“He was falling in love with me – as simple and as complex as that. It isn’t something that would have done him any good. I should have ended it sooner, but it was such a pleasant thought and I felt so good when I knew he was nearby. Still, I should have been stronger. My nerve failed me. Now I’ve done it – I’ve ended it and it is better this way,” Ailís said as the sleepless nights suddenly caught up with her.
The Hagan never stopped looking at Ailís, but the older woman’s face softened somewhat. “Tell me no lies, girl. Do you love that man?”
“It isn’t as simple as that…”
“It is every bit as simple as that. Now answer the question. Do you love him and be quick with your answer.”
“I will only answer that I won’t love him,” Ailís said and defiance entered her eyes and set her mouth.
“You will let fear kill your chance at love? You will let your heart grow small and cold? You will deny yourself what you deserve.” Moira stepped closer saying, “Don’t do this. I made the choice you are making and I have asked myself why every day of my life since.”
“I have no choice.”
“Ah, but you do. Life is full of choices. Let us hope that you are given another chance to choose a different path. I have traveled the one you are on now and I can tell you that you will not enjoy where it takes you. No one ever has.”
***
Sean Maher and Mayor Cahill came to visit the saint of Cappel Vale, but the saint seemed to be in no mood for visitors. Julian said, “Enter,” as his guests approached the station door.
Mayor Cahill approached Julian, “You’re famous my boy. Ach, and isn’t it your fame that will be spreading quick as that?” The mayor snapped his fingers and looked pleased.
“Meaning?” There was a snarl in Julian’s voice and Sean detected it immediately.
“Me meaning is a simple one. There is a story unfoldin’ here in our little village and we are sore in need of a good story that draws in visitors.” Julian’s eyes narrowed and Sean went on a higher state of alert.
“Why, there is danger and intrigue, hearty stalwarts like our friend Maher here. There is the handsome, valiant stranger and,” Cahill said with a wink, “yon fair young widow with her charmin’ child. Oi’m tellin’ you all the elements are…”
Julian rose quickly from the bench by the fire not feeling the pain the movement caused and crossed to the mayor’s chair faster than Sean could react. Julian placed his hands on both arms of the chair and leaned in close enough to smell the hard boiled eggs and cabbage on the man’s breath. Sean rose slowly and Julian stilled him with a look.
“Listen to me Cahill, you can say what you want about me, about this village and its people. Tell the story with accuracy or make it up out of whole cloth. I don’t care. I will say this as plainly as I know how; mention the doctor and it will be a story that will be remembered always because it will be the last story you ever tell!”
“Julian!” Sean said. He had never seen his friend upset by anything. He wasn’t upset now, he was murderous.
“Have I made myself understood to you, Mr. Mayor?”
“Perfectly your honor,” Cahill stuttered and swallowed hard trying to get his breath. “Oh, my, look at the time will you. Sean, it would seem we have stayed over long. Shall we?” Thomas Cahill, with eyes pleading for any sort of rescue, turned to Sean Maher.
“As you say, Thomas, perhaps we should be taking our leave.”
Julian returned to the bench by the fire as Sean Maher and Thomas Cahill left in silence.
Chapter Twenty-seven
Julian walked slowly to Moira Hagan’s house with the help of a cane Father Fahey had loaned him. He rapped sharply at the door and heard her call his name in welcome.
“It is good to see you up and around. Sitting by yourself in the dark only leads to freezing out your friends and threatening mayors it seems,” Moira said.
“I’m here to work,” was all Julian said.
“No, you’re not. You are here for revenge. The question is on whom, eh? Do you have an answer to that?”
“The men who did this to me won’t catch me unaware again. Now, will you help me or not.” Julian framed it as a statement rather than a question.
“Ay, I’ll help you, but I’ll not stop questioning your motives.”
***
Bobby McMaster’s lips twisted into a cruel snarl. Dunla, Brendan Maher’s dog, was tied to the tree outside the schoolyard as Sister Eugenia had instructed. The nun wanted Bobby McMaster to have no more excuses.
