6. Olivia #2
“If I’m not there, who will help her feel better for her important work?” She repeated “important work” carefully, using Declan’s exact phrasing.
I felt a spurt of frustrated rage. Maybe Declan really thought he could shield Catie, or maybe he was just avoiding a difficult conversation he didn’t have the guts for. Either way, Catie was the one suffering. She might not know the word “alcoholic,” but on some level she knew her mom wasn’t okay.
“You know, I think your uncle found some people to help your mom feel better,” I hedged.
Catie scowled. “You’re lying. You’re doing the thing adults do where you say it’s okay and it’s not. Mom needs her crackers. I need to go home.”
“Catie—”
“No!” She scooted back from me as fast as she could, accidentally bashing her head into the bookshelf. She started tearing up, her face flushed. I reached to try to soothe her, but she got even more upset when I touched her, so eased back and waited.
I knew from experience that sometimes the best you could do with a fussy child was sit back and wait for them to calm down enough to let themselves be comforted.
Except Catie wasn’t upset because she got her second-choice snack, or didn’t want to wear her sunscreen. The poor kid was scared for her mom, and angry and hurt that the adults were keeping her in the dark.
I thought of that message I’d gotten from @DBCoder.
If there’s a kid at stake, follow your gut.
That was the answer, I realized. I couldn’t keep lying to Catie about something this.
Even if it meant I got fired.
I set the book aside and shifted so that I could face Catie squarely.
“Catie, remember when your mom told you that she was going to the hospital? Well, there are different kinds of hospitals. Some help your body get better. And some help your mind and your emotions get better. Your mom’s body isn’t what’s wrong.”
Catie watched me, eyes wide, a little frown between her brows.
“But her mind and emotions need some help right now. Sometimes when she’s sad, she drinks something that makes her feel better.
It’s called alcohol. But if you drink too much alcohol, it makes you sick—gives you a headache and makes your stomach hurt so that you can’t eat anything but crackers.
” I saw Catie’s eyes widen as understanding kicked in.
“It also makes it tough to make good decisions,” I added as I took Catie’s hands.
“But your mom is very smart and very brave, so she made the hard, important decision to try to stop drinking so much. So she’s staying at a special hospital for a few months so she can learn how to do other, healthier things when she wants to feel better, instead of drinking.
The good news is, she’s getting help, and she’s going to be okay. ”
Catie’s eyes were still wide, but her frown had faded. “What about her important work?”
“That was a silly story Uncle Declan made up to explain why she had to be away for so long. He said it because he didn’t want you to worry. But sometimes silly stories like that accidentally make us worry more, right?”
Catie nodded vigorously.
“So now that you know the truth, you don’t have to worry about helping your mom get to work. She’s going to focus on getting better, and you can focus on having fun with Uncle Declan and Grandma and me.” I made my smile bright and confident. “Your mom will be here before you know it. Okay?”
“Okay,” Catie said. “Can I pick out a book now?”
“Sure,” I said. I stood up, and nearly bumped into a man about my own age who had come to a halt behind me.
He was average looking with brown hair, brown eyes, fair skin.
The most notable thing about him was that he was in far too fine a suit for a children’s bookstore.
I wobbled a bit, and he instinctively steadied me with a friendly hand.
“Sorry, I…your little girl. It’s amazing. She looks exactly like my sister when she was younger.” He shook himself out of whatever he was feeling and gave me a sheepish smile.
Molly bustled over to restock some books. “Hey, Seamus. I see you’ve met the youngest Byrne.” She smiled at me and Catie. “Catie, dear, it looks like your uncle Declan just parked out front.”
The man—Seamus—stiffened. He glanced at Catie. “I think I might know your mum, dear. How old are you?”
“Six,” Catie said proudly.
“Six,” Seamus repeated faintly. “Wonderful age.”
The shop bell rang, and I looked up to see Declan striding in. His face split in a grin when Catie ran up to him, holding the book she’d picked. Then he looked past me, and his face turned icy.
“Seamus,” he said, his voice sharp enough to cut glass.
“Declan,” Seamus responded, his voice only marginally warmer.
Molly winced and found an excuse to duck behind the register and away from the men.
Seamus tried for a smile. “I just met your adorable niece—”
“I’ll thank you to stay away from my family,” Declan interrupted. He tossed some bills on the counter, took Catie’s hand, and abruptly left the shop, slamming the door behind him.
I scurried out of the shop after him, more than a little confused. “Declan, what was that about?”
He waited until Catie was settled in the backseat of his car, then shut the door and turned to face me. His face was so hard, it was almost frightening. “I want you to keep Catie away from Seamus O’Rourke, and his whole fucking family. Understand? They’re bad news, the lot of them.”
I nodded, wondering what the O’Rourkes could possibly have done to earn Declan’s wrath.
As we drove home, I tried not to think about the most recent rule of Declan’s I’d broken—and what kind of wrath he might rain down on me when he found out.