Kilpara Page 9

Maureen tried to smile. “Everything’s fine, Pa. I'm just happy to be going home.” We started toward the carriage and she linked her arm in his. Her show of guilt for running away was becoming overdone, just enough for Seamus to begin to doubt her contriteness.

  At each utterance, his eyes fastened on me, his elf-like body stiff. Social boundaries contained him from stepping up to me and demanding to know outright if I had disrespected his daughter. He was ready to challenge me, if there was even a hint that I had behaved less than a gentleman toward his daughter or had caused her any disrespect.

  It was easy to surmise what had happened after he discovered she had followed me to Baltimore. His first impulse would have been to come after her and fetch her back, but he would have consulted Eileen first. In her usual sensible way, she would have told him Maureen was in safe hands with me. Fetching their daughter home would just delay her from running away again. Best to give her a few days to get the silly notion of going to the city out of her head, then reckon with her when she returned. Besides, I could keep the girl busy helping me prepare for my departure. If Seamus had insisted I was a bachelor and expressed doubts about my conduct, Eileen would have laughed at his concern and defended me, declaring faithfully that I was honorable. Finding it difficult to convince his wife to bring Maureen home, Seamus had likely quelled his fears, a decision he possibly regretted now, as he looked from me to his subdued daughter.

  It was a fine spring day, the air fresh and clear, as Seamus lifted our belongings onto the carriage. Maureen insisted on riding on the dickey and invited me up beside her. It was her way of apologizing for being unresponsive to my attempts at conversation since Baltimore.

  Seamus relaxed considerably when I pulled myself up beside them. If I were nursing a guilty conscience, surely I would have chosen the interior instead. Maureen flashed me one of her old smiles, and I felt lighthearted. So much so, that once we were out in the open countryside, I began singing the Irish songs Mother had taught me. Maureen looked surprised at first, and then smiled. This was followed by a wider, happier, smile. She relaxed, inhaled the clear air deeply into her lungs and let it out slowly.

  We trotted mile after mile toward Stonebridge, bathed in the freshness of rejuvenated countryside. The scent of budding apple blossoms filled the air and had a heady effect. Birds of all types and colors flew into the open, chirping loudly, voicing annoyance at the loud clopping hooves and crunching wheels on the rough road.

  I felt affected by it all, why I wasn’t sure. It was like an elixir. I sang even louder causing Seamus to look at me in bewilderment. He removed his cap in puzzlement and scratched his head. He must have concluded my airiness was in response to the news that Mother showed improvement since I had left, for he suddenly gave in to the temptation to join in songs about his native country. His voice merged with mine, sounding gritty and off-key.

  —That heart keeps its faith like a fast flowing river

  Which gushes forever and sings on its way

  I have thoughts full of peace for his soul to repose in.

  Were I but his own wife to win and to woo—

  Oh! Sweet if the night of misfortune were closing

  To rise like the morning star, darling, on you.

  Maureen and I looked at each other. She grinned. Here on the silent, open road Baltimore was receding into the past and the threat of Shanley was losing its grip. This thought encouraged me, and I put my arm around her shoulders pulling her close. Seamus was quick to notice, his voice turning upward, becoming shrill. Seeing him frown, we pulled apart and sat primly throughout the rest of the journey.

  The sun had begun its descent when we arrived at Stonebridge. The blue sky turned orange, casting red-tinged rays on the horizon. Trees that were thin-leaved only ten days earlier had become full and deeper in color.

  The horses, sensing they were about to be relieved, quickened their pace.

  Eileen ran toward us as soon as she saw the carriage appear. She hopped around anxiously until Seamus brought the horses to a halt.

  “You’re late,” she accused, as we descended.

  “Aye, that we are,” Seamus said, offering no explanation. The servants appeared and took our luggage into the house.

  Eileen held out her arms, coaxing her daughter into an embrace. Maureen, tears filling her eyes, relented to the safe harbor of her mother’s bosom. Reassured that she had come to no physical harm, Eileen pulled away, and holding Maureen at arm’s length, spoke sternly. “Why did ye do it, child? Why did ye run away like that? You know ‘twas a terrible thing ye did, scared the living daylights out of your poor father and meself. What were ye thinking? To up and follow Master Ellis, without nary a goodbye. ‘Bout broke our hearts, so ye did.”

