Rain and Revelation Read Online Free PDF Page B

night at Paddy’s. Except, of course, the Americans might come out. Even with jet lag, usually there are a few who can’t wait to experience the pubs and the locals.
    Bobby Cunningham, Maeve’s husband, is playing darts in the corner with his mates. He looks up at me when I come in, tilts his head in greeting and then tosses a dart that misses the board. He laughs and slugs his ale.
    I look around. No Mikey. At least not yet.
    I walk past Mr. Murphy, the chemist, who’s sitting at a table with his wife. He sees me and says, “It was a nice day, hey?” I smile and agree. Mrs. Murphy arches her eyes and looks at me like she wants to say something, but she just looks down at the paper napkin she has folded into a small square. I tell them to enjoy their night out. Mr. Murphy says, “Couldn’t get any better.”
    Fiona calls my name and waves from behind the mahogany bar. She’s filling her glass with a shot of Jameson. Paddy, wiping down the glossy finish of the bar, looks up and smiles. Tonight, he’s making sure things look good for the Americans that are expected but not yet seen. Fiona squeezes past him.
    “Darling, I’m so sorry about your ma.” She hugs me with one arm, her glass held high in the other, and looks intently at me with her large fawn eyes that are heavily lined. “Let’s sit. I need to know everything.”
    Fiona steers me past the old men playing canasta near the cast iron pot-bellied stove to a table near the front window overlooking Bridge Street. She asks in a low voice, “What the hell happened?”
    “Just as I said.” I lean back with my hands tucked in my jacket pockets. “There’s nothing else to tell.”
    “But why ?” Fiona takes a sip. Her lipstick imprints the whiskey glass.
    “How would I know?” My tone is sharp. Fiona looks wounded. Softer, I say, “Sorry. There wasn’t a note. Just her wedding ring on the kitchen windowsill. I have no idea what was going on in her head. I just found her. Now, she’s in Dublin at a hospital and won’t even see me.”
    “That sucks.” Fiona takes a bigger swallow.
    “She called that morning, and I didn’t even answer.” I look down. “I should have. Maybe I could have stopped her.”
    Fiona reaches over and touches my hand. “You’re being too hard on yourself.”
    “Am I? Helluva daughter if you ask me.” I reach over and take a gulp from her glass, which is nearly empty now. The whiskey warms my throat and soon the pub feels stuffy. I’m wearing jeans and a smart blouse that matches the silk scarf Ma gave me last year for my birthday. The scarf, wrapped around my neck, loosens and slips off when I take off my jacket.
    “Nice hickeys.” Fiona lets out a smug laugh. “Are you gone in the head? He’s a fine thing, but did you forget why you broke up with him?”
    Shaking my head, I rewrap the scarf around my neck. “It was a mistake.”
    Fiona, the only one who knew the real reason I broke up with Mikey right after school ended, tilts her head toward the door. She says, “Well, don’t look now. The mistake is here.”
    Mikey walks in, still wearing his work boots. He waves to Bobby. I get up and say to Fiona, “I need a jar. I’ll be right back.”
    Fiona pushes her glass towards me. “Get me another.” She digs in her bag, pulls out a compact mirror, and reapplies her lipstick. She hollers as I walk away, “Make it a double.”
    As I’m walking to the bar, Mikey comes over and puts his arm around my shoulder. His perspiration is mixed with cigarettes and an earthy smell from the potato farm he helps his father tend, receiving no wages. “Buying, love?” On the dole, he always looks to me—and to whomever is sitting on the next stool—for a drink.
    I shake off his arm. In a voice that I think only he can hear, I say, “Buy your own. I’m not your ‘love’; and we’re forgetting what happened the other night, okay?”
    He shoots me a wounded look. “Aw, but we were good together.” He smiles in a way