‘Will you be all right, then?’ he asked. She was watching an Irish game show from her wing chair, obediently elevating the Historic Ankle.
‘Go and be as the butterfly,’ she said, waving him off.
He stepped out to the hall, closed the door behind him, opened it again. ‘No fair reading the journal ahead of me, Kav’na.’
In the library, Anna introduced a merry party of Sweeneys and the woman who writes books-tall, with a cloud of graying hair, accompanied by her ten-year-old niece, who had learned Gaelic for the trip.
‘Gaelic? ’ he said, astonished.
‘Only enough to get by,’ said Emily.
The sunshine had returned to Broughadoon. When Maureen came round with a tray of cheese biscuits, he kissed her on both cheeks.
‘And how did you find your aunt?’
‘Ninety-four she is, with every tooth her own an’ Mass twice a day. I took me paintin’ along, ’twas seen by th’ half of Ballina.’
‘Cynthia will be happy you’re home.’
‘I’ll be takin’ up her dinner. I can hardly turn my back on th’ poor darlin’ for th’ trouble she’s into.’
William sported a tie he hadn’t seen; Liam was his personable self, chatting up the newbies, delivering drinks. Feast or famine, this lodging business-a full house was a very good thing.
He was spooning up the last of his sugar-free afters when Seamus called. Into the kitchen and the gargle of Dishwasher #1.
‘Mrs. Conor is askin’ you up tomorrow at eleven.’
‘What’s that?’
‘Mrs. Conor. She’s askin’ for you.’
He was surprised. They had spoken but once on the night ride to Sligo. He had said, ‘I’m praying for you.’ White with pain, she had snapped at him: ‘Do as you please.’
‘I’ll be there.’
‘Dr. Feeney’s on his way down, said he’d meet you at th’ front hall, if you’d be so kind.’
‘How is she?’
‘Th’ tremors an’ all th’ rest. ’t is killin’ me to see it.’
‘Let the nurses do the seeing,’ he said. ‘Your being there is enough, I’m sure it’s a comfort to her.’
‘So.’ Seamus sounded desolate in that desolate house.
‘Anything I can do tonight?’ he asked.
‘Ye could say a bit of a prayer for us.’
He went to the library, realizing that in a way he couldn’t understand, it was killing him, too. He felt the force of something coming down, falling to pieces.
When the Rover wheeled in, he was waiting at the door.
‘She’s still determined to go off th’ drink,’ said Feeney. ‘This is serious business for someone her age; she could die, I told her that. She said she was dying anyway-she wants to go through with it.’
Feeney removed his jacket, hung it on an antler.
‘But Paddy must be out of the house. They drink together, he’ll figure a way to get it to her. So I’ve asked him to leave.’
‘What did he say to that?’
‘He’s scared out of his wits by the screaming, the look of her in such a fix. He’s willing to bail out and wants to make it quick. God knows I dreaded routing the man from his own house, but it’s done.’
They walked into the library, still empty of guests. The sound of laughter from the dining room.
‘I managed to get two of the best nurses in Sligo. Cassie Fletcher is very competent, she cared for her old father for some years. He did the same thing-dried out at home at a late age-so she’s familiar with the backside of Gehenna. She’ll live in, with Eileen as relief. As to Eileen, she’s quick to carry through, and good-hearted. ’
Feeney went to the fire, though the night was warm. ‘I’ll do all in my power to keep her comfortable, Tim. The odds look impossible, but I’m going to believe it can work.’
‘I’ll believe it with you.’
‘She’s tough. Very tough. Maybe she can do it. God knows, I hope so. ’Tis dangerous business-the seizures, for one thing, if it comes to that. The tremoring has already begun, the rapid heart rate, the nausea. Then there’s the hematoma-I don’t think you knew. The swelling is massive, half the size of her leg.’
He’d made hospital rounds in Mitford for roughly twenty years; he was familiar with the hell of hematoma.
‘What was her general condition before this happened?’
‘Nutritionally deprived-the usual in this case. Dehydration. A compromised immune system which begs respiratory infection. So, she started low and this will drive her lower.’
‘The detox-how does it usually progress?’
‘Depending on the length and severity of the addiction, tremoring and nausea, then blinding headaches, heavy sweats, tactile hallucinations-usually itching, as if bugs were crawling on the skin. In the end stages, it all escalates to delirium tremens. Mother of God, we must pray against that.’
Ash lifted from the turf, vanished up the chimney like moths.
‘Let’s say it goes better than expected. How long to get clean?’
‘Three, maybe four weeks. After that, she’ll be completely wiped for a few months until we get her weight up.’
Liam was right about the Sisyphus business.
‘All that said’-Feeney drew in his breath-‘there’s a bright side. It wasn’t a broken hip, which requires surgery and begs the blood clot. And with two disabled arms and a leg, she has no recourse to the gin.
‘I’m only twenty minutes away in an emergency, and of course I’ll stop by Catharmore every evening. There’s no one waiting for me at home but the old housekeeper, who slips in to watch my telly if I’m running late.’
‘Flat-screen, I’m guessing.’
‘Forty-two inches.’ The doctor laughed, ironic, walked away from the fire. ‘I must speak with Liam tonight about the seriousness of this. Not looking forward to it.’
Blow upon blow for Liam. For everyone, really.
‘Seamus says she wants you up there in the morning?’
‘Aye,’ he said.
Feeney shook his hand. ‘Bail ó Dhia ort,’ said Feeney. ‘The blessing of God on you.’
He had no capacity for laughter and small talk. When the new crowd flooded into the library, he went back to the room.
‘Evelyn Conor asked me up tomorrow at eleven.’
‘That’s good. Thank heaven.’
He emptied his pocket onto the dresser top, in view of Ben Bulben. ‘How about a little after-dinner entertainment?’
‘You’ve learned a poem.’
‘I have not. I’ve merely planned to learn a poem. Let’s see what Fintan is up to, poor devil.’
‘I thought his vow to Caitlin very moving.’
‘I agree. A few entries back, he referred to what he called these mute pages. Not so mute, I’d say.’
‘Do you ever?’
‘Ever what?’
‘Long for someone else?’
‘Good grief, woman, who would I long for?’
‘Really?’
‘Really.’
‘Good,’ she said. ‘I would kill you.’
He switched on the avid bulb, found the bookmarks, opened the skim of a man’s life.
9 November 1863
I have never felt such despair-The knife I thrust to the hilt in my own heart is no recompense for the two hearts I have torn asunder.
Tis little more than first light as I walk out this morning into a sullen rain & cross the yard to the carriage house. Keegan gives me a look as he hitches Adam to the traces. He does not speak-I know at once the nature of his surly mood. So closely have we worked together that I often ken his thoughts before he realizes them himself. Tis a blow to find he thinks so little of whatever character I may possess.
I do not want him helping her into the carriage-he does not deserve the privilege. I will drive to the rear door & help her up myself, for all that.
Lay a fire in the Surgery & bedchambers, I say to him.
He stands gawping at me.
Now, I say.