Rain and Revelation (11 page)

Chapter Twenty-One

After Mr. Walters shuts his door, leaving me alone and sitting there with more questions than answers, I gather my bag, limp to the door, and grab the umbrella. Using it as a shield, I put my head down and try to get to the car without losing my footing on the slick, uneven path.

Through the rapid swishes of the wipers, I try to see a few feet in front of me. All the feelings I’ve stuffed deep inside feel like they are going to erupt.

The windows are fogging up. I can’t breathe. The hollowness and sadness I felt earlier is replaced with anger. Toward Da. Toward Paddy. Toward Mr. Walters. And toward Ma.

The wind roars. I can barely hear myself think. Does Ma even know who my father is? How will I ever know what really happened to Ma that night in the pasture? Even though Ma left that phone message four days ago, she has not returned any of my calls. Even if she did call me, would I ask these questions of her?

Do I really want to know the truth?

Hunching over the wheel, I follow the winding road out of town, gripping the wheel tighter as the rain comes down harder. My hands are numb.

The question that haunts me the most: If I mattered so much to Ma, then why did she want to end her life and leave me? Why’d she leave me alone with the memory of her bathing in her own blood?

The wipers can’t keep up. It’s a solid sheet of grey. The only thing clear: My parents’ secrets are now mine.

My shoulder muscles burn, and my ankle throbs. Rounding the corner, there’s a sheep in the center of the road. I swerve sharply to the right to avoid hitting it, then crank the wheel back to stop skidding. The car spins around and leaves the road. Then it stops. My heart pounds. I put the car in park and check the rearview mirror for cars. There are no lights from either direction. I try catching my breath.

Wiping my face, I put the car in gear. The wheels only spin as rain pounds the windows. Slapping the wheel with my hand, I try to think what to do. Pulling my phone from my bag, I check the GPS. I’m only a few kilometers from Westport. I look up the number for roadside service and call for help. They tell me it could be up to two hours. There’s no choice but to wait. I turn on the emergency flashers and sink into the seat. The windows fog up. While I wait, all the questions spin in my mind again. More than two hours pass before I see the tow truck’s yellow flashing lights.

After getting hooked up and pulled back onto the road, I follow the truck’s taillights into Westport. At the center of town on James Street is the Clew Bay Hotel. I’ve never been inside it before. Fiona and I only walked by it on the way to the nearby pubs. It costs more than I’d like to spend on a night’s lodging, but there’s an open parking spot in front. All I care about is getting out of the car and out of my wet clothes.

After paying for a night’s stay, I drag my suitcase through the newly remodeled lobby and take the elevator to the second floor. The room is at the end of the hall and overlooks the street. It smells like fresh paint and new carpet. After stripping off my wet clothes, I burrow beneath the down comforter, close my eyes and listen to the relentless rain. Soon I fall into a deep sleep.

My cell phone rings, jarring me awake. I let it go into voicemail. A dim light illuminates the far end of the room. Everything is still. No rain. No traffic sounds. No sounds from neighboring rooms. Stretching like a cat, I will myself to get up only because I have to pee.

Under the fluorescent lights in the bathroom, my skin looks blotchy. My eyes are puffy and red, and my hair is a wild mane, tangled and standing on end. Cranking the faucet, I fill the tub, step into the warm water, and submerge myself in floral-scented bubbles.

When I emerge, wrapped in the hotel’s oversized, fluffy robe, I check my messages. Fiona called. I ring her back.

“You’re not going to believe this.” Fiona’s voice blares into the phone. “Jake’s leaving with Hunter. Going back to the States.”

“Brutal.” I let myself relax into the mound of pillows on the bed.

“The worst is he now tells me he has a fiancée back home.” There’s the sound of a cabinet slamming shut. “The prick.”

“He tells you this now?”

“Hunter said he had to come clean and tell me.” In the background there’s the sound of ice clinking in a glass. “Well, he can kiss my arse.”

“You’ll find someone else.”

“You’re bloody right I will.” Fiona gulps something. “You need to come home. I don’t want to be alone right now.”

“I can’t.” I don’t tell Fiona that I’m only twenty minutes away.

“But, I
need
you!” she whines.

“You’ll be fine without me. I’ll call when I’m settled. You can visit sometime.”

“I need you
now
.” Fiona’s voice is still whiney but softer.

