Sean visits his cousin Kelly at St. Bonaventure’s Hospital. While he’s there, he meets a few of her very Irish girlfriends. But would Kelly approve of what they propose?

With such pow’r in your smile
Sure a stone you’d beguile
So there’s never a teardrop should fall.
—Chauncey Olcott & George Graff, Jr.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Sean considered riding his own bicycle to visit her, but after what had happened to Kelly that morning, he was not so confident about it. So he thought about other options as he returned to his apartment. The damp, morning chill had persisted into the afternoon, so that it would be a long, cold walk to St. Bonaventure’s Hospital. And on a college student’s budget, cab fare seemed somewhat profligate. But this was for Kelly, his dear cousin. So he’d go home, clean up just a little, and call for a taxi. Mike or another in the family would see that he had a ride to campus for his evening class. He could always get a bus home later.

He entered the building lobby and retrieved his mail for the day. Nothing seemed to require his immediate attention as he sorted through the small stack of envelopes. But there was a larger manilla envelope addressed to Kelly FitzPatrick. It looked somewhat official to him, with what he thought to be a law firm’s return address in the corner. Sean allowed his cousins and sister to use his own address as a mail drop on occasion. He’d simply take it to her at the hospital.

Back in his apartment, Sean went to download a current weather forecast. Since it predicted a significantly cooler evening than the earlier forecast, he decided to change. He then decided on a blue turtleneck to wear under his flannel shirt.

Placing his music player in its cradle, Sean called up his master playlist to select some music for the ride over to St. Bonaventure’s and back to campus for the evening. He wasn’t sure why, but Twelve-Girl Band just didn’t seem right to him at the moment. So he replaced their tracks with three more selections from Enya, Vanessa Mae’s Storm, Antonio Vivaldi’s Concerto for Lute in D Major, and Tomaso Albinoni’s Adagio in G Minor. He’d also keep his selections from Celtic Woman, in case Kelly might like to hear them.

Sean picked up his cellphone, unsure which taxi to call. Quickly searching his address book and telephone log on “cab” he found the number for “Lemon-Lime Cab.” He guessed that Morgan must have called them when she had borrowed his phone the week before. So he called them and they estimated but a five-minute wait or less.

Since it was getting colder, Sean chose a heavier windbreaker, almost a lightweight parka, to wear out. He loaded a textbook, notebooks, and Kelly’s letter into his royal blue backpack along with energy bars for the afternoon and evening. He put his waterbottle and an energy beverage into black mesh pockets on the outside of the backpack.

The taxi arrived more quickly than the promised five minutes, so it was honking just as Sean emerged from the building. He immediately opened the back door of the vehicle.

“Why, Little Seanie!” a familiar voice greeted him warmly.

“Mister O’Shaughnessy? Is it you?”

“O’ course ’tis! But please lad, you can still call me Uncle Jerry, now. Mister O’Shaughnessy isn’t me but me father. ’Tisn’t me at all!”

“Well, if you insist, Uncle Jerry,” Sean agreed.

Gerald O’Shaughnessy had been Sean’s teacher for Catchechism and in Sunday school. The relationship had always been a warm and relaxed one, very friendly.

“Where to, Seanie?” Jerry asked, shifting his taxi into gear.

“Saint Bonnie’s I’m afraid,” the youth answered with tension audibly straining his voice.

“Saint Bonnie’s? Who’s it there?”

“My cousin Kelly.”

“Little Kelly FitzPatrick? But she be almost a sister to ye!” Uncle Jerry remarked, his voice worried. “Well, don’t keep me in the dark laddie. What happened?”

“Don’t have many details, Uncle Jerry,” Sean began. “Just know a car turned the wrong way down ’er lane while she was bicyclin’ this mornin’. They crashed head-on, ’er bicycle flipped, an’ she hit head-first. Gotta bad concussion, I hear.”

The cabbie grabbed his microphone. “Dispatch, this is four-seven…”

“Go ahead, four-seven…,” broke a voice through the static.

“I’m goin’ off-meter, Charlie, upta Saint Bonnie’s. ’Tis personal,” Jerry informed the dispatcher. “May need to visit a few minutes, me-self. The guardian angels must’ve ’ad a busy mornin’, today.”

Sean heard the audible silence of popping static on the radio for a moment.

“Roger that, four-seven… Take whatever time ya need, Jerry… Who’s it?…”

“One o’ me little Sunday mornin’ angels… ’Er name’s Kelly…”

“Hope she’s okay…,” the dispatcher offered his sympathy.

