Kilpara Page 13

  “My brother served in the New York 69th,” I said. “He was killed.”

  “My condolences.” The captain turned away disinterested and refreshed his drink.

  “Perhaps Mr.—er—Kineely could work in exchange for food,” I offered.

  “I have a full crew and don’t need any more help.”

  “Can you spare some food scraps then?”

  “If I do that for one, I'll have to do it for all them others.” The captain took a gulp of his drink. “We’ve got strict orders from The Company. No money, no food. Maybe it’s not charitable-like, but that’s what The Company says, and what The Company says, goes. This is a business, not a relief effort. I’m getting close to retirement and I’m depending on that pension. I ain’t gonna risk it for no bunch o’ nomads.”

  I could see I was getting nowhere. I surprised myself by saying, “Give the fiddler food. I’ll pay for it, and I want the doctor to look at the youngest child.”

  The captain sat speechless for a moment or two.

  “What d’you care about what happens to the fiddler?” he asked finally. “If he and his family die, there’ll be dozens more like them to take their place. Them Irish breed like rats.”

  “Just do it,” I said, disgust waving over me.

  I started toward the door when the captain said jeeringly, “Should I tell him who his benefactor is?”

  I didn’t turn around but spoke over my shoulder.

  “No, tell him the purser brought his predicament to your attention and this is a form of payment for entertaining the passengers.”

  The captain laughed contemptuously behind my back. “More’s the fool if the fiddler’d believe that. But he’ll take the food. Have no doubt about that.”

  That evening I stood on deck as the music below sounded more exuberant than ever. Trista joined me. “Your mother is asleep,” she said. “The sea air tires her out.” She leaned over the deck. “They’re in rare form tonight. They’ll get rowdier the closer we get to land.” She was smiling and there was such brightness about her eyes that I couldn’t resist touching her face. She didn’t pull away immediately. Instead she took my hand and said, “Com' on, let’s join in.”

  The fiddler had lost the blank stare of earlier; his eyes were now alight with happiness. His newfound energy showed in his music. His wife stood rocking the youngest child in a dry blanket. The older one danced among the grownups. A woman took his hand instructing him, “This way Hughie, this way.” The boy smiled and followed her directions. He looked over at his mother and sick baby brother. “Look at me, Mammy,” he said. “Show Ruairi.”

  His mother laughed and turned the baby in the direction of his brother.

  “Look Ruairi,” she said. “Look at Hughie.”

  As before, Trista moved quickly while I tried to keep up with her. Before long, the man who had danced with her previously got her attention. He swung her into a group and they danced the Haymaker’s Jig.

  I slipped away quietly from the onlookers to the upper deck and listened to the music strain upwards. After a while Trista joined me.

  “You left,” she accused.

  “Yes.”

  Strands of hair had come lose and her face was flushed from exertion. I touched a strand of loose hair and let it slip between my fingers, then began stroking her neck. Trista gently removed my hand and looked at me intently.

  “I can’t give myself to you, Ellis,” she said softly. “You’ve not got nary the feeling for me that you have for that horse of yours.” I was surprised by her words and moved back slightly. She touched my cheek and smiled shyly. “I'm flattered that you find me attractive. You intimidate me. You’re so rich, so fine. I’m not your people. Your kind lives in mansions with servants, my kind lives in hovels and depends on each other for whatever happiness we make for ourselves.”

  She dropped her eyes. “You might desire the likes of me. Might even coerce me into your bed. But you’ll never love me.”

  “I may never love any woman. I’m fond of you, won’t that do?”

  “It’s not the same. Someday you’ll meet the one you’ll have feelings for—then you’ll know the difference.”

  She kissed me firmly on the lips. “We’ll always be friends, Ellis O’Donovan. But we can’t be lovers unless you say you love me.”

  I had lied to many women, even to Astelle in the heat of passion. I wanted Trista, enough to say the appropriate words. But they would be empty and she would know it.

