Kilpara (4 page)

“
It’s absurd. Crazy. She wants me
to go with her, to take care of things. She’s
irrational.”

“
The doc says it’s the only thing
keeping her going. She always wanted to go back, Father did, too. I
reckon she figures it’s time.”

“
We have to convince her it’s
insane to go back to a country that robbed her and Father of
everything. She needs to stay here where she can get
better.”

Dan looked at me sadly. “She ain’t ever
getting no better. The doc says so. He checks on her every so
often, gives her medicine for the pain. It’s all he can
do.”

“
There’s got to be something, new
treatments, specialists—”

“
Won’t do no good.”

“
I can’t go along with this screwed
up mess. Everything’s falling apart.”

“
Yep,” Dan said, and mounted his
horse.

I did the same and we galloped back to
Stonebridge House in silence. We were unsaddling the horses when
Eileen came into the stables.

“
There you are,” she said. “The
Missus is asking for all three of ye. Master Mark is waiting
inside.” She frowned at my partially clad body. “Master Ellis!” she
scolded in the same tone she had used when I was a child. “You’ve
been in the river again.”

Brazonhead whickered. She frowned at him and
he had the good manners to bow his head in shame. “So it’s your
fault, Brazonhead, I should’ve known.” She turned back to Dan and
me. “Into the Great Room with ye,” she ordered. “Food’s getting
cold. And Master Ellis, get out of those wet things, so I can take
care of them.”

Dan and Mark were already seated at the long
dining table when I walked into the Great Room. I sat down beside
Mark, and Maureen filled a plate from silver dishes on the
sideboard, placing it before me.

“
So you’ve met Brazonhead,” Mark
said, slapping me on the back by way of greeting. “Nice going
little brother. You always were one to rise to a challenge. I see
you haven’t lost your touch.”

“
It was a struggle,” I admitted. “I
underestimated him.” I stopped, catching Dan’s intent gaze fixed on
the family portrait hanging on the wall facing us.

“
Brazonhead’s tricky,” Mark said,
not noticing. “Won’t let anyone ride him till they get the best of
him.”

I frowned at Mark who just laughed and
continued his bantering. He avoided the subject of Mother
altogether, but the seriousness of the situation showed when he and
Dan exchanged glances. They shared the same worried
look.

It wasn’t long before Eileen came in and
ushered us upstairs. Dutifully, we knocked on Mother’s door. It was
opened by a tight-lipped Trista Joyce who gestured us inside. She
quickly moved aside the moment I stepped into the room and peered
at me nervously from beneath downcast eyes.

Perhaps it was the daylight or maybe it was my
brothers’ presence that made Mother’s room appear less ominous
today than it had the previous evening. Heavy drapes were pulled
back, the window slightly open allowing fresh air and medicinal
odors to filter through Mother’s rose-scented perfume.

She had rallied enough to take great pains
with her appearance. Although her eyes and mouth were strained, she
looked happier, evidence of a burden lifted. She smiled at us
almost shyly and motioned us closer. Without hesitation, I sat
beside her this time, taking her hands in mine. She took a deep
breath and looked directly at Dan and Mark.

“
Ellis has agreed to accompany me
to Ireland,” she said. “We’re taking your father with us. It’s what
I want.” She looked uneasily at my brothers. “I know you disapprove
of my decision.”

“
Mother,” I began tenuously,
“perhaps you should get stronger first. Then attempt the journey
when you’re feeling better.”

Mother glared at me and tried to talk but
started coughing instead. Trista Joyce rushed to her side with a
basin. Mother coughed up phlegm, her face becoming flushed as she
tried to catch her breath. I steeled myself from recoiling and
sighed with relief when she regained control.

After resting a moment, she turned to look at
me again. “I don’t have much time,” she said soberly. “I want to go
home. Back to Kilpara, with your father. It's what we always
intended.”

“
This is your home, Mother” I said.
“Ireland was a long time ago, another lifetime.”

