A Thousand Roads Home Page 11

  Years fell away like leaves from the trees, as recognition sparked between them.

  ‘Hello, Ruth.’ Somewhere in the back of his mind Tom already knew that it would be her. Their lives were connected, always would be, by the kid.

  DJ looked between his mother and his new friend, puzzled. How did Doc know his mam’s name? Ruth looked at the man in confusion. She didn’t recognise him, yet his voice and his eyes reminded her of someone. I know you. But how? She moved closer to him, keeping her son behind her.

  ‘Who are you?’ Ruth demanded.

  ‘He’s my friend,’ DJ said. ‘It’s the Doc. He’s really cool.’

  The Doc?

  Tom saw fear change to shock as their eyes locked once more. ‘It’s good to see you again, Ruth Wilde.’

  The world shifted for Ruth and she felt unsteady on her feet. She did not trust her eyes, her ears. She grabbed DJ by his arm and pulled him after her.

  ‘See you tomorrow, Doc,’ DJ shouted over his shoulder.

  Ruth looked back one last time, feeling the old man’s eyes on her. He raised his hand in salute in the way that he always did.

  Dr O’Grady. She would not be a mother if it had not been for this man.

  And now he was here, standing close by, almost unrecognisable.

  19

  RUTH

  Then

  ‘It is time to see how you are doing in here,’ Ruth said, patting her bump. There had been several phone calls from Dr O’Grady’s surgery. She had missed her last appointment in Wexford Hospital. She had also put off going to see her GP because she knew he would bring up vaccinations again. Everything was quite complicated now that she was carrying a baby. Strangers felt they had a right to tell her how she should behave, what she should do.

  She grabbed Odd Thomas and shoved it in her satchel. Dr O’Grady knew she did not like to be kept waiting and to his credit, she rarely was. But it was prudent to be prepared for all eventualities.

  Ruth liked Dr O’Grady. He was a big man in every way. Tall, broad, with a face that instilled trust. He was a Converse trainer man, or heavy boots if it was a wet day. Today the sun shone. He would be wearing Converse. He was around her father’s age, she guessed. But the polar opposite to the man who was her father in name only. When Dr O’Grady smiled in her direction, she felt his support. She believed that he was on her side and wanted the best for her and her baby. Sometimes she wished he was her father and she daydreamed about a life where someone cared for her and her wellbeing.

  She found her new doctor listed on the Medical Council website. She did a Google search to double-check that nothing untoward was reported about him. She could walk to his surgery on Spawell Road from Mark’s flat, which was a plus.

  Her first appointment with him had not been without issue. Despite the fact that she arrived five minutes early, she was irritated to find three patients still awaiting their consultation in front of her. And that caused her a problem. Not the waiting part – she had been accused of much in her twenty years, but impatience was not one of them – but the waiting room itself. Like Russian roulette, you never knew what dangers were lurking in a doctor’s surgery waiting room. It was a potpourri of bacteria and viruses. Ruth knew that a visit to the doctor’s with a simple cold could result in far-reaching consequences. Teeny tiny organisms that cause pneumonia, diarrhoea, meningitis, tuberculosis, septicaemia, lingering in the air, would delight in a new host. She was not going to be that host.

  Ruth was prepared for this possible issue. She took out a surgical mask she had the foresight to bring with her as a precaution. She was surprised by the reaction of the other patients. They seemed uncomfortable by her prudence. One woman pulled back her small son, who wandered over to examine Ruth more closely. When he sneezed, Ruth was grateful for the mother’s overprotective arms and her own forethought.

  ‘Why the mask?’ an elderly man shouted, poking her hard on her side with the end of his walking stick.

  Ruth answered truthfully, ‘I walked into this healthcare facility virus free and I fully intend walking out in the same condition. You, sir, sitting here amongst the potential septicaemia bacteria, will likely be wheeled out on a trolley.’

