A Dance in Donegal

by Jennifer Deibel

Bríd shifted in her seat and shook her head slightly.

  “Oh.” Moira drew the word out, gathering her thoughts and trying to decide what to ask next. “Almost everyone in town is giving me the cold shoulder. I saw one of my students today—the sweetest little girl—and her mother just about dragged her away from me as though I had the plague.”

  “Well . . . as far as they’re concerned, ya do.”

  “What?” Moira clanked her teacup down harder than she intended. “What are you talking about? The plague?”

  “Steady, lass.” Bríd laid a soothing hand on her shoulder. “Have ya heard about the Spanish Flu epidemic that tore through here not too long ago?”

  “Yes. Sinead said something about that. My neighbor succumbed to the dreadful disease as well. I hadn’t realized it had been so bad everywhere.”

  “Ya have to understand, Moira, folk are still recovering from that. Not physically, of course, but emotionally. We lost thousands in County Donegal alone.” She refilled their tea. “Families were torn apart when they lost husbands, wives, children. It was awful.” Bríd’s stare brought a poignant pause to her story. “And the death was only the half of it. The treatments were often worse than the illness itself as doctors reverted to the auld ways in a desperate attempt to bring some modicum of relief.”

  Moira’s tea sat untouched, her bread forgotten. “That’s terrible.”

  Bríd nodded, drawing a long drink of tea.

  “But . . . what does that have to do with me ?”

  “Moira, dear, don’t ya see? If Áedach is in as bad a way as folk say, it could mean the Spanish Flu has returned. You’ve been spending extended periods of time with the lad. Touching him. Cleaning him.” She paused, her eyes searching Moira’s. “They’re terrified of it happenin’ again. They won’t do anything to risk exposin’ their children.”

  Moira slumped in her chair, unable to hold back the tears any longer. “Those poor people.” Her stomach churned. “I never dreamed that helping Áedach would put anyone but myself at risk.”

  “Tsk! ” Bríd retrieved a fresh hankie from her own sleeve and offered it to Moira. “Listen, pet,” she continued. “Ya have to do what the Laird directs ya to do. Ya also have to be willing to accept the consequences of yer obedience.”

  “That sounds funny, ‘the consequences of your obedience.’” Moira offered a weak smile. “But I suppose you’re right. I don’t want to put anyone else at risk, but I can’t ignore what God has clearly told me to do.”

  “So, it’s decided then.” Bríd raised her teacup high as though toasting. “Ye’re to keep on doin’ what the Laird told ya, and He’ll bring the kiddies back when it’s time. Sláinte.”

  Moira followed suit, raised her cup, and finished the last of her tea with a confident gulp.

  Chapter 35

  The sun had just slipped below the horizon when Moira arrived at Peg’s house. She could barely make out the glow from the windows in the murky dusk. As she approached, the terrible sound of coughing sprang from the bungalow. Fear paralyzed her as accusing thoughts accosted her at every turn.

  Bríd was right, and now you’ve sent Peg to her death with your thoughtless plan. You’re going to kill the whole village before this is all over. The children are going to get sick and parents will watch their babies die because of Áedach—because of you.

  Moira stood outside the door, trembling and frozen with fear. How would she ever forgive herself if Peg succumbed to the same ailment as Áedach? She never would have been exposed if not for Moira’s asking for help.

  Finally, she could take the hacking, barking coughs no more, and Moira burst into the house, all thoughts of decorum abandoned out of concern for her friend.

  “Peg? Peg?” Her calls sounded more like the screech of an eagle than the voice of a friend. Breathless, Moira ripped her damp cloak from her shoulders, her fingers aching with the cold—the same cold ache of dread strangling her heart at the thought of losing her new friend.

  “Now, now.” Colm appeared from around the corner. “My Peg is a’right. She’s not got what the lad has, so ye can breathe easy. Wish I could say the same fer her though.”

  “Are you sure she’s alright, Colm? She sounds dreadful.”

  Colm’s shoulders shook. “Yer right aboot that.” He looked in the direction of the bedroom where Peg lay. “’Tis not the Spanish, Asian, Irish, or any other kind o’ flu she has, I assure ye. It’s the croup. She gets it with every spring damp.”