“Me too, Charlie… me, too!” Jerry answered. “Signin’ off ’til later…”

“Roger that, four-seven…,” Charlie acknowledged. “Dispatch out!…”

“Seanie, this rides off the meter. An’ I gotta see Little Kelly, too.”

Sean knew that Kelly would be upset with Uncle Jerry for doing anything like that. But he also knew not to argue with Uncle Jerry over it. Every kid who had been through Catechism with Gerald O’Shaughnessy was like an adoptive niece or nephew. Mike, Kelly, Sean, and Morgan all belonged to his “little Sunday angels.” All his teaching about guardian angels had Sean wondering long ago if, just maybe, Uncle Jerry were one himself.

“How long have you been drivin’ Lemon-Lime?” Sean asked, making an effort to change topics.

“Since the other company I drove for folded about eighteen months ago,” Uncle Jerry recounted. “They were gonna reorganize as ‘Green and Yellow Taxi’ but there were legal issues with the name. But the new manager had already had the cabs painted in green and yellow colors, so someone thought up ‘Lemon-Lime Cab’ and it caught on.”

“Wonderful marketin’,” Uncle Jerry confirmed, “but there’s more to it than that. This new manager’s doin’ a great job, too. The bottom line’s that there’s more bottom line! So I get my money a lot faster now. And Charlie says his job’s easier at central dispatch, too. But you know what’s really crazy, Seanie? The new guy’s a gal! She’s got the sharpest head for numbers I ever did see. And a couple o’ times when it’s been just too busy for Charlie, she’s stepped in at dispatch to help ’im out there. Turns out she’d worked dispatch in college. Never thought I’d see a woman handle it like she can. That sweet little thing carries a map o’ the whole metro street system in ’er head.”

“I can tell you’re impressed, Uncle Jerry,” Sean observed. “But is your interest in her purely professional?”

Uncle Jerry simply smiled, taking Sean’s teasing in stride. “Oh, laddie,” the old cabbie replied, “I’m much too old for a lassie like her. On the other hand, I could see ’er with someone like you—after you’re finished college, of course. She’d kinda insist on that.”

“What’s her name, Uncle Jerry?”

“Brianna,” he answered Sean. “Brianna MacFarland. If you’d like, I’ll introduce you sometime.”

“I’ll keep that in mind,” Sean promised. The banter had helped both Sean and Uncle Jerry to keep their minds off Kelly’s accident.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They arrived at the hospital shortly thereafter. Uncle Jerry parked the taxi in the visitors’ lot, then he and Sean made their way to the main lobby. Sean went directly to the receptionist, a young Asian woman about his own age.

“We’re here to see Kelly FitzPatrick,” he announced.

“Friends or family?” she asked, recognizing Jerry as one of the frequent drivers ferrying patients and visitors at the hospital.

“Both,” Sean answered. “I’m family. He’s almost! Uncle Jerry’s her Sunday school teacher.”

The receptionist raised an eyebrow at Sean and then glanced at Jerry, who confirmed it with a nod and a smile.

“He really is her Sunday school teacher,” Sean assured her. “Mine, too!”

“Okay!” The young woman acknowledged, smiling back at them. “She’s in I-C-U. Her friends and family can gather in the waiting area there. Take the north-end elevator to the second floor. It’s on your left when you get out of the elevator.”

“Thank you, Miss…?” Sean offered.

“Oh! I’m Veronica,” the girl introduced herself, glancing down at her blouse, noticing that she was not wearing her name tag. “But, please, just call me Roni!”

She smiled at them again to send them on their way, as she frantically began looking in her purse and then her desk drawer for her badge.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Mister O’Shaughnessy! We didn’t expect you!” Mike greeted him in both surprise and gratitude.

“You’re all me little angels!” Uncle Jerry replied, sniffling. “It’s as if me own daughter be in here!”

A group hug followed for Mike, Sean, and Uncle Jerry. All were concerned for Kelly.

Mike spoke up. “It’s really bad I think. She’s not regained consciousness since the accident. I’ve been with her for three hours. Father Tony is still in there with our moms and Morgan.”

“I can stay until I need to leave for my class,” Sean told him. “Why don’t you just go home and get some rest? You know how Kelly is about this kind of thing. You’ll offend her work ethic if you stress out and get fired!”

“You’re prob’ly right, Sean,” Mike conceded. “But it’s not gonna be easy to get any sleep or to stay focused with Sis lyin’ in there still unconscious.”

“No, Mikey, ’twon’t be,” Uncle Jerry spoke up. “But don’t try to take the Lord’s work all to ye-self! We’re here to watch o’er me little angel, now.”

Mike grinned at Uncle Jerry’s words. Maybe he was right after all. The role of family in such a time was to share the burden, to lean one on another, so that none would be overwhelmed alone.

