Read The Parting Glass for Free Online Page A

said.
    Peggy loved her aunt. Deirdre Grogan was Rooney’s sister, and she and Frank, her husband, had raised Peggy after Peggy’s mother died and Rooney left. At the same time Deirdre, who had undoubtedly wanted full custody, had been sensitive to Megan’s need to have a say in her baby sister’s life. So Deirdre had walked a difficult line. She was kind, patient and completely opposed to Peggy’s decision to take Kieran to Ireland.
    “I love that color,” Peggy said, hoping to change the thrust of the conversation. Deirdre always dressed with quiet, expensive good taste. Today she wore a sage-green linen suit that set off hair that had once been the color of Casey’s but had less fire in it now.
    “Are you sure you won’t reconsider, darling? After all, what do you know about this woman? What do any of us know? And how can we help Kieran if you’re off in the middle of nowhere?”
    Peggy knew that her aunt was distraught, because Deirdre never interfered. Two years ago, when Peggy informed her that she was pregnant and didn’t intend to marry the father, Deirdre had asked only what she could do to assist.
    “I know enough about Irene Tierney to risk the trip,” Peggy said. “She’s been warm and welcoming, and she’s anxious to meet even a small piece of her American family. Until a couple of months ago, she didn’t know we existed.”
    “But doesn’t it all seem odd to you? She’s in her eighties? And she found you on the Internet?”
    “Her physician gave her a computer to amuse her and got her connected. It’s something she can do from home that gives her broader interests. She’s mostly housebound. And I think it’s wonderful that she was so adaptable and eager, and that she found us.”
    “I still don’t understand what she wanted.”
    Peggy looked toward the kitchen and saw Greta standing in the doorway, pointing toward the stairs. Peggy waved at her to let her know she’d gotten the message. She was growing frantic, the response of any mother of any species separated from her bawling youngster. “I’ve got to get Kieran. We can talk later.”
    Deirdre looked contrite. “Can I help? Would you like me to—”
    “No, but thanks. Stay. Enjoy yourself. I’ll be down with him in a bit.”
    Peggy didn’t add that she planned to take her time. There were a dozen relatives who would try to corner her before the night ended and quiz her about the remarkable decision to fly thousands of miles to live in rural Ireland with a woman she’d never met. She wasn’t anxious to face any of them.
    Upstairs, the tiny apartment, often stuffy in late spring, had benefitted from the afternoon’s wind and dark skies. Peggy knew, without opening the bedroom door, that Kieran would be staring at the sheer curtain beside his crib. Even though the window was only open an inch, the curtain would wave with each gust, and Kieran’s gaze would be locked on that movement. He might even imitate it, waving his hand back and forth. When there was no curtain blowing, no clock pendulum swinging, no ceiling fan revolving overhead, she had seen him follow the slow back and forth of his own hand for as long as an hour, mesmerized and calmed by the fruitless repetition as she sat distressed beside him.
    If only she could unlock the mystery that was Kieran Rowan Donaghue.
    She opened the door and saw that she had been right. Kieran was awake, but he wasn’t sitting up. He was lying silently, waving his hand back and forth in time to the movements of the curtain. If Kieran was capable of happiness, then he was happiest at moments like this. Happiest when he was alone, with no one asking more of him, no one expecting recognition or, worse, love. No one to distract him from the isolation he craved.
    “Kieran?”
    He didn’t turn, but she hadn’t expected him to. He heard her, though. She knew he did from the way his plump little body stiffened and his hand no longer kept rhythm. His mouth tightened, and he made a sound of