  Before she realized what she was doing, Moira wrapped the man in a hug. “Oh, thanks be to God.”

  Colm gently patted her back. “Yes, amen to that, miss. Amen to that.” Then he tenderly grabbed her shoulders and leveled her straight again. “But just ’cause Peg is sick, that doesna mean young Áedach will go unattended this evening. A cold night like this, he has need of a good fire, broth, and a caring hand more than ever.”

  Moira furrowed her brow. She didn’t disagree but didn’t feel comfortable going alone, particularly in the dark.

  “Come.” Colm beckoned her farther inside. “Warm yerself by the fire and have a cuppa afore ye head out.” He led her to an overstuffed wingback chair in front of the fire. A matching chair was opposite, and in it sat Sean.

  “Moira.” His eyes glowed in the firelight. They held an intensity she’d not seen before.

  “Good evening, Mr. McFadden.” She nodded and tried to smile politely. What was he doing here? Was he going to try to talk her out of helping again?

  “I asked Sean to come here tonight.” Colm pulled up a creepie between them. “’Tis clear Áedach needs nursin’, perhaps tonight more than ever. I canna go because Peg needs me here. When her coughin’ fits get goin’, she needs me to help with the steam and such.”

  “I agreed to go with you,” Sean added.

  Moira’s mouth fell open, and she rushed to shut it. “That’s very kind of you, Mr. McFadden. Very kind indeed, but—”

  “But nothin’,” Colm interrupted. “Ye canna go alone, and no one else will go wit’ ye. There’s no impropriety to the two o’ ye walkin’ in public. An’ Sean here’ll stay on the side of the rock wall opposite the lad’s place. He’ll hold the torch and keep watch fer animals and the like. He won’t breach the wall unless yer in trouble.” He stared hard at Sean. “Right?”

  Sean cleared his throat. “Em, yes. That’s right.” His posture softened and he slumped his elbows to his knees, his eyes boring into Moira’s. “I was wrong to be so cross with you before, Moira.” He took her hand in both of his. “Will you forgive me?”

  Heat rose from her fingertips to the top of her head. Her heart beat so loudly in her ears she wasn’t sure if he had said anything else. Next to her she could practically feel Colm grinning from ear to ear.

  “Yes, Sean, I forgive you.”

  Sean. He couldn’t remember the last time Moira had called him by his first name. A smile spread across his face. “Brilliant, lass.” He gave her hand a gentle squeeze and, though it nearly killed him, slowly released it.

  Colm smacked his hands together, jolting Sean out of his stupor. “Right, that’s settled now, so it is.” The old man rose and retrieved something from the mantel. “Peg’d had somethin’ a little different in mind for yer visit this eve, Moira. She hopes ye might be agreeable to carryin’ out her plan?”

  Moira straightened in her chair and brushed her hands across her skirts. “Yes, of course. What is it?”

  “She has all the trimmings for yer poultices and tea and such as usual.” He paused and looked slowly from Moira to Sean and back again. “After ye’re done with yer medicinal ablutions, she thought ye might read a bit o’ the Good Book to the lad.” In a slow, reverent motion, he handed a small, black book to Moira. The cover was cracked and worn, the binding of the pages precariously thin.

  Moira took the book from Colm as tenderly as if he were handing her a newborn babe. Her cheeks flushed, and she pulled the treasure close to her heart.

  “’Tis not a re
al Bíobla, o’course. Ye’d need a horse and cart to drag the family Bible down the road. This here’s an auld ledger that Peg took to writing passages and verses in.” He shook his head and stared off in the distance, as though he were looking clear into the past. “She said she wanted a way to keep the Book close, so she could always hide it in her heart. It never leaves her apron pocket—except fer tonight.”

  Moira gasped. “I’d be honored.”

  A strange feeling welled up inside Sean as he watched Moira’s face fill with awe as she thumbed tenderly through the pages. Had he ever held such respect for the Word of God? It had always been held in high regard, sure. But he strained to recall a time when it was as precious to him as it seemed to be to Moira in this moment. If his love for her wasn’t cemented before, it was now. He loved the girl, heart and soul, and asked God to help him treasure his faith like she did.

