Torn Asunder

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Torn Asunder Page 30

by Renny deGroot


  Daniel nodded. “At least now I’ll be helping people. I should never have been in the infantry.”

  They talked quietly for an hour before Daniel stood to go back to his barracks. Once again, he shook Emmet’s hand. “I hope one day to make it up to you and your family.”

  Emmet shook his head. “Just look after yourself. Keep your head down.”

  Daniel took Bridie’s hand in his. “I intend to write to your daughter. Is that acceptable to you, Mrs. Ryan?”

  Bridie pressed his hand. “I’m sure we would all like to hear that you are keeping well, Daniel.”

  Elizabeth walked her son to the door. Bridie closed the parlour door to let them have their few minutes of leave-taking in private.

  Emmet and Bridie went up to their room a few moments later. In bed, Bridie reached for Emmet’s hand. “Thank you for your kindness to Daniel.”

  In the darkness Emmet held her hand. “I didn’t know myself how I’d react when I saw him, but it’s obvious he’s very upset by the whole business.”

  “Maeve will be glad to hear that you shook his hand. She’s very fond of Daniel.”

  Emmet snorted. “How did you and Daddy meet, Mammy? Oh, he shot me.” That’ll be a fine story to tell children.”

  Bridie exhaled a long sigh. “It may not come to that, what with one thing and another.”

  Emmet felt a pang when he remembered that Daniel was heading off to war. “No, perhaps not.”

  • • •

  Two days later Maeve was released from hospital. She was loaded into the back seat of the motor and tucked into one of the Carson’s down-filled duvets. She was still on medication, so they were barely on the road when Emmet saw in the mirror, her eyes droop and head nod.

  He glanced at his wife and mouthed the words: “She’s asleep.”

  Bridie nodded and smiled.

  Emmet spoke quietly as they drove. “Your Da will be glad to get his motor back.”

  “I’m sure he will be. They’ll all be home when we get there so he can drive it home himself. I think he’ll be even happier to get his granddaughter back in once piece.”

  Emmet nodded. “The boys, too.”

  They stopped in Dundalk to eat.

  Maeve had a bowl of beef-barley soup. “It’s grand to have something with flavour again.”

  Bridie smiled. “You’ll get no end of fattening up when we get home. Your Nana Ryan wants to bring a couple of chickens for roasting. I’m told they’re far better than anything we can buy at the butcher. Your Nana and Papa Ryan will be down at the weekend to see how you’re doing.”

  Maeve smiled. “I know I don’t deserve this pampering.” Her face over the table was suddenly serious. “Mammy, Daddy. I know we really haven’t talked about it, but I am sorry to have put you through all this.”

  Bridie shook her head. “Hush, now. You’ve said that already. There’s no need to be sorry. We’ll discuss it all through when you’re feeling better.”

  Emmet brushed a tendril of hair from his daughter’s forehead. “I’m hoping we can come to some plan for your future that doesn’t involve guns.”

  Maeve smiled and nodded. “I agree.”

  Emmet paid the bill. “Shall we go, ladies?”

  Maeve took his arm. “Yes, please. I’m aching to get home.”

  Chapter Forty-Five

  Dublin, June 1943

  Maeve made up her school work so that she finished the year with her classmates. She didn’t talk much about what happened, other than to say that she had been in the theatre with a friend when the shooting happened.

  Eamon approached her in the library one day. “You’re up and about again, then.”

  She smiled at his way of stating the obvious. “I am.”

  “I’m sorry I didn’t come to the hospital.”

  She shook her head. “It was best that you didn’t. Irene came, and we just told the police that we were simply there to see the show and got caught up in the fray. No one really questioned us too much about it.”

  He stood there, seeming at a loss for words. “I’m graduating and then I’ll be going to Derry for work.”

  She nodded. “I think it’s best that I give up the discussion group. Irene and I are friends, but I think we both have had enough of the other for the time being.”

  “Right. Well, take care of yourself.”

  “Yes, you too.”

  • • •

  One mild June evening Emmet took Maeve for a walk. She didn’t have the strength to go far, but they enjoyed short strolls together.

  They walked along arm in arm.

  Maeve waited until a train of three double-decker buses passed before continuing. “Did I tell you I had a letter from Uncle Liam?”

  He looked at her as they strolled/meandered along. “You didn’t. Is he still happy to be in America?”

  She smiled. “He seems to be. He’s working at the dockyards in New York City.

  Maeve was quiet for a moment and then she shook her head. “He belongs to something called the United Irish Counties Association. He seems to think that they can do great things for Ireland over there.”

  Emmet shrugged. “They’re very passionate in America and they seem to have loads of money, so if Liam thinks he can do some good there, I believe it.”

  She nodded. “He tells me that they’ve begun a big campaign called the ‘anti-partition campaign’ to highlight the division of the Republic and Northern Ireland.”

  “I’ve heard of it all right.”

  She smiled. “He told me there’d be lots for me to do if I went over there. He even suggested I could make some extra money singing. There’s a club called ‘The Four P’s‘ where he drinks and they’re in need of my voice to sing the old songs.”

