Page 48 of Accidental Irish Daddy

She’s looking at me as if knowingly and I almost want to laugh. “He doesn’t care about me.”

“You’d be surprised,” she says. “Come on. Let’s get your things and bring them into the house. We’ll catch our deaths if we stand here much longer.”

“Wait, what?” I blink.

She waves to Bridget and calls her to us. Then she turns to me and says, “You’ll be staying here, of course. I won’t have you and the sweet little girl sleeping in your car or wandering the streets when I’ve got a nice warm bed ready and waiting for you.”

“Is it time to go?” Bridget asks as she runs up.

Martha kneels down to her.

“Yes, Poppet. I want you and Aisling to get your things out of the car. You’ll be staying with me for a bit. How do you like that?”

Her eyes light up. “I’d love it. Isn’t that great, Aisling?”

I laugh and say, “Yeah, it sure is.”

We go inside, and then I go and get my suitcases. As if I ever had a choice.

Good thing Martha’s the mothering type.

15

Grant

It’s taken me a couple of days to clean up Ma’s room. Fortunately, I haven’t found any other stashes to tempt me. Now that Aisling’s left, I don’t know that I could resist without her intervention.

That’s the other thing. Aisling’s gone. That’s on me. I suppose I shouldn’t be surprised or angry about that. After all, I was the one to tell her to leave.

I hadn’t meant it, of course. Not at all. I was just…so distraught over Ma’s passing that I struck out at her.

I admit, I shouldn’t have been so coarse with her, but what else could I say? Her job hereisdone. There’s no reason for her to stay.

I’m sitting in my parlor, a glass of cool seltzer water in my hand as I look out the window at the storm clouds rolling in from the countryside. The house is so quiet and cold.

Over the last few days, I’ve been trying to keep busy and keep them off my mind, but some degree of instinct and familiarityhave kicked in, making me expect events and sounds around the house that aren’t there anymore.

The sound of Bridget humming to herself in the kitchen as she works on her homework, the sight of Aisling and my mother in the garden outback, chatting it up over tea, the sweet smell of vanilla that follows Aisling everywhere she goes.

I’d never say this out loud, but I miss her. I’m emptier now that I’m completely alone…

I finish my drink and walk back up to Ma’s room. There are a few things still left that I’ve been putting off cleaning out. Like the drawer of her nightstand.

I know that she kept personal things there. Things that I never dared to go through or touch. It seems wrong to have to do it, even now that she’s gone.

Her room still doesn’t feel entirely empty to me. Even with her closet being cleared out and her drawers as well. I’ve washed the blankets and comforter on her bed and the floor has been swept and mopped. Even with all that, there’s still a hint of Ma’s scent now underneath the pine cleaner and fabric soap. It’s almost like she’s gone on a long vacation instead of the alternative. I suppose no one can ever completely wash someone away from a space.

But the time has come to finish the deed. Maybe after this, more of her essence will leave this place. I dread to think of that possibility.

I sit down on her bed and open the nightstand. I’m half-expecting to find expensive jewelry or some other strange treasure being kept here.

I don’t. There’s a brush with strands of her graying hair in the bristles. There’s a hand mirror with a silver backing. It looks like an antique, but I can’t say for certain. I don’t think I’ve ever seen it before now. I set it aside and continue to look through the nightstand's contents.

There’s an envelope and a small bible that she used to take with her to Mass back when she did go regularly.

The envelope is of more interest to me. I pick it up and pause…it’s got my name on it written in her handwriting.

I turn it over in my hand. It’s been sealed shut.

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