The Granduncle Inheritance

"Don't be silly, you're gonna be alright." I was scared.

Being a small country town, the doctor was here in half an hour. He took a look at Moira, asked some me questions, then stepped forward holding the end of a stethoscope in his hand. He reached forward, modestly lifted the bed quilt, and placed the instrument above Moira's left breast.

Listening intently, he moved it in her cleavage directly between her breasts; then on the ribs below her breasts. Doctor Morgan seemed satisfied with his findings so far, hung the scope around his neck again, and ordered me out of the room. I was like a caged animal in the corridor, full of fear for my sister so far away from home and family, waiting for the doctor to come out and explain what was happening to my sister to me.

The doctor called me in after a half hour and explained my sister's sickness. "How is she, Doctor; is she gonna be alright?" I was desperate.

The doctor, a man of around sixty years of age, with white hair and a dark stained mustache, asked me before answering any questions. "You're from the colonies, aren't you? Are you relatives of old Sean McIllroy?"

"Yes, to both your questions; now would you be kind enough to tell me what my sister has?" I was seething and barely polite.

The aged doctor was immune to the irate family of his patients, and he had a strange look in his eyes, "I don't want to intrude, young man, but are you, ehem... intimate with your sister? Now, don't get me wrong, what I'm asking is, have you seen lately your sister's body as... on the beach?"

I didn't understand; here we were, in my sister's room, she's sick, and this old goat is asking me questions about decency; when I was about to punch him in the face, he said, "I have a reason to ask this questions, you see I had to undress her to listen to her heart, lung, and bowel sounds to see if there were any problems with her heart or her lungs. There is nothing wrong with her insides besides lung congestion, and we can treat that with antibiotics, but she's suffering in her mind..."

"What the hell are you talking about? Are you saying she's mad or something?" I was frantic with despair.

The old doctor moved his head from side to side, "I didn't say anything about madness, did I? I only said she may be hurting in her mind as well as her body. Come see for yourself."

Without another word, the doctor, with me at his side, went to the bedside, pushed the covers to the foot of the bed, and uncovering my sister's body, I could see her body full of bruises caused by blows. My expression was one of shock, horror, and hate; I swore to myself that I would give my son of a bitch of a brother-in-law the same medicine.

I couldn't talk; I had a lump in my throat, and swallowed with difficulty. "No, I haven't seen anything of this." I could barely whisper.

"Well," the doctor said, "I'm going to give you a prescription and instructions for you to provide the medication to her. She needs rest, care, and love most of all. Her fever, as I said, is caused by lung congestion provoked by catching cold and her defenses being down by stress. She needs to rest and drink plenty of liquids, take her medication, and sleep all she wants. I'll come to visit day after tomorrow."

"Thank you, Doctor. How long do you think will it take for her to be able to travel?"

"To be on the safe side, I'd say between twenty and thirty five days."

"Thank you again, Doctor."

I was remorseful at not having been closer to my sister all these past years. I couldn't even remember what the reason of our estrangement had been, but it should have been nothing major since it had left no trace in my memory. We had always been close, closer than most siblings, and I loved her like I had never loved another woman ... loved? I looked at her, sick and delirious in bed, and saw her as she was when she was a teenager maturing into womanhood; her freshness, her joy of life, the love of my life.

I staggered as if I had received a blow on the head and had to grab the door frame to steady myself as this thought surfaced in my mind. I loved her; I was in love with her. My eyes were suddenly full of tears, and I was sobbing silently as my sobs and anguish tore my chest apart. My little sister had been used as a punching bag, and now she was sick and had only me at her side. I promised myself that I would take care of her for the rest of our natural lives if she accepted me.

I was a little calmer now with this promise, but with my heart full of hate, hate for the whole of my wife's family, her included. I was tired of my nasty wife, her continuous nagging, her bitchiness, constant complaining, and now my no-good of brother-in-law was beating my sister, my sweet little sister who I had once promised to protect, who knew for how long?

