“I worked at O'Malley's for a few years when I was in high school,” Lucy offered, “and I have a completely different take on Irene.”
All heads swiveled in her direction. Even Maddy lingered a moment in the kitchen doorway before returning to the dishes.
Lots of Paradise Pointers got their first job at the original O'Malley's, but most of them had died or moved away. No wonder Kelly was almost climbing across the dining room table with excitement.
“You knew Michael?” Aidan asked.
“I sure did. A nicer, kinder man you'd never meet.” She smiled at both Aidan and Kelly. “Kelly has his blue eyes.”
“What was he like?” Aidan asked. “He died before Billy and I were born, and Irene wouldn't talk about him.”
“A broken heart,” Kelly said, suddenly sounding like the teenage girl she was. “He was her true love.”
“Funny thing,” Lucy said as she began to stack dishes for busing, “but there was always a tragic feeling about Irene even before the hurricane.”
Kelly stared at her wide-eyed. “Like a tragic love affair?”
“Listen, I'm just an old woman rambling on. What do I know? I'm just saying there was always a feeling of sadness around Irene, right from the first. The most successful and lovely woman in town, and you always walked away thinking, âBoy, am I glad I'm not Irene O'Malley.' It didn't make sense, but that's how I remember it.”
Hannah, who had been listening to them with greater interest than you'd expect from a four-year-old, got up and whispered something in Kelly's ear, then tugged at her hand.
“Hannah,” said Lucy, “I know your mommy told you yesterday that whispering at the table is bad manners. If you have something to say to Kelly, you should say it loud enough so we can all hear.”
Again, that older-than-her-years look, followed by a voice that was pure post-toddler. “I want to show Kelly my toys.”
Aidan had to bite the inside of his lip to keep from laughing. How many times had he gone down the same road with Kelly when she was Hannah's age?
“Kelly was having a conversation, honey. You shouldn't interrupt.”
“It's okay,” Kelly said, ruffling Hannah's hair with an affectionate gesture. “I'd like to see Hannah's toys, if it's okay.”
He knew his daughter too well. Kelly couldn't wait to see the Candlelight's family quarters. She had her mother's looks and curiosity.
“Please,” Hannah said.
He could see Lucy was a goner. “Go ahead,” she said. “I'll tell your mother where you are.”
“They could pass for sisters,” Lucy said as the sound of their footsteps receded up the stairs. “Same coloring.”
“I noticed,” Aidan said. “Kelly was the same way when she was Hannah's age. She could manage to sit still while we were eating, but the second it was over, she wanted to be on to something else.”
“It's called youth,” Lucy said with a sigh. “A distant memory.” She polished off the last of the wine in her glass, then looked over at Aidan again. “I'm sorry if I said too much before. It's not like Irene and I were friends or anything. It's just that the other waitresses and I were in awe of her, and I guess we romanticized things just a little bit.”
“You don't believe that, do you?” he asked.
“No,” Lucy said after a moment, “actually I don't. Something broke Irene's heart, and it was long before she lost Michael. I'm sorry if that upsets you, but I believed it then and I believe it now.”
“Something did break her heart before the hurricane,” Aidan said, “but it wasn't the way you think. She lost her oldest son in the Second World War. From what I was told, she never got over it.”
Lucy buried her face in her hands. “Forgive me, Aidan. I completely forgot that Irene had two sons. I'm so sorry.”
“No need to be,” he said. “No reason you should remember. There were a lot of tragedies during the war.”
“I probably have no business saying this, Aidan, but I'm still not convinced there wasn't something else.”
“Or someone.”
“Listen, I know she's your grandmother and I'm certainly not implying she didn't love Michael, but you have to admit there's always been something . . . mysterious about Irene.”