“
It was yesterday,” she emphasized.
“Stonebridge is your legacy. It belongs to all three of you now.”
She looked at each of us, in turn. “When I pass on, you’ll be on
your own, but never alone. Your father and I, though not here to
count on, will be with you through the life we provided for you.”
She paused, her breath coming quickly. We waited for her to speak
again.

“
I beg you not to see my leaving as
deserting the family,” she said, at length. “But as a return to the
essence of our being. It’s my deepest wish to see, one last time,
what sustained me throughout my life.”

“
But Mother…” I began. She raised
her hand.

“
Ellis, I will go, with or without
you. I want you to accompany me. Your brothers have
responsibilities. They have families—” Her unspoken words ‘that’s
how I prefer it,’ hung between us.

The effort of her words brought on coughing
again and Trista Joyce immediately to her side. I looked at my
brothers who looked back helplessly.

“
Mother, I’ll take you,” Mark
offered, agony in his eyes. Mother looked from Mark to
me.

“
You can’t, Mark,” she said. “You
can’t leave Sarah and young Erin by themselves, not with another
baby on the way.” She touched a portrait of Francis lying beside
her. “This land took his life. It owned him and it owns you, the
same way Ireland owns your father and me. Ellis, you
promised…”

I sat quietly, unable to find the courage to
refuse her. She took my silence for agreement and rambled on. Weak
as she was she was in control, setting everything in motion,
determined to say goodbye to a country that had generously provided
for her and her family.

I remained at Stonebridge one more day before
making the journey back to Baltimore. I spent an uneasy night, but
as the sun dawned, my mind had begun to take stock of Mother’s
condition. Despite her emotional rhetoric, I was resolved to make
her understand what she proposed was impossible. I went to her room
after breakfast silently rehearsing the words I hoped would sway
her decision.

I knocked on the door; Trista Joyce opened it
immediately. “Good morning, Master Ellis,” she greeted sweetly. Her
gaze met mine directly, her chin set in a determined manner as she
moved boldly about the room. This caught me off guard for I
expected the downcast eyes of yesterday, the nervous reaction
whenever I got close. I gathered she adopted this new attitude to
make it clear she was someone to be reckoned with, someone who
would not permit her person intruded upon. She needn’t have
worried; my focus was solely on Mother.

“
Good morning,” I replied sourly,
and immediately regretted not being more cordial. Trista had
managed somehow to get Mother into an armchair by the open window.
I let my surprise show, and Trista looked at me smugly.

“
Hello, Mother,” I said, pulling a
chair close. I leaned forward and kissed her cheek.

She stroked my face with weak fingers. “Isn’t
Trista taking wonderful care of me?”

“
She is,” I agreed.

“
I must get stronger—in preparation
for our journey.”

“
It's best not to overdo it,
Missus,” Trista cautioned.

Mother ignored her warning. “I’ve sent for Dr.
Thompson and asked him to stay at Stonebridge until we depart. No
doubt he’ll try to change my mind.”

Her words provided the opening I needed. I
sucked in a deep breath. “I’m sure Dr. Thompson will agree it’s an
enormous undertaking, Mother. Won’t you reconsider?”

“
Ellis, darling, please don’t
question any more. My mind’s made up.

“
But Mother, you’ll be leaving Dan,
Mark, their families—your grandchildren—behind.”

She sighed. “I know you think my decision is
heartless. But it’s this disease that has no mercy. It’ll take away
my dignity, force me into a sanitorium. It’ll be easier on your
brothers, and everyone, if I go to Ireland to your Aunt Sadie who
knows how to treat this illness.”

“
Your leaving will devastate us.
Stay. Let us consult the doctors here who are better than any
you’ll ever find in Ireland. We’ll take care of you at home. Engage
nurses. You’ll be well looked after. This journey, it’s difficult
even for a healthy person.”

Agitation clouded Mother’s face. She opened
her mouth to speak, but words strangled on her breath and she began
coughing. I quietly waited for her to continue.