I then remembered that long ago day in my college dorm room when she had found me in bed with a girl, and that had been when her attitude towards life had completely changed. She was wild for a time, and then got pregnant from that son of a bitch. She had become cold and distant with me; barely speaking to me at the family gatherings, and only if I talked to her first. She didn't even go to my wedding, claiming she was sick. Then...then maybe she loved me too.

I hurried now and took the prescription from the nightstand and after calling the front desk, I asked for someone to be sent to the pharmacy to buy and bring back the drugs. I asked for hot tea to be brought to my sister's room and when the drugs arrived, I set the tea and medicine they had brought on the nightstand.

Moira felt me trying to get her to sit up so that I could give her the tea and antibiotics, and she said, "No please, just let me die in peace."

"Nonsense, little sister, you aren't going to die. I won't let you; I love you and need you alive and well."

I wasn't taking no for an answer, and soon I had her in an upright position. I held her up with one hand and put the pill and tablets in her mouth with the other, then brought the cup of tea to her lips. I could feel her fever; she was burning up. I laid her down on the pillow after she had swallowed everything, and I urged her to go to the hospital, but she flat out refused. I felt it was better to let her have her way, and do what I could while she got better.

It was going to take a time for the medicine to reduce her fever, so I stayed at her bedside all night, putting cold wet clothes on her forehead and armpits, changing them every few minutes and giving her the drugs every six hours. I then brought my own bed clothes from my room and prepared to take care of my sister day and night for as long as was necessary for her health to improve so we could discuss our future.

Moira's night was one full of nightmares, the fever had had cracked her lips and her thirst was insufferable. Trying to alleviate her suffering, I constantly wet her lips with a piece of cotton and dropped cold water into her mouth with a little spoon from time to time.

There was a soft and loving voice intruding in her feverish and turbulent dreams that night, telling her something she hadn't heard in years, a voice that told her through the fog of her fevered brain that 'he loved her, needed her alive and well', but she was so confused that she couldn't discern whose voice it was and couldn't put a face to it.

Moira was as weak as a newborn lamb the next morning, and she swallowed a few sips of the cool liquid when she felt a glass at her lips. She sort of saw my hand put some pills in her mouth and did her best to take them. She managed to swallow them with more fresh water.

I made my sister keep taking the water, a little at a time, until the glass was empty, and finally laid her back down on the bed. "You get some rest; I've seen dead cattle in the west in better shape," I told her, trying to joke and she tried to smile; both failed. She was sleeping again in less than a minute but now the fever had reduced somewhat and her dreaming was quieter, less agitated, and her coughs had decreased with the medicine. Nonetheless, I didn't move from my sister's bedside, watching her and guarding her sleep.

I couldn't stop looking at my sister with love, not just brotherly love, as that it was a different kind of love. Sentiments were stirring inside me that I had never felt before. At some time in the long vigil, I allowed himself to lift the covers off the bed and look at my sister's body, emaciated by the fever and with multicolored bruises from blows and older beating marks which made it clear that my sister's mistreatment had occurred over a long time.

The day continued in the same way; Moira would wake briefly, I'd give her the medication with sips of water and make her eat some fresh fruit juice, then she went back to sleep. The fever was almost normal by the end of the day, and Moira awoke to find me dozing in a chair beside her bed. I was startled and opened my eyes when a felt the touch of her hand on my knee, and found my sister faintly smiling at me.

"Hey, little sister, how're you feeling?" I croaked.

"A little better, but I feel like I've been beaten up or a herd of cattle has passed over my body; every muscle and bone in my body hurts," she said, with a small voice.

"OK, we have a long way to go, but don't worry, I'm going to be here with you to the end. We now need for you to get well, and you need to take your medication, drink a lot of fluids, rest, and sleep, as the doctor said."

She raised her hand a little to silence me, "But you must go back home and..."

"Let me be very clear, little sister; I'm here with you and I will be as long as necessary. I have nothing or anybody to go back to; you're all I have now."

H---Siblings bonding again

I had spent most of the night while caring for my sister trying to analyze my feelings for her. This trip had been cathartic, and I now knew that I loved her, and had always loved her since she was born, I had loved her little face, her little hands; I had loved rocking her in my arms when our mother allowed it. I had loved her as we grew up and I had always been careful so that nothing would happen to her; and I now knew that I had failed her in the end. The bruises all over her body told me so.