I sit up and hug the pillow. “Well, I’ve got to go now. Sorry.” I hang up before Fiona can squeeze in another word. I cover my face with the pillow and feel my body sink into the bed.

I lay there debating whether I should go back to Louisburgh, just to make sure Fiona is going to be alright. But I know I can’t go back. Not yet. Maybe never.

There’s one thing I have to do before leaving for Dublin tomorrow. I call the number stored in my phone.

“Ryan here.”

“Oh, hallo. This is Eliza.”

“Eliza. Splendid to hear your voice. How are you?”

My voice sounds higher than normal and quite perky. “Grand. I wanted to make arrangements to bring your crutches by. Perhaps tomorrow on my way out of town?”

“You’re driving through Westport tomorrow?”

“I’m actually here. At the Clew Bay Hotel. I spent the day here after I got stranded with the rain. I’ll be going to Dublin in the morning. Can I bring the crutches by the clinic then?”

“You’re here?”

“Just for the night.”

“Well, then, I can save you the trip. Have you eaten yet?”

I glance at the clock. It’s nearly six o’clock. “Well, no, but…”

“Excellent. We can eat dinner at the restaurant there. Say in an hour?”

“Umm.” I can’t think of an excuse. “Lovely.”

We hang up. I touch my puffy eyes and scramble out of bed to get a cold washcloth to put on them. Then I dig through my suitcase for my makeup and something presentable to wear. My footwear choices are limited. Finally I settle on a cashmere cardigan and boot-cut jeans.

Ryan is waiting for me in the lobby when I get off the elevator. He’s holding a small bouquet of flowers. When he sees me, his eyes widen. He smiles and says, “I’ll be damned.”

I feel myself blush. He hands me the flowers and kisses my cheek. Then, he takes my elbow and guides me to the restaurant.

The barman is watching the rugby match on the big screen and talking to an elderly man clutching his stout. Unlike at Paddy’s pub, the stools are leather and the bar a polished, dark granite. We find a table by the front window. Soon, a server brings us menus. After contemplating our drink order, we agree on the house red wine.

We make small talk, mostly about the dreadful weather and lambing that has kept Ryan busy, along with his training. The server arrives, uncorks the wine, and pours us each a glass. It goes down smoothly. My stomach rumbles as we place our food order.

The bouquet rests on the corner of the table. I touch one of the lilies. “Thanks for these.”

“I hope your boyfriend doesn’t want to beat me up, but I still feel bad about your leg.”

“Boyfriend?”

“The guy I saw you with on the beach.”

“Oh, him.” I avoid his eyes. “He’s just a tourist. An American. He’s not my boyfriend.”

A smile spreads over Ryan’s freckled face. He lifts the wine bottle and refills my glass. I look out the large-paned window. Puddles glisten under the streetlights. People walk by with closed umbrellas. A silence lingers between us like the morning mist. As he touches my fingers, he says, “I’ve been thinking of you.”

I pull my hand back and put it on my lap. “That right?” I take a long sip of wine. It warms my throat. My cheeks feel flush. “How’s Alex?”

Ryan shrugs. “Okay, I guess. Moving to New York. Got a modeling job.” He folds his hands on the table. “I’ll miss her.”

“No doubt,” I say. I break off a piece of bread, slather it with butter and take an interest in looking around the empty restaurant.

“You okay?”

I stuff the bread into my mouth. “Grand.”

“Did I say or do something wrong?”

“No. I’m just tired. And hungry.” I look around for the server to bring our food. I offer Ryan the bread basket, but he shakes his head. I take another piece and ask, “How’s your training for the tri going?”

“Excellent.” He runs his hands through his curly hair. “I wish you could do it, too.”

“There’ll be others,” I say, rotating my stiff ankle.

“Right.” Ryan leans forward and tries to touch my hand again, but I pull it away. He just stares at me.

The server arrives with our salad. Ryan sprinkles his with lemon while I coat mine with dressing. I take a bite. “Will you and Alex try to visit each other often?”

He shakes his head. “Probably not. I’ll get another flatmate.”

“It’ll be hard to replace her in your life.”

“Not really. I mean, she’s been great, and we’ve known each other since university, but we didn’t do much or see each other often. Mostly she stayed with her boyfriend.”

My mouth hangs open. “Boyfriend?”

“Plays rugby for the union team. Nice lad.”

“Oh, I just assumed…”

Ryan laughs. “Alex likes
real
athletes.”

