Page 141 of Tiny Fractures

“I don’t know,” Tori says, shaking her head.

“Kitty Cat, these chicks are just jealous that you did the one thing they never could: you got Ran to fall in love with you,” Vada says, and hooks her arm under mine. “Try to ignore them. We got your back, and I’m definitely not beyond kicking someone’s ass.”

“Okay, I believe you,” I laugh.

***

I dutifully attend my classes, relishing the periods I get to spend with Vada, Zack, and Tori, as well as our lunch break, during which I sneak my phone out of my backpack and turn it on to check for an update from Steve. He sent me a quick text around eleven, only saying, “Still no change.”

I manage to make it through most of the day but skip my last two periods, feeling tired and anxious to see Ronan. I call my mom, who’s nothing but understanding, and Steve sweetly picks me up at home, then drives us to the hospital like he has these past few days.

“My dad should be here soon,” Steve notes when he slides open the door to Ronan’s room. “He’s at the airport picking up my grandparents. They just flew in from Montana today,” he explains, and it warms my heart.

“Is he bringing them to the hospital?” I ask. I would love to meet Ronan’s grandparents—he’s told me so much about them, and I always had the impression that Montana and his grandparents are a good part of his life.

“Yep,” Steve assures me. “My grandma was hysterical when my dad told her what had happened. She wanted to come out Sunday, but they had to make arrangements with the ranch and stuff. I mean, my aunt can handle it, but cattle ranches don’t really lend themselves to just up and leaving. She’s been calling my dad every day to get an update on Ran, though.”

Just as Steve predicted, Frank returns to the hospital a couple hours later with both of his parents in tow, and I’m shocked at their obvious youth. Ronan had told me there was a generational cycle of having children young, but the fact that his grandmother—who sweetly introduces herself as Saoirse, an Irish name which she explains to me is pronounced like “sir-shu”—is only fifty-one and looks as though she’s only in her forties still throws me off. Steve and Frank are almost carbon copies of Perry, Steve and Ronan’s grandfather. But Ronan, with his green eyes and lighter hair, seems to take more after his mother’s side.

Saoirse and Perry’s reaction to seeing Ronan, his face still almost-unrecognizably bruised and swollen, is the same as everyone else’s: utter shock. Though they quickly compose themselves and check on Steve; his grandmother hugs him tightly for a long while before she turns her attention to me.

“So, you’re the beautiful girl who stole my baby boy’s heart,” Saoirse says with a sweet smile when I offer her the chair so she can sit with Ronan. “He told me about you a few weeks ago, and I could tell by the way he spoke about you that he’s obviously lost his heart to you,” she tells me as she appreciatively takes a seat by Ronan’s bedside. “You know, he doesn’t open up to a lot of people,” she continues as she strokes Ronan’s right hand, studying his face, so much worry in her brown eyes. “You must be a very special girl.” She turns her head toward me and smiles.

“I don’t know,” I say, unconvinced. “He didn’t say anything about his mom hurting him.”

But Saoirse only shakes her head. “Sweetheart, that doesn’t mean you aren’t special. That just means that the evil witch did a good job brainwashing him. Victims of abuse don’t tell anyone because, well, they’re being abused, aren’t they?”

I can hear the unfiltered contempt toward Ronan’s mother in Saoirse’s voice, and I wonder if the two women ever had a good relationship.

I sit down at the foot of Ronan’s bed, careful not to bump his injured right leg. “Ronan told me you gave him his necklace with the two pendants—Saint Michael and that cross.”

Saoirse smiles at me, then at Ronan, gently stroking her hand over his head. “Yes, to protect him against evil. Heck of a lot of good it did,” she says with defeat in her voice. “Oh, baby boy,” she sighs, her eyes filled with worry.

“He told me a lot about you and the ranch, and…” I say, wishing to comfort her a little. “I could always tell that Montana and you are such an important part of him.”

Saoirse looks at me, her eyes brimming with tears before they spill over. She lets them fall unabashedly. “You know, I gave Ronan his name,” Saoirse says, now studying Ronan’s bruised features. “He’s named after my dad who died in a shipwreck when I was twelve. I loved my father very much,” she continues, then pauses. “Ronan came into this world with a vengeance. I remember it like it was yesterday. We were having these terrible summer storms and the roads to town were flooded; we were completely cut off. And then Rica’s water broke and she had Ronan a couple hours after that—no chance at a doctor making it to the ranch or us getting her to the hospital, no pain medication, just Rica and me. And I helped her deliver this tiny, scrawny little baby boy. He weighed just over five pounds. I always said it was because she became pregnant too soon after having Steve and didn’t nourish her body and the baby growing inside her well enough,” she says with tears running down her cheeks.

“And she had such a hard time bonding with him. She was so young and so overwhelmed. Only seventeen, two babies. Her parents wanted nothing to do with her or the boys. So, we tried. Perry and I tried to take some of the burden off her shoulders, especially after Frank left for the Air Force, but it became obvious to me over time that she just didn’t have a bond with Ronan.”

She wipes the tears from her cheeks, then returns her attention to Ronan. She gazes at him warmly as she carefully runs her thumb over his unbandaged right cheek. “I caught her beating on him once when Ronan was only two and I put a stop to that, but I fear all I did was make her hide it. I always suspected she wasn’t good to him. Always. But he never confided in me, and I never saw her hit him again.”

Her voice is so full of regret, worry, and self-hatred for her inability to protect Ronan. “Every time they moved away and then came back to Montana, I saw Ronan more and more changed, more guarded. Oh goodness, he was such a feisty kid,” she laughs through her tears. “So quick-witted and smart as a whip. But he was so different when his mother was around; he couldn’t be himself with her because she would punish him. She always used harsh words with him. But boy, when Rica wasn’t around, he shone brighter than the sun. He was always such a good child, though; so helpful and polite. And he cares so, so deeply for the people he loves. But, as Perry always says, still waters run deep, and that is Ronan. He may not be very expressive or easy to read, but he has the heart and soul of a warrior.”

I reach out to her and place my hand on her forearm. “He still shines like the sun,” I say, looking at Ronan. “By the way he talks about Montana, I think he always felt safe there.”

She smiles at me and pats my hand with hers. “You’re special indeed,” she says, smiling at me despite the tears still staining her cheeks. “And really beautiful,” she adds with a nod. “My baby boy did well.”

Saoirse and I continue sitting with Ronan while she tells me that she and her husband were married very young and, much like Frank, had children at a young age. She dropped everything in Montana to catch the earliest flight to New York when she heard what happened to Ronan.

I watch as she takes care of Frank and Steve, and when she sits by Ronan’s bedside, holding his right hand, talking to him softly. She reminds him of all the reasons he has to fight, to make it through this, to live. And I listen when she sings him an Irish lullaby. But still, Ronan doesn’t move.

Saoirse gets Frank to tell her about Penny, who, I learn, is a first-grade teacher in Virginia, though she’s originally from New York. Saoirse is stern with Frank while she peppers him with questions about his affair. It’s clear she doesn’t approve of her son’s deception, even though Saoirse has nothing good to say about Ronan’s mom, but the guilt Frank feels is equally obvious.

“Is she married?” Steve asks.

Frank looks ashamed as he nods. “Going through a divorce right now. You must think so terribly of me,” he says, and runs his hand through his dark hair.

“I don’t really know what to think,” Steve admits, his voice strained.

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