  She had not expected her statement to cause him so much distress. How could she have known that he was highly strung and prone to dramatics? His reaction caused mass hysteria in the small waiting room. She was quite taken aback by his agitation. As she told Dr O’Grady when he walked into the room, if he insisted all patients wore masks none of this panic would have occurred. She was, however, impressed by Dr O’Grady’s finesse as he handled the situation. He was calm and quickly quietened the room down.

  After their first consultation, which was most satisfactory, he suggested that she might prefer to attend her prenatal appointments directly after lunch. That way she could have the first appointment. She would avoid unnecessary waiting if a patient (inexcusably, as far as she was concerned) was late and messed up the whole schedule.

  Right now her swollen feet were causing her problems. Ruth peered over her bulging stomach, which appeared to have grown overnight, taking in her feet, which refused to squeeze themselves into her flat moccasins. This situation took her by surprise because only this morning she had worn them when she went out to buy her milk in a nearby newsagent’s.

  The speed in which her feet could swell, doubling in size, alarmed her. She could go from Cinderella to Anastasia or Drizella, in an instant, trying to shove a glass slipper onto her huge bunioned feet. She made a mental note to start researching books to read to her baby, when he or she arrived.

  Ruth shook away the memory of her mother reading to her as a child. It had been weeks since they had last spoken, months since she had seen Marian in person. And she liked it like that very much. Right now, she had to concentrate on shoe options. To her dismay the only footwear that fitted this Cinderella was either a pair of slippers or a pair of sandals. Each objectionable. She tried once more to place her moccasins on, but realised it was a fool’s errand. Time was slipping away and if she did not leave soon she would be late, which was unacceptable.

  Reluctantly, she reached for her slippers and realised that already her baby was changing her. Before this pregnancy, she would have just stayed at home rather than wear inappropriate shoes. She peeked out the window of the flat and noted that while it was May, the weather was still in a December frame of mind. Dry, but cold. Sandals just would not do.

  Maybe she should cancel again. A kick in her abdomen from baby was like a kick to her conscience. OK, I shall go.

  Her gait was slower than normal so she estimated that her usual eight-minute walk would take at least double today. Despite her unscheduled mishap with shoes she should still arrive five minutes before her appointment. As she closed the apartment door behind her, she placed her headphones on and began to hum along to Westlife’s ‘Flying Without Wings’, which she had set to play on loop. She held on tight to the banister as she walked down the stairs from Mark’s flat to the ground floor. Ruth was careful to keep her eyes focused firmly on the road ahead, concentrating only on the lyrics. She had created a game that helped her get from her flat to the doctor’s. The rules were simple. She must avoid making eye contact with anyone between each mention of the word ‘Flying’ that Westlife sung. She was very good at this game and won nearly every time.

  Ruth was so lost in the music that she nearly ran into a large double buggy that took up half of the pavement in front of her. Damn it. Now she had lost that round. She looked at the smiling woman with irritation, who moved her buggy to one side to let her pass. The woman seemed disappointed when Ruth continued forward without stopping for a chat. This was a new phenomenon for Ruth. She had spent most of her childhood and teenage years on the periphery of the various clubs that were formed in school. By choice in the main. She preferred her own company. And eventually the kids in her class stopped asking her to join in. Her pregnancy puzzled her. It was like a golden ticket, and had opened the do
ors to a sisterhood of mothers who all nodded, smiled, spoke to her, no matter how hard she tried to avoid them. It was most disconcerting.

  She felt her baby squirm inside of her, fighting to find space in what was already a crowded room. She was breathless by the time she walked through the surgery doors. Her heart beat so loud that even the headphones could not protect her from its sound. With regret she slipped them off, ready to face Dr O’Grady’s receptionist, Breda.

  ‘Hello, Ruth,’ Breda said, smiling when she noticed her slippers. Ruth liked her a lot, despite the fact that she could sometimes be overly familiar. ‘How are you doing? Not long now! I think this must be the quickest pregnancy ever, eh? I bet you don’t feel like that, though! I remember when I was pregnant with my two, at the end every day felt like a week. People told me that pregnancy was a joy, but it was pure penance for me. Didn’t suit me at all, I don’t mind telling you. The heartburn, it just lifted me out of it every day. Sure you’d know all about that, wouldn’t you?’ She reached in to rub Ruth’s stomach.

