Page 214 of The Missing Sister

There was a long silence as both of us struggled to know what to say. I’d no idea whether I’d meant as much to him as he had always meant to me.

‘Why didn’t you ever come back, Merry? I know you were in Dublin, but often visited your family here. And then suddenly, you didn’t.’

‘No, I moved away, Father.’

‘Where to?’

‘New Zealand.’

‘Thatisa long way away,’ he nodded. ‘Was it because you were in love?’

‘Sort of, but it’s a very long story.’

‘The best ones usually are, and I’ve heard many of them in my confessional, I can tell you. But of course, I never would,’ he said with a wink.

‘From what Katie said, it’s obvious you’re very well loved around here, Father.’

‘Thank you for saying that, and sure, I have plenty of company still coming to visit me here, but it’s not my home. Ah well, I mustn’t complain.’

‘You’re not, Father. I understand.’

‘I’ve nowhere to put my books, you see, and I miss them. They were a love that both myself and my friend Ambrose shared. You remember him?’

He looked at me and my whole heart almost broke in two at the yearning in his eyes.

‘I do, Father, yes. Where are your books?’

‘In a storage facility in Cork. Never mind, I always have the good book at the ready if I need it.’ He pointed to the low table between us and I recognised the small leather-bound copy of the Bible that he’d never been without. ‘So, tell me, did you ever marry? Have children of your own?’

‘I did, and they’re both here with me. I’ve sent them off to visit the Michael Collins Centre. It’s about time they learnt of their mother’s history.’

‘That man and what he did for Ireland were certainly part of yours, Merry. I was saddened to bury your grandmothers Nuala and Hannah. They both pleaded for God’s forgiveness over their feud at the end. ’Tis a sad story.’

‘It is. I only know of the rift between them since my sister Katie told me about it yesterday. I finally understand a lot of things,’ I added, ‘and I’m so glad I came back.’ A tea trolley was being brought round and the echo in the room seemed to grow louder. I wanted to tell him I knew what he’d done for me all those years ago when I was a tiny baby left on his doorstep. But this was not the place or the time to bring up such a subject.

‘How are you both doing?’ The tea lady, with her jolly smile, had reached us. ‘Tea or coffee for either of you?’

‘Nothing for me, thank you. Father O’Brien?’

‘Nothing, thank you.’

There was a pause as she wheeled the trolley away and we collected our thoughts.

‘I’d love to meet your children,’ he said.

‘I’m sure that can be arranged, Father. I’d love you to meet them too. I—’

It was Katie’s turn to bustle over. ‘All good here?’

‘Yes,’ I said, wishing she would go away and give us some peace to continue the conversation I felt we both wanted to have.

‘I’m sorry to interrupt but ’tis time for your physio session, Father,’ she continued.

Father O’Brien’s eyes filled with resignation. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Can you come back another time, Merry? Bring your children?’

‘Definitely.’ I stood up and kissed him gently on the cheek. ‘I’ll be back, I promise.’

I collected the children outside the Michael Collins Centre.