasn’t concerned because I already knew how she felt; it was in every action. Every time we made love, every time she cooked me breakfast in bed (even if it was only toast) she’d even stopped Red from coming into the house!

  And trust me nothing says love like evicting your pet hen!

  “Go.” After waving her off I walked towards Bridget and Patrick’s small cottage. It felt strange that I’d be rifling through their belongings and hoped Biddy wouldn’t mind that it was me instead of Elisha.

  Passing by the spare room I entered the one furthest away from the kitchen, and sat down on the bed to catch my breath and take stock. Mentally, I ran through an inventory of what Patrick might need, and physically I was staring in amazement at the furniture. It was like going back in time, or entering an antique shop. I swivelled to see what was behind me and, “Shit!” I grabbed onto the bedside cabinet to stop myself from rolling onto the floor. The mattress was as pillowy soft as a marshmallow.

  “It’s a wonder neither of them have turned into the hunchback of Gloshtrasna,” I muttered. Crossing the room to a six drawer mahogany chest below the window, figuring it was as good a place as any to start, I opened the small drawer at the top and was shocked by what I discovered. No, I didn’t find a pack of condoms and a bottle of Viagra (I’d be the one in the back of the ambulance should that have occurred) I’d simply never seen a drawer as neat and organised. Each piece of clothing was folded as if it had been bought that very day, and placed with the utmost care and attention in perfect piles. “And I think I’m obsessed with ironing!” I said in disbelief.

  Bridget even pressed Patrick’s socks!

  Placing the clothes on the bed, I hunted for something other than a crumpled Supervalu carrier bag to put them in. I started to laugh, imagining Bridget’s face after I turned up with Patrick’s belongings shoved into it. “I need a bag… or a holdall… case…” I mumbled.

  On the left hand wall was a door to a built-in wardrobe. Perhaps there’s something more suitable in there. Although it didn’t appear very big from the outside, it was in fact a Tardis and I had to remove a rack of clothes to see into the far reaches. It was a jaunt down fashion memory lane. There were styles from every decade; flowery dresses topped by wide brimmed hats, followed by bright cardigans and bell bottoms.

  Bridget was, surprisingly, quite the fashionista!

  Most of the hangers wore more than one outfit, and a couple were so overloaded and heavy I could barely lift them without the metal hanger bending and the clothes slithering to the floor. She was a hoarder, of clothes at least. In the fur
thest right hand corner I even came across her wedding dress it was…

  Tiny!

  Unless Bridget married Patrick when she was seven, it definitely wasn’t hers. What am I thinking! It was obviously a first Holy Communion dress. Definitely a hoarder, keeping a seventy year old dress! I slid it along the rail to the other side… and hey presto I found a small bag next to a box of Farmer’s Journals. Like everything else in the room it was dated, but clean.

  “Bri, are you there?” Elisha was back already.

  Shit. God knows what she’s going to think I’ve been doing. “Hey that was quick,” I said emerging from the bedroom. “I’ve got to grab Patrick’s toiletries and then we can go.”

  “I’ll do that, can you check the oven? Biddy said something about an apple pie.”

  “Sure. Do you think I should make up some sandwiches?”

  “Jesus, Bri, this isn’t a road trip,” she snapped.

  “I meant for Bridget,” I said calmly.

  Her head dropped disconsolately. “I’m sorry, babe. I just can’t help thinking if I’d been here…” she sniffled. “I was too busy. I wanted to get back to you. Fuck! If I’d taken fifteen minutes! One second I’m sending him home the next-” nothing was making much sense apart from the underlying guilt in her tone.

  “No, Leesh!” I said sharply. “I will not let you think that. This was not your fault.”

  “I’m scared, Bri. What if?”

  “There are no what ifs, only what nows,” I said more calmly than I felt. “Now you and I will go to the hospital… and on Wednesday… and Thursday… and every day until Patrick comes home. And when he does come home, we’ll be here too.”

  “I don’t know what I’d do without you,” she whispered.

  “I’m never going to let you find out.” I held her until she recovered enough to gather the rest of Pat’s things and I went to the kitchen. I paused before turning off the oven because it suddenly hit me that this was my life. Elisha was my life. I loved her with all of my heart, but loving Elisha meant loving Ireland, it meant loving her family, both biological and emotional.

  Everything was happening so quickly and, selfishly, I was thinking of myself.

  “Are you ready?” Elisha waited by the door.

  I nodded.

  Yes I was ready.

  I was ready, willing, and able.

  Chapter 41

  Elisha

  The conversation was sparse in the car, mainly because I was focussed on driving; plus anything that we did say felt trite. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to talk about how I was feeling, I just couldn’t, not yet. Brianna sensed this. She respected it and didn’t push me.

  Three quarters of an hour later we pulled into the hospital car park. Brianna held my arm and, cupping my cheek, kissed me tenderly. “I understand you need to be strong for Bridget, and I get that. But don’t close yourself off from me, Leesh. I can be strong for you. Please let me be your shoulder.”

  I kissed her back. “You already are.” It had happened in a relatively short space of time. One weekend. Three days. Seventy two hours. Was it too quick? Let’s see. We had a relationship built on something far more than lust, attraction, or even a few hot kisses and awesome sex. And now she was here for me. Too quick? Absolutely not, because when I was with Brianna it felt like the last ten minutes of a treadmill programme…

  Time stood still whilst my heart almost burst, except not through exhaustion but love.

  ***

  “Any news?” I asked softly the minute we found Biddy sitting in the hospital chapel.

  “Not yet.” Biddy’s head was bowed and rosary beads ran through her fingers.

  “I’ll go and see if I can find someone.” Brianna left us alone. I wasn’t one for praying, but sitting next to Biddy I suddenly understood the draw. At times like this, sometimes faith was the only thing that eased you through the torturous waiting.