  In the days that followed, seagulls hovered above the ship. Their numbers increased as passengers threw tidbits of food into the water. This sight was followed by tree limbs floating on top of the water. On the morning the lighthouse was spotted with its blinking beacon, hoorays went up from the crew and passengers. People stood on deck, watching emerging shapes and buildings on the coast of Ireland grow larger and more distinct. When the pilot boats left the mainland to come out to meet us, Trista ran excitedly to mother and cried, “We’re here Mrs. O’Donovan, we’re here.”

  Mother smiled and joined her hands in thanksgiving.

  CHAPTER 10

  The ship moved slowly into Galway Harbor and lurched to a halt, creaking and moaning against the long stone pier. Deckhands jumped ashore to assist the ground crew that struggled to wrap heavy ropes around stone pylons and secure the ship. We moved toward the exit, and in the foreground I saw multi-colored buildings hugging the bay with green fields stretching out beyond. The seaport appeared small, the landscape desolate compared to harbor activities in Hudson Bay with its pronounced tall industrial buildings in the background. Even so, the sight of land and habitation was welcome after weeks at sea.

  When our turn came to descend the gangplank, deckhands came forward to assist Mother in her wheelchair. At the bottom, we searched for Sadie Burke among the happy faces ready to welcome the sea-worn travelers.

  She appeared out of the crowd, a small woman forming an impressive figure. She moved erect, hands muffled inside wide sleeves and tucked under her bosom. A long rosary with large beads and a heavy cross dangled like a sash from the waist of her black habit. Her face was soft despite her age, and her hair lay hidden beneath her headdress. A few light brown strands tinged with gray had found their way out from under the rim.

  She bent down close to Mother’s face, kissed her cheek then stroked it tenderly. Her hands found Mother’s and she clasped them tightly. “Ann, dear Ann,” she said in a voice that matched the tenderness in her eyes. “It’s been so long—so many years.”

  “Sadie...” was all Mother could say, her voice trembling.

  “It’s all right, Ann dear.” Aunt Sadie squeezed Mother’s hands. “I’m here. I’ll look after you.”

  Drawing her eyes away from Mother, she turned to Trista and me. “Thank you, Trista,” she said. “You’ve done a wonderful job looking after my sister.”

  Trista smiled. “My pleasure, Mother Superior.” It was obvious the nun’s praise meant a lot.

  Aunt Sadie looked at me, her smile broadening. I could almost feel her heart swell with love and emotion. “You’re Ellis.” She held out her arms and embraced me. Then she stood back and appraised my face with an intense gaze. “We meet at last. Image of your mother, so you are. Only like your father around the mouth—and the jaw. Ah yes, I remember that jaw.” She touched my cheek. “Welcome to your homeland. I received a letter from Dan only yesterday that said you were bringing along a er—horse—”

  “Brazonhead,” I said. “A present.”

  “Yes, right, Brazonhead. He’ll be taken straight away to Saint Bridget’s.”

  “He’s our gift to you—” I faltered, unsure how to proceed. “He was Father's most prized thoroughbred.”

  “Yes, how thoughtful,” Aunt Sadie said, her puzzled eyes trying to grasp the significance of bringing Brazonhead to Ireland. It was obvious she wasn't sure how to treat this unusual gift. “That's very nice, very thoughtful indeed. He'll be well cared for at Saint Bridget’s and Mercy Hospital. You
'll ride him, of course, to make sure he gets exercised.” Her voice turned apologetic. “I'm afraid we don’t have riding horses at St. Bridget's, and coming from America, I know you must love to ride. You and er—Brazonhead can explore the countryside. Get to know your home.”

  Taking hold of Mother's hands again she said, “The convent and hospital are not far from here, just on the other side of town. But we won’t risk the bumpy roads for a day or two. Not until you get your land legs back. Meanwhile I’ve arranged for accommodation at the Traveler’s Inn.”

  She turned to a couple of men and several novices she had brought along and briskly gave orders. Mother’s face began to visibly relax in her sister’s presence. They had not seen each other in many years, yet time and distance had melted away the moment they were together again.

  The manager at the Traveler’s Inn showed us to our rooms and placed a couple of his best workers at Aunt Sadie’s disposal. My room appeared large after the tight quarters on the ship. The wallpaper was dated but the mattress on the heavy bed was firm and the sheets and blankets were scented. Acrid-smelling dark brown briquettes burned in the fireplace giving off blue-orange flames.

