Shannon's Daughter by Karen Welch Page A

here, back before the war.   Just a little thing she was then.   She took a spill, cut her knee, and the way he
carried on, you’d have thought she was bleeding to death.   Try to downplay the accident, son.   Not too many details, if you get my
meaning.   It’ll be best for everyone.”
    Turning
back to the parlor, Kendall felt far from comforted by those words.   He knelt once again next to the divan, noting
how frail and innocent Peg seemed in her rumpled play clothes, one braid
missing its blue bow.   Her face was pale
and tense with what he imagined to be pain-filled dreams.   As he listened to the soft whistle of her
breathing, he felt the urgent need to beg someone’s forgiveness.   Prayer, he’d learned in recent years, had the
power to at least momentarily ease guilt.   It was worth a try, although he wondered if God might not have become
bored with him by now.  
    He
started off with a heartfelt thank you that Peg had injured nothing more vital
than an ankle, adding his gratitude for the doctor’s quick and competent response.   He went on to the root of his present fears,
that Michael Shannon would at the very least verbally thrash him to within an inch
of his life for such disastrous dereliction of duty.   He prayed for the strength to take his
punishment like a man, not beg for understanding or try to shift the
blame.   Somewhere in his awkward litany
he knew there needed to be a confession, an admission that he’d been selfish in
remaining behind, that he had not taken his responsibility seriously.   If he’d been on the job, Peg wouldn’t be
lying here now with that ugly cast on her foot, would not have suffered the
pain and fear of the past hour.   At the vivid
memory of her blue eyes wide and frightened, tears began to drip onto his hands
where he’d unconsciously folded them on the sheet.   Under his breath, he muttered, “Oh, God in
heaven, I am so sorry!”
    “What
are you doing?”   Her voice was hoarse, the
words slurred.   He opened his eyes to
find her watching him from beneath heavy lids.
    Without
a thought for his dignity, he half-sobbed, “I’m praying, if you don’t mind.   We Methodists have been known to do that,
too, you know.”
    “Why?   I mean, why are you praying?   I’m not going to die or anything, am I?’
    “No,
but you scared me half to death, and
your father’s probably going to finish the job when he sees what’s happened.”
    “Oh.   Is that all?   Don’t worry.   I can handle
Dad.”   She struggled to raise herself
higher on the pillow.   “I thought
something really awful had happened.”   She eyed the cast, twisting her lips in a grimace.   “Good grief, look at that thing.   Oh, well, at least I won’t have to go to that
stupid party now.”
    Laughter
bubbled up his throat, catching on another sob.   “Peg Shannon, you are by far the most vexing little girl. . .”   Her eyes flashed a warning.   “Sorry, young
lady , I’ve ever had the dubious pleasure of knowing.   I shudder to think what sort of woman you’ll
grow up to be.”
    She
dropped her head back on the pillow, a slow smile curving her lips.   “If you’re lucky, you’ll be around to find
out, won’t you?”
    He
thought she might have drifted off until her eyes flew open and she exclaimed
softly, “Oh, drat!   You’d better call Hannah.   I guess you’ll have to carry me upstairs.”
    He
would ask.   “Why?”
    “I have
to go.   Now!”
    “ Go. . .?”   Perhaps the
drug had rendered her delusional?
    Only
when she groaned in disgust at his rank stupidity did he comprehend.   “Oh.   Right.   Hannah!”

 
    Chapter Six

 
    Kendall
decided only some gross miscommunication, or possibly divine intervention,
could be responsible for the fact that he was being celebrated as the hero of
Peg’s near-tragic adventure.   While
Michael had blustered some rather harsh words upon his
return, promising to discuss the matter further once he’d