Sins of the Mother by Tara Hyland

Author:Tara Hyland
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Atria Paperback
Published: 2011-07-15T00:00:00+00:00

PART 3

1960–62

Hard Lessons

Experience is a hard teacher because she gives the test first, the lesson afterward.

—VERNON LAW, MAJOR LEAGUE BASEBALL PITCHER, 1930–

29

CONNEMARA, IRELAND, FEBRUARY 1960

One morning, a few weeks before Cara’s thirteenth birthday, Granny Theresa didn’t wake up.

It was two months since Franny had died. As no one knew of Cara’s existence, she’d found out about her mother’s death from a newspaper. It was a small piece, simply reporting on the funeral. To Cara’s surprise, she hadn’t cried, refusing to mourn for the mother who had first abandoned and then forgotten her. She hid the piece from her grandmother, not wanting to upset Theresa’s already troubled mind.

Over their years of living together, Cara and her grandmother had settled into a routine. Theresa invariably woke first, at around five, a habit she had developed during all those years living on the farm. If she was having a good day, she would feed the goat, milk the cow, and light the fire in the kitchen in order to have a frugal breakfast of bread and stewed tea prepared for when Cara rose a couple of hours later. As usual that particular morning, Cara awoke at seven. But she knew right away that something wasn’t right. There was no sound coming from downstairs. The house was as still as death.

She went to her grandmother’s room. There was no sound of movement inside. She knocked on the door and called through, but there was no response. Instinct told her that something was wrong. Pushing the door open, Cara saw that Theresa was still in bed, lying on her side, facing the window, the patterned quilt pulled up to her neck.

“Gran?” she said tentatively, assuming that Theresa had simply overslept. When there was no response, she took a step closer, and said more loudly, “Granny?”

Again Theresa didn’t respond. The girl reached out to touch her grandmother’s shoulder. Even through the cotton nightie, Cara could feel that her nan was stiff and cold.

No, she thought. This can’t be happening.

“Gran?” Cara could hear the panic in her own voice. She shook her grandmother a little harder. “Gran? Wake up!” Tears filled her eyes as she pleaded, “Please, please wake up.”

This time she shook so hard that she rolled Theresa onto her back. Cara gasped, her hands coming up to cover her mouth, as she saw her grandmother for the first time: blank eyes stared up at the ceiling; the front of her nightdress fell open to reveal one withered breast.

Falling onto her knees, Cara closed her eyes and began to recite the Lord’s Prayer. “Our Father, who art in Heaven …” Maybe if she prayed hard enough, God would give her Granny back.

She stayed by the body, praying, for the next two hours. By that time, she realized that God didn’t intend to grant her request. It was only then that she allowed herself to cry. Granny Theresa might have been a cold, harsh woman, but she had also been the only person Cara had known over the past few years.

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