Mary was waiting for us at the top of the stairs. “Welcome!” she said warmly. “Am I ever glad to see you! Heads-up before you go in, though.”
“Is something wrong?” Ronan asked.
“Yes and no. Sean took a fall this morning, and he’s still a bit under the weather. He’s fine for visiting, but he needs to stay quiet.”
Ronan’s brow furrowed. “He was hurt, then?”
“Not seriously, but he’s bruised and sore, and more shaken up than he’ll ever admit.”
“No harm done to his back?”
“No, thank God, but he bruised his right knee and gashed his right arm, and split his chin.”
“Split his chin? I haven’t heard of anyone doing that since grade school,” I remarked, recalling that it had been a common playground injury.
“Me neither,” Mary said. “Ironic, isn’t it? But he fell on his face like a schoolboy in a football game, and there you are.”
“Are you sure he’s up to having company?” Ronan asked.
“Absolutely. If you’ll sit with him for awhile, it’ll save me a lot of trouble. He’s been trying to get up and go about business as usual ever since we got home from the E.R. Honestly, I was about ready to strap him down with duct tape! Come on in and make yourselves at home.”
We followed her into the living room.
Sean was lying on the couch with his feet propped up, an ice bag on his injured knee, right hand and forearm bandaged, and three stitches standing out darkly on his chin.
“Well, you’re a sight!” Ronan greeted him. “Mary told us you fell.”
Sean made a wry face. “Yeah. I was using my canes and I tripped, but it’s nothing serious.”
“You were damn lucky,” Mary scolded, “and not breaking anything doesn’t preclude you from getting some rest.”
I nodded in agreement. “That’s right. You don’t want to take any chances, Sean.”
“No, I suppose not, but I feel like an eejit with all this fuss and folderol about a few cuts and bruises.”
“I’ll make all the fuss and folderol I like,” Mary retorted. “If you want to avoid it, then use your crutches and watch where you’re going. Now, do we all want something to drink?”
“How about hot cider?” Sean suggested. “And if you’d toss a shot of Jameson’s in mine, I’d be much obliged.”
“Half a shot,” Mary decided. “But how about you two? Does hot cider sound good?”
“Let me have the other half of his shot, and it’s fine with me,” Ronan said.
“I’ll have mine plain,” I said, eyeing Ronan sharply as Mary left the room.
“What?” he asked.
“Since when do you drink whiskey?”
“I know I don’t, generally, but please, just for tonight, and only half a shot.”
“Hey,” Sean interjected, sounding as worried as I felt. “Something big’s gone down, am I right?”
Ronan nodded.
“’Cause you don’t drink, man. Why now?”
“Irish courage?”
“Shit!” Sean sat up, sending the ice bag to the floor with a thump. “What happened? You want to talk about it?”
“I think so, but I—Christ! I really need that drink.”
“I’ll see if Mary wants help,” I said.
“No, don’t go, Sarah.”
“It’s all right, Ronan. I’ve heard the story already, and I don’t think I’m up to hearing it again.”
What I didn’t want him to know was how close to tears I was. Maybe if I got away quickly enough, I could stop them cold. But before I could make my escape, I saw Ronan sink down on the sofa next to Sean, his head hanging, looking so utterly defeated I couldn’t bear it. I fled.
Mary turned with a start as I barged through the kitchen door, and nearly dropped the cider jug. “Oh! You scared me!”
“I’m sorry. I—” My voice broke and betrayed me.
Mary quickly put the jug down on the counter and laid a hand on my arm. “Sarah, what is it?”
The more I tried to control myself, the less control I had, and pretty soon I was crying on Mary’s shoulder. She was wise enough to let me work through it, and when I was calm enough to speak, she brought me to the table and made me sit down.
“O.K., one look at you guys told me something was wrong. What is it?”
“Ronan,” I said softly.
“I figured that. What about him?”
“He had his check-up today.”
“And?”
“When I got home from work, he told me—oh, it’s so unfair!”
“What?”
“His left arm’s healing wrong.”
“Oh, Jesus! So what happens now?”
“He’s got to go back into the hospital to have it broken and re-set.”
“When?”
“Next Tuesday morning.”
“Oh, the poor man! You’re absolutely right. It is unfair when he’s been through so much already.”
“Yes, and that’s not the worst of it. The doctor thinks there’s some nerve damage, and though Ronan’s arm will heal in time, he may not regain full use of it.”
“Oh, Sarah! Does Sean know?”
“If he doesn’t yet, he will in a few minutes. Ronan was about to tell him, and I came in here ’cause I didn’t think I could bear to hear him say it again. You don’t know how badly I wish there was some magical thing I could do for him, to make it all go away!”
Mary sighed. “Oh, yeah, Sarah, I think I have an idea. It’s not quite the same thing, of course, but every time I strap Sean into those damn braces and watch him struggle to take a few steps down the hall, I have those same thoughts. When he fell today, it was all I could do not to go to pieces. The only thing you can do, really, is take it one day at a time. Can Ronan stay in the States until he’s well again?”
“I think so, once we have a letter from the doctor. For something this serious, he’ll need consistent care from a proper specialist.”
Mary nodded. “A good doctor is so important. Do you and Ronan like the orthopedist?”
“Ronan seems to. I haven’t actually met the man yet, myself. His caretaker brings him to all his appointments while I’m at work.”
“How much longer will he need to have her around?”
“Only two or three more weeks.”
“Good!” Mary bustled around the kitchen, getting mugs out of the cupboard while the cider heated in a pan on the stove. “It’s none of my business, but I don’t like that girl.”
“Why not? She’s very good with Ronan.”