“Thanks, Mister O’Shaughnessy,” answered Mike. “You’re right about that. It’s so easy to forget, but still, she’s my sister.”

“Listen to your Uncle Jerry, now,” the cabbie continued, addressing Sean as well. “All shall be well, and all shall be well, and all manner of thing shall be well! You’ve given Kelly your hearts, these doctors here have lent their heads to her plight, so now leave it all in the good Lord’s hands!”

Only then did the two cousins notice that Uncle Jerry’s hands were behind their shoulders, pressing them toward Kelly’s room in the intensive care unit.

Through the doorway they observed Kelly in the bed, tubes giving her glucose and oxygen and whatever else had to be provided without her own assistance. Her long, beautiful auburn curls were wrapped in bandages, with just a few peeking out to confirm that she were indeed a daughter of the Emerald Isle.

Aunt Kathleen, Sean’s mom, and Morgan all acknowledged him, his mom weakly smiling through her tears, his aunt tightly clutching a rosary. Morgan went to her brother and hugged him.

“Sean, it’s so awful! She’s not woken up,” lamented Morgan. “I’m so scared. I want her to wake up.”

“Hey, Sis!” Sean hugged her back, trying to comfort her. “We need to let things unfold here as God wills. No matter how it may seem right now, we gotta trust that it will all be well in the end.”

Fr. Tony, still wearing surplice and stole over his cassock from Mass also stood near the bed. He turned toward Sean and Jerry who’d just entered.

“I’m sorry, Sean, but it’s still good to see you came,” Fr. Tony whispered, hugging the youth. “The attending physician said it appears to be a very severe concussion, and they’re still waiting for more test results. But the good news, though, is she’s stable, now, and in no immediate danger.”

“I’m so glad you’re here, Father,” Sean thanked him, tears now welling up in the boy’s eyes. “We all are.”

“Keep praying, son,” the priest exhorted quietly. “I’ll say my next Mass for her health and a quick recovery. Did you ride in with the Colonel?”

“Yeah, Father. He didn’t even charge me fare.”

“We do kid him in the parish council all the time for being so stingy,” Fr. Tony admitted in a low whisper. “But I think he’s only that way so he can really help out when his generosity’s needed the most. Truth be told, there’s no better a steward of his Lord’s blessings than Jerry O’Shaughnessy.”

Fr. Tony then turned to his catechist, parish councillor, and none-too-infrequent chauffeur. “Thanks for coming, Colonel. It will mean so much to the family, especially these young adults.”

Indeed, the priest could but marvel at how Jerry could love all the world and everyone around him with the precision of a military operation. Fr. Tony recalled the lyrics from Sabine Baring-Gould’s hymn, “Like a mighty army, moves the Church of God…,” and Lt. Col. Gerald O’Shaughnessy, U.S. Army (Ret.), was her Chief Logistics Officer.

“Once Little Seanie told me, I had to come,” Jerry admitted to Fr. Tony. “Those kids are like me own family. They’re remarkable, too, the way they all look out for each other.”

“They’ve learned well from you, Jerry,” the priest assured him. “Since they were little, they’ve watched how you’ve rallied the parish in times of crisis and how you always care for anyone in need.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Mom, why don’t you and Morgan take Aunt Kathleen for lunch now?” Sean suggested. “It’s past two o’clock. I can sit here with Kelly while you eat.”

“How ’bout it?” Morgan suggested to their mother and aunt. “You both gotta keep your strength up.”

“All right,” Kathleen answered. “We’d best get something while we still can. We may be here all evening, yet. Sean call us immediately if anything at all happens.”

“Of course, Auntie!” Sean replied. “I’ll let you know right away.”

Sean’s mom took Kathleen by the hand and help her to stand up. He also helped support his aunt for a moment until she had the courage to leave her daughter’s bedside.

“It’s okay, Auntie!” he insisted. “You’re not leaving her alone. I’m staying here until at least one of you come back.”

Aunt Kathleen kissed Sean on the cheek as Morgan and their mother helped her back to the waiting area. Sean then sat down in one of the chairs that they had just vacated.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

A few minutes after Morgan, their mother and Aunt Kathleen had gone for their mid-afternoon lunch, Sean became suddenly aware of others in the room with him. He looked up and saw four girls, young women about Kelly’s and his own age standing there, keeping their own watch over his cousin. But what most drew his attention, is that every one of them had striking, red hair. The exact color and hairstyle varied from one girl to the next, but they each had a shade very close to Kelly’s—or even to Sean’s. Two of them wore blue denim jeans, while a third was dressed in a long flowing skirt. But the obvious leader of the group, whose dark auburn curls cascaded down to her waist, revealed her beautifully firm legs in a teasingly flirty miniskirt.