He started to laugh. “I'm not going to argue with you, Lucy. You're right. âMysterious' is a good way to put it.” He and Billy had grown up knowing chapter and verse about Grandpa Michael's life before he returned to America with Irene by his side. But it had often seemed to Aidan that Irene sprang to life at the moment she sailed into New York Harbor with her young husband. Nothing that came before seemed to matter. His mother told him that when she first met Irene, she asked how she had managed to lose her brogue; Irene had greeted the innocent question with icy silence that lasted until Billy was born. O'Malley family members quickly learned to stay away from certain topics. Irene's life before Michael was at the top of the list.
“I heard about her fall,” Lucy said. “I hope she's doing well.”
Aidan gave a noncommittal shrug of his shoulders. “She didn't break anything, but she's not doing well.”
“She's lived a long and remarkable life, Aidan. All you can do is hope that when she goes, she goes in peace and comfort.”
He agreed. It was what everyone hoped for when the end was near.
But in some ways he was just like his seventeen-year-old daughter. He wanted the impossible, too. He wanted to know that in some way, some small insignificant way, they had really been a family and not just survivors who happened to board the same lifeboat.
Just once before Irene died, he wanted to hear her say she loved them.
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HANNAH HAD TO use the bathroom, so Kelly sat on a cute little upholstered chair near the top of the stairs, pulled out her cell, and called Seth. He was going to drive around with his father for a while and see if they could make a few extra bucks plowing driveways for homeowners who had been plowed in by the township's trucks earlier in the day. He said he would be home by seven, and since it was quarter after, she figured there was a good chance she could reach him.
He answered on the first ring and they had made their arrangements before Hannah finished washing her hands. He would pick her up at the Candlelight in fifteen minutes. Her father would probably blow a fuse when she told him she wouldn't be driving home with him, but it would be too late for her to call Seth and cancel.
One of the few good things about loving a guy who didn't have a cell phone.
“So where is this special toy you've been telling me about?' she asked when Hannah came out of the bathroom. “I hope it's Barbie. I loved Barbie when I was your age.” In fact she probably still had some of the Barbie doll clothes Aunt Claire had made for her up in the attic. They would make a nice surprise for Hannah, if she could find them.
“It's not Barbie,” Hannah said, slipping her hand into Kelly's. “It's a secret.”
“A secret?” She chuckled. “I had lots of secrets when I was your age.”
“But this is a real secret,” Hannah said in that serious little voice of hers. “You can't tell anyone.”
“Not anyone at all?”
“No.” Hannah looked up at her. “Promise?”
“Okay,” said Kelly. “I promise.”
Hannah pushed open the door to the last room on the left and pulled Kelly inside.
Kelly gasped when she saw the acres of silk and satin on the walls, draped over the bed, the plush chaise longue, the soft throws, the outrageously fluffy pillows, the scented candles, the beautiful oil paintings, the sense of absolute contentment that seemed to radiate from every corner of the room.
“Wow!” Kelly managed, as she drank it all in. “This isn't your room, is it, Hannah?” If it was, she wanted to be adopted and fast.
“Nope. It's Grandma Rose's.”
“Maybe we shouldn't be in here,” Kelly said, reluctantly inching toward the door.
“'s okay,” Hannah said, grabbing Kelly's hand and tugging her back inside. “This is where I keep my toy.”
Had she been such a little drama queen when she was Hannah's age?
She watched as Hannah slid open the door to Rose's closet and revealed a rainbow of color organized with the precision of a drill team. Working for Rose was going to be a trip. Growing up without a mother, she had never learned all of these secret female things that her friends seemed to understand without even trying. Aunt Claire had tried her best to fill in the gap, but once the troubles with Kathleen started and then the accident that killed Uncle Billyâwell, there wasn't a whole lot of time or energy left over to teach her niece how to organize her closet.
At least Hannah had Maddy and Rose to help her figure out how to be a girl. Not that her father hadn't done a terrific job, because he had, but the last few years since the accident had been hard on both of them. She didn't blame him for it. He didn't go looking to be in a terrible accident, and he sure didn't go looking to lose his brother. But that didn't change the fact that just when Kelly had needed him most, he hadn't been there for her to turn to, and deep down inside, in a place she never let anyone see, she felt very small.
