“But it's the most wonderful thing to happen in me life!”
“Aye, I know ye believe that, but them on the committee won't take kindly to ye having spread it around to all and sundry. It won't work in yer favor. Now!” She clapped her hands together and stared Bridie in the eyes. “I'm still of two minds as to whether yer case be's strong enough. Tell me, does yer thoughts revolve only around the Blessed Virgin now, like, dear?”
“Aye, auntie! It be's all I think about. I feel different. New. Me eyes, me fingers, me toes and all. Like they belongs to someone else. Someone holier. I've been blessed, auntie! I don't know why, but yer woman Mary singled me out! Ye've got to believe me!” She burst into tears that were a mixture of joy and excitement and frustration and fear.
Mrs. Mulholland watched the performance for a few moments. Then she spoke.
“The only thing that makes me think...” She paused, and she looked to the left of Bridie's teacup. “I seen ye haven't so much as glanced down at that Caramel Swirl. That was another test I prepared for ye and all. Yer mammy told me it was the temptation of the chips that made Her appear to ye. To keep yer gluttony at bay for Lent. I think the priests and bishops will find that interesting. As if I would leave a Caramel Swirl in that tin since 1987! Naw, I placed it in there just before ye arrived. I needed to see if what ye said was true. Perhaps ye're right and the Virgin Mary has cured ye of yer gluttony. The lust and the sloth I'm not so sure of. Time will tell, but.”
She nodded suddenly, satisfied and proud.
“I knew one of me lot would have a vision soon enough. I just had to give it the time it deserved. I'm thankful to the Lord He spared me from that angina attack the year before last, so am are, or I would've never lived to see this day. This be's what the Lord was saving me for. I've all the right contacts and their phone numbers, the movers and shakers of the Derry Catholic world, written down in me address book. Normally it takes months to set up an appointment. I'm sure the ones I know will zoom ye straight through, though, like that express till at the Top Yer Trolly. I'm warning ye, but, wee girl. I dearly hope ye're in it for the right reasons, and that ye're in it for the long haul, as it could take them years, and I mean decades, to make up their minds. Are ye sure ye wanny go through with it? There are easier ways to get yerself some respect in this town, if that's really what ye're after.”
“Does that mean...” Bridie gave her a look as if she could barely believe her ears. “So...so...ye believe me, auntie?” She squealed with joy, and the woman flinched as Bridie's massive arms wrapped around her frail chest. Mrs. Mulholland's shoulders ached. Then Bridie wiped the tears from her eyes, and her voice rang out excitedly, “I don't care who thinks I'm a headcase. I know what I saw. Sure, if any of me mates had told me, I wouldn't believe em. Now it's happened to me, but...All I can say is that it happened, and I don't know why I was chosen to spread the Good Word. But I was.”
Mrs. Mulholland tried to get up from the settee. Bridie helped her off it.
“Let me get me address book and start making a few calls. Don't ye worry. I'll be with ye every step of the way. Every step of the very long way. I'll see ye right, girl.”
“Och, auntie, I kyanny thank ye enough!” Mrs. Mulholland saw tears well in the girl's eyes again.
“Aye, ye can,” Mrs. Mulholland said. “I want a free Cow-A-Licious-On-A-Bun every time I go into the Kebabalicious from now on.”
“Ye've got it, auntie!” Bridie promised. And this was a promise the new pious Bridie was determined to keep.
Mrs. Mulholland shuffled to the hall, found her phone book in the little drawer of the phone stand, opened to a well-worn page she had decorated with Blessed Virgin stickers from the Knock gift shop, and dialed.
CHAPTER 27
“Yee-haah! We struck it lucky! Again!”
Usually there was fear on Jed's face on the rare occasions he was the passenger and Ursula the driver. He tried to hide it, but Ursula always saw the terror in his eyes. Now, however, her husband's eyes were glassy from excitement and the three Mai Tais he had downed. He pounded the dashboard in tune to “Deşteaptă tu, Român,” the Romanian national anthem (one of the few that were upbeat) and took another swig from the bottle of Bailey's he had moved on to. Ursula reached over the shift knob, found his hand and rubbed it affectionately. There was nothing but an endless empty highway before her, pylons to her left, fields and the setting sun to her right, a silo in the distance, so she took her eyes off the road and smiled at him. He had a cocktail umbrella behind his left ear.
