“Right as rain,” Shannon lied and before her mother could launch into another episode of “Woe is us” and the “Flannery curse,” she said, “I’ve really got to go, Mom. It’s been a long day and I’ve got that new puppy.”
“Of course.” Maureen was only half-paying attention as she adjusted her scarf. She turned her head left and right to survey her image. As if any of her children would care which way the scarf’s folds overlapped around her neck.
“See ya later,” Shannon said.
“At the funeral. If you need a ride…”
“I should be fine, but I’ll call,” Shannon said, knowing her mother would want all her children around her for support. She’d do it. Somehow Shannon would tune out all the negative talk and sit with her mother, hold her hand, provide a shoulder to cry on and what mattered most: the semblance of family solidarity at the service.
She nearly ran into Oliver at the bottom of the stairs.
White-faced, looking shaken he said, “Is Mother upstairs?”
“Yes.”
He seemed worried.
“Just fiddling with her hair.”
“I don’t like her being alone.”
Shannon motioned to the staircase with its polished rail and worn steps. “Then go talk to her.”
“What about you?”
“I have to go, Oliver,” she said and saw a dark cloud cross his eyes, a hint of vexation. “I’ll talk to you soon.”
“Shannon, wait.”
When she turned to look at him, he was staring at her and there was something in his gaze, something tortured, that gave her pause. “What is it?”
He glanced up the stairs and deep lines creased his forehead. “They say forgiveness is good for the soul.”
“Are you talking about me?” she asked. “And who are ‘they’?”
“I mean—”
Footsteps interrupted him and a second later Robert walked into the foyer. Oliver was about five steps up, Shannon near the base.
“You leaving?” Robert asked Shannon.
“I have to go. Duty and dogs call.” She brushed a kiss across his temple and smelled the scents of smoke and twenty-year-old whiskey clinging to him. “Take care and give my love to the kids.”
“I will,” he said and hugged her more fiercely than he had in a decade.
She glanced up at Oliver, who held her gaze, then, troubled and resigned, continued up the stairs.
She was bothered by Oliver’s attitude, but there wasn’t much she could do. “Oliver,” she said and blew him a kiss. “Later.”
“Right,” he said, but there was hesitation in his voice.
“Is something bothering you?” she asked.
“Everything bothers me, Shannon. Don’t you know that?”
“You want to talk about it?”
He glanced at Robert, met his older brother’s gaze. “Nah. I’m fine.”