Chapter Thirty-Six #2
“I remember waking up that morning, and your mom was gone. I flew out of that house like I had no feet. I screamed for her and Hannie. I ran to Fiadh’s house, but everything was gone.
The bags, Thomas and Jean, and worst of all, my sister.
I fell into the dirt, couldn’t get up, couldn’t move or talk.
Hugh—he was the man who fostered us and eventually became my permanent guardian—he tried to pick me up, but I flailed and flailed.
I knocked my head into the dirt until I bled.
I yanked at my hair. I must have looked like a monster, growling and clawing.
Everything bad was wrapped up inside me in a tight ball.
I bet you know that feeling. She and I had lost so much, and I had been trying so hard to keep us together.
I told myself we would be okay if we stayed together.
I thought that would be enough. But the wheel was in motion. ”
Molly stays silent, so Sela continues.
“I thought I was dying. I think I wanted to die. It was days before I’d calmed down enough to even eat.
The worst thing was feeling powerless. And you know what Hannie told me?
She said I was protecting Gisela by letting her go, by giving her a mother who would love her.
She said Jean had suffered so much and that losing Fiadh would kill her.
She told me that Gisela—my sister, mind you—was a gift from God to Jean and Thomas.
And that I was God’s gift to her, that she and Hugh would love me and keep me if I wanted to stay here in Ireland.
“You know what I told her? I told her that was a load of horse shite. I said she and Batty Jean were kidnappers. I told her that if she didn’t get Gisela back that I would tell the nuns at Glencree what they’d done, and God would have it in for them.
Hannie slapped my face good and hard and told me what’s between her and God was none of my business and to be grateful that Gisela didn’t drown right there in the bay with Fiadh.
She told me life isn’t fair and that terrible things happen.
She said—I’ll never forget it: ‘Suit yourself. Imagine her at the bottom of the ocean or the top of the Empire State Building. But she is gone, and that is that.’ Then she slammed down the supper she’d brought me.
It splashed all over the floor in a terrible mess.
Took me another day before I cleaned it up and went downstairs. ”
“Hannie sounds like a jerk.”
Sela laughs. “She was actually very kind and generous. No nonsense, for sure. She had a giant bosom. Jem loved hugs from Hannie Flanagan. All the boys did. What was best about her and what she taught me without trying was that there’s no sense in looking backward.
When I stopped beating myself up, I used my crazy imagination to make up stories about Fiadh Beatty of America and the adventures she would have.
In my mind, my sister went to America and had a wonderful life. And look! I was right!”
Molly empties the last drops of wine into her mouth. “Didn’t you want to find her?”
“I’ve wondered about that, why I never made it my mission, especially since I was so bound and determined that we stay together.
When we were girls in Germany, the building we lived in collapsed, and your mom and I were trapped in the rubble.
I thought the slightest movement would make a beam fall and crush us.
I didn’t move or speak. I didn’t even want to blink so I kept my eyes closed.
And I think there was a point when I realized—after my sister was taken to America—that our lives had always been precarious.
One wrong move from me might get her killed.
So, I kind of get her not wanting to tell your dad or you girls the truth.
It’s probably hard for you and Maeve to understand, though maybe you will someday.
I had Jem and my life here, and he knew everything there was to know about me.
That was a luxury, I see now. I gave up your mother’s ghost a long time ago. I was not one for being haunted.”
“Nola Wren was right. You sure do talk.”
Sela puts her arm around Molly’s shoulder. “I know. You should try it. Let it all out. It feels great.”
“Ha!” Molly says, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand. “That’s not how we were raised. Keep quiet, keep quiet. Don’t tell. Don’t talk about anything. It was not wonderful.”
Sela shrugs. “Sounds like fear. Your mom had it, and I’m guessing old Batty Jean didn’t help that any. She probably passed it on to you two girls. What about Nola Wren? Will you pass it on to her?”
Molly scoffs. “I haven’t had much of a chance.”
“What do you mean?”
“Well, if you must know, Maeve’s been raising her.
I’ve been an absentee mom. And I’m not with Nola Wren’s dad.
He didn’t know a thing about her until last September.
This whole revelation about our mom is quite a twist. Here I was thinking that I was the most shit mom ever.
” Molly throws her head back, the words tumbling out of her.
“God. And my dad. Yeah, I don’t know what I’m passing on to Nola Wren.
I don’t know what’s going to happen to us.
I told Leo—that’s her father—that I wish he could be in her life, but he was furious with me, as you can imagine.
I’ve got amends to make. That’s what all this is, at least for me. ”
“Oh, Molly. That makes me sad. I hope for both your sakes that you can get up off your knees. Otherwise, that little girl in there will catch it, too, and then what?” She lowers her voice.
“Oh, look! A visitor.” She bends silently to quiet them both.
In the distance between the garden shed and greenhouse, a fox soaks in the moonlight.
“Hello, friend,” Molly whispers. The vixen turns her head, regards them, then trots off blithely, three kits tumbling into formation behind her. “Do you think it’s a sign?”
“Of what? A fox is just a fox. Not everything has to be a big mystery. C’mon. Enough now. Let’s go inside and sober up.”
“Sela?” Molly says. “I need to tell Jem’s dad. About Conor.”
“Oh, don’t do that. Francis would not want to hear that name coming from you.
Trust me. The Irish know how to hold a grudge, and Francis holds one for Conor that your story would only make worse.
And not because of anything you did, mind you, but because Conor was the kind of man who’d gotten himself into a jam such that one child had to protect another from him.
Conor disgraced the old man in a thousand ways.
I’m not sure Francis could stand any more.
Jem and me are enough. Consider yourself confessed and forgiven if forgiveness is what you’re looking for. ”
They walk toward the cottage, and Molly steals a glance over her shoulder. The path is moonlit and clear. The fox and her kits have moved on.