  Emotion overcame Maureen and tears rolled down her cheeks at the sight of hurt and worry in her mother’s face. I handed her my kerchief.

  “I’m sorry, Mams. I wanted to see someplace different besides Stonebridge. I just didn’t think...”

  “Aye, nary ye did. If it was getting away you wanted ye should've said so. We would’ve arranged something for ye, instead of going off and doing this foolish thing.”

  Maureen wiped her eyes and stared at the ground. “I know, Mams. I’m sorry. It wasn’t diversion I wanted; I thought I wanted to leave Stonebridge. For good.”

  Eileen stiffened and became still as a statue, not a muscle moved. When she found her voice she said, “Did ye hear that, Seamus? Did ye hear that?” Seamus nodded with a dumbfounded look on his face. “Why Maureen, why would ye want to do that?” Eileen put both hands on Maureen’s shoulders and for a moment I thought she was going to shake the girl.

  The confusion in Eileen’s eyes, sounded in her voice. “Haven’t we given ye everything you ever needed, child? What more could ye want?” She turned to me, anger flashing in her eyes. “T’is all your doing, Master Ellis. Coming home in your fancy clothes, with your fancy city manners, and turning your nose up at everything simple and decent. All caught up in those fashionable vices in the city so you are. Turned an innocent girl's head...”

  She looked back at Maureen. “That’s what enticed ye, isn’t it, Maureen? It was Master Ellis, and his fancy ways. Wasn’t it now?”

  “Eileen—darlin’,” Seamus said. “Don’t go getting carried away so. Maureen hasn’t taken a preference to the city.”

  Eileen stopped at the sound of her husband’s voice.

  I looked at her without speaking. “Don’t admonish me with those eyes of yours, Master Ellis,” she said. Her tone was impertinent but the confusion in her face had begun to clear.

  “Mams, it’s not El—er—Master Ellis’ fault,” Maureen said. “It was all my own doing. I went to the city because it’s so gloomy here at Stonebridge. I was afraid you’d try to stop me if I told you, that you’d make me stay and marry some old farmer.”

  Hearing the unhappiness in their daughter’s voice, Seamus and Eileen looked at one another with saddened expressions. “We know things haven’t been right at Stonebridge for some time, but we’d never make you do anything ye didn’t want to, girlie,” Seamus said, softly. “You’ll never have to marry any man ye don’t want to.”

  “Of course not,” Eileen agreed. “I couldn’t bear it if ye were miserable. That's not to say ye shouldn't consider every proposal carefully, especially if the man has a good disposition. But in the end you’ll do your own choosing.” She pulled her daughter back into her arms.

  When she straightened she said, “It’s famished ye all must be. There’s plenty of cold meat, cheese, and bread. Let’s go inside and I’ll have it ready for you in a flash.”

  She smiled at me apologetically. “The Missus is waiting to see ye, Master Ellis. I'm sorry for delaying ye. And for—for—” Her voice faltered.

  “I understand, Eileen,” I said. Maureen moved beside me, found my hand and squeezed it.

  I left Maureen, Seamus, and Eileen to their reunion and made my way to Mother’s room. A prim and patient Trista Joyce let me
in. She had been brushing Mother’s hair and continued with her task. I sat on the bed and took Mother’s hands in mine. She looked slightly better than when I had left her. There was color in her face and she had applied cosmetics in an obvious effort to appear healthy. I was moved by this and filled with an urge to pick her up and set her in healing waters. If only there was such a thing.

  Her eyes lit up with genuine happiness. “I’m glad you’re back, Ellis.” Was there a hint of doubt in her voice?

  “My trunks are on their way to New York,” I said.

  “Good. Eileen and Seamus have been busy all week arranging the same.”

  “Maureen was a big help. She organized everything.”

  Mother’s tired face looked anxious. “The girl did come back. Didn't she?”

  “She did.”

  “I don’t understand why she followed you to Baltimore, the young hussy. Too defiant for her own good. Needs a good talking to, giving Eileen and Seamus fits like that.”

  “How’s your strength, Mother?” I asked, changing the subject.

