Halversham
Authors: RS Anthony
HALVERSHAM
RS ANTHONY
Text Copyright © 2016 RS Anthony
All Rights Reserved
This book is a work of fiction. The characters, incidents, and dialogue are drawn from the writer’s imagination and as such are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to actual events or persons, living or dead is purely coincidental.
To Pa, for your infectious love of reading.
“Eternal rest grant unto her, O Lord. And let perpetual light shine upon her. May she rest in peace. May her soul and the souls of all the faithfully departed, through the mercy of God, rest in peace,” Father McCullen said in the blistering summer heat, concluding the rite of committal for Patricia Monaghan.
“Amen,” Andy said with the rest of the crowd gathered to pay their last respects. He wiped the sweat pouring down his face and looked up at his father, Paul Monaghan. He wasn’t crying and neither was Andy, but there was an imperceptible trace of grief on Paul’s chiseled, handsome face.
“May the peace of God, which is beyond all understanding, keep your hearts and minds in the knowledge and love of God and of his Son, our Lord Jesus Christ. May the almighty God bless you, the Father, and the Son and the Holy Spirit. Go in the peace of Christ.”
“Amen.”
Andy made the sign of the cross and stared at the casket where his mother was laid for eternal slumber. As the crowd dispersed, he twirled a rose between his fingers and contemplated one last look at her face before she was buried for good. His father removed a handkerchief from his pocket and wiped the sweat on his glistening face when Father McCullen approached them wearing a kind expression. The priest tapped on Paul’s shoulder and said something, but Andy’s mind was already adrift.
The freshly dug earth emanated a sweet scent, a gentle reminder of the sunny days Andy had spent with his mother in the garden, but the soil was drying fast just as he was simmering in his suit. Summer had only just begun, but it was quickly becoming unbearable. He knelt beside the hole in the ground and stared at his mother’s face. She looked serene, as if in the middle of a nap, not dead. He placed his palm on the glass lid and leaned closer, his eyes misting.
“I wish you didn’t have to go.”
Paul kept an eye on his son while talking to a few women who had come up after Father McCullen to offer their condolences. Andy had been holding up well since his mother died yesterday. It was a hot morning just like today when the nurse called them into Patricia’s room. Paul had only arrived from London a few hours prior, and he was exhausted. Heavily sedated, Patricia didn’t open her eyes or say her final goodbye to her husband when she quietly slipped away.
As the last woman offered her condolences and left, Paul glanced at his watch. He ran through a mental to-do list and took long strides toward his son.
“Goodbye, Mom,” Andy said, placing the half-wilted rose on her final resting place.
“Son,” Paul said and Andy glanced up. His father was standing next to him with his head cocked. “Ready to go?”
Andy rose and tapped the dirt off his knees. He followed his father toward a black Jaguar, but they were stopped midway by an elderly man. The man slapped Paul’s back and said something to comfort him while Andy continued to the car. The words, no matter how eloquent, were never comforting.
Several other cars were pulling away from the cemetery while a few wrinkled women with grey hair talked in quiet voices under a maple tree. Usually Trevor, Paul’s driver, would open the door for Andy, but his father had driven that morning, so Andy opened the door himself, got in, and waited. Five minutes later, Paul got in to the driver’s seat, and the car pulled out of the cemetery, father and son both quiet.
Andy was painfully aware of their new reality, and yet he couldn’t imagine how it would actually feel to live with it day after day. Patricia made Andy and Paul’s life colorful and seamless for as long as she was able to, even while battling breast cancer. She was the glue that held the family of three together when cracks began to appear in the relationship between father and son. Without Patricia’s quiet voice of reason, the gap between the two men was guaranteed to widen.
“Are you all right?” Andy’s father asked suddenly, without averting his eyes from the road.
“I’m fine.”
Paul glanced at his son. “She suffered for a long time. Two years,” he said before turning back to the road again.
“I know how long she suffered, Dad,” Andy said, watching the trees go by. “Unlike you, I was there by her side.”
Paul took a quick look at his son. “I didn’t have a choice, Andy. I wanted to be there for your mother, but I couldn’t. The business is...”