And very alone.
Hannah carefully pushed aside the bottom of a gorgeous teal silk robe that almost screamed out to be touched. She reached deep into the closet and pulled out a Macy's shopping bag.
“Hannah,” she warned, “it's just a few weeks before Christmas. You'd better not go snooping around. You might find one of your presents and ruin your surprise.”
“Santa doesn't leave presents in Grandma's closet.”
Oops. Kelly quickly regrouped. “You're right. Of course he doesn't.” She bent down near Hannah. “So what have you got?”
“Close your eyes.”
“Hannah, that's silly.”
“Close your eyes. That's how my mommy always does it.”
“Okay, okay. I'll close my eyes.” Kids really took their toys seriously.
“Put out your hands.”
She put out her hands.
“Whatâ?” The weight surprised her. The chill of metal against her skin surprised her even more. But what she saw when she opened her eyes was the biggest surprise of all.
Grandma Irene's samovar.
Â
Good Samaritan Hospital
The nurse leaned over Irene's bed and smoothed the sea-foam-green blanket over her chest. “I heard the snowplows a little while ago, Irene. We should be able get you back to Shore View in the morning.”
Please call my grandson. I need to talk to him before it's too late
.
“Is that blanket too scratchy against your skin, Irene? Here. Let me see what I can do.”
The nurse folded back the blanket, then spread a well-washed sheet over Irene. “There,” she said, repositioning the blanket. “That's better.”
The bed swayed gently beneath Irene as she rode the swells. The sea was calm tonight. The black sky overhead was spangled with stars. She was sailing away from what remained of her world, trusting her futureâand her baby's lifeâto a man she barely knew.
Â
THEY WERE MARRIED as Nikolai lay dying, married in the burned-out shell of a once great house near St. Petersburg. Irina's knees sank into the blood-soaked ground as she knelt beside the father of her child and prayed for a miracle.
Her cousin Seriozha, a priest, heard their vows, made before God, and united them moments before Kolya drew in his last breath. Irina had seen terrible things in the weeks before that moment, the murder of her parents and her sisters and brothers, the destruction of her home and the world she knew, but nothing had prepared her for the enormity of this moment. Nothing. She felt as if someone had torn her heart from her chest.
When you steal a woman's dreams, you have taken everything of value.
Seriozha reached across Irina and gently closed Kolya's eyes. He murmured familiar prayers of comfort and eternal life, but she felt nothing beyond a yawning emptiness that seemed to suck the air from her lungs. “You must go,” he said. “There isn't much time.” He had escaped the first onslaught against the church and the nobility, but that would soon change, for he had vowed to avenge the murder of their family and her beloved Kolya, whose only sin had been to love her.
“Go,” he said. “There are others like you headed for the sea. Join them. Leave this place behind. It is your only salvation.”
Go where? This was her world. Her life. She knew nothing of the world beyond. There was nothing left but fear.
And the baby inside her belly.
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“THERE'S A PROBLEM?” The doctor's shoes squeaked as he stepped into Irene's tiny cubicle. “Vital signs seem to be holding steady. She's not spiking a fever. No pain. So what's wrong?”
“I'm not sure,” the nurse said. “I think she's trying to talk.”
There was a prolonged silence. Irene struggled to form the words, but only a whistle of air passed her lips.
“I'm on break,” the doctor said in a clipped tone of voice. “Don't call me again unless it's important. I want to get out of here on time tonight.”
His shoes squeaked against the floor tiles as he stormed away.
“Bastard,” the nurse muttered, then laughed softly. “If you can hear me, Irene, I'll bet you'd agree. Men are all bastards, aren't they?”
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HE WAS THE kindest man she had ever known, and he had deserved so much more than she had been able to give him.