Kilpara (14 page)

“
Your boys aren’t children, Ann,”
Dr. Thompson’s voice responded calmly. “They'll comfort you and
ease your ordeal if you let them.”

“
You're wrong, Adam. Haven’t you
seen the pity in their eyes? It’ll get worse when I’m closer
to—to—”

“
You have time yet. Let them share
it with you. For the love of God, Ann, don’t embark on this
journey.”

“
I've waited too long already. I
must go. I won't let my sons, or their families, watch me worsen
the same way I watched my mother wither away. My father grew old
then, staying up nights searching for a cure, obsessing over it,
and the hopelessness at the end left him feeling a failure. He had
nothing left to give to Sadie and me after she died.”

“
Your father was a brilliant
doctor, Ann. He discovered pain-killers and medicines that became
world-renowned in our profession.”

“
The same ones I’m using now.”
Mother laughed, her bitterness echoing into the corridor. “Ironic,
isn’t it, Adam?”

“
You could’ve been a doctor
yourself, Ann.”

“
Not in today’s thinking. You know
yourself that they shun women in the medical profession. There's
Sadie, better than any doctor she is, and she calls herself a
nurse.”

“
There were times when I would’ve
lost patients if it hadn’t been for you...”

I stood paralyzed in the corridor. I
remembered Dr. Thompson’s carriage coming for Mother, and Father
urging her to go. She was gone sometimes for days, and Father
explained her absence by saying she was helping a sick neighbor.
Dan became even more fretful than Mark, Francis or I when she had
to leave. He remembered being separated from her for long periods
when she took care of Mrs. Frichard. Father consoled him, reassured
him that she would come back soon. I knew Mother delivered most of
the babies at Stonebridge and had tended to illnesses and wounds.
But Dr. Thompson was inferring she had assisted him in even more
important ways.

“
We saved a lot of lives together,
Ann,” he said.

Mother rasped loudly, and I could hear her
struggling to get her breath under control. At length she said,
“I’m helpless now, Adam. This consumption has finally gotten the
best of me…”

Her wavering words turned into a bout of
coughing. I heard the chair move and Dr. Thompson’s voice urging
her to spit. She recovered, and moments later when she spoke again,
her voice sounded softer, regretful. “I don’t want to leave this
world, Adam. I want to see my grandchildren grow into adults and
marry and have children of their own. I want to see my sons mature
into middle age. If only we knew for sure we’d all meet on the
other side in eternal life. What a comfort that would be.” She
heaved a shaky sigh. “But I’m talking gibberish. When our bodies
fail us, it’s our time to go. I never gave much thought to time
passing before. There always seemed so much of it. Angus and I
always imagined we’d go back to Ireland; get back Kilpara. We
struggled here at first, and then we inherited this property. That
firmed our future so we did the next best thing; we built
Stonebridge to look exactly like Kilpara. We felt safe here. There
was so much turmoil in Ireland. Still is. But nowhere’s safe. We
discovered that when our farm was plundered by Southern soldiers.
When our sons went off to war, we lost Francis. Then Angus followed
him to his grave because he was heartbroken.”

There was a pause with heavy breathing after
which Mother continued.

“
My family still needs me, Adam,
and I want to stay. But if it’s a choice between spending what time
I have left with them and sparing them pain—then I’ll spare them
pain. When I leave they’ll remember me as I am and that’s how I
want it.”

There came another bout of coughing. I stood
pressed against the wall, the conversation in the sick room
hammering in my brain. I could hear Dr. Thompson’s chair being
pushed back and the sound of his shoes on the floor. He was
assisting Mother again. Unable to see him, I imagined a look of
frustration and helplessness had overtaken his face. If he had a
curable medicine at his disposable, he would have healed the
physical and mental complications tormenting Mother’s
body.