“Yeah, a little too good. She’s come here with him a few times, and from what I’ve seen, he’s not at ease with her. He always seems to be trying to put distance between them, as if he doesn’t like how attentive she is. In fact—and I hope this doesn’t upset you—he asked me for help in the bathroom the last time they were here. He was awfully embarrassed.”
“Did you help him?”
“Yeah. It doesn’t faze me one way or another. I’m kind of used to dealing with that sort of thing, thanks to Sean and Rory. Not that Sean is having those particular issues anymore, but Rory’s still in diapers and will be for awhile yet. Anyway, the poor man needed to pee, and he didn’t want that girl anywhere near him. I can’t say I blame him. Frankly, I don’t know who she finds more irrresistable, Ronan or Sean. It appears, or so Sean thinks, that she has a thing for men with disabilities.”
“Ronan’s never said a word!”
“He would, if there wasn’t an end in sight.”
“Should I ask him about it?”
“I wouldn’t if I were you. Not now, anyway. He’ll probably be in the hospital for a week after surgery and won’t need her services then, only for a little while at home afterwards, until he’s got the cast off his right arm and can do some things for himself again. Let her work out her term, and when Ronan feels better, have a talk with him. Get him to cite examples of any behavior that made him uncomfortable. Then decide if it’s serious enough to make a report to the agency that sent her.”
“Mary, what’s been going on?”
“I don’t know,” she replied, adding a dash of whiskey to each of the mugs she had filled. “I don’t feel right asking him. I just observe quietly, and that’s as much as I can do. He seems nervous around her, and acts like he can never get far enough away from her to suit himself. And I do find it disturbing that he’d ask his best friend’s wife to help him pee, rather than the caretaker who was hired for that purpose.” She set the filled mugs on a tray and handed it to me. “Here, would you mind bringing that out? I just want to get a plate of cookies to go with it.”
I backed out through the swinging door, ready to set the tray on the coffee table, until I saw that Sean and Ronan were gone.
“Mary!” I called, a wave of panic surging through me.
She came out with the plate of cookies. “They must have gone up to the studio to talk. We can bring these things up there easily enough. I’ll just grab the monitor, so I can hear Rory if he wakes up.” Calmly, she picked up a little walkie-talkie and stuffed it in the back pocket of her jeans. Then she took the lead and we ascended to the studio.
The door was closed.
“Maybe we shouldn’t bother them.”
“Don’t be silly,” Mary retorted and, balancing the cookie plate on one hand, she rapped on the door. “Sean, we’re coming in,” she warned, just before she threw it open.
Sean and Ronan were seated in the black leather chairs behind Sean’s desk, facing each other. Ronan’s back was turned, so I couldn’t see his face, but Sean’s—
Oh, that anguished expression was an awful thing to see!
“Did Sarah tell you, a stór?”
Mary nodded. She set the cookies down on the desk and stopped behind Ronan’s chair, and silently rubbed his shoulders.
He leaned back, and her hands moved up to his head, gently caressing.
“There’s nothing left to say, is there?” he asked rhetorically.
No one even tried to offer an answer. There simply wasn’t one.
I went to his side with a mug of cider and held it to his lips. He sipped cautiously, but my hands were shaking and some of it spilled on him.
Mary handed me a paper towel and took the mug, and I wiped Ronan’s mouth, and the front of his shirt.
“I’m sorry, Ronan. Did I burn you?”
He shook his head. “No, it’s all right. It wasn’t that hot. Thanks for the whiskey, Mary.”
“You’re welcome.” She handed the other mugs around. “I thought we could all use a little bit, given the sort of day it’s been.”
“Agreed!” Sean said, and held his mug up solemnly. “Now, here’s hoping for a better tomorrow for all of us.”
“Aye,” Ronan began staunchly, “a better—och, Jaysus!” He bowed his head and couldn’t say another word.
Sean leaned forward and gazed full into Ronan’s face, and grasped his hands gently. “I know you’ve got a long road ahead of you, but it’s not the end of the world. Not yet. Give it time. Things may not turn out as badly as they’re predicting. I mean, look at me. They said I’d never walk again, but they were wrong.”
Watching Ronan’s face, it wasn’t hard for me to guess what he was thinking. Sean had indeed made great progress, and might yet continue to improve, but he would never be completely free of his disability. If Ronan recovered, yet suffered an equivalent level of impairment, it was doubtful that he would ever play guitar again.
“A cara,” he said gently, “I know you mean to be encouraging, but—”
“Yeah,” Sean agreed. “If your arm heals as well as my back did, it’s not going to be good enough. I’ve been a wreck for so long now, I’ve forgotten what it’s like to be normal. I’m doing well, and I can walk, but the fact is, I’m a cripple, and I’ll be one for the rest of my life. Of course you need a better outcome than that.”
“I’m sorry,” Ronan murmured. “I didn’t mean to drive that point home, Sean.”
“Most of the time it doesn’t bother me too much, but today—” He laid a hand on his injured knee and sighed, and leaned back in the chair.
Mary brought a hassock over and set it down in front of him. She lifted his feet gently and set them down on its padded top.
“Thanks, a stór.”
“You’re comfortable, Sean?”
He nodded, closing his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” Ronan apologized. “You’re tired. We should go home and let you get some rest.”
“No, it’s all right. Stay if you like. I just—ah, what’s left to say?”
“What indeed?” Ronan replied. “There are no answers at the moment. I can only bide my time and hope for the best.”
“That’s all anyone can do. That, and say a few prayers.”
Ronan nodded. “Sarah?”
I held the mug to his lips again and let him drink deeply. It didn’t take long for him to finish it. Then we just sat there quietly, the three of us, not knowing what to say, with one common, unspoken thought in our hearts and minds: that Ronan’s tomorrows were likely to get a great deal worse before they could even begin to get better.