The moment they had left the studio, they raced to the nearest bar, desperate for drink. Attack of the Killer Investors! had been a harrowing experience. A bar was conveniently located kitty-corner from the studio, but convenience, they soon discovered, didn't equal comfort. Or safety. A scrawny tiki dive whose décor must have been tropical splendor back in the 50s, the bar was now a shambles of woven fish traps that sagged from the ceiling, heavy with years of grime and the carcasses of mosquitoes and flies, torches on the wall whose orange and red light bulbs (meant to be flames of fire) buzzed and flickered maddeningly, cracked lava stones stained with unmentionables, splintering bamboo shoots, and walls painted with hula girls that throughout the terms of the last ten US presidents had been defaced and never scrubbed clean, a wide array of breasts in all cup sizes scrawled on their chests and, further down, reproductive organs that were either scribbled on the girls themselves or entering them at various angles. The bar was called Paradise. It was inhabited by creatures in differing stages of intoxication and medication.
“Contestants on the show across the road?” asked the bartender whose face was covered in so many tattoos that Ursula struggled to know what race he'd been born.
“Yep!” Jed wailed. “And we got a deal! You wouldn't believe—”
He yelped as Ursula kicked him in the shin, and he gave her a questioning look.
“Let's just celebrate,” she ordered.
Ursula had learned her lesson. This time they would do better. This time they would keep their mouths shut about the money. She would sit Jed down and instruct him not to breathe a word of this money to anyone they knew or didn't know. And certainly not to her family.
There was a momentary blip in the celebrations as, first, Jed realized he had no cash to pay for the drinks—he had used it to fill the tank with gas for the long journey up—and Ursula's credit card had to be brought into play, and then, after they carried her white zinfandel and his Mai Tai to a booth, fashioned like a Polynesian hut, Ursula tried to insert herself into the seat, but she screamed as the toothless man passed out underneath jerked awake and grabbed her ankle and the bartender had to drag him out and eject him onto the sidewalk. But celebrate they did. Ursula was all set to let her hair down, figuratively of course as her eggplant-colored bob was down as far as it could go, and she had already swallowed half her white zinfandel when she realized they would somehow have to drive the four hours back home. She told Jed he could indulge, she would drive, and he did (indulge, not drive).
“It's almost like winning the lotto again, honey!” Jed had said.
“Aye,” Ursula had responded. But it wasn't. A hundred and fifty thousand dollars was barely a fraction of what they had won a few years ago, and in Derry they hadn't been at the beck and call of some playboy millionaire investor. If they had, though, Ursula thought as she smiled at Jed over the rim of her greasy wine glass, or if they had had some investment advice back then, perhaps they wouldn't have blown through the hundreds of thousands they had won and wouldn't have had to beg before an audience of millions, or tens of thousands anyway, for a measly amount that wasn't really all theirs. And they didn't have the check yet. And they didn't own Slim Jed Jerky any more, not fully. But...from rags to riches, to rags and back to riches again...she was as content as she could be. It seemed money, like time, was relative. And the investment was a safety net. Lately she had been tense every time she swiped her card at the supermarket, the drugstore and eve
n the 99 cent stores she loved to visit.
Years had gone by since the lottery win, and it had been the money that gave her the life she now had. She and Jed had been forced into leaving the hometown she loved (Jed not so much), and still the animosity stretched across the miles. Ursula knew only too well Irish Alzheimer's, forget everything but a grudge. And the Floods, well, really only Fionnuala, had a grudge against her. But the family were prisoners under her steely grip. “What was that kick all about?” Jed asked.
“I'll tell ye later,” Ursula said. “Now, but...sláinte!”
“Yeah, cheers!”
They clinked glasses and laughed. Jed guzzled his Mai Tai. Ursula sipped her wine. She held her handbag close to her.
“When are we to be getting the check, though, Jed? And what's all this about due diligence?”
“Hmmm...they need to check our accounts and files and see that we weren't lying on stage.”
“The only time I lied was when I told them horrid creatures at the end it was a pleasure to meet em,” Ursula said.
