Page 24 of Beside Golden Irish Fields
Megan still couldn’t believe it. Eight months ago, she’d been married and living in military housing with Ollie in the greater D.C. area. She’d known what to expect every day. Now her beloved Tyson was gone, and she was living in a small cottage in a foreign country, completely off-kilter. Bets’ offer to give her and Ollie their own cottage had thrown her into a panic. She wasn’t ready to be on her own with Ollie. Had her mother suggested it? Or Angie? Everyone kept telling her she had to move on, but grieving with a child was hard. How could she take care of Ollie when she couldn’t muster the energy to take care of herself? Depression was like lying in mud, sedated with sadness.
Being with Angie made it easier. She didn’t think her sister knew, but she was grateful for the support.
She eyed the short settee in their tiny living area. Lying around on it, depressed like she’d been in Angie’s townhouse, wasn’t going to work. Even if it were comfortable, and it wasn’t, she wouldn’t fit.
She wondered if Angie had told Cousin Bets to find an unfriendly couch, knowing her propensity to spend most of the day there, but she knew she hadn’t. A large couch wouldn’t fit into this parlor. They were practically on top of each other.
“Aunt Angie! There’s a giant spider in my room.”
Where was her sister?“Angie!”
When her sister didn’t appear, she rushed to the ladder and quickly scaled it, wondering again if she should change rooms with her son. He came into view, pointing at a dark hairy spider dangling from the thatch ceiling.
“Ugh! That’s disgusting.”
“Squish it, Mom!”
Taking off her shoe, she swatted the long-legged monster, wincing. She realized it was one of the first active motions she’d taken in forever, and it felt strangely good. She swatted again. “We’re okay.”
A total lie. They weren’t okay. They never would be.
Ollie tucked his arms around himself. His brown hair was sticking up on top of his head. His Superman pajamas looked even more wrinkled than they had coming out of the suitcase last night. “I hate spiders!”
“Do you want to switch rooms?” she asked again. “I didn’t see any in mine. Why didn’t Aunt Angie put you on the ground level? What if you have to go to the bathroom in the middle of the night?”
“I told her I can climb down the ladder,” he said, sticking his chin out at her overprotectiveness. “I’m eight, Mom. Aunt Angie knows I’m not a baby.”
“But I’m still your mother,” she replied, kissing him on the head despite his bid for independence. “How about we have some breakfast and get dressed? Liam said he had a bike for you to ride. You can go by yourself if you wear a helmet.”
Cousin Bets had told her it was safe to ride on their road. It was a dead end, so few cars came this way. More sheep used it than people, she’d said, muttering about Donal O’Dwyer again. Megan still couldn’t believe her cousin—and her sister, no less—had chased sheep off with golf clubs yesterday. Then again, she couldn’t believe she’d been to a welcoming party where everyone drank whiskey before five and their host and her friends wore feather boas and danced to Bon Jovi. Her sister had wanted to jointhattoo.
She’d have to keep Ollie away from such wild antics and hope Angie didn’t encourage their cousin. She didn’t have the energy for such things. She didn’t have the energy for anything, actually, and she didn’t know what to do about it. Every day was a struggle.
Thank God for Ollie. He was her last link to Tyson, the lasting legacy of their love. “Let me go down the ladder first,” she told him. “That way I can catch you if you slip.”
“I won’t slip, Mom. I can climb trees and the monkey bars better than any kid at school.”
His frown was noticeable, but she ignored it. He was testing her more and more these days, pushing back whenever she got too close or overprotective. But he didn’t understand his own grief. He was a little boy.
She made him wait until she went down the ladder halfway and then gestured for him to follow.
“Keep going, Mom. I can get down by myself.”
“Indulge your mom, please.”
He grumbled but started down, and they went down one rung at a time. At the bottom, he turned to her in the little hallway in front of her room. “I told you. Aunt Angie knows I can get down a ladder.”
“But you still need an adult to kill a spider, so let’s not get worked up. Where are your clothes?”
“Aunt Angie put them in a couple of her drawers since you were asleep.”
A whisper of guilt asserted itself over the grayness around her. “Then find some clothes and come out for breakfast.”
He ran to the back of the house and reappeared with his pants and shirt. She reached to help him dress, but he glared at her. “I can do it myself, Mom. Aunt Angie’s bag isn’t in her room. She must be painting.”
“She should have told me,” Megan said, feeling a twinge of anger.
Ollie’s head popped through his green hoodie. “Mom, she needs to start painting again. Grandma told me to remind her every chance I get.”