“You don’t have to explain. Really. It’s always been the business. I know.”
Paul sighed. The dreadful silence returned.
At age forty-eight, Paul Monaghan had made a fortune through various business enterprises ranging from real estate to IT. He had been lucky to meet Patricia early in life and the couple was blessed with Andy a year after they were married. His business had boomed ever since and he constantly traveled for work, leaving Andy to rely on his mother for emotional support. In her final days, Patricia masked her pain with a smile for her son’s sake and carried on like a trooper, even as she longed to have her husband by her side.
Paul took a deep breath and licked his lips. “I’ll be leaving for San Francisco in the morning. The hotel construction in the Bay Area has run into some problems, and we’re considerably behind schedule. The investors are getting anxious.”
Andy glanced at his father, but the sunglasses shielded Paul’s eyes. He stared out the window again. “Yeah. Whatever. It’s not like you have to grieve for her.”
“Look, I'm sorry I wasn’t there to say goodbye to her. And I’m sorry she died. But there's nothing I can do about it now. I loved her too, Andy.”
“Is that why you came home after she was comatose?”
“I don’t have to...”
“Her last wish was to see you,” Andy cut in before his father had a chance to protest. “You couldn’t spare a moment even when she was dying.”
“I told you I was busy. I had no—”
“Choice.” Andy finished for him. “I know. But what about me, Dad?”
“What about you?”
Andy shook his head. “You’re the only parent I have left, in case you didn’t realize.” Andy’s voice rose as he leaned forward, his chest straining against the seatbelt. “How do you think I feel? Do you even care about me, or you just can’t wait to go about your business?”
“Of course I do. But you’re an adult, Andy. This is life. Like it or not, we’re going to have to move on without her. I’d love to stick around and coddle you, but I have other things to take care of.” Paul’s grip tightened around the steering wheel.
Andy sighed and leaned back, shaking his head. His eyes darted back to the trees lining the road, but they were blurry. “Just send me to Halversham,” he said finally, fighting to keep his voice steady.
“Halversham?” Paul glanced at his son, his mouth agape. “Why?”
“Because I’d be thrilled to be left alone right after Mom’s gone.”
His father sighed. “I understand you don’t want to be by yourself, but why Halversham? I can arrange for tennis lessons at the club if you want. And you could help manage one of our cafés here the rest of the time.”
“I want to go someplace else. I don’t want to be alone in that house without her.”
“Fine. Go to Europe, then.”
“I want to go to Halversham.” The words came out in crisp, short bursts as Andy stared at his father, challenging him.
Paul licked his lips and thought about it for a second. “What are you going to do there?”
“Visit Mom’s favorite places. Work, maybe. I don’t know.” Andy shrugged.
Paul breathed audibly. “Fine. Your Aunt Magda could probably keep an eye on you. And the change in environment might help you move on sooner. Maybe you can make new friends, spend some time with your cousin.”
Andy chuckled for the first time in a long time. “Crazy Cousin Corrine?”
“Don’t be mean. She’s older now. I’m sure she’s changed.”
Crazy Corrine. That’s what the townsfolk had called her when he visited Halversham for the first time ten years ago. She was indeed crazy. She was older than him by three months, but while Andy was quiet and observant, Corrine was plucky and impulsive. Once when she was nine, she invited a young boy from the village to go fishing, and ended up driving a rusty fish hook through his fingernail to demonstrate how it was done with worms. The boy had screamed and run, dripping blood all the way home, where his parents had fussed and taken him to the hospital. When the boy’s father reported the incident to Uncle Matt, he lashed poor Corrine with a horse whip. She cried only briefly before sneaking out and unlatching their goat pen half an hour later. The goats bleated and scattered about the village while her mother scrambled after them.
The car turned into their driveway and Andy cringed at the thought of entering the empty house.
“I’ll ask Trevor to drive you to Halversham,” Paul said. “Get in and pack...”
“I don’t want to go with Trevor. I want you to drive.”
“I can’t. I have something important I need to take care of before I leave tomorrow. I'll get Trevor.”
“How can you be so insensitive?” Andy spat, glaring at his father. He was struggling to prevent the welling tears from falling again. “Or do you just hate me?”
