Chapter 11

"Since you didn't listen to the doctor then I'll explain it myself and you better pay attention," Marianne orders, getting a quick nod. "You're right, your legs were crushed when the truck rolled but that isn't the reason they had to be amputated. In fact, if that was all there was to it then your legs may have been saved. Do you remember when you gave me and Officer McGee your statement about the accident? About you not remembering everything about the crash?"

"Yeah," Beathan murmurs. "The last thing I remember is Bhaltair yelling just as he lost control of the truck."

"Beathan, you had a heart attack," Marianne remarks.

"What! How," Beathan questions, looking to the adults? "I'm only eighteen!"

"The type of heart attack you had is called a coronary artery spasm and in your case, it was caused by the stress you were under," Marianne explains. "You were unconscious when they rescued you from the crash and they didn't realize that you had the heart attack until they got you to the infirmary where you had another one. It was discovered that the artery had partially collapsed and they were forced to delay treatment on your legs to do surgery on your heart. Do you understand?"

"I don't have any chest wounds, though. Well, except a small one but that's from the crash, right," Beathan asks?

"They didn't have to perform open heart surgery," Marianne mentions, pointing to where the small healed incision is. "With the added risk of the blood loss you already sustained, they performed a nonsurgical procedure using a catheter, a thin and flexible tube, inserted into your blood vessel right there to re-inflate the artery and insert a stent to keep it from collapsing again."

"Okay. So I had a heart attack before and after the accident," Beathan comments. "But why couldn't my legs be saved?"

"Whenever there is heart trouble, the body picks what to protect and the legs are the last on that list," Marianne comments. "Your lower legs were already damaged from the crash and with the added strain of your heart not sending it much needed oxygen-rich blood, by the time they got your heart stable enough to do surgery on your legs it would have been dangerous if they didn't remove the damaged tissues."

Beathan rubs his hand against his chest and bites his lip as he digests this information. It was one thing to think about his legs being destroyed because of the accident but to find out that his heart was the real cause...well, he wasn't sure what to think.

"But why did I have the heart attack," Beathan mumbles? "Da always made sure that I didn't do anything fast-paced or anything like it. Is it because I'm not used to dealing with those type of situations?"

"There is something that your father has neglected to tell you," Marianne starts.

"Wait," Bog interrupts before silencing at her sharp look!

"At this rate, you'll never get the courage to tell him and he does have the right to know," Marianne admonishes.

"Know what," Beathan questions?

"Yer da loves ye and he was afraid that if ye knew before ye were able to understand then ye might have grown up thinking that ye were different than the other children," Griselda remarks, sitting down on the other side of Beathan. "He didn't want the other children to ostracise ye. Don't be angry at him for keeping it from ye and if ye think that ye need to be, then be angry at me too since I could have told ye myself."

"Told me what," Beathan asks again?

"You were born with a heart condition called pediatric hypertrophic cardiomyopathy, also known as a weak heart," Marianne explains. "Before you get angry that they told me before telling you, I found out because I took a peek at your chart when I was getting your brother's statement."

"I have heart problems," Beathan mumbles before directing his gaze toward Bog. "Why didn't ye tell me?"

"I didn't know how," Bog admits softly, keeping his eyes down. "A poor excuse, I know, but it's the truth. I knew that I needed to tell ye and I did want to tell ye but I didn't know how to tell ye. Like yer gran said, at first it was so that ye grew up normal but when ye got old enough to understand...everything just moved so fast. I blinked and then Bhaltair and ye were grown."

"Does Maw know," Beathan questions?

"She's known since ye were born but I don't think she believes it," Bog remarks. "Yer cardiomyopathy is very mild and it's stayed that way thanks to all the treatments."

Beathan looks down to his hands as they clutch the blankets in a fierce grip. His mind flashes back to all the doctor visits and the tests that he never questioned, the medicine he took regularly without complaint, and the rules the other children teased him about. It's a little obvious that something was wrong with him now that he knew about it but it is a lot to process.

"Does Bhaltair know," Beathan asks quietly?