Moira rested better that night, and when she awoke the next morning and saw me, her brother, looking at her strangely as if she had something on her that I didn't understand.

"Good morning, big brother." Her voice was still feeble, but stronger than the day before.

"Good morning, my love; how are you feeling today?" My voice was thick with emotion and had a touch of wonder as if I were thinking something I didn't understand.

I saw Moira's weak body shiver as she heard the words 'my love' though. "A little better still; my body hurts all over, and my head seems like it's full of cotton."

"Those are the after effects of high fever that you had; you're going to get better now."

Moira looked at me with huge eyes, her pupils dilated by the fever, and I saw something I had forgotten; her eyes were amazing. Whoever said 'the eyes are the window to the soul' must have had Moira in mind, I thought. They were always so expressive; if it has always been hard for her to lie to me, how could it be that I hadn't noticed her suffering for so many years?

She shared a lot of her life with me because we were so close; her joys and excitement, her fears, and her sorrows. I liked to think that I could read her like a book, but then again, she's a woman, and I'm not. There's only so much I can know about her, and so much I won't ever know. Even so, there's a lot about Moira that only I know. She had spent a lot of time swearing me to secrecy during our talks outside the ice cream shop, to our hikes down to the creek, and to our shopping trips. I've also done my fair share of asking her to take the oath.

That was the moment Dr. Morgan happened to knock on Moira's door and break the magic spell. I opened the door and he entered the room.

"Good morning; how is my American patient feeling today?"

"Good morning, Doctor; a little better, thank you," Moira answered, at which time I added my greeting and thanks.

The doctor asked me to leave the room so he could carefully check her with privacy. He came out a half an hour later, and said, "Well, my friend, the lady is slowly getting better and my recommendations are the same; rest, medicines, some solid food, and lots of love."

"Yes, I'll take care all of those, and thanks again, Doc."

He seemed to think his next words carefully. "As you well know, besides her pulmonary problem, the lady has injuries and lacerations on her body that indicate physical abuse over a prolonged period of time. As a doctor, by law I have to report it to the police and the court here in Scotland, and I have done so."

I was flabbergasted, "But I don't want her to be in any kind of trouble. I mean couldn't you just wait until we go back to the States, and she'll make a police report there? She's going to get a divorce anyway, and she's in no condition to go out right now ..."

"She won't have to do anything. I talked to the police constable and to the judge in Aberdeen; I'll make the official report as I'm the medical examiner in town. The constable will take pictures of her injuries and we'll go to court with everything and get the documents filed. It will then be easier for her to get her divorce with this evidence."

"Have you told her about the procedure?"

"Not yet, you're not the batterer, are you, by the way?"

My eyes opened like two saucers and I answered with anguish, "God, no."

"I didn't think so. I can see how you love her and wouldn't hit her in that or any other way; but I had to ask the question," he told me. "Now let's go inform the lady; it will take a few minutes and we won't inconvenience her too much."

So we, rather they, explained the procedures to her, and everything was finished an hour later.

Before leaving, the doctor told us we would have the dossier ready to file in a week, and it would be legally recognized in the States.

She looked at me with emotion and love in her eyes after they left, "Thank you, Ian."

"It's not a big deal. I mean it's my duty and I couldn't let you be sick and stay alone..."

"No," she cut me off and asked me to lean toward her, and hugging me around the waist, she put her chin on my right shoulder. "I mean 'thank you' for everything you are to me," she whispered.

My heart thumped hard, "Everything? What do you mean?"

Looking down and putting my hands around her back, I hugged her. "I don't know," she stammered, "Just...everything....I don't know...you've always been there for me. You never made me feel like a burden, or like I was bothering you, before my...my madness. You didn't seem bothered even when I had a friend over to play as a child, like that when time you painted our toenails and let us do yours." She smiled and raised her beautiful eyebrows over the saddest pair of eyes I've ever seen.