A blanket had been laid in a hollow between two tree roots and the dog was content to wait for her master. She was protected from the wind on three sides and could easily keep the schoolyard in view. Her coat, lovingly brushed every morning and every night glowed in the dull sunlight. Dunla had no reason to fear Bobby McMaster, but she was alert to his movements.
Without warning McMaster reached into his jacket pocket and hurled a large lump of coal at the dog. She raised her head in reaction and dodged the first rock only to move into the path of a second projectile. It caught her right eye and Dunla yelped. Bobby McMaster stepped closer to the stricken dog as she tried desperately to escape the tether that held her fast to the tree and her attacker.
McMaster, smiling and laughing, now let loose the third and largest of his lumps of coal that he had taken from the coal scuttle at school. The piece struck Dunla in the ribs and she fell to her side. McMaster moved in picked up the same rock now covered with blood and fur and smashed it into her side repeatedly until she moved no more.
***
Brendan heard Dunla’s yelp across the noisy schoolyard and began to run. He vaulted the rock fence and ran quickly to his dog’s side. Her fur was matted with blood and her tongue lolled limply from her mouth into the dirt.
With infinite care Brendan removed the rope from her neck and gently picked her up. Tears coursed down his cheeks as he ran to the doctor’s house. He kicked at the door and Dr. Dwyer answered quickly. She assessed the situation quickly and led the way to her examination room where Brendan lay the dog down.
“Please! Save her, please. Doctor, please.” Brendan managed to get out through strangled sobs.
Ailís Dwyer was not unaccustomed to dealing with animals. She took out her stethoscope and listened carefully.
“I need you to step outside, Brendan. Do it now” she said.
“No, please” he managed to say between gasps for breath.
“Yes, Brendan. I need room to work.” She ushered the boy to a chair in the hallway as Timothy ran into the house and up the hall. “Stay with your friend, Timothy. He needs to keep out here.”
Ailís closed the door and moved to the examination table. She knew immediately that the dog was beyond anything she could do. She touched the animal’s side and felt the broken ribs.
Dunla shifted her head slightly, exhaled once through her nose and died.
Gently the doctor began to clean the wounds where bits of bone protruded. Pressing them back under the skin, she began suturing and covering the stitches as best she could with the surrounding fur. The eye lay against Dunla’s muzzle. The doctor replaced this too, cleaned the area and stitched the eye closed.
Dr. Ailís Dwyer sat on the stool and patted the soft fur of Brendan’s best friend and softly she began to cry. She ached for the emptiness Brendan would feel when she had to tell him that she had done everything she could, but that Dunla was gone. She threw back her head and tried to suppress the sobs that shook her shoulders over her own losses.
The examination room door opened and the doctor stepped out into the hallway. Brendan and Timothy stood there, but any flicker of hope disappeared when the boys saw the doctor’s face.
“Brendan…”
“Oi know” the boy said simply. Tears welled in his eyes. “Thank you” he stammered. Brendan walked past her into the examination room, lifted Dunla into his arms and settled her for the last trip they would take together. He came into the
hall and both of the Dwyers bowed their heads as Brendan passed. Timothy moved to follow his friend, but Ailís stopped her son.
“Let’s give him time.” They walked to the front door slowly and looked up the dusty street in time to see Brendan Maher disappear into the woods west of the village.
“Thank you for trying. Oi know you did your best,” Timothy said. “But Oi need to go.”
Ailís nodded her head and let go of her son’s shoulders.
Timothy took off at a run, not in the direction Brendan had gone, but toward the police station and Julian Blessing.
***
“Come quick, Mr. Julian. There has been a murder!” Timothy shouted.
“A murder – who, where? Let’s go.” He grabbed up his cane, but hadn’t made it as far as the flagstones leading to the road before he stopped, clenched his fists and shut his eyes tightly. Timothy looked back in alarm when he heard a strangled cry escape from between Julian’s clenched teeth. “Please God, not that!”