  “That’s lovely, Colm, truly.” Sean stood and headed to fetch his coat and Moira’s cloak. “We’d best be off before time escapes any further.”

  Moira rose and placed a tender kiss on Colm’s forehead.

  Dismayed to find a lump forming in his throat, Sean had to look away.

  “We’ll take good care of Peg’s book, Colm,” Moira promised. “You just take good care of Peg.”

  Moira met Sean in the entryway and turned, allowing him to help her with her cloak. He placed it over her shoulders, resisting the urge to kiss the top of her head, her cheeks, her lips.

  Steady now, lad. You have a job to do, and you won’t disappoint the lass again.

  “Shall we?” She looked up at him and pulled her cloak tight around her neck.

  “Yes.” He opened the door, welcoming the icy blast. “I believe we shall.”

  Chapter 36

  The air between Moira and Sean wasn’t awkward, as she’d anticipated, as they walked the road to Áedach’s hovel. She wondered briefly what her mother would think of Sean. She hadn’t expected to forgive him so quickly, but when she looked into his eyes and felt his hands engulfing hers, all frustration melted. She knew he had merely wanted to protect her. Truth be told, the sentiment only endeared him to her all the more.

  “Thank you for coming tonight.”

  “Ye’re quite welcome.” He stopped walking and turned to face her, keeping an appropriate distance between them. “I am truly sorry for trying to stop ya. I shouldna have let my concern for you silence my compassion for someone in need. I didn’t realize . . . I didn’t realize what it meant to ya.”

  “In earnest, I had my own reservations about it. Resistance, you might say.” She studied the outline of his face in the darkness, the firm line of his jaw softened by the mist and shadow. “What’s done is done, and now we move forward. Yes?”

  “Yes.” His voice was thick, and he ran a hand through his hair.

  She continued down the path, hoping to break the spell of longing he had seemed to place over her. She ached to fall into his arms and let him promise her everything was going to be alright. Never before had she felt such things about any man. For any man. It both scared and delighted her. What scared her most, perhaps, was the thought that her growing affection for Sean would distract her from what God had brought her here to do. She would care for Áedach, yes, but surely there was more to why He brought her so far from home.

  At the same time, the idea of fulfilling her callings alongside a man like Sean filled her with giddy excitement and a deep sense of contentment she could hardly contain. The two schools of thought continued to war for her heart as the pair carried on toward Áedach.

  All was eerily silent when they arrived. Sean wedged the flashlight in a hole in the wall and offered her his hand to help her over.

  “I’ll be right out here if you need me.”

  Moira made her way to the makeshift door, rapped on the stone beside it, and entered.

  She made swift work of rekindling the fire, recalling her first attempts to recycle embers in her cozy chalet. At the time, she never believed she’d master the task, yet here she was.

  “How are we feeling today, Áedach?”

  Again, the lad appeared not to have moved at all since her last visit. Moira’s coat still lay across him, but his breaths seemed to come without quite as much work, which pleased Moira greatly. He didn’t fight her when she dropped the tea and carrageen infusion into his mouth, nor when she worked the poultice over his chest. Whether he was too weak to protest, too unconscious to notice, or welcomed the aid was unclear. But Moira was grateful for the ease of work.

  “Now, Áedach, I thought I’d read a bit to you, if that’s alright?” She moved closer to the fire for the light, taking care not to get Peg’s ledger too close to the flames. Unsure how to find any particular passage or verse, she opened to the first page, and her heart sank. It was all written in Irish. In the dim firelight, she noticed English words in the margins, scrawled as though written very quickly.

  Clever, Peg. Thank you.

  She ran her fingers over the words, wondering what had prompted Peg to begin this holy undertaking and why she had chosen to start with this particular passage.

  How awful that I had not thought to bring God’s Word to the boy.

  Shame and embarrassment flooded her soul. The all-too-familiar guilt sidled up to her once again, whispering her failures and ripping holes in her faith that God could—or would—use someone like her.

