Shannon's Daughter (55 page)

Chapter Fifty

He
heard the next day that Peg had decided to pay Agnes a visit in Dublin before
flying home.
 
Gradually word circulated
through the family that Peg had asked for a “breather.”
 
Sympathy seemed to flow in Kendall’s
direction, but then it would have.
 
As
ironic as it might seem, he was closer to the bosom of the Shannon clan than
Peg had ever been.
 

Once
the press got wind of their breakup, there were some less than subtle
inquiries, which he chose to ignore.
 
If
Peg wanted to make a public statement on their relationship, she was welcome to
do so.
 
He was busy reassembling his
life.

Having
put the Philharmonic on notice, he decided to go ahead with his
resignation.
 
He was ready for something
different, although he had nothing specific in mind.
 
Within the year, Patrick approached him,
asking to pick his brain regarding a fledgling chamber orchestra he’d been
approached to help fund, based in none other than Carlow Town.
 
Mildly intrigued by what sort of talent could
be assembled if he lent his name to the organization, Kendall agreed to a two-year
contract as music director.
 
If part of
the appeal had to do with bittersweet memories of the time he’d spent there
years earlier, he dismissed it in favor of the artistic challenge.
 

He
would say in the future that it was the best half-hearted decision he ever
made.
 
The ensemble, thanks largely to
its generous backers, primarily the Shannons, and the caliber of musicians
willing to join him in what was at first promoted as a short-term experiment,
achieved critical recognition in its first season and never looked back.
 
For Kendall, the demands of the job and the
camaraderie of the players proved just what he needed as a basis for his new
life.
 
If he occasionally envisioned that
blue-eyed girl with the braids who’d greeted his first arrival, he found himself
less and less afraid to look at the memory with honest affection.
 

By the
time they met again, in 1963 at Adelaide’s marriage to a distinguished London
physician, Kendall felt he was ready to put a good face on things.
 
They were, as Peg had so often pointed out,
part of the same family.
 
He’d been duly
quizzed by Agnes and Maeve, who were touchingly concerned for his comfort, and
assured them enough time had passed.
 

“I’m
sure we can manage to be in the same room without causing a scene, if that’s what
you’re worried about.”

Agnes
had responded with a characteristic snort, while Maeve went on, “Of course you
can, but I don’t want you to feel obliged to be nice to her.
 
I love Peg, and she’s been very good to
little Margaret, but what she did was still unforgivable.”

“There
was nothing to forgive, as far as I’m concerned.
 
Things were never going to work out for us,
and we had to face up to that.
 
Have you
asked Peg how she feels about seeing me?
 
She deserves at least the same consideration.”

Another
snort from Agnes, this time on a more jovial pitch.
 
“If I know Peg, she’ll ask you to dance and try to get you to take her
home.”

Things
didn’t go quite that far, but they did talk briefly and without too much
awkwardness.
 
Peg was interested in his
work in Ireland, and he in turn asked about hers in New York.
 
Peg seemed happy, which he told himself he
was glad to see.
 
When she talked about
her fundraising, her eyes sparkled and came alive with enthusiasm.
 
They even danced together, at which point he realized
that while he might have achieved emotional detachment his body was reacting in
the usual way to Peg in his arms.
 

“Agnes
tried to warn me, you know?”
 
The almost
unbearable familiarity of her scent coupled with her fingers caressing his
shoulder caused him to throw caution to the wind.

Peg
looked up in confusion, “Warn you?”

“She
said you’d ask me to dance and then try to persuade me to take you home.”

“If I
recall, you asked me to dance.
 
But if
there’s any chance of the other, I’m willing to try.”
 
Her breath near his cheek was warm and sweet,
stirring up vivid sensory memories.

“Don’t
tempt me, brat.
 
Most days I only think
of you a dozen or so times.
 
That’s a
vast improvement over even a year ago.”

“So one
night for old times’ sake would be a mistake?”

“Of
disastrous proportions.
 
I’m willing to go so far as a friendly drink,
even a quiet chat, but alone in a room with you and I’d lose all the ground
I’ve worked so hard to gain.”

“Has it
been that hard?”

“Are
you saying it hasn’t been for you?
 
Surely you could give me the comfort of believing you’ve suffered a
little, too.”

“I’m
still suffering.
 
I miss you,
Kendall.
 
I miss what we had.”

“But
you don’t yearn for the chance to try again for something more permanent?”

“No.”
 
The music ended.
 
The perfect opportunity, but he knew he
wouldn’t take it.

“Then
we’re back to the friendly drink and the quiet chat.
 
Or maybe we should just nod and say
goodnight?”
 
Still holding her hand, he
led the way to her table, which was now conveniently deserted.
 

“I’d
settle for being friends, if that’s what you’re offering.
 
I can pretend I don’t want more.
 
I’ve gotten even better at pretending in the
past three years.”

They
had the quiet chat, commiserating on the well-meant advice and the endless
matchmaking efforts.
 
He told her about
the dinner parties he’d learn to avoid, knowing there would be yet another
“potential” at the place next to his.
 
She countered that she’d learned to include at least one member of the
clergy at each of her gatherings, providing a priest or bishop to occupy the
seat at her right.
 