He sighed in resignation as he watched the scene unfold. He fell to his knees in the dusty road, covered his eyes and wept. The sobs shook him as he witnessed Dunla’s death.
He felt Timothy next to him and knew the boy’s jumble of emotions. Julian reached out, and drew the boy to him. He was still kneeling in the street,
From the doorway of her practice Ailís watched the scene unfold before. She felt his heartache as Julian reached out and drew her son to him. She witnessed the man she loved and the child she adored.
Still on his knees, Julian wept until he had no more tears left to give.
Leaning on Timothy, Julian made the best progress he could. His ribs ached and burned with each step. They reached the tree and silence pervaded the area. The schoolyard was empty and the school was hushed.
Julian saw the three lumps of coal and picked up the smallest of the three. The coal dust came off on his hands and he brushed them on his pants as he surveyed the place of Dunla’s execution – in his mind, there was no other word for it.
In that moment he felt it, he watched it happen again in more detail. And he saw clearly Dunla’s executioner. And he saw more, much more.
Julian picked up the dog’s blanket and covered the bloody ground. After kicking the three stones under the blanket, he looked down at his hands and at Timothy standing beside him looking expectant. Coal dust permeated the crevices of Julian’s still raw hands.
“Timothy, go back to class and tell your teacher you were helping me. Tell her I will explain later.
Julian stayed near the tree and let the scene play out until he was able to stop it. He entered the school and knocked lightly on Sister Eugenia’s classroom door. Puzzlement crossed her face as she opened the door. Julian followed the nun inside. The smell of sweaty children was pervasive in the closed, overheated space and Julian wondered if smell had always been the same throughout time.
He cupped his hand and whispered into the nun’s ear. She turned her head and looked at him. His face was set and his eyes were ablaze.
“Bobby McMaster. Come here. Now.” Julian’s voice was level and low.
“McMaster! Are you somewhat hard of hearing?” Sister Eugenia barked.
Julian’s eyes locked on to those of Bobby McMaster. The boy’s eyes never wavered and the sneer never left his lips. Julian looked into the boy and what he saw frightened and sickened him.
“Come here, boy,” the nun said and McMaster rose, pocketed his hands and shuffled to the front of the room. Julian pulled the boy’s hands from his pockets. Coal dust was etched deeply into both hands and under his fingernails.
“What does this mean, Mr. Blessing?” the nun asked. Julian only answered with another question.
“Warm day don’t you think, Sister? Too warm for the likes of Mr. McMaster here to be wearing a coat indoors.” Julian grabbed Bobby’s jacket and pulled it open, pinning the boy’s arms to his sides. His shirt was spattered with blood. The class gasped collectively. Gwyneth Kirby looked terror stricken. Next to her sat the empty desk of Brendan Maher.
“He used lumps of coal to stone Dunla to death while she was tethered to a tree.” Julian said simply and without triumph.
Bobby McMaster broke away from Julian and the nun.
“Yes, Oi did it and Oi’m glad the bitch is dead. Oi’ve had orders from an important man. More important than you’ll ever be. Oi’d do it again, orders or no. You should’ve heard her whimper!” McMaster called out as he ran from the room laughing.
***
When Julian came out of the school Sean Maher was kneeling in the dirt under the tree where Dunla died. He had called for a rake and smoothed the dirt taking care to cover the dog’s blood. He had picked up her blanket, folded the stains to the inside and set it on the nearby stone wall that partially surrounded the schoolyard.
Julian expected his friend to have a lethal anger, but such was not the case. He felt a sadness beyond words tighten around Sean Maher’s heart.
“Timothy told me Brendan went into the forest. Have you seen him?” Julian asked.
Sean shook his head no.
“Let’s give it awhile and then we’ll go look for him. It wouldn’t be good for him to be on his own tonight, you agree?”
Again, Sean Maher nodded his head.
“We’ll have a pint and then we’ll go looking, alright?”