I tried to break the sad moment, and the only way that occurred to me was to laugh and say, "Hey! That was our little secret!" My voice rose in mock anger, and I pointed my finger at her in warning, but I quickly broke into a smile.

Moira reached for my finger, pulled it to her lips, and kissed the tip, resting it there as she breathed out, "Yes, it was our little secret, remember?" She then placed her index finger on my lips, and said, "You were going to teach me how I should give a blow..." Out of instinct, I kissed her finger while swimming in her green eyes.

"Yes, I do remember, I have always remembered." I hoped she didn't hear my heart, but couldn't she if she had her face on my chest? It was jumping out of my chest.

"Ahem," I cleared my throat, and tried to disengage from her, but she stopped me by hugging me tighter. I took a look at my watch; "It's, uh, almost noon. I have to give your medicine and you need to eat something..."

"I'm not hungry, my love, just tired; maybe later."

"I brought you some hot milk and the medicine. I also brought you some toast in case you think you can eat something." I watched as she slowly propped herself up and took the offered items. "I'm glad you're here with me, Brother."

"Me too; now here are your pills, along with a glass of hot milk to get them down." I just couldn't call her 'my love' in response to her. What if I misunderstood her? She slept more calmly all afternoon and I woke her up around six o'clock to give her medicine and to force her to take some kind of solid food. She had slept well and color was slowly returning to her face.

I tried to make myself think that although she seemed to be better and the fever had subsided, she still had a long way to fully recover. She had at least ten more days of remaining in bed, and at least another ten to fifteen before she could go outside her room and the house. Since the weather was bad and getting worse by the day, I knew that it was going to be difficult to keep her confined. Nonetheless, I gently shook her to wake her up; her green eyes opened with a puzzled expression, as if she didn't know where she was, and her look had a frightened expression until she saw that it was me.

I cursed under my breath and swore to myself that I was going to make her husband pay a thousand times for the pain he had inflicted on my sister.

I'm sure she knew what was on my mind, because she took my hand in hers and quietly said, "He's not worth it."

I looked at her in surprise, and she smiled her beautiful smile, and before I could say anything, she added, "You are valuable to me, not him, and I don't want to lose you again because of him. Not again."

"Alright; now you must do your best to eat. I asked for room service and they have chicken soup with some noodles and chocolate mousse; your favorite, if I recall correctly."

Her eyes were brimming with tears and said, "Oh, my love, it's been a lifetime since anyone has taken care of me as you're doing."

Nothing surprised me after seeing her lacerated body. I was resolved to change her life and I told her so, "That's the way I'm going to take care of you from now on. You're back under my wing."

Rain suddenly started pelting again, and thunder, accompanied by lightning, made itself known in the sky. A knock on the door at that moment announced 'room service'. I opened the door and the waiter entered, pushing the table with the meal.

I gave the soup to her like to a sick little girl, a spoon at a time, then she took two or three spoonful's of her favorite dessert, and told me that it was enough for now. I took a seat at her bedside and quickly ate my dinner, after which I rolled the table into the corridor to be taken away.

I took a look at my watch and saw it was a little after seven in the evening, an evening that was dark, cold, and rainy outside the window. I took a seat at her bedside and we quietly talked about home, our families, our lives, and burdens we carried every day. We didn't talk about or even mention the future; we were just bonding again after so many years.

The conversation was languishing after a while, our silence was more than the words we spoke, and I was preparing to say goodbye and go to sleep in my room around half past eight, since her fever had subsided, when out of nowhere, she said, "Please stay with me tonight, Brother." It wasn't a romantic plea, rather that of a scared little sister asking for her big brother's protection.

CRACK! BOOOMM.

It was the roar of an angry deity in the skies; it was the voice of Zeus, God of the storm and of the heights, Lord of thunder and lightning, right outside our window. The lights flickered for only a moment, but stayed on. My sister squeezed me tightly at the noise, making herself into a ball as small as possible, as if she were a small animal hiding in a cave. Maybe she thought, as she did when we were small, that if the storm would go away didn't it notice her. I instinctually tightened my hold on her in response to her movement.