  While Aunt Sadie and Trista settled Mother in her room, I went outside and walked around. Seagulls flew in circles ever watchful for scraps of food. A soft breeze gently swayed the luscious green grass, back and forth. I continued down to the pebbled beach and watched as waves rolled ashore and wiped the sand clean. I felt myself an outsider on this island three thousand miles away from home.

  There was a saloon in the hotel and for want of something better to do, I went inside and ordered a drink. Idly, I watched two men dressed in dark tweed suits, one tall and thin with a curled mustache, the other short and portly. They left the Tea Room that was visible through open glass doors and strolled, canes swinging, toward the bar. Several cultured ladies dressed in bright summer dresses and wide-brimmed hats remained behind, seated around a table, drinking tea from porcelain cups and snacking on dainty sandwiches and petit feurs from dollied tiers. The men leaned against the bar facing each other within earshot of where I sat.

  “Where do you suppose Arthur got this horse—this—Pandora is it?” the tall thin man asked. “More importantly, how could he afford her? Everyone knows his finances are in dreadful shape these days.”

  “I heard he had a run of good luck in a card game,” the short portly man said. “He's insisting the mare is quite a runner, hopes to make back some of his fortune in tomorrow’s race.”

  The tall thin man frowned. “For that horse to show up, now of all times. Damndest thing.”

  “Arthur Purcenell’s a braggart,” the short portly man responded with a laugh. “We’ll know soon enough if Pandora is as good as he says.”

  The tall thin man nodded his agreement, but persisted, “For him to get that horse now. Just when I had him right where I wanted him.”

  “I shouldn't worry too much. It's ridiculous to think his mare can beat Black Knight.” The short portly man gulped his drink and his companion did likewise. They left the bar and sauntered back to the Tea Room.

  I watched them take their seats among the women. Something amusing must have been said for they all laughed. The group departed shortly afterward. I had just arrived in Ireland and already I had heard Purcenell’s dreaded name, the very name that had haunted my parents all their lives and shaped their destiny.

  Giggles came from inside Mother’s room when I left the bar to check on her. I knocked on the door. Trista was out of uniform and dressed in a plain blue peasant dress, her slim neck exposed, smooth and inviting. She sat reposed in a big chair by the bed, smiling broadly. Aunt Sadie sat beside Mother on the bed, against a wall of pillows, their hands still clasped together.

  “Ellis,” Mother said, “I was telling Sadie about Stonebridge and when you were all little.” Her eyes shadowed as she turned to Aunt Sadie. “I wish you could know Dan and Mark and their families. They are such fine men and they married caring women.” She began coughing, prompting Aunt Sadie to move quickly into action.

  She massaged Mother’s back, speaking softly, “Take your time, Ann, dear. It’ll pass soon enough.” The coughing began to ease and Aunt Sadie said,” Remember how you love salmon, Ann? Well, I’ve requested a wonderful dinner, the likes you’ll never find in Maryland. It’s Corrib salmon, covered in hollandaise sauce, with roast potatoes, steamed carrots, and a good Irish trifle for dessert.” She smiled at Mother. “Trifle was always your favorite.”

  “You’ve the memory of an elephant,” Mother said, regaining composure. She patted Aunt Sadie’s hand.

  “You took charge of us when we were little,” Aunt Sadie said. “It’s my turn now. I get to be boss. I’m ordering you to rest before dinner.”

  “Tyrant,” Mother said, and what was meant to be mock anger sounded more like relief.

  Watching Aunt Sadie take control of Mother in this easy manner, I marveled how effortlessly she shifted into the role of caretaker. She did it so naturally that Mother accepted it in a way she never would have consented to it from us; her children.

  Aunt Sadie and I went to the Tea Room, leaving Mother in Trista’s care. We sat at a small table by a long window that looked onto well-shaped lawns with flowerbeds. Garden tables were mostly empty now that the afternoon sun had moved behind clouds.

  “Changeable weather in Ireland,” Aunt Sadie said. “Sunshine one minute, clouds the next.”