My breath escapes and I smile. He refills my glass and motions to the server to bring another bottle. This time I don’t pull my hand away when he reaches for it. His hands are smooth and strong.

He leans forward. “So where were you on your way to?”

“Dublin. To see Ma.”

“Oh, she’ll see you now? Excellent.” He squeezes my hand.

“Well, I don’t know. I hope so.”

The server returns with another bottle of wine. After uncorking it, she fills our glasses and then goes to check on our food. Ryan brushes his fingertips over my arm. His dark brown eyes meet mine. “Maybe we can spend some time together when you get back.”

Shivers snake through my body. “I’ll not be back. Not to Louisburgh.”

He raises his eyebrows.

“There’s a lot that’s happened since I saw you last. Too much. Let’s just say that I have no bloody clue who my da is.”

Ryan’s back straightens, and he shakes his head. “I still can’t believe my uncle and your ma. It’s a good thing I’ve not seen him.” His voice is brittle and hard.

“It’s complicated. Not just with him, but with Da. With Paddy.”

Ryan prods gently until piece by piece it all unravels. Except the piece about finding Da with Paddy. That I can’t tell. His slender fingers intertwine with mine. “So now what are you going to do?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out. Do I want to know who my da really is? A drunk. A rapist. Or a predator. Nice choices.”

“They’re more than that. And less, too.” Ryan leans closer. The fine lines around his eyes deepen. He says, “You’ll be okay, you know.”

Our faces are nearly touching. His breath is sweet and he carries on his clothes the faint aroma of citrus. My pulse is racing. Our lips meet. Soft. Warm.

Then the server, who had disappeared earlier, appears with our salmon and almond green beans. We release hands. The space between us widens, and the air cools. For a time neither of us says anything as we eat our food. There’s a quiet buzz of conversation from the tables next to us, as more people have come into the restaurant.

My thoughts come back to what I don’t know. What I might never know. I say, “I thought of getting one of those paternity tests. I’ve heard you can order them online.”

Ryan butters a roll. “I’m not sure how reliable they are. You can also spend a bit more and have it done properly.”

“I don’t have that much money.”

“Get
them
to pay.”

“Your uncle? He said he wondered but will he actually agree to a test now?” I drain the last of the wine in my glass.

“You have some bargaining power.” When I cock my head, Ryan explains. “A teacher involved in a relationship with a student. Granted, it was a long time ago. But dear uncle does care about his fine reputation as beloved music teacher, despite what he might let on.”

I chew my food and nod. I think about the time I spent at Mr. Walters’s when I found the yearbooks in the drawer, and the envelope that I never opened but simply put back. After folding my napkin on the table, I say, “There’s a lot to think about. And to do.”

Ryan orders two Irish coffees and tells the server to bring him the tab. All of a sudden, he digs out his phone. “Before I forget. I just remembered that I know someone at the hospital in Castlebar who could help get you set up with the paternity testing. I wonder if I have his number here.”

I take his phone and set it down on the table. He looks at me with a puzzled expression. I reach up and touch his rosy cheek. My body is tingling. The room is spinning slightly. I catch Ryan glancing at my respectable cleavage in the cashmere cardigan. My heart beats faster. Leaning forward, he kisses my parted lips.

I whisper, “It can wait.”

Chapter Twenty-Two

Birds chirp outside and the sun shines through the sheer curtains as Ryan, already dressed, kisses my neck. “Morning, love,” he whispers. He takes the sheet, which is draped over my hip, pulls it up and tucks it under my chin.

I pull him towards me and hold him tight. “First you keep me up all night, and then you wake me at the crack of dawn.”

“It’s nearly eight o’clock. I’ve got to shower and get ready for work.” He brushes my hair out of my face, his breath still sweet with wine. “The offer to stay at my flat is open. Not only do I make a deadly seafood fettuccine, I can be irresistible, as well.” He winks.

“You think highly of yourself,” I tease.

“You’ll come?” His impish smile spreads freckles across his face.

I release him and shrug. “Unless I get a better offer.”

He smiles and gets up. “I’ll text you the address.” As he’s putting on his jacket, he snaps his fingers as he remembers something. “Oh, and I’ll call that person at the hospital who might know about the paternity testing options.” Then he bends down and kisses me one more time, checks to make sure he has his phone, and leaves.