  “Better, much better. Dr. Thompson is pleased enough with my progress to approve the journey. The man is a tyrant though. Made me agree to check into the hospital in Hagerstown for an overnight stay. Then again in New York, before we set sail. He went so far as to send Sadie a letter telling her that I must convalesce when we arrive in Galway. As if she needs reminding.”

  “It won’t be easy,” I said, weighing each word. “The roads are rough and the sea can be dangerous. It’ll be a difficult journey even under the best of circumstances.”

  “I have Dr. Thompson’s permission,” she replied fiercely.

  I wished there was something I could say that would penetrate her willpower, but I knew there wasn’t. A deep sadness settled over me and I contemplated what Stonebridge would be like without her. I thought how empty the house would feel without her presence here to welcome me when I returned for those rare visits home. Growing up, I had always managed to gain strength and confidence from this place where my memories lived. Where my parents had greeted each other every day and dealt with whatever problems came their way. Where their decisions were influenced by a past that preceded their life here, and where their love nurtured those around them. These walls and the land spoke of their lifetime struggle together, an era that was destined to end. The responsibility for Stonebridge was passing into my brothers’ hands and mine.

  Silence lay heavily between us, broken only by the ominous ticking of the clock. There was no need to speak, for she knew I had yielded to her immovable determination. An unexpected little cough came from Trista Joyce, who then announced it was time for her patient to rest. Mother and I bade each other a cheerless goodnight. Reluctantly, I went to my room where Eileen had set out a cold supper.

  The next morning, I found Mark in the Great Room. The sun had already risen with promises of another nice day. Outside the large windows, everything was coming alive. Jasmine served coffee and filled plates from dishes on the sideboard. Maureen had obviously been excused from duty to rest after her journey. Mark pushed his plate aside, ran his hands over his face, flattening red hair back off his forehead. He looked across at me.

  “It’s really happening, isn’t it, Wiz?” he said. “She’s going to do it and we can’t stop her.”

  “I wish we could,” I said helplessly.

  “How do you prepare for death anyway? You love someone all your life; they’re part of every fiber of your being. Then one day they’re not there anymore. It’s a wonder we ever love anyone at all.”

  “Death shadows life. It’s something we live with.”

  “Do you believe in Heaven, Wiz? Do you really think we have souls and there’s a place we go after we die? Or do you suppose it’s all conjured up to help us deal with the inevitable pain of losing our loved ones?”

  I had heard this same torment before in Mark's voice when Father and Francis died. I had witnessed the naked agony he suffered after he had brought Francis’s battered body back from the war to Stonebridge to be buried. The pain of that journey and the war itself had etched lines in his likable features that reminded me so much of Father. Now as we spoke, he grew haggard before my eyes and looked at me with undisguised longing for reassurance that I could not offer.

  “I don't know if there’s a Heaven,” I said. “Life may be all there is, and we have to make the most of it.”

  “Mother believes in Heaven,” Mark said. “Father and Francis did, too. Do you suppose Mother’s afraid to die?”

  “If you believe in Heaven, I’m sure it makes dying easier. I don’t think Mother’s afraid. I just wonder if she’s ready to leave everything behind. No one ever is I suppose. Too many loose ends.”

  “Going to Ireland is not the answer.”

  “It's not. But it’s where she and Father began their lives. She’s convinced she wants to end hers there.”

  Mark ran his hands through his hair again. “Do you really believe that, Wiz? That Ireland’s where she’ll find her final peace?”

  I shrugged. “I don’t know. I only know I’m being forced to take her there, and I don’t want to.”

  “She shouldn't go. She should stay here with us to the end, the way it was with Father. I still miss him. And Francis.”

  “Yes,” I said, “—and Francis.”

  CHAPTER 7

  A lot of whispering and wondering was going on at Stonebridge during the next few days. Mother forged ahead with arrangements. The strain of leaving was telling on her, yet she remained stubborn in her decision. I noticed grave looks in Dr. Thompson and Trista Joyce’s eyes. The progress Mother had made during my absence seemed to be ebbing away. Dr. Thompson called Dan, Mark, and me together to prepare us.

