The Parting Glass by Emilie Richards Page A

found Nick yesterday?”
    Peggy felt her skin growing cold. She hadn’t slept well, despite true exhaustion. Every time she’d closed her eyes she’d felt the house rocking the way the saloon had rocked when the twister touched down. Or she’d heard the explosion and felt the same stab of terror she’d felt when she realized Niccolo might have been caught inside.
    “I was sure he was dead,” Peggy said.
    “I know. He should have been. He was blown ten yards or more.”
    “You were going to tell me something funny. I could use it.”
    Megan measured the coffee into the pot and flipped the switch. “It’s only funny coming from me. When we found him, Peggy, I couldn’t believe he was alive. Talking, too, like nothing much had happened. We told him we had to get him outside, and he sat up. Then he shined his flashlight on the wall right under where he’d landed.”
    Peggy was waiting for the punch line. “And?”
    “There was an image there.”
    Peggy waited. She had no idea what her sister meant.
    “I don’t know how to explain it,” Megan went on. “An impression of some kind, I guess. A stain? But it looks like the Virgin.”
    For a moment Peggy didn’t understand. “Virgin?”
    “Holy statues of our lady. She’s facing the other wall, robed, and her arms are out like this.” Megan demonstrated, as if she were welcoming guests. “And, well, here’s the thing. The face has no features, not really, but where her eyes should be…” Megan looked away. “Tears. It looks like she’s crying. Nick woke up, and that’s what he saw.”
    Peggy didn’t know what to say. “Well…” She frowned. “Megan, you don’t think this is some sort of a miracle, do you? That doesn’t sound like you.”
    “I think it’s a coincidence, and for that matter, so does Nick. It was just, well, spooky.” She shook her head. “No, that’s not right. It wasn’t spooky. It was lovely. Comforting, as if…” She shrugged. “For just a second there I felt like I used to when I was a little girl and we’d go to St. Brigid’s as a family. Sometimes, when everything was very quiet and the candlelight flickered on the wall and you knew the organ music was about to start. In that moment, you know, that’s how it felt.”
    Megan rarely talked about religion and never in a positive way. She’d been born a Catholic and would die one. Like all of them, she loved Father Brady, and she understood her new husband’s devotion to the Church, but without Niccolo in her life she would have remained only nominally involved. She was a Holy Days Catholic, and her sisters were the same.
    “You had a spiritual experience,” Peggy said. “I think that’s wonderful. Treasure it.”
    Megan seemed to shake off the moment. She opened a cupboard and got down coffee mugs. “Yes? Well, I’m not looking for another one. Not if Nick gets blown down a tunnel first. That’s the real miracle. He’s alive.”
    Peggy took her mug and held it up high. “I’ll drink to that.”
    “What will you drink to?” Niccolo came into the room, looking sleepy-eyed but completely well.
    “Your health.” Peggy held out her mug, and Megan filled it.
    “Then I’m going to drink to a safe trip today for you and Kieran.” Niccolo crossed the room and gave Megan a bear hug before he got a mug for himself.
    Peggy felt right at home. The room was lovely. Simple bird’s-eye maple cabinets, white tile countertops and backsplash, capped off with rich dark red wallpaper Megan had put up last month. Niccolo’s oil paintings of Tuscan villages harmonized with Megan’s quirky farm animal canisters. Her sister had upholstered the kitchen table chairs with remnants of old quilts. Niccolo had crafted the table from a black walnut tree that had been cut down to make room for a neighbor’s addition.
    “You’re sure you want to go today?” Megan asked her. “I mean, the airline will let you change your ticket, won’t they?”
    “Do you need me here?”