Standing there, I marveled how she had
convinced us this journey was one of remorse and sentimentality.
The signs were there, if we had just looked past her stubbornness
to leave and our unwillingness to agree with her. We were disputing
the wrong argument. It was clear now she planned to keep secret her
real motive to die in Ireland for our sakes. The evidence was in
her refusal to bury Father at Stonebridge, her insistence that his
coffin be interred in a Mausoleum at Hagerstown, and ultimately her
resolution to make this hazardous pilgrimage to Ireland. She had
known about her illness and its devastating consequences long
before any of us ever suspected she was sick. She had waited until
the last possible moment to leave Stonebridge, an obvious
heart-wrenching decision to stay with us as long as she dared,
conscious that she must go away to spare us anxiety and
grief.

“
Adam, please say you understand
that it’s better this way.” Mother’s voice was very soft now and I
had to press closer to hear. “Sadie knows what to expect. She’ll be
with me at the end. If I stay my sons will refuse to send me to a
sanitorium out of a sense of obligation. You know the burden that
will cause them, along with the torment of watching me
die.”

“
What about Ellis?” Dr. Thompson
asked, his voice deep with emotion.

“
Ellis lives for diversion. Ireland
will be too dull for him. He’ll leave quickly.”

“
The boys don’t suspect
then?”

“
No. I’m sorry to deceive them.
I’ll write and tell them. Perhaps when they know why I did it,
they’ll forgive me.”

“
I wish I could change your mind,
Ann. Your sons are stronger than you give them credit.”

“
It’s for the best.” The chair
creaked, and I knew Doctor Thompson had gotten up again to help
her.

I stood pressed against the wall, my emotions
conflicted. I fought back the impulse to burst into the room and
tell Mother I had heard everything. That Dan and Mark and I
demanded she stay at Stonebridge. She already knew that’s what we
wanted, yet she insisted on leaving. She feared our reaction to her
suffering and pending death, but she professed absolute faith in
her sister Sadie. Could she be right?

I thought back to how Mark looked like death
warmed over for weeks after he brought Francis’s body back to
Stonebridge. How Francis’ death sent Dan on a rampage, tracking
rebel armies, putting himself at the forefront of battle. The only
thing that brought him back to sanity and reality was his
commitment to Marian, his wife, and to their first-born son, Angus
II. I wondered if there was no family obligation to bring him
round, could he have become another casualty of the war. Could we
have lost Dan, too? These same thoughts must have plagued Mother.
And Father, who lived to work the farm and care for his family,
took to moods of pensiveness after Francis’ death. Sometimes the
spells lasted for days and even weeks, before he shook them off and
returned to normal. As for me, I avoided Stonebridge after Francis’
death and even more after Father died.

No sound came from Mother’s room now, and
while my mind and emotions ran rampant, I no longer felt the urge
to confront her. Quietly, I retired to my own room where I paced
back and forth mulling Mother’s words over in my mind. I had to
admit she had been precise about every detail even to the point
that she knew I wouldn’t stay in Ireland. When I visited
Stonebridge, I was always anxious to return to the city. She
counted on my restlessness when she chose me to accompany her. She
knew Dan and Mark would never leave her in the hands of strangers
and would stay with her out of their strong sense of
obligation.

She had emphasized that my only duty was to
deposit her into Aunt Sadie’s care. Before, that had made perfect
sense to me, but now that I understood her true motives, I found
myself wondering if I could merely do that. Her desire to spare the
family heartache had awakened a protective tenderness in me that I
didn’t know I possessed. I started to understand why she wanted to
be placed in the care of her sister who would help her die with
dignity.

I had to find Dan and Mark and tell them. They
had a right to know the truth. I rode out to Stile Valley and was
disappointed when they weren’t there. In frenzy, I scoured the
vicinity of Stonebridge with no better success. It was growing late
and I concluded they had returned to their families for the comfort
they needed to face Mother’s departure only a few hours away. Tired
and hungry, I stabled Brazonhead. As I climbed the steps to the
front door, it occurred to me that I was no longer reluctant to
enter the house despite the sadness that lay within; it was as if a
sense of destiny had already taken over. Pausing in the marble
foyer, I began to wonder if Mother’s choice should be honored after
all.