"I don't know if yer maw told Bhaltair or not," Bog comments, kneeling in front of his son's bed to stare into his eyes. "I swear that I didn't keep it from ye as a secret, lad. It's just something I haven't been able to tell ye yet."

"Are ye keeping any secrets from me? I'm eighteen and I'm old enough to understand," Beathan insists, his eyes filling with tears and despair.

"No secrets but there is one thing more that I need to tell ye," Bog admits. "But it's something yer brother needs to know as well and I don't know if I can say it twice. Be a little more patient with me, Beathan."

Marianne hums a tune as she looks out into the garden. It's a tranquil evening despite the rather turbulent afternoon and the twilight covered greenery seems to generate peace. Making no outward notice of the new presence joining her on the stone deck, she continues her song with only a pause as she sips the cooling hot chocolate.

"Do ye think he'll forgive me," Bog questions softly?

"I don't think he's even mad at you," Marianne murmurs. "Beathan had a lot to take in and it's understandable that he's even more confused than he was before."

"I keep wondering if I did the right thing when he was a child," Bog mutters, sitting in the chair next to her. "How would things be different if I just told him that he was sick?"

"No point worrying about that. What's done is done and you can't change it," Marianne remarks. "You did what you thought was best for Beathan's sake and even though I am guilty of lecturing you, it made sense once you explained your reasons. You meant to tell him, even if you never got around to doing that. I guess when a person is doing something in an effort to protect or care for another then it's alright. At least you weren't doing all of that for your own sake."

"And if I was," Bog murmurs? "Maybe I was doing it for my own sake. Using Beathan to atone for my guilt by trying to keep him healthy and happy."

Marianne glances at the man beside her out of the corner of her eye. It's clear to her that he is having more trouble adjusting to this change of life than even Beathan is but it's also clear that the pain he is suffering from is older than two weeks. Her heart still insists that he is a good man and even without Griselda's reassurance about his character, Marianne knows nothing will change that.

"I'd ask if you actually believe that bull you just said but that would be pointless," she remarks, sipping her chocolate again. "Everybody has a skeleton in their closet and everyone is worried how certain people would react if they knew about them. Don't you think that you're insulting both your sons by thinking they'll reject you once they find out about your skeleton? I can understand if you thought they were too young to understand about what happened between you and their mother but they're both grown now and they deserve the chance to decide for themselves what to believe in."

"How did ye...," he trails off, staring at her in shock?

"Figure out that your skeleton is about Angelina," Marianne finishes? "It's the only subject everyone avoids."

"That does make it rather obvious," Bog half-sighs half-laughs. "They do deserve to know and I have planned to tell them when they no longer needed mine or their mother's care after they graduated. I guess life just doesn't turn out the way ye have planned."

"Life never follows the plan," Marianne murmurs distantly. "My life was planned the day I was born and yet, here I am in Scotland, a traffic officer for Police Scotland and the adopted mother of two feathered children, sitting beside a father of two teenage sons in Mr McGregor's garden."

Bog's hearty laughter fills the air and Marianne's laughter soon joins as the moonlight peeks through the darkened night sky. They settle back down into a comfortable companionship to watch the night blooming flowers open their petals, unknowing to the two sets of eyes peering out of the window.

"I don't think I've ever seen Da laugh this much," Beathan comments.

"He used to laugh a lot when he was younger and for so long, only Bhaltair and ye have been able to bring that laughter back," Griselda remarks.

"I don't know what to believe, Gran," Beathan admits. "All my life I knew what to believe but now everything is wrong. Even if Da didn't lie to me, he has kept things from me. How do I know what to believe?"

"I know that ye're angry with him for things that he hasn't told ye but he only did what he thought was best to do," Griselda consoles. "If ye're going to fault him then fault him for doing the best that he could."

Griselda ruffles his black hair before closing the curtain beside the bed and forcing him to lay back down. The troubled blue eyes staring up at her remind her of another eighteen-year-old so long ago whose distress tugged at her heart then. Life has been hard on her family but even through all the hardships, there has always been a ray of hope shining.

"Listen to yer heart, Beathan," Griselda murmurs. "It knows what to believe in, even if ye don't."