I lay there awhile but can’t fall back to sleep. My mouth is dry and I have no appetite for food, only water.

I get my laptop and, after connecting to the Internet, search Linda Graham’s name. Most recent postings highlight her teaching at the Performing Arts School in Dublin. Older ones commend her singing and theatrical performances. There’s a picture of her. While it looks like it was taken some time back, Linda doesn’t look like someone who would be friends with Ma. She looks proud, confident and important. There’s no answer when I call the number for the Performing Arts School. I hang up without leaving a message.

Then I ring Fiona, who growls, “Who the fuck is calling me this early?”

“Your best friend. Have you removed my number from your phone already so you didn’t know who is calling?”

“Jaysus, Eliza, you know I hate mornings.”

“Then why answer?”

“The bloody phone was by my ear.”

“I need you to do something for me.”

It takes a while before Fiona is fully awake, but she agrees to help me when I explain what I need her to do. I have her repeat back to me the instructions I gave her, and we agree to meet in the restaurant here in the hotel around four o’clock, even though I’m checking out later this morning.

Ryan calls shortly before ten o’clock. “Here’s the deal with the paternity testing. Each person gives a blood sample at the hospital in Castlebar, and they send it to the testing center in Dublin. Or there’s the option of going directly to Dublin. The results are back in about a week. You’re right, there are home kits, but they aren’t as reliable.”

“First I have to convince them to do it.”

“You’ll let me know if you need help with my uncle?”

“I think I can manage.”

“Then I’ll see you for dinner at my flat? Six o’clock?”

“Lovely.”

“I promise to be a perfect gentleman.”

“Then I might not come,” I say with a smile, and hang up.

After showering, I check out of the hotel and drive to the hospital in Castlebar. There they draw blood and give me the release forms and instructions to give to Da, Paddy, and Mr. Walters.

During the drive to Louisburgh, I run through what I’ll say to each of them. It’s close to two o’clock when I park along the narrow street in the town square. People and dogs amble by, and I greet them by name, making small talk with a few about the lovely weather that has finally arrived. Looking down the street, I see Da’s car parked in front of Paddy’s pub.

The sun, high in the sky, burns my eyes, so I put on my sunglasses and walk the few streets to Mr. Walters’s house. He’s outside with Johnny in his tiny yard. When I open the gate, he cocks his head at me for a moment, then bends down and pulls out a handful of weeds. Under his breath, he mutters, “Heard you left. Couldn’t stay away after all?”

“There are a few things to wrap up. I’m packed and heading to Dublin soon.” I close the creaky gate. “I need to talk to you about something.”

“Is that right? Be quick. I have things to do.” He keeps weeding.

“I want you to take a paternity test.”

He brushes the dirt from his gnarled hands. “You think that will fix everything?”

“It’s better than not knowing.”

“I wouldn’t be so sure.” He straightens up and looks at me over his thick glasses. “I suggested this to your mother, and she’d hear nothing of it. Insisted Seamus was the father.”

I thrust the papers at him. “
I
need to know.”

He shakes his head and says, “Annie might be right. Sometimes the truth serves no purpose. Seamus raised you. I suppose you turned out fine enough in spite of that. I’ll not do any testing.”

“You have to.” My voice cracks.

“No. I don’t.”

“If you don’t, then I’ll have no choice but to…”

“To what?” Mr. Walters says, “You can’t force me to do anything.”

I take off my sunglasses and look Mr. Walters in the eye. “Don’t you think the headmaster might find your past trysts with a student troublesome?”

“You wouldn’t do that. It’d destroy your mother.”

“Isn’t it too late for that?”

Mr. Walters mutters, “She loved me and wanted to be with me.”

I raise my voice and say, “You took advantage of her. She trusted you. Even if she wanted a relationship, you were much older and you could have stopped it. Good God, you were married, too!”

He turns to face me. “You won’t say anything.”

I just stare at him.

Mr. Walters looks away. “She was a consenting adult by then. It doesn’t matter what happened before. It was a long time ago.”

“Not everyone may see it that way.”

As I hold Mr. Walters’s gaze and the papers, my breath quickens but my resolve doesn’t waver even though my hand trembles.

After what seems an eternity, he snarls, “Give me the damn papers.” He snatches them from my hands. Then he whistles for Johnny who trails him into the house. The door slams shut.