  This Ruth could not allow. She pulled away and said, ‘I have a right to my privacy. I have a right to my space. I have an appointment at quarter to two. It is now twenty minutes to two.’

  The receptionist gave her a look that she’d received many times in her life. It was the triple whammy of looks: a mix of disappointment, reproach and pity. Ruth knew she had upset Breda and she regretted that, but she did not like to be touched.

  When Dr O’Grady walked out, Ruth was not sure who was more relieved, her or Breda. I knew it! Converse!

  ‘I can always rely on you to be on time, Ruth. I wish all of my patients were as punctual,’ he said, leading the way into his surgery.

  ‘Being late is rude and inconsiderate. I would never place a higher premium on my time than on yours,’ Ruth replied.

  ‘I’ll remember that next time someone rocks up here twenty minutes late for the last appointment of the day!’ Dr O’Grady said.

  ‘Better late than never, but never late is better,’ Ruth said.

  Dr O’Grady laughed out loud at that. ‘How are you today?’

  ‘I am quite well, thank you,’ Ruth replied. ‘How are you?’

  He looked up from his computer screen and replied, ‘I’m very well, too, Ruth.’ He tapped his mouse twice, then scrolled down the screen. ‘Right, here you are. Let’s see how far along you are today.’

  ‘Two hundred and seventy-seven days. Of course this is just an approximation. Only four per cent of babies are born on their due date,’ Ruth stated.

  ‘For sure. In my experience that’s true.’

  ‘And as a Caucasian woman under thirty, statistics show that it is extremely unlikely that I will be part of that four per cent,’ Ruth added.

  Dr O’Grady laughed out loud again and said, ‘You are a ticket, Ruth. I like a woman who has done her research. My wife is just like you. She likes to have all the facts herself.’

  Ruth was pleased with the comparison. She did not know the doctor’s wife, but she imagined she was quite lovely, just like he was.

  ‘I’m happy to see that you turned up for the last scan. I was getting worried there. Thought I would have to drive you to it myself.’

  ‘I do not care for hospital appointments. They keep changing my registrar. I liked the first one; the second and third, not so much.’

  ‘I understand it’s tricky for you not to have the same people take care of you and the baby at each hospital visit. But as I explained before, the registrars work on a four-week rota. But I can assure you that they all have your notes in front of them. So you are in perfectly safe hands, no matter who sees you.’

  ‘I did enjoy seeing the baby on the scan,’ Ruth conceded, gently rubbing her tummy.

  Dr O’Grady smiled. ‘I have your notes from that hospital visit and baby is coming along nicely. Do you know what you’re having yet?’

  ‘I am having a baby,’ Ruth answered, puzzled.

  His laugh bellowed out into the room. ‘Yes, that you are. And that’s all you need to know, right? May I have your permission to touch your tummy? I promise to be quick.’

  ‘Yes,’ Ruth said. She appreciated him asking her for permission. It was the unsolicited strokes of strangers that made her want to scream.

  Dr O’Grady rubbed his hands together briskly and said, ‘You’re going to feel a slight pressure as I palpate the baby.’

  Ruth grimaced. She did not like this one bit.

  ‘Ah, that all feels perfect,’ Dr O’Grady said. ‘I’m very happy.’

  Ruth felt pride explode inside her at this statement. Perfect. He said her baby was perfect. Take that, Mother.

  ‘There is no nicer sound than that of a good, strong, steady heartbeat,’ Dr O’Grady said. ‘Now it’s time to check you out.’

  He placed the strap of the blood-pressure unit around her arm and began to squeeze the pump. ‘Sorry about this. It will be all over in a jiffy.’

  Ruth closed her eyes and thought about the baby that would soon be in her arms. She wondered if it would like Westlife as much as she did. She read that babies liked listening to music. They could listen to hers together. And she would read Odd Thomas to the baby, too. Cutting out the scary bits until it was old enough to understand.

  ‘You look happy,’ Dr O’Grady said in approval. ‘Penny for them.’

