Where Old Ghosts Meet - Kate Evans [86]
She looked at Nora and saw the look of disbelief on her face. “That’s the truth. He turned it over and over, opened it and closed it. ‘Here,’ I said, turning it right way up and opening it at the right page. ‘It’s the poems you were readin’ last night. Remember?’ He was all right then. But now I knew for sure that the man I knew was slippin’ away from me.” Every word carried pain.
“That was the beginning of a long goodbye,” she whispered.
Nora reached for her glass and over the rim stole a secretive glance at Peg, who was studying the diminished contents of her glass, swirling it slowly round and round. Then, she took a carefully measured sip.
“I was embarrassed to begin with, didn’t tell anybody. I was hopin’ it would all go away. But strange things began to happen all the time after that. Mostly, when people were about, he’d act almost normal. He had never been that talkative around others anyway so it wasn’t that noticeable until one day Mary Anne Casey come by right excited.
She arrived in the kitchen panting, a letter clutched to her chest. “Peg, I got the finest kind of news today.” Her breath came in short gasps as she fanned herself with the white envelope. “My daughter Agnes is goin’ to have a baby.” She finally got the words out. “They’ve waited nine years and here at last it’s on the way. My dear, it was St. Jude, him an’ me done it. We’ve been stormin’ heaven these years, and finally we got through to the Almighty. I has great faith in St. Jude.”
“Well, Mary Ann, that’s wonderful news all together. Did you hear that, Matt? Mary Anne’s daughter, you remember Agnes, the one in St. John’s? She’s to have a baby.” Peg didn’t wait for an answer.
“You sit down there now and take a spell and I’ll make us a cup of tea to celebrate. You’ll be goin’ to St. John’s then, by and by.”
“Yes, but it’s not for a while yet.” She flopped down in the chair by the table. “When we was young, it was tryin’ not to have them, we was. Right, Peg? What with one on the floor and one on the way most times.”
Peg set the tea things on the table. She said nothing. Suddenly the woman realized her error. She leaned across the table. “I often thought,” she whispered, “if you’d done the novena years back, things might have gone different for you.” She gave Peg a knowing look, raised her eyebrows and gave a flick of her head in Matt’s direction.
“You’ll have tea, Matt?” Peg chose to ignore her visitor’s comment but gave her a reassuring smile to show there were no hard feelings. “Sit in to the table now.” She poured tea and set out plates of bread and jam.
“So when is the baby coming?”
“May month. I’ll–”
The conversation stopped abruptly as both women turned to watch the activity at the other end of the table. Matt had tipped the slices of bread onto the table and had pulled the plate close to him. Slowly he picked up his mug and with great care began to pour the hot sweet tea onto the plate. When it was about half full he set down the mug, picked up the plate, carefully balancing it between widespread fingers, and brought it to his mouth. With a loud slurp the tea disappeared. The women stared. There was a soft tap as he set the plate down. He was pouring again, the trickling noise breaking the silence in the room. He worked carefully, setting down the mug, then, just as carefully, he picked up the plate and held it out to the woman on his left. She hesitated a moment, unsure, and then slowly reached for the brim-full plate. The tea slopped dangerously close to the edge. She steadied her hands and took a deep breath.
“Here’s to the child,” she said as she exhaled and brought the plate to her mouth.
Peg watched, wide-eyed.
When it was all gone, the woman set the plate down in front of Matt. “I’ll tell Aggie we drank to the baby’s health,” she said.
At the other end of the table, Peg looked on like an unseen observer. A sudden realization swept over her like the touch of a warm breeze on a cool day. There was no shame, nothing to hide.
“That was a grand cup of