By the evening’s end,
they were able to part on easier terms than he would have believed possible,
several steps away from “former lovers” and closer to “old friends.”

Their
subsequent meetings, all family gatherings of some sort, were easier, but there
was invariably a moment when one seemed to read the other’s thoughts.
 
The suggestion would pass in a meaningful
glance or the innocent brush of hand.
 
He
was tempted to test his recovery, but always thought better.
 
Proximity to Peg still stirred his most basic
urges.
 
She was a beautiful woman, and he
knew the depth and breadth of her passion.
 
Given his current monastic lifestyle, testing would no doubt lead to
failure.
 

He
occasionally heard gossip regarding Peg’s social life, or read her name in
connection with a cause she was championing.
 
There were photographs of her on the arm of a noted Broadway tenor, and
later he heard they had parted ways.
 
He
understood from Patrick that Michael had turned over the reins of the
foundation to Peg.
 
No doubt she was
happily occupied with what she had once described as her life’s mission.
 
Her greatest claim to fame seemed to be her
support of a young violinist named Stani Moss, a teenager who had captured the
attention of the world’s classical audiences.
 
In most of his bios, there was some mention of his connection to Peg
Shannon and her fundraising efforts on his behalf.
 

Life
moved rapidly from year to year, filled with a mix of work and pleasure, which
for Kendall seemed to both involve music.
 
He admittedly loved his job.
 
The orchestra
was his family.
 
The old municipal
building where they rehearsed and performed was more a home than his flat.
 
He’d held on to the house in Hertford,
vacationing for a few weeks at a time when he could, but he found he had no
desire to return to London for more than a day or two, just enough time to
visit with his mother, and Reggie and Maeve, but not long enough to revisit too
many memories.
 

In
January of 1971 Eloise was diagnosed with breast cancer.
 
As Reggie explained it to Kendall, little
could be done when the obvious had been ignored for so long.
 
By June, Patrick was told she wouldn’t see
summer’s end, and after a brief telephone conversation in which little was said
but much was understood, Kendall made plans to take a leave-of-absence from his
post and do what any dutiful son would do.
 

He
leased a furnished flat just far enough from his mother’s home, certain he would
need privacy to survive the ordeal.
 
He
allowed himself time to contact old friends, took in a fair number of concerts
and went out to Glyndebourne several times.
 
Each day he called on his mother, sat with her, listening to whatever
was on her mind at the moment, ran any errands she could think up to keep him
busy.
 
He told himself when all was said
and done, he’d be glad they’d had these final weeks together, despite the
aching dread with which he greeted each day.
 

In
mid-July, Maeve informed him that Peg was coming to London for a brief
visit.
 
It was all a bit mysterious, she
said, but she hoped he didn’t mind that she’d told Peg he was in town.
 

“It’s
hardly a secret.
 
I suppose she knows
about Mother.”

“Yes.
 
But she said something about being on a
mission for her father.
 
He’s been quite
ill, you know.
 
And she also said your
being here would save
her a
trip to Ireland.
 
She’s going to Dublin though, to see Agnes,
so I’m not sure what she meant by that.”

He
didn’t give it a great deal of thought.
 
It was unlikely they’d meet up unless she paid his mother a visit.
 
By the time he received her note,
hand-delivered from Brown’s, asking if he had time to see her, he’d almost forgotten
she was expected.
 
Tea, she said.
 
He wasn’t sure if that meant in the hotel’s
restaurant or her suite, but he wrote back agreeing to the day and time she’d
suggested.

The
desk clerk informed him that Miss Shannon was expecting him.
 
When he looked toward the lobby and the restaurant
beyond, the clerk said subtly, “She asked that you go straight up, sir,” and
gave him the room number on a slip of paper.
 

A quick
ride up in the elevator and he was standing at a door which seemed as familiar
as if only yesterday he’d paid his last visit here.
 
He half-expected Alice to
open the door.
 
He took the
ceremonial moment, straightening his jacket and running a hand over his
hair.
 
Seeing Peg at a Shannon family
gathering was one thing.
 
Meeting her in
a suite at Brown’s was another entirely.

Peg
seemed relieved when he instantly took her by the shoulders and dropped a kiss
on her cheek.
 
“How are you, brat?”

“I’m
fine.
 
More to the
point,
how are you?
 
I’m so sorry about your
mother.”

“Thank
you.
 
I’m holding up.
 
What brings you to England?”
 
Better to get to the point, avoid too much
small talk.

“Business.
 
And a little pleasure.
 
I’m going
up to Dublin to spend a week with Agnes.”

“You
and Aggie have become real friends, haven’t you?”
 
He took one of the armchairs while Peg
perched on the edge of the couch.
 
“She
told me all about her trip to New York.”

“She’s
really a lot of fun.
 
I’m trying to
convince her to stop working so hard and enjoy life while she can.”

He
chuckled.
 
“Aggie and fun are not
terribly well-acquainted, at least the way she tells it.”

They
both paused, paying homage to the awkwardness lurking beneath the surface.
 

“I took
the liberty of ordering tea.
 
I thought
it might make this easier.”
 
Peg’s voice
lost its forced brightness and she looked down at her hands with a little
scowl, as though she’d never seen them before.