  Emmet tilted his head. “You’re not thinking of going, are you?”

  Maeve laughed. “Daddy, I’m just trying to poke the bear. Is it working?”

  Instead of admitting she had made his heart race, Emmet snugged her hand against his side. “I’m very proud of you. You’ll do great things right here at home, using your brain.”

  She grinned. “Don’t worry. I’m not intending to get involved in anything that isn’t brain work in the future. I am thinking of politics, though.”

  He pressed her hand against his side again. “Am I walking beside a future president of Ireland?”

  She laughed. “Oh, Daddy. I think not.”

  “Why not? Anything’s possible. Women in Ireland have always helped to lead us.”

  She was quiet for a moment and then she nodded. “Anything is possible. I do believe that.” She stopped and turned to him. “Yes, you’re right. Why not? A woman president in Ireland is highly likely.”

  “How did you get to be such a clever girl?”

  “I had a very fine teacher. A man who taught me that being passionate about a cause is not a bad thing. I learned from an early age to believe in something and to stand up for my beliefs.”

  He looked down at her. “There was a time I thought that my beliefs had torn us apart as a family. I was afraid of what I had taught you.”

  Maeve was still as she stood facing her father. She pulled her hand free of his arm, so she could cup his face. “Daddy, I couldn’t have wanted for a better teacher. I am who I am because of you.”

  He felt his throat close. “And Mammy. I may have lost perspective at times. It’s Mammy who taught you to apply common sense.”

  She smiled. “Yes, and Mammy.”

  Emmet kissed her forehead. “You’re the best of both of us. Passion and perspective.”

  She fished her hand back through his arm and stood for a moment. They both tilted back their heads to look up at the rising moon, as they had done so many times before when she was a young girl. They stood in silence gazing at the night sky sparkling above and then she nudged him forward to walk on through the beautiful evening.

  The End

  Acknowledgements

  This book is the result that comes fro
m over forty years of listening to Irish ballads and stories. I have lived in Ireland and walked the streets and hills where these events took place. I’ve stood by monuments and gravesides of those who took a stand in the fight for freedom and heard their spirits whisper to me. These were my inspirations.

  To help me realize the inspiration, I am indebted to, in part, the following people:

  Barbara Kyle for the initial manuscript review and coaching (https://www.barbarakyle.com ), the Writers’ Community of Durham Region (WCDR) who provide such fantastic support and awarded me the Len Cullen Writing Grant to help fund my learning journey, Paul O’Brien for some research assistance, (http://www.paulobrienauthor.ie/), Jimmy Carton for authenticity reviews, Ruth Walker for her insightful editing.(https://writescape.ca/) Sharron Elkouby for yet another perceptive job (I’ve lost count how many projects this is now!) with editing and proofing, Shane Joseph (https://shanejoseph.com/) for steering me to my cover artist, Robert Scozzari for an amazing cover (https://www.inspiringdesign.ca/) and my family for always believing in me.

  As much as possible I have followed the actual details of historic events, except for the 1943 Commemoration of the Rising at the Broadway Cinema. There were no injuries reported during the actual event.

  Select Resources

  Coogan, T.P. Michael Collins Part 1. Arrow Books, 1991

  Coogan, T.P. Michael Collins Part 2. Arrow Books, 1991

  Dwyer, T.R. Eamon de Valera. Poolbeg Press Ltd., 1991

  O’Donnell, Dr. R. America and the 1916 Rising. An Phoblacht, 2016

  http://www.militaryarchives.ie/collections/online-collections/bureau-of-military-history-1913-1921/reels/bmh/BMH.WS1399.pdf#page=15

  http://www.1916rising.com/pic_battleashbourne.html

  http://www.theirishstory.com/2012/05/23/today-in-irish-history-the-burning-of-the-customs-house-may-25-1921/#.XbmkhXdFyBZ

  https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Gormanston_Camp

  https://www.historyireland.com/20th-century-contemporary-history/moral-neutrality-censorship-in-emergency-ireland/

  http://www.theirishstory.com/2017/04/16/preserving-the-spirit-of-the-movement-the-ira-the-broadway-cinema-and-the-1943-easter-rising-commemoration/#.XbnHCXdFyBY

  https://jeffreykwalker.com/a-terrible-beauty/

  https://www.ria.ie/library/about/services

  Song Credits

  Foggy Dew. Traditional

  Mother Machree. Ball, E and Johnson-Young, R.

  Poem Credits

  Ingram, J.K. “The Memory of the Dead” https://www.bartleby.com/246/214.html

  MacNeice, L. “Rugby Football Excursion”. Wikipedia.org, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Rugby_Football_Excursion

  Hopkins, G.M. “As Kingfishers Catch Fire”. Poetry Foundation, https://www.poetryfoundation.org/poems/44389/as-kingfishers-catch-fire

  O’Casey, S. “Drums Under the Window” Ireland Between History and Memory, http://archives.evergreen.edu/webpages/curricular/2009-2010/ireland0910/miscellaneous/poetry/drums-under-the-window/index.html

 

 

 


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