IT WAS MARY WHO called Paddy on Christmas Eve to tell him Katie was in the hospital. “ ’Tis her I’m owin’,” she said with tears in her voice. “She saved me only child, she did, and she needs to see you, Paddy. It ain’t John she wants, it’s you. She don’t know I’m callin’. You’d best get yourself out here to the hospital quick as a wink. But,” she added quickly, “she can’t talk. You can’t be expectin’ her to. Her voice is gone. Not for all time, the doctors say, but for now. The smoke … still and all, you can talk to her.” Mary’s voice hardened. “You can tell her how sorry it is you are for bein’ faithless with that Belle person, takin’ her to Coney Island when you knew full well Katie thought of it as your special place.” She explained then that Katie had been there that night, too, had seen Paddy with Belle, how heart-broken she had been. “Still is, if you ask me.”
He was in Katie’s hospital ward within the hour. Looking disheveled from the rush, carrying a brown paper bag in his hands, he burst into the long, narrow room filled with white beds and waved Lottie and Malachy, sitting beside Katie’s bed, away. “She can’t talk,” Lottie warned as they left. “Don’t be arguin’ with her.”
He had no intention of arguing with her. He dropped into a chair and took both of her hands in his. She looked terrible. Her eyes were swollen and red-rimmed, her skin grayish. One arm was bandaged above the elbow. “Are you all right, then?” he asked. According to Mary’s account of the fire, he could just as easily have been looking at a corpse. The thought made him sick. He couldn’t have stood it, had she died in that house. “We need to be talkin’, Katie. I know you’re not feelin’ well, but we got to get some things straight.”
She shook her head, touching her throat.
“I know. You can’t talk. Mary told me.” He dumped the contents of the brown paper bag on the white sheet covering Katie. Wooden alphabet blocks, twenty-six of them, the letters painted in white on all sides but one, on which there was a drawing of an animal or a toy. “I stopped at Mary’s on the way here … they’re stayin’ with Lottie and Malachy until Agnes’s house is fixed up … and borrowed these. Bridget’s here, too, in the kiddies’ ward, and doin’ fine, Mary says. She won’t be missin’ these until she goes home. Lottie said I could use them.” Paddy leaned closer to Katie. “I need to ask you some questions, Katie-girl, need to in the worst way. I was thinkin’, you could use the blocks to answer, if you’re feelin’ up to it. Are you?”
She nodded.
“All right, then.” He lined up the blocks on her sheet, four uneven rows of them, wobbling slightly but their letters clearly visible. “Here’s the first question. Do you hate me, then?”
Katie lifted her uninjured arm to point. NO
“And is it John Donnelly you’re wantin’ in your life now?”
NO
He heaved a sigh of relief. Taking her hands in his again, he said, “Mary was tellin’ me you saw me with Belle at Coney Island. We was only talkin’ about the writin’. Her beau came along with us. He was there, too. You must have come upon us when he was off finding somethin’ for us to eat.” He shook his head. “Why did you not tell me? You could have telephoned, told me what you was thinkin’. I’d have told you the truth. So that’s my next question. Why didn’t you tell me what you was thinkin’?”
The hand moved again. It pained Paddy that it moved so slowly, that Katie had so little strength. STUBBORN
Paddy smiled. “You?” he asked. “Or me?”
BOTH
“Aye, that’s the truth. I could have come to talk to you, find out for myself why you wasn’t talkin’ to me, and I didn’t. It was ’cause I thought you was better off without me, you doin’ so well and all.”
She shook her head and pointed. NOT WELL
Nodding, Paddy said, “Well, I know you’re not well now. But that’s because of the fire. You was incredible brave, Katie. Everyone says so. Like Bri. He was that brave, too. You’d have made a fine pair, the two of you.”
STOP THAT
“Stop what?”
The finger pointed quickly, moving rapidly from one block to another in exasperation. BRIAN GONE SORRY MISS HIM BUT LOVE YOU BRIAN HAPPY FOR US
Paddy’s expression was bleak. “I think about him, Katie. I try not to, but the thoughts come. They’re terrible thoughts, me up here, alive, him on the bottom of the ocean….”
Katie reached up to put a finger to Paddy’s lips. She mouthed, “Shh!” Then she pointed again. DON’T BE DUMB BRIAN NOT THERE IN OCEAN YOU KNOW BETTER PADDY
“But I see him there, plain as day!”
She pointed again, this time tapping each block with such force several tipped over. NOT THERE HE IS IN WARM SAFE GOOD PLACE YOU KNOW THAT SAY IT PADDY SAY THATS WHERE BRIAN IS NOW
He looked dubious, but Katie could see he was trying, that he wanted to believe her.
STUBBORN BRI SAFE HAPPY YOU KNOW TRUE
At last he nodded. Tears of relief appeared in his eyes. “You’re right. He’s not there. I shouldn’t have been thinkin’ it all this time. It was wrong thinkin’ on my part.” His voice almost a whisper, he said, “It came from me not understandin’ why I lived and he didn’t. It’s tearin’ me to pieces, Katie, wonderin’ that.”
The tears that filled her swollen eyes then were angry ones. Her jabs were rapid and furious, as if the blocks themselves had offended her. IT DONT MATTER WHY YOU JUST LIVED THATS ALL NOW YOU GOT TO DO SOMETHING WE WASNT SAVED FROM TITANIC TO DO NOTHING PADDY DO IT FOR BRIAN FOR ME FOR YOU ITS TIME
“You mean the book.”
YES
Paddy thought about that. Mary had said it was a wonder that Katie had lived, that everyone was certain she would die in that house. But she hadn’t. Maybe because he needed her so. And maybe he hadn’t died on the Titanic along with Brian because he was needed. It wouldn’t hurt to think so. “Will you help? I mean, I know you’re busy and all, singin’, but…”
She touched her throat again.
“Oh, I know, but Mary says you’ll sing again. Not for a while, though. Maybe you could help me get goin’ on the book till then? When you’re feeling’ better, I mean. And then when you’re singin’ again, I promise I’ll come. “ ’Twas pigheaded of me not to. If you want me to, that is.”
I WANT AND I WANT IRELAND SOMEDAY
Paddy nodded. “I been thinkin’ on that. I guess I’d like to see my ma and da again. And granda. I should be tellin’ them how brave Bri was. They’d like knowin’ that.”
YOU MEAN IT
“Yes, I mean it. Some day. If the book sells and there’s money enough. I mean it.”
PROMISE
“I promise.” Paddy bent to kiss Katie’s aching throat.
She reached down and gently tugged on his hair to lift his head up. Then she began tapping the blocks again. SING PROMISE
Paddy laughed. “Are you daft? You’re the singer, not me.”
PLEASE SING IT
He was so glad she was alive, that she hadn’t died, not only on the Titanic, but again in Agnes Murphy’s roominghouse. The months without her had been miserable and he had not expected them to end. He had thought to go on forever without her. The thought had brought a constant ache to his chest. Now, he would do anything to prove that he never intended to let her go again. He would even sing, if that was what it took.
“You’ll be regrettin’ this,” he said, “as will everyone else in this ward.” But then he sat back in the chair, still holding Katie’s hands, and he lifted his head and began to sing in a clear Irish tenor, “I’ll take you home again, Kathleen…”
Katie closed her eyes. But she was smiling.