Kilpara (27 page)

I had forgotten about Gully, sure that he and
his friends were occupied in the small pub not far from the
Traveler’s Inn. He could have challenged me and made things
uncomfortable. So why hadn’t he? Did he hope to blackmail
me?

“
And?” I prompted.

The little man beamed. “I guessed ye were
trying to get Purcenell into a race so ye could win Kilpara back. I
have to say, I admire ye, sir. Ye took an awful chance, almost set
yourself up to get mobbed. People ‘round here don't take kindly to
strangers that lie. But if I say so meself, ye lie as convincingly
as anyone I’ve ever seen. Sure you’ve a right gift for the
gab.”

I frowned and Gully continued
quickly.

“
Who would’ve dreamt it, an
O’Donovan reclaiming Kilpara. This’ll give people ‘round here
something to cheer about. Get rid of that pompous boasting fool,
Purcenell.” He rubbed his hands in glee. “Still, he’s a far better
cry than the Sloanes. They’ve no sense of the people at all, those
ones.”

I didn’t pursue this discourse but went
instead to Brazonhead’s stall and opened the gate. Brazonhead came
out and nudged me.

Gully picked up a pitchfork and threw down
some hay. “The O’Donovans always treated the people fairly,” he
said. “They took good care of us. Not like these implants that
raise rents whenever they please and throw people out of their
homes.”

“
The O’Donovans lost Kilpara. They
were squeezed out by the British. The people suffered
regardless.”

“
True kinsmen, the O’Donovans
were,” Gully protested, ignoring me. “Sure, weren’t they forced
into exile? Suffered themselves, rather than put more burden on
their poor countrymen. And your grandparents reduced to that small
cottage. The elder Purcenell was worse than the present one.
Jeered, your grandfather, he did, and treated people beneath him
like dirt. He would’ve done worse if he hadn’t feared them. A
coward of a man, so he was. Had to beg the Crown to protect him
against his own tenants; and they did at first. But then, they told
him to manage his own affairs. 'Do what ye have to, to control the
Irish bastards,' is what I heard they said. Many's the time people
thought about quietly murdering the old man.”

“
What I proposed back there is a
long shot,” I said. “You do know that.” Saying the words made me
realize how desperate I had become.

Gully surveyed me from head to toe. “We’ll fix
that. Anyone can see you’re no jockey. Still, ye have the element
of surprise. Purcenell has never seen Brazonhead. He’d take a
different view if he had, and the way ye ride. You’re a team if
ever I saw one. I’ll teach ye a few tricks. There’s an unused track
near here that’s similar to Ballybrit. Ye can run Brazonhead on
that so he’ll be familiar with the feel of the ground. Pity you’re
so tall; and heavy.”

He went outside and began unhitching the
horses from the carriage. I stood looking after him. I had held
back telling him that no matter what the outcome, I didn’t intend
to keep Kilpara. I just wanted to possess it long enough to get
Mother her wish. After that I was returning to
Baltimore.

I put Brazonhead back in his stall. That night
I dreamt of running along the beach with Morrigan and feeding ducks
by the stream called Kilpara River.

I was finishing breakfast when a grim-faced
Aunt Sadie came in and sat down.

“
Is Mother all right?” I
asked.

“
She’d like to see you after
breakfast,” Aunt Sadie responded. “She’s very industrious this
morning. But I'm here to talk to you about another
matter.”

I gave her an innocent look, which didn't fool
her.

“
Gully Joyce believes I have power
over his soul, that I can damn him to hell,” she said. “He's
terrified of the thought, so his conscience prompted him to come
and see me with an extraordinary story about a plan to win back
Kilpara.”

Silently, I cursed Gully Joyce for his
superstitious streak, his belief that Aunt Sadie could pardon evil
and reward goodness.