“Hello!” the miniskirted lass greeted Sean. “I’m Fiona. Please meet Molly, Moira, and Morag. We’re friends of Kelly’s. She performs in our band. We came just as soon as we heard. She never told us that she had a twin sister, though.”

“Twin sister?” he said, puzzling over her remark for just a moment as he stood to meet the young women. But even though he was sad, he smiled at her. “Oh no! I’m her cousin. My name’s Sean.”

He offered her his hand and she squeezed it, hoping to gather some of his strength. She smiled back.

“I’m so sorry,” Fiona apologized. “But you smile just like Kelly. You even have the same dimples.”

“Not to worry. It happens all the time. Kelly ’n’ me look enough alike that we’re both used to it.”

“What happened and how is she doing?” Fiona asked him. “We heard she was in an accident.”

“She was ridin’er bicycle when a car drove down the wrong lane. Hit ’er head-on. Helmet came off, so she’s got a bad concussion. She’s been unconscious since it happened. But we’ve told she’s stable now and not in any immediate danger. We’re all prayin’ she wakes up soon.”

The four girlfriends were whispering quietly among themselves and had gathered around Kelly’s bed with Sean, who sat back down to grip his cousin’s left hand. Fiona sat in a folding chair on Kelly’s right and held her friend’s other hand in her own. Molly and Moira, the girls wearing blue jeans, stood next to her while Morag stood to my right. Sean felt her place her hand on his shoulder.

“Thanks for comin’, ladies,” he whispered to them. “I know she’ll appreciate it when she’s awake.” Sean noticed that all the girls showed various quantities of tears in their eyes. Even Fiona, who was trying to minimize her own emotional response as leader of the group, had a couple of tears streaming down her cheeks. Molly was almost bawling. All were in obvious distress, one coping better than another one moment, then that one holding back while yet another cried, almost as if they were exchanging turns at weeping. Sean was not even aware that he had reached his arm around Morag’s waist until she was hugging him in return.

“I can’t believe this,” Morag cried softly, her voice breaking. “It doesn’t seem fair. She’s too kind and loving for this to happen to her.”

Sean pulled Morag into a closer hug as he quoted Jesus’ words from the Sermon on the Mount:

“…[Your] Father who is in heaven… maketh [His] sun to rise upon the good, and [the] bad, and raineth upon the just and the unjust.”

“I still don’t like it,” objected Fiona. “She shouldn’t be here like this.”

“I never said I liked it, either,” Sean confirmed. “But I have t’accept it and deal with it—as Kelly will when she wakes up. And she will. That’s how she is. It’s how we all are about this kind o’ thing in our family. We do whate’er we gotta do.”

Sean squeezed Kelly’s hand again forcing a smile as he glanced back to Fiona’s eyes. “I know it’s hard for you gals. I love ’er, too—we all do.”

Sean had managed not to weep since leaving his apartment for the hospital, but at that moment, he could no longer maintain his detached, stoic façade and tears began to run down his cheeks as well.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

“Who are all of you?” Aunt Kathleen asked, seeing the group of redheaded college-aged girls gathered around.

“Aunt Kathleen,” Sean rose to address his aunt, mother, and sister who had returned. “These are a few of Kelly’s friends: Fiona, Molly, Moira, and Morag. Kelly plays in their band. Ladies, this my Aunt Kathleen and Kelly’s mother. And this is my mom and my sister Morgan.”

They all exchanged greetings and smiles, then Aunt Kathleen spoke up. “Kelly’s never mentioned a band to me.”

“We’re just starting out, ma’am,” Fiona replied for her group. “Kelly has only recently joined us. She plays flute and keyboards for us. And she sings, too.”

“What’s your band called?” Morgan asked.

“We’re the Daughters of Danaan,” Molly answered. “But you wouldn’t have heard of us quite yet. Our first concert is booked for Friday evening next week. But that was before Kelly’s accident. But now we’re a little worried if we can make it work without Kelly.”

At that moment, a nurse appeared at the entrance to Kelly’s room. “Excuse me, everyone, but we have too many people in here right now. Could a few of you step out into the waiting area, please?”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
Sean and the four Irish-looking lasses all sat down in the waiting area.

“Tell me about your band,” Sean queried the girls.

“The Daughters of Danaan play and sing mostly Irish music and related folk traditions,” replied Morag,” especially with a woman’s theme.”

“So would that be along the lines of Celtic Woman or Cherish the Ladies?”