My legs feel weak as I stand tall looking at the closed door. I can hear Johnny barking inside. Turning, I swallow the sour taste in my mouth, taking deep breaths to still my pounding heart.

Passing the grocery, I see that Fiona’s car, usually parked in front, is gone.

I enter Paddy’s pub. Inside is Da, slumped alone at the bar with his hair standing on end and his wrinkled shirt hanging over his trousers. He doesn’t look up until I’m standing next to the bar. Seeing me, he knocks the stool over backwards as he stands up to hug me. As usual, he reeks of cigar smoke and stale whiskey. He grips me tightly and buries his head. “Eliza, baby, I didn’t know where you went.”

I pull back, looking around the empty, dark pub. “I need to talk to you. Paddy, too.”

“He’s in back talking on the phone.” Da runs his hand over his grey stubble. “You had me worried half to death leaving. Taking your things, too. And in that bloody rain.”

I cross my arms. “I’m not staying.”

His face drops and his eyes water. “But where will you go? This is your home.”

“Not anymore.” I slip behind the bar and pour myself a Diet Coke. Without meeting his eyes, I say, “Things have changed. You know that.”

Da rights and remounts the stool. He clutches his glass with both hands. Looking down, he mutters, barely louder than a whisper, “I’m so sorry you…um…saw…”

From behind the bar, I look at the framed pictures of Da and Paddy in their rugby uniforms on the far wall. Taking a deep breath, I ask, “How long? With Paddy.”

Da takes a big swallow and stares into the empty glass.

“I want to know.” I run my hand along the polished wood on which I did my homework.

“A daughter should never find her da like that.” Tears flow down his ruddy cheeks.

“How long?”

Da sighs. “Since school.” His voice lowers. “Off and on. We both tried to stop, but couldn’t. We just kept coming back to each other.”

“Did Ma know?”

He shakes his head. “Not at first.”

“But you told me that she didn’t like men.”

Da shrugs his massive shoulders. “She and me were…together…a couple of times before we got married. Then a couple of times afterwards.” He rubs his chafed knuckles. “It was a hard pregnancy. After you came along, she only had time for you. It suited me though. Made it easier.”

“What does that mean?”

He reaches for the whiskey bottle and fills his glass. “It was hard for me to be with her. I could do it. Most of the time anyway.”

“Then why did you marry her?”

“You wouldn’t understand.” He takes a big gulp, nearly draining the glass.

“Try me,” I say.

Without looking at me, he says, “It was Paddy with your ma. In the pasture. I found his keys by her. I knew he followed her home and…” He chokes back tears and wipes his nose on his sleeve. “I talked to him the next day, and he didn’t remember anything. But he didn’t deny it.” He looks past me to nothing in particular. “I never told your ma it was Paddy.” Da fills his glass again and takes a swallow. He says, “It was Paddy’s idea that I seduce her in case she was pregnant. He could never marry her.”

“Why not?”

“She hated him. He liked Linda before, and it drove your ma mad. That’s why we thought they might have a thing for each other.” He takes another swallow. “But we never knew for sure.”

Light streaks through the unwashed window. My stomach feels hollow. I take the information sheet and release form from my bag and slide them across the bar. “I want to know who my father is. You and Paddy need to go to the hospital in Castlebar and give some blood so they can send it in to test your DNA with mine.”

Da starts sobbing. He buries his head in his arm. I feel like I’m watching a stranger grieve. When his sobs turn to whimpers, I say softly, “Please, enough of the secrets. Enough of the lies. If you ever loved me, do this. For me.”

With his nose dripping, Da looks up. His bloodshot eyes are rimmed with tears, and he says, “I do love you. Always have. You’re my daughter regardless of any damn test.”

For a moment, I can’t speak. I grip the bar tighter. “Get Paddy to do it, too. I don’t care what you say or do to make it happen. Here’s the address and the contact person.” I slide the papers closer.

Da nods, grabs the papers and stuffs them into his shirt pocket without looking at them.

“And I want you both to have the lab release the information to me. I want to see it first. Understand?”

Da lowers his eyes. “Aye.”

I pour the full glass of Diet Coke into the sink and walk out from behind the bar. There’s the smell of a peat fire long since extinguished and ale freshly spilled. Da is slumped on the stool. I put my hand on his heaving shoulders and say, “I know that you did what you thought was right at the time. Do what’s right now.”

I leave quickly before he can see the tears streaming down my face.