Paul pulled up in front of their house, took his glasses off, and stared at his son for a long time. “I don’t hate you, Andy,” he said, his voice low. “Fine, I’ll drive you if that’s what you want.”
Andy bolted up the stairs, catching a nauseating whiff of disinfectant masked by the faint scent of lilies. It used to smell like cinnamon and chocolate chip cookies when his mother was around. The housekeepers had swiftly cleaned the place after she was taken to the hospital weeks ago. Andy went straight to his room and pulled out an overnight bag before his father changed his mind. It’s not that he expected pleasant conversation with his father on their drive to Halversham. That’d never happen. But he didn’t want his father to conveniently block Andy out of his life like he had Patricia.
Andy zipped his stuffed bag and left his room in a hurry, avoiding his mother’s bedroom and the wreaths that had arrived after they left. He said goodbye to the head housekeeper, Mr. Halpern, and went out to find Paul talking to Trevor on the front porch.
“I’m going to drive my son to Halversham. I’ll use the Porsche, so you can have the Jag ready for tomorrow morning. We’ll leave for the airport around nine.”
“Yes, sir.” Trevor nodded before opening the doors of a shiny black Porsche for Paul and Andy. Andy got in and tossed his bag in the back seat.
“Have a pleasant trip, Mr. Monaghan, Andy,” Trevor said.
Paul pulled out of the driveway again and the two spent the long drive to Halversham in silence while Andy struggled to push memories of his mother away. Especially her smile and the soft blond curls that framed her face. And the way the Cupid’s bow of her lips could warm and melt anyone’s heart. Andy closed his eyes and sighed. It wasn’t his intention to forget her, but he didn’t want to recall every nostalgic detail either, or he’d start weeping.
A dark cloud had draped itself over their lives when they first found out about the breast cancer. And when the doctors explained her final test result, Andy understood that his mother’s love had an expiration date. In the following months, Patricia sat and talked to him for hours despite her pain and fatigue while Andy stayed by her side, attending to her every need, cherishing every moment of it. She had gladly shared with him stories of faith, miracle, the power of prayer, and her favorite, the life and death of St. Augustine. He listened to her every word, clinging to the last vestige of hope, albeit a little less cheerfully than his mother.
Andy took a deep breath and let it out slowly to overcome the exhaustion that had begun to creep in. It had been a long day. Paul stared at the road as he drove, sunglasses still shielding his eyes. Andy noticed for the first time, his father’s sideburn beginning to turn grey.
“How long will you be in San Francisco?”
“A month.”
Andy nodded. “You’ll miss my birthday. Again.”
Paul opened his mouth to say something, but closed it when the appropriate words eluded him. He tried again a minute later. “Andy, I care about you. And I cared about your mother. Someday you’ll understand why I’m doing what I’m doing. It’s not to spite you.” He glanced over, but Andy was staring out the window. “I didn’t mean to miss your birthday party last year. I wanted to be there. You know that. But I told you, it was a last-minute thing in Chicago.”
“It was the last time I could celebrate my birthday with both you and Mom together,” Andy said, a little too loud. “And Mom planned it for months, right after the doctors said she had less than a year to live.”
“I’m sorry, Andy. What do you expect me to do? You want me to turn back time? Bring her back? I can’t!” Paul’s eyes were hidden behind the dark glasses but they could very well be shooting flames.
It was pointless to continue arguing with his father. So Andy made himself numb, averted his eyes and rested his mind on his destination: Halversham, the small town where Paul Monaghan grew up. According to his mother, Paul had worked extremely hard both at school and his father’s farm so he could one day escape Halversham. And when he was finally offered a scholarship at NYU, he took it and never looked back. Such was his disdain for the town.
His sister Magdalene—or Aunt Magda, as Andy called her—fell in love with Matthew Curd at the age of seventeen, married him two years later, and settled down in Halversham. Andy had once overheard Paul say his sister had shortchanged herself for a small life. A couple of years later, Paul and Magdalene’s mother died and their father sold the farm. The following year, their father died too, leaving Aunt Magda the sole Monaghan in the countryside with her small family.