“
He asked me to have a chat with
God about some race,” Aunt Sadie said. “I made him tell me
everything. He said you wagered a large sum of money
on—umm—Brazonhead to race against Purcenell’s horse. This is
irrational, Ellis. You could get hurt, and lose a lot of money as
well. Call this whole thing off. Please.”

“
And do what, Aunt Sadie?” I said
levelly. “I haven't made much progress with Purcenell and time is
running out. Even if I did manage to talk to him, you said yourself
he probably won't listen. There's a real good chance he'll throw me
off Kilpara when he learns I’m an O'Donovan.”

“
It’s a lie, Ellis. No good ever
comes from lies.”

“
And how far has the truth gotten
us? Nowhere. Yes, it’s a risk. But what other way is there?
Tackling Purcenell’s pride. His vanity. That works!”

“
Ellis, you can't profit from
tearing another man down. It's sinful, so it is. If you do win,
have you thought about the consequences, and your responsibility to
the decent people of Brandubh? They're simple and trusting. They’ll
blindly put their lives in your hands because you’re an O’Donovan.
If you get what you want, have you thought about them when you
leave to go back to America?”

“
Whatever happens, Aunt Sadie,
they'll be better off than they are now.”

“
I know you mean well, Ellis.” Aunt
Sadie put her hand on my arm. “There’s so much you don’t
understand.”

“
My concern is to make sure Mother
and Father are buried at Kilpara. After coming so far, I won’t
settle for less. It’s all that matters.”

Sadie squeezed my arm. Without saying another
word, she left and walked rapidly toward the convent.

I stood, staring after her for a long
moment.

I went along to Mother’s room. Her appearance
was improving at last after the shock of visiting her family home,
but she still looked fragile. She didn’t let this deter her,
however, as she dictated to a young nun who sat by her wheelchair
quietly writing.

“
I’m asking Dan and Mark to come to
Ireland,” Mother said.

I let my surprise show.

Her gaze filled with longing. “I’ve made a
terrible mistake, Ellis. I thought letting you boys watch me die
was the worst thing I could ever do to you. It’s taken a look into
the past to realize I was wrong. You and your brothers should
decide for yourselves how much you can bear. I’m telling them
everything about this illness and the realities that go along with
it. I’m letting them know how bad it’ll get and what precautions
Sadie must take to protect both them and me as I get worse. They
can choose for themselves if they want to come to
Ireland.”

It had crossed my mind that her words were a
prelude to discussing my return home. I recalled how emphatic she
was at Stonebridge and again on The White Lady that I go back home
immediately. I had managed to avoid the subject since our arrival
and had several excuses ready if she broached it. I knew I wouldn’t
leave her and it gladdened my heart when she continued.

“
Are you in a hurry to go back
home?” The question sounded like a plea.

I took her left hand in mine. “No, Mother, I'm
not.”

She squeezed my hand. “Good. I've suggested to
your brothers that they hire an overseer to take care of the farm
for a few months, should they decide to come to Ireland.” Tears
blurred her eyes. “I never should’ve left Stonebridge, the way I
did. I thought I was sparing them—their families—you—from the
dreadful consequences of this illness. I didn’t want you to go
through what I did with my mother, to be haunted by those same
painful images. Mother’s death hung over me all my life. I never
wanted you to experience that agony, especially after everything
you've been through with your father and Francis. I thought that by
coming here I could at least spare you that. I want to make
amends.” A fit of coughing overtook her and she released my hand.
The nun quietly stood and held her shoulders until it was
over.

I waited. Tears edged down her cheeks. Gaining
control she said, “I know Marian and Sarah can’t come with your
brothers. The children need them. At least my grandchildren won’t
witness my deterioration. They’ll remember me how I was. When
they’re old enough to understand, Dan and Mark can explain
everything to them.” Her gaze became pensive. “Perhaps I’m selfish
to expect Dan and Mark to leave their families, but I want my three
sons here with me when I ease from this world.”

I nodded. “They’ll come, Mother. We’ll be
right here with you.”