  I took Biddy’s hand in mine. It seemed small and cold, neither of which was a characteristic I associated with her despite her brusque manner and short stature. “Mrs Doran?” Brianna was back with the doctor who, I was pleased to see, didn’t appear as if he’d just passed his leaving cert.

  “Yes?”

  “Good afternoon, I’m Doctor Hynes. I assessed your husband in A and E. Patrick is in a stable condition.” He spoke in short concise sentences. “We’re still running tests, but we can rule out a stroke. His heartbeat has a slightly irregular rhythm, but it’s nothing to worry about. He has a broken hip which will be operated on tomorrow.”

  “That’s very soon, Doctor Hynes,” Bridget fretted.

  “With a broken hip, the quicker the better. Once that’s done, we can carry out further exploratory tests,” he explained.

  “Can we see him?”

  “He was in quite some discomfort, so I administered a dose of strong pain medication. I’m afraid he’s sleeping.”

  “The morning then?” she persisted.

  “He’s booked in for theatre at nine am, so it’s no use coming until the afternoon. The anaesthetic should have worn off enough by then.”

  “Thank you, doctor,” Bridget said, satisfied. I, on the other hand, wanted definite answers. Who am I kidding? I wanted reassurance. After all, my father had fallen from a ladder and nearly died because of an infection.

  And due to his age Pat was at far greater risk than my Da.

  ***

  We finally left Sligo General at eleven that night. At first Biddy was adamant she wanted to stay in case Pat woke. “Biddy, if you stay then we stay too,” I said, matching her pig-headedness.

  “Jaysus, you can’t be staying,” Bridget declared vehemently. “What with the camp you’re both run off your feet.”

  “Then come home. Get a good night yourself. Patrick will need you fighting fit,” I cajoled, aware of the right button to push and it worked.

  As with the journey to the hospital, the return one was quiet. We reached the lane and slowly pulled into the yard, Biddy’s cottage was in complete darkness. “Shit, I should’ve left a light on,” I said and suggested she stay with us. However, that was a step too far.

  “I’m sleeping in own bed,” she stated determinedly.

  “But-” I began.

  “But nothing, Elisha Maradona Callery. I’m going to need your help going back and forth to the hospital. I’m okay with the small roads, but I don’t get on with that new bypass.”

  “You have nothing to worry about, Biddy, we’ll take you,” Brianna answered from the back, and leaning over squeezed Biddy’s shoulder.

  “And we’re only five minutes down the road. Phone me if you wake up and want to talk. Or if you need anything, promise you’ll call,” I persisted, anxious about her being alone.

  “I promise.”

  I walked her to the door. “Do you want me to come in for a minute?”

  “Not at all. You get off to bed and I’ll see you in the morning. Come for breakfast,” she invited, but it was more like an insistence. I smiled. Nothing said Bridget was feeling better than her dishing out the orders.

  “We will.” I hugged her goodbye.

  “Night Brianna,” she called, but had gone inside before Brianna could return the sentiment. Back in the car I didn’t immediately turn the key. Instead I sat staring at the house. The kitchen light went on and a few seconds later so did the one in the bathroom.

  “Maybe I should go in after her,” I mused. I didn’t feel happy leaving her.

  “Maybe,” Brianna hedged.

  “You don’t think I should?”

  “Biddy needs to feel close to Patrick and the best way she feels she can do that is here. She knows where we are, and we’ll be back,” she looked down at her watch and said carefully, “in six hours.”

  Part of me was relieved. Stepping into the house and not smelling fresh pipe tobacco curling in the living room, not hearing Biddy call out and ask Pat if he wanted a cup of tea, not seeing his face crease with laughter after telling him about young
Murphy using the wrong dip which turned the sheep green … It wouldn’t have been the same. Reality came sharply into focus.

  What if Patrick never came home?

  Somehow, I managed to start the car. Somehow, I put it into gear and reversed. That was as far as I got. I couldn’t go forward and definitely couldn’t go back. I didn’t even notice Brianna opening my door until she took my hand.

  She drove home, and put the kettle on. Only when I was ensconced on my own sofa did I allow my pain to seep to the surface and I openly wept. “Shhh, sweetheart, it’s going to be alright.” Brianna put a comforting arm around my shoulders.

  “How do you know?” Morbid fear instigated my sharp response. “You didn’t see him, Bri. Jesus, I wish I hadn’t seen him, he looked tormented.”

  “He was in pain, and that can age a person. But Pat is strong, not in body at present, but up here.” She tapped her temple.

  “You’re right,” I acknowledged wearily.

  “Just so we avoid future arguments… I usually am.” She winked. “And bearing that in mind, you need to go and get into bed because you’re shattered. I’ll bring your tea through.” I didn’t get to drink it because I was out like a light the second my head hit the pillow.

  Chapter 42

  Brianna

  I should have been tucked up as snug as a bug, but I was one of those unfortunate people whose every worrying thought, suppressed throughout the day, would race out of my subconscious and pound me into wakefulness the minute I closed my eyes. Tossing and turning purely compounded my frustration. Relenting, I carefully climbed out of bed and dressed, before going into the kitchen and preparing stage one of my fail safe method of relaxation – a mug of hot chocolate. I added some of Elisha’s patented elixir, Bailey’s, and savoured the rich creaminess it added. I inhaled deeply and warmth spread.

  I threw a handful of small sticks and a shovel of coal onto the dwindling embers of the last fire, and stared at the flickering flames as they burst into life again. One of the best things about Ireland, or at least rural Ireland, was the quiet. It was the perfect environment in which to search yourself; I may not have unearthed Maggie O’Shea’s story, but I had found the courage to write my own.