Jan Burke - Goodnight, Irene

When I woke up again, there was a woman’s face looking down at me. “I think she’s coming around now,” the voice said, and I realized it was Sister Theresa. Soon I saw Frank standing next to her.

“Hi,” I said.

“Hi.” He took my hand. That felt good.

“Your sister has been asking about you,” Sister Theresa said. “I think I’ll let her know you’re awake.”

Frank sat down, but kept hold of my hand. I let go and slipped my arm through the rails to make it easier on him.

I fell asleep.

Later that night, I finally managed to stay awake for more than five seconds at a time. Frank was still holding my hand.

“Frank?”

He sat up with a start. He looked exhausted.

“Irene? How do you feel?”

“Like hell. What happened?”

“Did you open those propane tanks in the basement?”

I was still a little foggy. Gradually I remembered where I had been just before the explosion.

“Yes. But I didn’t light them.”

“It filled the room up with propane. Elinor flipped the light switch and it sparked. It exploded. And burned.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yeah. I guess they did me a real favor sticking me in that freezer.”

I remembered seeing him put in there at gunpoint, remembered Elinor holding the gun to his head and striking his ribs hard. I felt the color drain from my cheeks.

“Irene? Are you okay? Do you want me to get the nurse?”

“No,” I said. “I’m okay. I just remembered how they treated you. I was so afraid for you.”

“Believe me, it was mutual. God, you gave me a scare. When I brought you outside-”

His voice broke and he was quiet, looking away.

“I’m okay,” I said.

“Hello there!” Barbara called from the door.

She came over to the other side of the bed. “This guy is worse than I am. Even Sister Theresa couldn’t get him to take a break.”

The memory of hearing him snore came back to me and I smiled.

“Hi, Barbara. How’s Kenny doing?”

“He’ll be in here to apologize to you any day now,” she said.

“What do you mean?”

“He told me what he said to you about O’Connor. I told him either he apologized or I wasn’t ever going to have a thing to do with him. He started crying and going on about how he killed his father. I tell you, he’s delirious. I told him you and Frank knew who killed his father, and that as far as I knew, his name hadn’t come up. Do you know what he was talking about?”

Frank and I exchanged a brief look.

“No,” I said. “He probably just feels bad about what he said to me. Tell him I said all is forgiven.” I turned to Frank. “What happened to the Hollingsworths?”

He shook his head.

“Oh.”

“Longren has confessed to the money laundering and providing a false alibi for Emmet Woolsey’s wife; he claims he never knew about the other stuff, but nobody believes him. He’s washed up anyway. Elaine’s mother never found the letter. It was probably thrown away years ago. We called her to let her know what happened. Small consolation.”

My head felt heavy and woozy. I shut my eyes and it cleared.

I looked up at Frank again; there was concern in his face.

“How did you know I was out there?” I asked.

“Lydia. She called me to say you had left her that note. But we can talk about all of that later. Just get better. They want to hold that wake for O’Connor and they’re waiting for you to get out of here to do it.”

“I owe you a lot,” I said drowsily.

“Not a thing. Go to sleep.”

I did.

IT WAS A GRAND OCCASION. There was food and drink and joyful and tearful remembrances of the man we loved.

“Do you believe in ghosts?” I asked Frank.

“Only Casper.”

“You should get to know O’Connor’s-it’s even friendlier.”

I must have talked and laughed and cried with a hundred people. Barbara and Aunt Mary had set the whole thing up at Barbara’s house. Sam and Roselynn had provided some of the food. Probably one of the first Irish wakes to serve Thai food.

I avoided the booze-I wanted to give my head a chance to stop aching from the blow I gave it when I hit that kitchen wall. Frank didn’t drink either, telling me I should have one sober person to talk to.

Kenny was there, home but not really up and around. He and Barbara were going to make another go of it. I was happy to notice that she was being more assertive around him.

Kevin had brought the gang from Calhoun’s, someone else had brought a group from Banyon’s. There were reporters, cops-even Captain Bredloe, who of course had never been on anyone’s payroll. Just another of Elinor’s lies. I saw MacPherson and Global Guru Fred Barnes, and dozens of other people who had come into contact with O’Connor over the years.

Pete had shown up, and Rachel had come with him. They sparred with each other verbally. Pete had more than met his match with her. She hadn’t moved from Phoenix, but something told me one of them was going to relocate before long.

Guy and Lydia were in the throes of new love, which can be boring to observe if you’re not one of the parties involved. I was happy for them all the same.

Aunt Mary had located an Irish band, complete with fiddle, guitar, bodhrбn, pipes, harp, tin whistle, and voices that lovingly sang the songs of Eire. They did a moving version of an old favorite of O’Connor’s, “Bonnie Light Horseman.” I felt the tears well up for the umpteenth time as it was played. I looked over to see John Walters himself getting misty-eyed.

After a great many pints had been downed and songs had been sung, Frank took me out to his car, another used Volvo he had picked up while I was in the hospital.

As he drove along, I realized that he wasn’t taking me to Lydia ’s.

He brought the car to a halt in his driveway. He got out and opened the door for me. We walked inside, and he closed the door behind us.

He took me in his arms and gave me a long, slow, burning kiss. I kissed back for all I was worth. “Stay with me,” he said softly.

I did. And later, as we lay holding one another in bed, warmed by love and ready at last to fall asleep, I heard him softly sing, “Goodnight, Irene.”