At length she said, “There are no doctors
anywhere as knowledgeable as Sadie. She knows every stage of this
disease and all its consequences. I’d be selfish to stay here and
force your brothers and their families to watch me slowly die.
Believe me when I say I love you all more than life itself. This
decision is not fickle. I’ve thought about it long and hard. Please
try to understand and say you won’t deny me this one
favor.”

I opened my mouth to argue, but the words
melted on my tongue; I couldn’t refuse the naked plea in her eyes.
“All right, Mother,” I relented.

Relief flooded her face. “Thank you,
Ellis.”

I left her room defeated. Mother’s irrational
assumptions plainly outweighed any practical solution I could
offer. She had lured me into agreeing with her. Again.

I had to get out of the house, away from these
fortified walls pressing in around me like impenetrable prison
bars. I went to the stables and was pleased to find Brazonhead
unhappily stomping about in his stall. His ears forked at my
approach. When I opened the half-door, he snorted his displeasure
at his confinement. I offered him a handful of hay which he
crunched while I unhooked a saddle from the wall and placed it on
his back.

We rode out into the courtyard, pausing
momentarily to admire the springtime valley that showed signs of
rebirth. I glanced in the direction of my brothers’ houses unable
to bring myself to call on their families, deciding that they
weren’t expecting me anyway. They knew the seriousness of my visit,
Mother’s illness, and the dilemma I faced to overcome her
conviction to return to Ireland. I guided Brazonhead northeast
toward open countryside. He allowed me to ride him without
argument. I even imagined he was grateful I had rescued him from
his confinement in Stile Valley. We halted when I spotted Lilah in
the fields, spooning seeds into plowed rows from an apron she held
gathered in front. Seeing me she grinned her enticing grin and
moved toward me across plowed rows with the ease of a mountain
cat.

“
Mast’r Ellis,” she said, looking
up at me, her face damp from sweat.

“
Mother won’t change her mind about
going back to Ireland,” I announced. “I’m returning to Baltimore
tomorrow to take care of business. After that I’ll be back to carry
out her wish.”

Lilah smiled sadly. “When youse take the
mistress to her home, youse be gone a long time?”

“
I don’t know.”

“
It be the right thing to do,” she
reassured me.

A negro man had moved closer while we were
talking. He looked sidelong at us. The seeds he threw down missed
the furrows and landed off to the side. I frowned. He jerked his
hand as if I had slapped it.

Lilah followed my gaze. “That be him,” she
said.

“
Bring him over.”

“
Elibe,” Lilah called to the man.
He lumbered meekly to where we were. “This be Mast’r Ellis,” she
said.

I raised my hat slightly.

“
Pleased t’meet ya, Suh,” he said.
His gaze held steady with mine briefly before he lowered his eyes,
shielding a look that seemed to mask a deeper fear.

“
He be learning about being free,”
Lilah explained. She took his hand in hers and this seemed to give
him courage, for he grinned nervously. I nodded my approval. Lilah,
her hand still clasped in Elibe’s, started back across the ploughed
rows. Before they reached the other workers, Lilah turned and waved
goodbye. I waved back, then turned and rode away.

Toward evening, I rode to Stile Valley to be
with Rengen and my brothers. We sat idly around the campfire,
horses grazing lazily close by. This evening, as in the past,
Rengen was drawn into the flames, to his life of captivity, his
escape, and his eventual arrival at Stonebridge. His story grew
more profound each time he told it, like a myth purified with each
telling. It never grew monotonous, the details forever
crystallizing in his mind.

“
My shoes was all but broken away,”
he said, talking about his escape northward. “I been walking almost
on bare feet when I sees the barn next to the stables. It been
drizzling cold rain all day and by nightfall I’s feeling chilled,
tired, and mighty hungry. I climbed up into the loft and hid out of
sight, burying myself beneath the hay. I be so bone tired I’s not
seeing the big house.”