We sat without speaking after that. Sadie had
been right. The visit to the family homestead had brought about a
change in Mother. She had come to terms with her past in a way that
would never have happened at Stonebridge. Seeing her old home after
so many years had dulled the painful memory of losing her mother
and allowed her to examine its effect more clearly. Somewhere in
her discovery, she opened herself up to her own family. She was
allowing us to face this illness with her, if we wanted, and to
share its burden. We were going to work through the separation of
death as a family.

“
I’m not going anywhere, Mother,” I
said quietly. “And I’m sure Dan and Mark will find a way to be
here, too.”

She patted my hand. “That would be nice.
You're such good boys and I've made such a mess of
things.”

“
You were only trying to protect
us. Let us help you now.”

Gully Joyce was trotting Brazonhead around in
circles outside the stables when I arrived there next
morning.

“
Getting him loosened up for the
race,” he greeted me when I joined them. “These exercises will
help. Let’s run him this evening and see how he does.”

The man had obviously made himself my
self-appointed trainer. In different circumstances I would have
resented his assumption, but since he’d been a jockey once and was
knowledgeable in matters concerning racing and racecourses, I
accepted his help gratefully.

Nodding my consent, I borrowed one of the
convent horses to ride on the beach. Cantering at an easy pace, I
faced the reality of my chances of winning against Pandora. If I
had the good fortune to succeed, I would become the temporary owner
of Kilpara until after Mother—until after she— My throat tightened
thinking of Mother. Kilpara was her past, but it would never be my
future. The best I could do would be to return the estate back to
Morrigan and her father, adding certain provisions for Brandubh’s
tenants.

I thought about Dan and Mark and tried to
imagine their reaction to mother’s invitation. Would they leave
Stonebridge and come to Ireland? I wanted badly to talk to them, to
tell them everything that had happened in the short time since our
arrival.

I was so engrossed in my thoughts that I was
almost upon the fair-haired figure standing in shallow water before
I realized it was Morrigan. Her skirts were hiked up and her hands
were buried beneath the water. She laughed softly at something
below. Seeing her, I was immediately mesmerized, forgetting about
Mother, Kilpara, my brothers.

She looked up, shielding her eyes with her
hand. As I drew closer, a welcoming smile spread across her face
that warmed my heart. I dismounted and she came out of the
water.

“
Hello, Ellis,” she said, letting
her skirts drop over wet legs.

“
I didn’t mean to disturb you,” I
said.

“
I was amusing myself in a silly
pastime, one I’m sure you’d find childish. Her voice was full of
amusement.

“
What is it?”

“
Take off your boots and socks,
roll up your pants, and I’ll show you.” I must have looked
surprised for she laughed. “Unless you care to go into the water
fully clothed.”

Curious now, I obeyed her command. With pants
rolled up to my knees and my feet bare, she took me by the hand and
led me into the shallow water. I felt the smallness of her palm in
mine, its smoothness, its softness, her touch. Low waves murmured
past us.

“
Look,” she said, as schools of
tiny fish swam about our legs.

“
What are they?” I
asked.

“
Minnows. See how they swim close
to the sandy bottom in schools, like families. And watch.” She
walked between them. They went through and around her legs and
rejoined on the other side. “Watch this.” She bent down and laid
her hands on the sand beneath clear shallow water. She waited. When
the small fish swam her way, she cupped one. “See,” she smiled,
opening her hands, and the tiny fish that wasn’t more than an inch,
squirmed on her open palms. “Poor little fellow won’t last long out
of water. They’re harmless and amusing to watch.” She put the fish
back in the water. He wriggled, seemingly confused at first then
swam off with purpose.

She looked at me. “You try.”

“
Looks easy,” I said. It couldn’t
be any harder than catching crawdads in the Wern River. But I was
proven wrong. Each time the small fish swam by, I tried to snatch
one. They managed to slip between my fingers or through my
hands.