Where Old Ghosts Meet - Kate Evans [93]
“That night I kept the fire going in the room and the lamp burning. Nice it was, not at all like someone was dyin’. I felt content. Can you believe that?” She cast a sideways glance at Nora. “It’s true, yes, I was content. I had done the best I could by Matt and now it was time. I piled the wood high on the fire and made it blaze and roar up the chimney and I did the same in the kitchen. I’d have no more need of the junks piled up outside, no need to spare the lamp oil. I sat by his bed the whole night and I’d only stir to tend the fire or make a cup of tea. Around three o’clock I began to nod off, so to keep myself awake I had the idea that maybe I could read to him, you know like we used do together nights.”
“What a lovely idea, Peg.” Nora, to her surprise, was feeling quite emotional. “What did you read?”
“He had given me a little book of poems one time. He got it to Dicks and Company in St. John’s. It was a collection of sonnets by different poets, all decorated inside with delicate, pale coloured vines and wildflowers. It was there by my bed when I got back from the hospital. That’s where I still keep it. That was what I decided to read to him.” She began to fidget. “I thought it was a lovely idea too at the time, but once I started, it seemed to kind of … put me over the edge and suddenly made me realize what was happening: this was the end. I was struggling, the beautiful words touching a sore spot inside of me when the next thing, my God in heaven, didn’t he rise up from in the bed and call out clear as a bell, ‘Peg’ and then fell back on the pillows and was gone.”
Peg looked across at Nora. “He called my name,” she said simply.
24
The doorbell jangled. Nora stood on the doorstep of the presbytery, uncertain, wishing now that she had declined the priest’s invitation to come by again. She wanted to be off on the water with Pat.
The door opened. “Back again?” the housekeeper’s voice sang out, cutting off Nora’s planned opener. “Father is in the parlour waiting for you.” She jerked her head in the direction of the door on the left.
“Thank you.” Nora strode past into the hall, stood by the parlour door and waited for the housekeeper to show her in. She nodded her head in thanks and walked purposefully into the room. In her mind, the old priest had taken on the role of an adversary, but now as she entered the hot stuffy room, she saw an old man struggling to get to his feet to greet her.
“Please,” she murmured, indicating that he should stay seated, and quickly took the chair across from him as she had done the day before. The housekeeper disappeared and the door closed quietly. Nora listened for the retreat of footsteps but heard nothing. There would be no tea today and Nora was glad.
“Lovely day today. You’ve had a fine spell of weather. Mary tells me you even managed to get to the garden party.”
“Yes, I did but I didn’t see her there. It’s been a great visit.”
“You have come all this way,Miss Molloy, to find out about your grandfather, and I’ve been thinking that maybe I could have been more helpful yesterday. However, you know how it is. One has to be so careful, especially if one is a priest.”
Over the rim of his heavy glasses, the pale watery eyes looked earnest.
“What is it you would like to know? I may be able to fill in some of the gaps for you.”The glasses slipped forward as he dipped his head still more to observe his visitor.
It was a game, Nora decided, a continuous game of cat and mouse, of dodging in and out of hiding places, showing yourself briefly, then taking off again to yet another hiding spot. She turned away. Was he just a lonely old man with neither chit nor child to warm his old age, someone who wanted to keep his visitor here as long as possible for the chat? Or was he a cunning old fox, looking to find out what she had learned, smart enough to know what he wanted