Sean didn’t trust himself to speak. He just nodded again and followed Julian to O'Gavagan's Pub. Once inside Sean stood at the bar looking straight ahead unaware of the murmured condolences the other patrons offered.
These were farmers, men who understood the value of a working animal. Dogs were just another farm tool, nothing more and nothing less. But to these men, Dunla was more, far more because Brendan Maher was far more.
Sean continued to stand, unmoving. His beer sat on the bar untouched. A deep sigh escaped him before he said, “Tell me Julian, how does this happen? What power makes monsters and puts them among us? And a child, how could a child be so twisted.”
“It is an illness, Sean. That’s all – an illness.”
“Oi won’t accept that. A wee creature that never did anyone any harm and brought nothing but joy and companionship to me boy – and you say an illness snuffed out its life? The ability to do that sort of thing just happens without warning?”
“No, it doesn’t just happen. Someone with this sickness builds up to it and it goes on building and growing with increasing violence. People like this need help.”
“’Increasing violence” is it? Ending the life of an innocent creature in so brutal a way isn’t enough? Is anything ever enough for a disgusting little bastard like that? And what help is there that will ever make ‘em right? Tell me that, Julian. Tell me there is a way to mend someone who would do such a thing?” With tears in his eyes Sean Maher faced his friend and said, “Please, Julian, for the love of God, tell me.”
Julian seemed lost in thought for a moment before he touched his friend’s forearm. Julian knew he couldn’t speak the words. His words soundlessly entered his friend’s mind.
Sean looked startled and confused, but Julian stilled his friend’s thoughts.
“Shhhhh, hush, feel the words.” Julian thought and paused. “Please believe me, Sean, if there was a way I could change any of this I would. If I could reach in and take this sorrow from you and from Brendan, I would gladly take it on myself and I would never say a word.
“There is no sense to be made of any of this. Bobby McMaster is a monster as you say and I do not believe there is any way of ever repairing him. I believe his is an illness from which he will never recover. I don’t know if prison is the answer or a hospital is a better place. All I know is that he must be placed somewhere from which he will never be released and from which he can never escape – not just because of this, but for the crimes that will surely come.
“That boy will become a man and his sickness will grow just as surely as he does. He is not someone that you or I will ever understand. He nee
ds to inflict pain. He needs to cause and then observe agony. He places no value on the lives of others beyond their ability to feed his hunger to inflict suffering.
“I lied to you in the hope that I could relieve your anguish. I told you the boy needed help as though such help was available. I don’t believe it is. He suffers from something that puts him far beyond redemption.
“But you and Brendan and me and all of us have in one way or another been changed by this brutality. We will live and grow. It has made us sadder, but it will in all likelihood help us to become more human while Bobby McMaster will become less and less so until he is gone altogether.
“He is a great sadness, but he is not someone to be pitied. Neither is he someone to be hated. Emotions of any sort are wasted on him. We must work out a way to identify and protect ourselves from the Bobby McMasters of the world and that we will do.
“Now let’s go find Brendan and bring him home. He needs to be with his people.” Julian said aloud.
Sean continued to stare at his friend, comforted by the words and confused by how he came to hear them in his head. At last, he said, “And his people need to be with him.”
When they turned to leave, all the other patrons rose and shuffled to the door. By the time Julian and Sean made it outside there were twenty stalwart, silent men standing outside O'Gavagan's. With a nod given and acknowledged, the group moved off into the forest west of the village and began their search for Brendan Maher.
***
The searchers swept the wood thoroughly and found no trace of Sean’s son. If the boy had been there once, he was not there now and the dispirited men returned to the village as the sun set and darkness settled on Cappel Vale.
Julian’s face mirrored the pain his injuries still caused him. He found himself leaning heavily on the borrowed cane. Stopping to catch his breath, he wiped his forehead with his hand. It was a cool day, but Julian felt hot and tired. His muscles cried out for a hot shower and a chance to rest.
Echoes Through the Mist: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 1) Page 25