“Certainly they’ve inspired us in a big way,” Fiona confirmed. “But we also have an interest in a variety of folk traditions. Many American folk styles either descend from or incorporate elements of Irish and Celtic music.”

“That sounds like somethin’ Kelly would be doin’,” Sean admitted. “Does she sing or play ’n instrument for you?”

“Both,” Fiona replied. “All of us sing from time to time. Kelly plays flute and also piano or keyboards as needed.”

“Yeah. I was in the band with her ’n high school. She played flute ’n’ I played clarinet, although I’d have to say that she was the more passionate one about music. But then she’s always been more passionate about whatever she does than anyone else I know.”

“That’s why we love her so much in our band,” Morag confessed. “And her passion spread among us very quickly. She made it all come together when she joined us.”

“Yep. That’s our Kelly,” he said, grinning. “She does that to people all the time.”

“Do you share her passion for music?” Fiona asked him.

“Doesn’t ev’ry Irishman?” responded Sean rhetorically.

“Can I see your music player?” Morag asked him.

“Sure,” he said, pulling it out of his pocket. “Why?”

“I’m just interested in what you like,” Morag said, accepting the small device from him. Noting his play list, she asked, “You listen to Celtic Woman much? And Enya?”

“Yeah,” he admitted somewhat timidly. “But I lik’em. Especially in the mornin’ when I’m goin’ to work or to classes.”

“You have classical music on here, too, I see,” Morag continued.

“Do you like any other folk music?” Moira asked him.

“Yes, I do,” Sean said. “What’s on that little thing is hardly a full list of my favorite music. I keep a nice CD collection at home, too.”

Morag handed the music player back to Sean. “Thanks for letting us see it.”

“No problem,” he acknowledged, dismissing the issue. “Usually I would have had some other tracks on it at this time of day. But the ones there by Celtic Woman are favorites of Kelly’s, so I left them on if she wanted to hear them.”

“That’s sweet of you,” commented Molly. “Do you and she still play music together?”

“We haven’t had so much time together since we both started college,” explained Sean. “We prob’ly see each other more at work or at church now than at home or on campus.”

“Play anything other than clarinet?” Fiona followed up.

“I can play piano and keyboards some. Kelly and I had the same piano teacher,” he recalled.

“Have you ever tried the Irish flute?” Molly asked him.

“Uh—no,” he replied. “But Kelly says I play a mean tin whistle. Why?”

“Just wondering,” answered Molly.

Sean noticed a clock on the wall of the waiting area. It was almost five o’clock.

“It was nice to meet all of you,” he said, “but I gotta go ’cause I have a six o’clock class and it’s a long enough hike from here to campus.”

“We can give you a ride there in our van, if you’d like,” Moira offered. “It’s right along our way.”

Sean noticed that Fiona and the others were all smiling or nodding in agreement.

“Well, if it’s not too much trouble—”

“Not at all!” Fiona assured him. “You’re Kelly’s cousin, so you’re just like family to us!”

“All right, then,” Sean agreed. “I just need to let my family know before I leave. They do know that I have class tonight.”

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

They all walked out to the hospital’s parking lot. About the middle of the lot was a green van-like suburban utility vehicle. It was a shade of forest green trimmed in gold with Celtic knotwork and keywork patterns. On the main side door was the motif of a large Irish harp with the name Daughters of Danaan emblazoned around it, surrounded by a wreath, as a seal.

Moira opened up the van and Molly opened up the side door. Morag climbed in first and Fiona motioned for me to follow next. Then Fiona stepped in after me and pulled the side door shut. Molly took the passenger’s side up front, and Moira, the driver’s seat. Then, with everyone seated, Moira started the engine while Molly called up music from the on-board stereo.

They heard the sounds of Celtic Woman’s version of Orinoco Flow and Hayley Westenra singing Scarborough Fair. Those were favorites of Sean’s, so he would be comfortable with the music as they drove.

Moira had turned their van onto the street and thewy were on their way to the campus, when Fiona raised the issue that she had been thinking about since meeting Sean.

“Sean, are you confident enough in your musical ability to audition with us?” Fiona asked him. “This would be only temporary until Kelly gets well.”

“I don’t really know,” he answered. “I haven’t performed in public since high school. I just play now for my own enjoyment.”

Morag spoke up next. “We’re just asking you to audition. But you do look so much like Kelly that we’re gonna hope you’ll work out.”

“Are you sure I’d be who you’d want? I’m a guy, after all,” Sean reminded them, chuckling. “I don’t think I’d be too credible as a ‘Daughter of Danaan.’ ”

“You’d be more credible than you might think,” Fiona remarked. “So, tell me, Sean—Have you ever dressed up like a girl?”

“What?”