  Ruth answered, ‘I was thinking about reading to my baby.’

  ‘Well, it won’t be long before that happens, I suspect. This baby is a big one. I reckon he or she will be coming out to say hello to you any day now.’

  ‘I am ready. I have packed my hospital bag. And I have rehearsed my route to the hospital several times. If Mark is at home, he will bring me. But I also have three taxi companies on standby. I have inspected their cars and all seems in order.’

  Dr O’Grady looked up from his notes, where he had scribbled down some more information. ‘And how have you been doing food-wise?’

  ‘Your gift is still working,’ Ruth said, referring to the blindfold that he had given her a few weeks back when she confessed how much she craved oranges. ‘I’ve been eating mango and oranges every day. Once I cannot see their colour, as you predicted, I can cope.’

  Dr O’Grady nodded in approval. ‘Good for you. You know, that blindfold has been at home for years unused. My wife, Cathy, got it as a present at some point but she never used it. She doesn’t like the dark. Has to have a small chink of light in our room each night or else she cannot sleep. It was her idea to give it to you, I can’t take credit for it.’

  ‘I prefer the darkness myself,’ Ruth said.

  ‘Well, you should be very proud of yourself. I know how hard it is for you to eat anything that isn’t white. But you are doing what is best for the baby. And that’s what being a mother is all about. Lucky little baby, having you.’

  Ruth had made many decisions purely on the basis that Dr O’Grady said it was the right thing to do for the baby. She fought hard against taking the flu and pertussis vaccinations he recommended for pregnancy. But as soon as he told her to think of the baby’s needs, she found she had the strength to cope with the intrusive needles.

  Her mother’s angry face flashed into her mind again; the very last thing she screamed at her, when she walked out the door of her childhood home. You have to get rid of it. Before it’s too late. You can’t keep this baby. For goodness’ sake, you don’t even know the father’s surname.

  ‘Are you OK?’ Dr O’Grady noticed the pain on Ruth’s face.

  She nodded.

  ‘Have you thought any more about who you want with you when you deliver the baby?’ he asked gently.

  I want Dean.

  She tried not to think about him too much, because when she did, it threatened to undo her. For a second – just a split second – she visualised him standing beside her in the delivery ward, holding her hand, waiting to meet their first child.

  ‘Thinking of holding your baby again?’ Dr O’Grady said. ‘You were sm
iling again.’

  She pushed all thoughts of soul mates from her head and said, ‘I shall be on my own for the delivery.’

  ‘There’s nobody?’ Dr O’Grady asked, clearly worried about this information.

  ‘No. But that is fine. You see, I am used to being on my own. In fact, I do alone quite well.’

  ‘Not for much longer, Ruth. Soon you will have a family of your own,’ Dr O’Grady said. Ruth began to dream of a different future for her and her baby and thought that maybe, just maybe, everything was going to be all right.

  20

  TOM

  Now

  It took him hours to get over the shock of seeing Ruth. A ghost from his past, standing in front of him, in this park. Just under one million people lived in Dublin. And yet somehow he and Ruth had stumbled across each other. Because of DJ. She looked well. Hardly changed from the last time he’d seen her. Life had continued to give her knocks, it seemed. Living in emergency housing. But that kid of hers. She had loved him before he was born. He understood that, because it was the same for him and Cathy. His eyes stung, it was late and his memories haunted him. His head was jumbled with images of Cathy and Ruth, each with a baby in her arms. Bette was out for the count already, snoring softly beside him. He had to give his head peace, so he closed his eyes and let the dreams take him away …

  They never had a big discussion about whether they wanted children or not. They just fell into their conversations, a shared hope that one day their family would grow. At forty, Cathy had some concerns that she’d left it too late to have a family. Tom wouldn’t hear of it and shut down her worries as quickly as she raised them. As a GP he had dozens of consultations with couples who wanted to conceive and were finding the process tricky. There was nobody better to answer Cathy’s concerns and reassure her. But aside from the science, from his experience as a doctor, there was something inside of Tom that was convinced that children were going to be part of their future.