  There is therefore now no condemnation to them which are in Christ Jesus. The words floated into her heart like a cool breeze on a hot day.

  Moira wasn’t perfect. She probably should have thought about reading Scripture to her patient. However, Peg had, and now Moira was here, truth in hand, and she wasn’t going to squander the opportunity any further.

  Please, God, let Your words fall on open ears.

  She cleared her throat and began, “‘The LORD is my Shepherd; I shall not want.’” Her throat tightened and tears slid, unbidden, down her cheeks. How long had it been since she’d opened her own Bible? The words were fresh water to her weary soul. Taking a deep breath to steady herself, she continued.

  “‘He maketh me to lie down in green pastures: he leadeth me beside the still waters. He restoreth my soul: he leadeth me in the paths of righteousness for his name’s sake. Yea, though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil: for thou art with me; thy rod and thy staff they comfort me. Thou preparest a table before me in the presence of mine enemies: thou anointest my head with oil; my cup runneth over. Surely goodness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life: and I will dwell in the house of the LORD for ever.’”

  Moira closed her eyes, letting the truth wash over her anew. She refreshed the poultice and set about a final round of ministrations for the night.

  “You know, Áedach, it’s all true. Everything I just read. You’re in the valley of the shadow of death right now.” She dipped the poultice in the water, squeezed out the excess, and began to pat again. “You may yet be on the brink. Only God knows for sure. But you don’t have to fear the evil any longer. I don’t know if you can hear me . . . but if you can, think on those things you’ve heard in the meantime until I return. Let Him comfort you.”

  She studied his closed, unmoving eyes. His chest rose and fell with greater ease, but his skin was still dreadfully hot and the color of ash.

  Oh, Lord, let him be well—so he can know the truth.

  It didn’t take long for Moira to pack her things. She added more turf to the fire and tucked the coat around her patient. She stepped out the door, then paused and turned back.

  “Good night, Áedach. And God bless you.”

  Chapter 37

  The hour was late, and Moira’s bones ached when she and Sean arrived back at Colm’s to return the basket of medicinal items and Peg’s beloved ledger. They’d paused their journey only long enough for Moira to thoroughly scrub her hands and forearms, at Sean’s insistence.

  After one knock, the door swung open and Colm stood befo
re them, one eyebrow raised.

  “Well, back so early, are ye? I didn’t expect to see the likes o’ ye again this night.” His expression seemed a mix of doting father whose son had been out too late and genuine concern for the reason they’d been on a mission of mercy.

  “We came to return your things . . . Peg’s things.” Moira held out the items.

  “Tsk, tsk! Ye just hang on ta those, now, pet. It’ll be a few days yet afore my Peg is ready to venture back into the world o’ nursing, and ye don’t want ta hafta be coming back here every day.” He shook his head and gently pressed Moira’s hands, and the items in them, toward her. “Now, ye’ve had a long evenin’, I’d wager, and ye’ll be needin’ yer rest. I trust ye’ll get the lass home safe?” He turned his gaze toward Sean.

  “What? Oh, yes. I’ll make sure Moira is home safe, and then it’s off to me own place. I’ve a full day of work tomorrow, and my master has no patience for lagging on the job.” Sean winked at Colm. The interchange warmed Moira.

  “Safe home to ye both.” Colm tipped his cap. “I’ll give yer love ta Peg.”

  Sean motioned to the road with a grand sweep of his arm. “After ye, m’lady.”

  “Why thank you kindly, good sir.” She curtsied, and the pair started for her chalet. They walked along in silence. Every now and then Sean would take a breath as though he wanted to say something, but then he’d clamp his mouth shut and grimace slightly. Moira wouldn’t have noticed if she hadn’t been glancing his way every few steps.

  He fixed his cap, dropped his hands to his sides, and worked the back of his neck before finally placing his hands firmly in his pockets.

  “So . . . you believe the young man will survive?”

  Moira chewed her lip. “As I said when we left him, his breathing was much less labored than before, but his fever is still quite high. As far as I can tell, he’s still unconscious. I cannot know.”

  “Hmm. I heard you reading to him.”