Clipboard had led them through a maze of corridors until they were ensconced in some office-type room where reams of documents of intelligible legalese were pressed into their hands. They didn't know how to pore over them. And Slim was not there to help. Clipboard demanded they sign them. “Here, and here. And here, and here, and here. And here. Oh, and here.” She told them there would be an appointment for due diligence in two weeks or so, and if that went well, they would get the check four weeks later. It was apparently all up to the legal and accounting teams of Mitchell Haverton (that was his name, they finally learned) and his advisory committee if the investment would definitely go through. But, seeing their looks of shock, Clipboard told them not to worry. Mitchell had a heart of gold, she said, more so than the other investors, and sometimes he had even gone against the advice of his teams and gone through with the investment anyway. “So I'm 95% sure you'll get the money,” Clipboard had said, and Ursula had wanted to scream at the utterance of yet another percentage.
She now passed the same cow she remembered from the trip up. They wouldn't be long for the hospital now. She was scared as to what Slim might make of the deal they had struck. Jed seemed so relieved to have any money, he didn't care about the percentage of his and Slim's blood, sweat and tears they had handed over with fourteen signatures.
The Romanian national anthem ended. The guitar twang of the Kendall's “Heaven's Just A Sin Away” rang out, and Ursula was shocked to realize she been bracing, tense, for what song came on next. In Jed's car at that moment, she would gladly endure the national anthem of Uganda, Communist Vietnam, or even, heaven forbid, Great Britain, or any of the numerous country & western songs she couldn't stand. Just as long as one of the Irish songs on his mix didn't come on. It would put her out of her good mood. Suddenly flush with money once again, or at least the 95% promise of it, she couldn't bear to hear any of them at the moment, they would make her think of home. A country that, because suddenly she hadn't been scrabbling in the gutter, destitute, like the rest of her family, had turned its back on her. If she were stepping off the plane at Tân So'n Nhầt International Airport in Ho Chi Minh City, the people of Communist Vietnam would welcome her with wider arms and warmer smiles.
The Kendalls were still fearing and hoping heaven was just a sin away. Jed turned it up and began to sing along. Ursula longed to wrap her arms around him and sing along, their bodies waving back and forth as one, but it was impossible with the bucket seats of the car, and she had the odometer to check, the accelerator to press, the wheel to steer, and the signs to look out for.
As Ursula giggled girlishly and tapped her fingers on the steering wheel, she reflected that Jed looked happier than he had in weeks, no months. Less stressed. Even younger. Cuddly, Female had called him. Ursula agreed, especially now with that drunken smile on his face and his hat tilted at that angle. Ursula wanted to cuddle him. She would. Later. After the hospital. The celebration would continue.
She saw the first sign to the hospital. Wisconsin Veteran's Hospital, she realized it was called. How could that have escaped her? It was 25 miles away.
“Oh, wooh, wooh, Be with you tonight...” The Kendalls faded out, and Ursula tensed again. But...“Land der Berge, Land am Strome...” Ursula thanked the Lord. She was being spared the pan pipes and fiddles.
“What country does this be from, Jed?” she asked, just to make conversation.
“Austria.”
“Australia?”
“Austria, you know it. We went there.”
“Och, aye, when we was stationed in Germany. I mind now. The next country over, to the right. Mind we went with the wanes to that town where they filmed the Sound of Music? Lovely weather, it was, the sun was beating down. And we went to them salt mines and all. Was they in the town or outside the town? I kyanny mind now. But we went on that tour and saw all them places they filmed that film in, anyroad. Them palaces and whatnot. And the fountain where Julie Andrews and them wanes sang 'Do Re Mi.'”
She smiled at the memory. She steered into the slow lane to make the turnoff to hospital. And then, to her shock, Jed opened his mouth and began...to yodel! Like in the puppet show from the movie, “Odl lay ee, old lay ee, Odl lay hee hee. Odl lay ee!”
Laughter burst from Ursula mouth as she gripped the wheel tight. She knew it was the drink, and the money, and the memory of a good life spent together, but Jed had never yodeled in his life. She couldn't have been more surprised if he had just addressed her in Urdu.
“Odl lay odl lay, odl lay odl lee, odl lay odl lee!” The laughter roared from Ursula.
