Shannon's Daughter by Karen Welch

recent history will do.   Start
with Grandfather Shannon.”   The injection
was taking effect.   Peg settled deeper
against the pillow, her lids drooping.   When she spoke again, her voice was slightly thick.   “I think that’s a very romantic story, don't
you?”
    “The
way he met your grandmother, you mean?   Yes.”   He was relieved when the
tale came easily to mind.
    “Tell
me.”   She passed her tongue over her lips
and sighed.   “I’m listening.   I just want to close my eyes for a minute.”
    He
began the story, pitching his voice low and finding a rhythm he hoped might
lull her to sleep.   “In 1892, Michael
Shannon left Carlow County for New York, taking a ship from Liverpool.   On that ship was also a young lady named Anna
Haskill, from Thirsk, in Yorkshire.   She
was going to New York as maid to a young bride, and he was going to make his
fortune.”   He paused, thinking Peg might
have drifted off.  
    “And. .
.”
    “They
met on the trip over and Michael fell in love with Anna.   She, however, did not return the favor.   It took some time, once they reached America,
for her to accept his attentions and eventually agree to become his wife.”
    “ And . . .”
    He
searched for more, grasping at a straw, which thankfully seemed to satisfy
her.   “They had a son, Michael, but it
was almost fifteen years before their second son, Sean was born.   By then, the elder Michael had made his
fortune, just as planned.   When a third
son, Patrick and a daughter, Adelaide, were born, Anna decided she wanted to
take her family back to England.”   He
lowered his voice, letting it trail to a whisper.   “But young Michael stayed behind to attend
Cornell and went on to take over the bank established by his father.”   He paused as Peg’s breathing slowed and her
head sagged to one side.  
    The
doctor, followed by Hannah bearing a large metal basin of white plaster,
returned.   Peg opened her eyes long
enough to lock his gaze.   “Don’t leave
me!   Promise.”
    “I
promise.”   He took her hand, pressing it
between his.   “You’re the bravest girl I
know, Peg Shannon.”
    “No.   I’m a coward.   If I could run right now, you’d never catch me.”
    He
chuckled despite the lump tightening his throat.   “We’re ready, doctor, though you may have to
treat my hand once you’re done.   This
little girl has quite a grip.”
    Mercifully,
she passed out during the actual setting of the ankle.   Kendall had put an arm around her, bracing
her shoulders against his chest, and he felt her relax a moment after the
doctor grasped her foot, splinting it to its normal position.   Throughout the lengthy process of applying
layers of gauze and plaster, he tried not to think of Michael Shannon’s reaction
when he learned of Peg’s injury.   Guilt,
fear and anger with himself whirled uncomfortably in his brain, tensing his
muscles and turning his stomach.   Here in
his arms, Peg seemed a helpless child, one he had failed to protect.   That her own headstrong determination had
driven her up that tree made no difference.   He should have been watching, should have stopped her, although he
wondered if anyone really had the power to match her willful reason when she
made up her mind to a thing.   Perhaps her
father would eventually excuse his negligence, but he felt sure he would never
forgive himself for his failure.
    When
the cast was drying and the doctor had packed his bags, he motioned for Kendall
to join him in the entry.   “I’ll come
back this evening.   She seems fine other
than the ankle, but we’ll keep a check on her all the same.   Hannah tells me she’s Michael’s girl.   I’m sure he’ll be wanting a word or two with me.”
    “You
know her father, then?”
    “Oh,
yes.   And I know he’ll be
needing every reassurance that she’s all right.   He’s a fine man, but something of an
overprotective father.   I remember the
last time he brought her