Anxious now to see her, I hurried to her room.
Dr. Thompson had given her a sedative. Groggily she wished me
goodnight. “I love you, Mother,” I said. She struggled to focus but
the medicine had taken effect. Tenderness washed over me as I
thought about the strength she had shown throughout our lives and
how her unselfish determination had left its imprint on us all. In
her own unique fashion, she continued to place our welfare above
her own. Devoted as Mother was, it was clear her decisions were
influenced by unresolved yearnings for her own mother and father.
Her desire and drive for permanence had merged with Father's
determination to rise above adversity and provide for his family.
Together, they had reproduced Kilpara, thus binding our ties to
their forsaken homeland. She and Father had succeeded in
assimilating the past, and in doing so had preserved our
ancestry.

It was dark outside, yet I felt too restless
to sleep. I grabbed a bottle of rum from the library and slipped
quietly outside following the path to the Wern River. The night
air, the gurgling water hitting rocks just feet away, and the
alcohol helped to calm my frayed nerves.

I lay staring at the moon when I heard the
noise some yards away. It came again. I jumped up just as the moon
came out from behind some clouds. Turning toward the sound I saw
the ebony silhouette standing on the bank just above white specks
of cascading water. At first, I thought I was imagining things but
then the silhouette came closer. I could clearly see it was
Lilah.

“
What?”

“
Shhhh. Mast’r Ellis, it’s me
Lilah.”

She pulled the worn shift dress over her
head.

I blinked at the sight of her breasts, the
softness between her legs, her strong hips. She put my arms round
her and together we sank down onto the soft moss. I looked into her
eyes. “Your husband…?”

“
He be sleepin.’ I know youse came
here and I’s thinking we should say goodbye the same way we says
hello.”

“
But?” I was already running my
hands over her firm nipples.

“
Youse and me, we not be seeing
each other again. I’s wanting to remember you and I’s wanting you
to be remembering me.”

“
I’ll be back before you know
it.”

She didn’t reply, just looked at me sadly.
Already, everything was slipping from my mind, and my senses were
filled with her musky smell, the way she felt beneath me, her
strong hips carrying me to ecstasy.

Afterwards, we didn’t speak as I traced the
beads of sweat on her breasts. She flashed her engaging grin and
began stroking my back with the tips of her fingers. I fell
asleep.

I was surprised to awake to streaks of orange
creeping over the horizon. I turned to shake Lilah awake but she
was gone, only her musky scent lingered next to me. Fuzzily,
everything came back to me crowding out thoughts of Lilah. I rushed
back to the house, quickly freshened up and came downstairs. Dan
and Mark and their families had already gathered in the Great Room.
They looked drawn, as if they hadn’t slept at all. They talked
softly about trivial things, everyone fearing to mention what was
taking place.

Simple conversation distracted us from the
turmoil of Mother’s departure. I reminded Dan that the Travers
planned to visit. He responded he had already penned them an
invitation. Fearing this may be the last opportunity to change the
events that Mother had set in motion, I began to feel the weight of
her secret. I had to tell Dan.

“
Dan—I—er—” I began, struggling to
verbalize my thoughts. I concentrated so hard on the words ready to
spill out of my mouth that I flinched when an urgent tugging on my
sleeve interrupted me. I stopped abruptly and turned to find
Maureen trying to usher me aside. Dan squeezed my shoulder and
walked away. I watched him leave. Forlornly, I knew if I didn't
stop him, there would be no more chances to change Mother’s mind.
Yet I couldn't bring myself to call after him.

“
You look strained,” Maureen
said.

I nodded. “I can’t seem to think clearly. I
don’t know what the right thing to do is anymore.”

She stood on tip-toe and kissed my cheek.
“You’ll figure it out.”