Page 97 of Priestly Sins

She continues, “Trauma to the brain is trickier. CAT scans show no pressure on the frontal lobe or no fracture to the skull. We’re concerned about the contusion and will keep her a day or two to watch it and for standard concussion protocol. As of now, her pupils are reactive, which we’re taking as a good sigh. She’s not out of the woods, yet. Head injuries can change rapidly. It’s usually a wait-and-see kind of situation.”

“Thank you, Doctor… I’m sorry, I forgot your name.”

“Brennan, Sabrina Brennan.”

“Thank you, Dr. Brennan. When can we see her?

“I’ll let you know when she’s awake and moved into a room. We’ve admitted her and she will be here overnight, at a minimum, for observation. Do you want me to make some calls to surgeons in Dublin or do you have another plan?”

“Yes, please, and thank you again.”

“Of course,” she says as she turns and walks back to the mechanical double doors.

Killian clears his throat and tilts his head to the entry doors and the parking lot.

“If you hadn’t been there—” I start but look away.

“I wouldn’t be your favorite uncle, now, would I, lad?” He grabs my shoulder with his firm grip and looks me in the eye.

“Take care of our girls.”

He turns on a heel and walks right out the sliding glass doors into the night.

Forty-Five

“Where am I? And, oh, ow!”

“We’re here, Sirona”

“Mommy! Does your face hurt? Can I touch it?”

Sirona’s confusion is masked in a flash to one of calm and control. She is soothing Clara by not displaying her fear. You can see relief wash over Clara’s features.

“Hey, my darling! It does a little. How was PawPaw’s?” She looks intent on the answer, but her quick glance and lip bite tells me she’s curious.

“PawPaw loved my flowers and then asked me to play with Winkles and take care of him because he wanted to meet the Leprechaun. Did he?”

“How are you feeling?” I ask before she has to answer Clara blindly.

“I’m so glad,” she says to Clara, who takes that time to lie along her mom’s right side, and turns to face me. “I’m fine.” Her accompanying wince tells another story.

My serious tone grabs her attention. “Seems you cut your hand while you were baking.”

“Oh no, Mommy! Does it hurt?”

“A little, baby.”

We both look to the door when we hear it open and see the nurse walk in.

“Mrs. O’Shaughnessy?”

With that, her eyebrows disappear into her hairline. There’s a small wince with the movement.

“Yes?” She draws out the answer but it sounds like a question, but when she looks to me there’s a look I can’t quite decipher.

“I’m here to take your vitals and then Dr. Brennan will be in to discuss your wounds, the surgery, and next steps.”

Sirona nods and looks at me plaintively. She’s trying to communicate, but I can’t understand what she needs. I unlock my phone and place it in her right hand, hoping she can text her concerns. Before she gets very far, Dr. Brennan walks in, flipping through screens on an iPad and reading as she walks.