Soaring (Magdalene #2)(148)

“They’ll all go.” My mouth was still speaking for me in that distant way.

“Eventually, we all go, honey.”

She was right.

Mrs. Osborn.

Mrs. Porter.

God. Mr. Dennison.

“Not many folk have gifts like you and me.”

I focused again on Dela at her words.

“We get it,” she said, still gentle, but also now firm. “We got the strength others don’t have not ever to show to them we know they’ll go but we’ll suffer the good-bye. We just keep on givin’ ’em the good. That’s our job. That’s our gift. You with me?”

Somewhere in my dazed brain I understood she was challenging me.

And somewhere in my dazed brain I wondered if she actually saw that strength in me or if she wanted me to reach for it, believe in me, grab hold and give that to the folks I helped look after.

Perhaps the Amelia Hathaway my parents raised wouldn’t actually have that gift Dela was talking about.

But the Amelia Hathaway I’d become in spite of that definitely had it.

So it wasn’t just my mouth that replied, “I’m with you, Dela.”

I saw relief flash in her eyes, knew then she thought this sad event, like it had probably with others, would have me leaving.

But truly, if I did, who would Mr. Dennison flirt with?

I tipped my head toward the wall. “Are they upset?” I asked.

Her hand clenched in mine before she let it go and sat back. “The ones who been around awhile, they’re dealing. The new ones, not so much.”

“I better get out there,” I told her.

“Yeah,” she replied.

“Thanks for being so kind in telling me.”

“Practice,” she murmured like she wished she didn’t have it.

I figured she didn’t want that practice (because who would?) as I gave her a smile that I hoped reassured her, got up and went to the door.

I turned in it to see she was up and rounding her desk.

“Do you have any idea why she thought I was a Nazi?”

Dela lifted her eyes to me as I spoke and shook her head after I was done. “No clue. The woman thought I was Rosa Parks. Every time she saw me she congratulated me on the courage I showed on that bus. Now I’ve seen a fair few pictures of Ms. Parks and not in one of them did the woman have braids. But didn’t matter. Mrs. McMurphy lived in her own world and until the end it was a safe world. Somethin’ else we can give. Somethin’ she got.”

Yes. That was something we gave. Even as a Nazi, she never feared me.

So that was something she got.

“Thanks, Dela,” I said.

“Not a problem, honey,” she replied.

“Are you okay?” I asked.

“Long time ago, I learned what was important to give and through that, how to deal.”

I nodded, gave her a wave and walked out of her door to get to the residents.

I spent part of my time there seeing to things that needed to get done, but most of it I spent being with the resident, taking their pulse, being sensitive and as business as usual in the circumstances as I could be.

It was not a fun day.

And at the end of it, I did something that was probably not right.

But I didn’t care.

I went to Mrs. McMurphy’s room, stole that broken umbrella and took it home with me.

I didn’t know why I wanted it.

What I did know was that it would always be with me.

* * * * *

I stood at my wall of windows, the double-paned glass surprisingly warm on the inside when I knew the day, still gray, damp and windy, was chill.

I stared at the stormy sea and thought I needed some kind of seating up there. The landing was wide, two people could walk across it comfortably. Maybe three. A nice seating arrangement or chaise lounge that you could relax in, watch the sea and brood when you had really crappy days that no book or TV would help would be just the ticket.

My phone chimed and I looked over my shoulder to it sitting on the kitchen counter.

I wanted to continue to mope about Mrs. McMurphy but it was the Wednesday after the week Mickey met my kids. My kids weren’t over that night and Mickey had texted that morning to say we should get together if they weren’t coming since both Cillian and Aisling had something going on at friends’ houses.

Since it might be Mickey, I went to the phone, picked it up and saw it was a text from Auden.

I opened it. It said, Found it and it had a web link.

I touched the link and a page on the official Magdalene site came up with the title of “Town of Magdalene: Budget, Financials and Annual Reports.”

In continuing to search but not finding the information, I’d asked Auden to help and obviously he’d done it.

I looked at the web address and saw that this information was buried under “About Magdalene” then “Meet the Town Council” then “Our Administrative Staff” and finally “Other Information.”

No wonder I couldn’t find it.

I went back to my texts, thanked my son, and forwarded it to Robin, telling her, Auden got it. Here it is. Can you look and report back?

She knew what it was about because I’d mentioned it. And I was asking for her help because once, in a very brief period of deciding that perhaps her life was more than wreaking havoc on her ex, she’d decided to become an accountant (part of this, admittedly, was to be around accountants in order to find a new man because, “Amelia, sweets, a boring accountant wouldn’t have it in him to cheat”).