  His face solemn he said, “I know you boys don’t want your mother to undertake this journey any more than I do. But right or wrong, her mind is set. You all know how dangerous this endeavor is. She may never see Ireland. But pray to God she does.” He threw out his hands and sighed. “If only she wasn’t so stubborn and listened to my advice. All I can do now is to give her medicine that will ease her discomfort...” He shook his head, acknowledging our helpless looks. “Try to be strong. What lies ahead will be difficult for all of you.”

  With only two days left, the lawyer arrived to disclose the contents of Mother’s will. Dan, Mark, and I were summoned to her room. We entered in solemn reverence. Her face was filled with anguish, her breathing coming in uneven rasps. Her hands shook as she welcomed us. There was pity on Dan and Mark’s faces as they listened soberly to the monotonous tone of the lawyer who read out Mother’s last instructions. Stonebridge was to be divided equally among all three of us. Eileen and Seamus were to spend their remaining days in the house if that was their desire. There was fifty acres each for Maureen and Seán upon their marriages. Rengen would keep his house and the few acres around it. Compensation for the other workers was to be decided jointly by Dan, Mark, and me.

  An uncomfortable silence followed when the lawyer finished speaking. He asked if there were any questions and if all the terms of the will were understood. We nodded. Satisfied we were in accord, he closed his attaché case, bid us good day, and departed. After he left, Dr. Thompson ordered us out of the room.

  “She’s too sick to travel,” Dan said, when we entered the library. He fingered the rim of his hat, a sign that he was trying to decide something.

  “I’ve said everything I can think of to try and persuade her,” I said, “but she won’t budge on this.”

  “She’s getting worse,” he said, laying his hat on a chair and fixing drinks. “As the eldest, I should demand that she stop this whole Ireland nonsense.”

  Mark shook his head in disagreement. “Remember what Dr. Thompson said. It’s the only thing keeping her going. If he can’t persuade her it’s too risky, how can we?”

  “What if she doesn't make it,” Dan said. “What if the end comes somewhere in the middle of the ocean? We’re being denied our pro
per good byes.”

  He paced the floor, his eyes wandering around the room. “I remember when Mother and Father used to come in here to sit and talk. Even now this room feels like them: their voices, their laughter, their disagreements, the door that slammed on more than one occasion.” Dan looked at us with a half grin. “They always made up because they couldn’t stay angry at each other, even when Mother swore she’d never speak to Father again.”

  “Remember how Father used to say Mother couldn’t stay mad at him for very long,” Mark said sadly. “She tried giving him the silent treatment but that never lasted long. Father showered her with compliments to break down her resolve. If that didn’t work, he tried jokes, then singing. Mother couldn’t hold out against his singing. It was so bad. She’d give in and he’d dance around gleefully, declaring he was irresistible, which always brought a smile to Mother’s face. Fact was she got tired of his pestering. But Father was right. She couldn’t hold on to her anger.”

  I smiled as I thought about those times. “They really did love each other,” I said. “I’m beginning to understand why she wants to take Father back with her. She won’t be parted from him. Ever.”

  “They were united in life, I expect that’s how they want to be in death,” Mark said. “But not in Ireland. Here—at Stonebridge. That way they’ll still be with us in a sense.” He slammed his hand on the desk then turned away. I knew he was fighting back tears.

  Dan rubbed his forehead. “God knows, I want them here, too, Mark. But something stronger than us is pulling at Mother and I don’t know how to change that.”

  The next day passed in hushed sadness as nervous anticipation hung over the household. Two coaches were being readied for the journey, one of them stocked with pillows and bedding to ease the ride for Mother. We were due to leave the following morning at sunrise.

  Dan and Mark went to Stile Valley. Work helped to take their minds off Mother. I took Brazonhead out and galloped through the countryside to relieve my tension. Once more I stopped by the fields where Lilah worked. She saw me and came over to the clump of grass where I had reined in Brazonhead. Cocking her head to one side to avoid direct sunlight, she looked up at me. “Youse be leaving us, Mast’r Ellis.” She laid her hand on top of mine where it rested on Brazonhead’s neck. “The strength of your ancestors be guiding you. Only the mistress’ body be dying. Her spirit’s still with you. In your heart “