  “The doctors say Mother’s disease is in advanced stages,” I said, hoping Aunt Sadie would confide her opinions. “The voyage did her good even though they said the crossing would be too much for her.”

  Aunt Sadie didn’t answer right away. She stared out the window, her face devoid of emotion.

  “I know this disease,” she said, turning to look at me. “I've examined Ann and I know exactly what stage it’s in. There’s so little time to make up for all the years we’ve spent apart.” She smiled sadly, reached over and patted my hand. “But then, I’m getting to know you, my own blood. Your mother says you have your father’s ambition and her practicality.” Humor crept into her voice. “A deadly combination, to be sure. A contradiction of sensibilities; desire for adventure restrained by a sensible mind. You’re fortunate to have had them for parents,” she amended gracefully.

  I didn’t meet her gaze, but concentrated instead on the warmth of her wrinkled hand still covering mine. I was momentarily at a loss for words.

  Trista came into the Tea Room, bouncing lightly as she moved toward us, hips swaying, making the heavy linen swing provocatively around her ankles. She halted beside Aunt Sadie, the familiar smell of scented soap drifting about her. “My father is here to take me home, Mother Superior,” she reported.

  “Have a good visit, Trista. I’ll expect you back at the hospital in a fortnight?”

  “Yes, Mother Superior. I left Mrs. O’Donovan sleeping.”

  “I’ll look in on her shortly then.”

  Trista turned to me and curtseyed. “Goodbye, Mr. O’Donovan,” she said, her eyes lowered.

  I wanted to laugh at this formality that was expected in front of my aunt. I stood up and bowed. “Goodbye, Miss Joyce. I shall look forward to seeing you again soon.” Trista raised her eyes slightly, and noticing my aunt’s gaze was averted, she winked.

  “Goodbye, Mother Superior,” she added quickly, and almost ran out of the hotel.

  After Trista left, Aunt Sadie and I resumed our conversation. I talked about my father, my brothers, and life in Maryland. “Such brave and courageous men,” Aunt Sadie said. She looked at me kindly. “Your father's coffin will be kept in vigil at one of the side altars at St. Bridget's Chapel. Until such time as—”

  I looked at her all-knowing face and nodded.

  “There's something else I must tell you and there's no easy way to say it.” She knotted her hands tightly together and her next words were laced with frustration. “After I got the news Ann was coming home and of her dying request, I paid a
visit to Lord Purcenell. I told him she wished to be laid to rest in the O’Donovan cemetery. He laughed at me, said Kilpara belonged to the Purcenells, now that the O’Donovan’s had no claim to burial there, to go talk to the parish priest—he’d find something suitable for her in the church graveyard.”

  She looked at me anxiously. “I waited awhile then approached him again, even convinced myself I had caught him by surprise before. I was sure he’d view my request more favorably once he adjusted to the notion. I begged him again to allow my sister and her husband to be buried at Kilpara, promised him it would be a very quiet matter, and that we wouldn’t create a disturbance. But he was more adamant this time around. He told me never to come back again or he’d set the dogs on me. By then it was too late to send a letter to Ann. I can't tell her. She’s come all this way and to have her heart broken like that— You won’t say anything, will you? It wouldn’t be good for her right now.”

  “I won’t,” I said, my blood already rising from indignation. I wanted to pound my fist on the table. Damn, how could this happen? In an attempt to control the impulse, I rose and walked over to the window. Aunt Sadie didn’t follow me but waited quietly to see what I would do or say next. As I tried to calm myself, I wondered what monster of a man Purcenell was to object to a simple burial in an old graveyard once owned by former Kilpara landlords.

  “I should talk to him, impress upon him to understand,” I said, returning to the table.

  Aunt Sadie held up a hand. “Mention the name O’Donovan and he’ll shut the door in your face.”

  “He must be reasoned with,” I responded firmly.

  “I’m sorry, Ellis. He’s made it very clear he won’t hear any propositions from O'Donovans. You'd be wasting your breath.” Aunt Sadie rose and patted my hand. “It breaks my heart to have to tell you this news. We have time yet; we must pray to God for guidance.”