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“The two of us. We’ll go to Montana,” he said. “Only thing is, we can’t tell these lads because they’ll put a stop to it.”
“Ah,” Mary said. She looked at the door to the new bedroom hoping one of her uncles was in there, but she could tell they’d already gone out. “I don’t think so. No, I don’t think we can do that.”
“We’ll travel very light and we’ll go as soon as possible.”
“Hang on,” Mary said, walking over to him. She pulled out a chair for him to sit and then she sat across from him. “Do you want a cup of tea?”
“I had my tea already.” He wouldn’t sit.
“Granda. No. I’m sorry I mentioned any of this. I know you’re upset—”
“I’m not upset.”
“Okay. Good. But we can’t go to Montana. That would be crazy.”
“Why?”
“Why? Well, for a start it’s a very long trip. I just thought you could write to him or, better yet, call him on the phone. You could smooth over whatever happened back then and then maybe he’d come here for a visit.”
“Ach, the telephone.” Cathal waved his hand in the air as if waving away a bad odor. “It’s better to go there.”
“We can’t. There’s no way.”
“Why not?”
Could she be mean? After what she’d already done? But who was more blunt than Cathal?
“Because you’re about to be eighty-five is why not. And—no offense—are you healthy enough?”
“I’m healthier than most. And you’ll be my guide.”
“I can’t be your guide. I’ve never been to Montana. Montana is a long, long way. You’re not steady on your feet. Aren’t you on medication for something? Cholesterol? And anyway. I have to get back to work.” Trying to appeal to practical concerns while her mind whirred, Mary pointed out that he didn’t have any experience at airports, sometimes there was a very long time spent standing, waiting in lines. Sometimes the walk from security to the gate was very long. What if the sidewalks in Montana were broken and uneven and he tripped and had to go to the hospital and he didn’t have health insurance in America.
“My god,” he said. “Who would even think of all that? I’ll bring my stick.” He looked at her as if waiting for other objections so he could knock them down one by one. “I’ll bring my medicine. And you don’t have to be back at work until the thirty-first is what you said.”
He had an answer for everything. So she turned to him and as kindly as she could, she said, “We can’t.”
But Cathal didn’t seem to have heard her. “First thing we’ll do is get dressed and drive to Oughterard. I know someone there who’ll do our tickets for us. When we’re in town I need to buy a new shirt and pants, don’t let me forget. I believe we can buy U.S. dollars once we get to the airport.”
“Wait,” Mary said, touching her forehead lightly as if to tap the thoughts back into place. “Wait wait wait. Wait just a second.”
He waited.
“This is a bad idea. It’s not something that can happen.”
“Why not? We buy a ticket. We get on a plane. Done. We’re there. It’s very straightforward.”
“I just got here though.”
“That’s good,” he said. “The ones at home won’t expect you back for a while yet.”
“Wait,” she said again. So he waited again. But she didn’t know what to say.
“Bring your passport,” he said. “Bring your return ticket so she can change it.”
ON THE WAY TO OUGHTERARD Mary told herself that it was kinder to go through the motions. If they went through the motions he’d realize on his own that it was a bad idea. He walked so slowly that Mary had to tell herself to reduce her stride by at least half. Surely his travel agent friend would talk him out of it.
At the travel agent’s, Cathal and the woman named Josie spoke only in Irish. Josie was the daughter of the woman who used to be the postmistress of the Cuan and Cathal had known her since she was a baby. At one point Josie reached over and gently slid Mary’s return ticket out of her hand. She looked at it, looked at her computer, and next thing a printer fired up like a machine gun and Mary knew the violent sound she was hearing were tickets being printed.