“Stop, ye daft eejit!” She was bent over the steering wheel, her body shuddering, the tears welling in her eyes, “Odl lay odl lay odl lay Hoo!” “I'm gonny crash the car, Jed! Stop it now! I'm warning ye! Och, ye've got me stomach hurting that much! Ha, ha, ha!” “Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo!” “Och, the tears be's streaming down me face! It must be them Mai Tais, making ye a Broadway star! I'm gonny make ye drink em all the time! Ha, ha, ha!” “Lay ee odl lay ee odl-oo!” “Ha, ha, ha! And, Jed...Jed...” she laughed into the windshield, “sure, I never knew ye'd even seen the Sound of Music! How do ye know the words?”
“Words?! You call those words?”
“Oh, ha, ha, ha. Hee hee! Grab me a tissue from me bag, would ye, love? I've to wipe the tears from me face!”
Her purse was between his feet. Jed rummaged around and found some Kleenex. He handed her a few. Ursula wiped her eyes, groaning at the pains in her stomach, then blew her nose. Then her cell phone, also in her bag, rang.
“Och, as ye're there anyroad, go ahead and get that, love,” Ursula said.
“Hello? Mrs. Barnett's phone,” Jed said in an exaggeratedly polite voice. From lonely goatherd to butler! Was there no end to her husband's talents? “Mrs. Barnett's driving her Bentley. I'm her personal assistant, Mr. Jed. Can I help you in any way?”
Ursula was giggling a little still, until she glanced away from the windshield and at Jed, heard the high pitched wail from the depths of her cell phone, and saw Jed's falling face. Quickly sobering face.
“Wait a second,” he said. He put the phone up to Ursula's ear. “It's Francine. She wants to speak to you directly.”
“Francine? But...oh, dear God! What's gone and happened?”
Francine O'Dowd, Ursula's dearest—and now only—friend in Derry. She never called; Ursula knew she didn't have international on her phone. It must be a matter of life or death.
Ursula jerked the wheel and the car jerked onto the shoulder of the road. A raccoon skittered in the brush, gravel sprayed against the wind shield, and the driver of the SUV that had been behind them pounded his horn and flipped them off as he zoomed past. Jed turned off the music.
Ursula stopped the car and took the phone he was offering her.
“Francine? Why are ye ringing? Has something happened? Is yer mammy—”
She was aware of Jed at her side, and the dashboard a
nd windshield wipers before her and the sun dropping behind the fields of wheat in the distance, and then she was aware of nothing. Nothing but the terrible things her dear old friend was telling her. Ursula strained to comprehend.
“But...what are ye saying? Ye mean—”
“How, but?” Her voice wavered.
“Och,” she began to sniffle, “I kyanny believe it! I kyanny believe what ye're telling me! Och, sure, it's a terrible tragedy, so it is! Do you know when—”
“At Xpressions, ye heard it?”
“A perm?! Why—?”
“Aye, aye, aye. That I understand. That's fine, love. Thanks for filling me in. At least someone had the decency to do it.”
“Aye, right ye are.”
“Aye, I'll see what I can do. We've...we've two days, still.”
“Aye, Cheerio.”
Ursula clicked the phone off and burst into tears.
“What, honey?” Jed asked, his hands on her shuddering shoulders. “What happened?”
“Wer Dymphna's gone and died!” Ursula sobbed. “Of a drugs overdose!”
She scrabbled for the tissues she had just discarded and put them to use again, honking into them and wiping at her eyes and cheeks as her head spun.
“Och, Jed! It's hit me like a ton of bricks to me heart. Ye know I loved that wee girl so much. Maybe me favorite niece, I don't know. Her funeral be's in two days. Jed, I know ye don't wanny do it, I know ye don't, and I know we haven't much time, nor money, but we've to make wer way to Derry for the funeral. It's in two days. We have to be there!”
Jed wrapped his arms around her as best he could with his seat belt still on.
“Of course we will, dear. Of course we will.”
A fresh wave of grief hit Ursula as she wailed, tears anew, “And, imagine! Me own brother Paddy hadn't the decency to ring me and tell me himself! Do they still hate me so much, Jed, that even death kyanny bring us together? Fionnuala I might understand, aye. But even she kyanny stop me own brother from making a secret phone call to me! Oh, Jed, Jed, Jed!!!”
Best Served Frozen (The Irish Lottery Series Book 4) Page 25
