Page 213 of The Missing Sister

‘Katie, please, there’s no need for everyone to go to a lot of trouble.’

‘’Tis no trouble. A family get-together is long overdue anyway, and there’ll be plenty of room for all the kids to run around outside.’

‘The forecast is for rain tomorrow.’

‘Ah, sure it is, but ’twill be warm rain at least.’

‘Oh, just before you go, I was wondering if I could invite Helen Noiro to the party. I mean, she is related to us and—’

‘’Tis a grand idea, Merry. Bye now. I need to go check on my pie.’

Going over to draw my curtains and seeing there was a puddle of water on the floor from the rain blown inside by the wind, I shut out the roar of the waves. In bed, I tried to file away everything that I’d learnt today, but I was so exhausted, I fell asleep immediately.

The old people’s home was light and airy, even though that particular hospital smell of disinfectant lingered strongly in the air. I asked for Katie at reception and she bustled through, giving me a big smile and a hug.

‘He’s in the day room, and look now, I haven’t said who his visitor is. I’d say he’s in for a grand surprise. Ready?’ she asked me as we stood outside the door.

‘Ready.’

We threaded through the chairs occupied by elderly men and women who were chatting or playing board games with their visitors. Katie pointed to a man looking out of the window.

‘See him there in the wheelchair? I’ve put him in the corner, so you two can have a little privacy.’

I studied Father O’Brien as I approached. He’d always been a handsome man, as my mammy and the rest of the young women used to whisper to each other. His thick head of dark hair had turned white and had receded somewhat, but he still had a good amount of it. The lines etched onto his face gave him an added air of gravitas.

‘Father, here’s your visitor,’ Katie said, ushering me forward. ‘You might remember her.’

Father O’Brien’s still brilliant blue eyes gazed up at me and slowly, the look in them altered from disinterest, to puzzlement, and then eventually to amazement.

‘Merry O’Reilly? Is that you?’ Then he shook his head as though he was dreaming. ‘Sure, it can’t be,’ he muttered to himself, turning away from me.

‘Itisme, Father. I was Merry O’Reilly, but I’m now Mrs Merry McDougal.’

I squatted down so I could look up at him, just like I’d done when I was a little girl on the visits to his house that had meant so much to me. ‘It really is me,’ I smiled, taking his hands.

‘Merry... Merry O’Reilly,’ he whispered, and I felt his warm hands tighten on mine.

‘I’ll be leaving you now to chat,’ said Katie.

Still clasping his hands, I stood up. ‘I’m sorry if I’ve given you a start.’

‘You’ve certainly got my heart beating faster than it has done for a while.’ He smiled at me, dropped my hands and pointed to one of the plastic-covered easy chairs. ‘Please, pull that chair closer to me and sit down.’

I did so, gulping back the tears as I felt his wonderful calm and secure essence wash over me. I realised it reminded me of the way Jock had made me feel: that I was totally safe in his presence.

‘So, what brings you back to these parts after so long, Merry?’

‘It was time to come home, Father.’

‘Yes.’

He gazed at me, and in one glance, I felt as if he knew everything he needed to know about me. I supposed that he’d spent so long both contemplating and dealing with the human soul and its complex emotions that he could probably see into my mind.

‘Unfinished business?’ he said, confirming my theory.

‘Yes. I’m so very happy to see you, Father. You look well.’

‘I am very well, thank you.’ He cast an arm around the room. ‘Sadly, many of these dear people have no idea whether it’s 1948 or 2008, so it doesn’t always make for good conversation, but all my needs are taken care of,’ he added quickly. ‘And the staff here are wonderful.’