“A very nice man, a Mr. Pirrie, came to the kitchen, Liam,” Annie said, “and told us what a nice job we did with the food and drinks. He sincerely thanked us.”
“He’s the biggest wig of them all at Harland and Wolff, Annie. Ye didn’t know that? He’s actually a real person. He’s Lord Pirrie, as a matter of fact. He was Mayor of Belfast as well.” Liam smiled. “I like him.”
“Yes, I’ve heard of Lord Pirrie now that ye mention him. I don’t pay attention to politics. That’s him then?”
Annie went to bed after her good-nights, and so did Liam and Dolly.
~~~
Up in his bedroom with the door locked, Liam slowly undressed Dolly, the whole time kissing her. Then Dolly undressed Liam. He wanted the rest of the night to be better than it had been earlier. He felt it had improved greatly since his talk with his jealous Dee.
“Let me hold ye,” he whispered as he pulled Dolly to him in his nearly freshly made bed. “I understand it’s a tough thing for ye to believe ye’re lovable. But ye are.”
“It’s that I’ve never lived this way, and I don’t know how it’s supposed to go,” she said. She moved away from him slightly to see his face as he spoke.
“I can’t make ye trust things. Ye’re goin’ to have to, in yer own mind.” He was lying on his side, Dolly facing him. He was stroking her hair around her ear, and her arm was around him, stroking his back.
“Can ye teach me?” she said. She whispered into his neck as she moved closer to him.
“Well, the first thing ye must do is never again think that I’m goin’ to choose a girl who’s as frivolous and silly as my mother. And I don’t need to teach ye anything. Ye already know ye’re lovable, and ye already know how to trust me. It’s already in ye.”
“I think I understand what ye’re sayin’.”
“I know ye do.” He kissed her tenderly.
Wanting to lighten things up a bit, he inched her nightgown up in the front and put his cold hand on her buttocks, knowing she couldn’t scream.
The cold handmade Dolly thrash and jerk, trying to get away from it. She squealed as quietly as she could.
“Liam! Stop,” she whispered, but her quiet laughter, along with her kicking and smacking, made him start to laugh as well. It was the first time their foreplay was so “combative” and physical.
“Do ye want me to stop?” he asked.
“No!” she whispered. With all of her squirming, her nightgown was now around her waist.
“May I?” he asked.
“Yes.”
Soon both of them were so aroused that they had each other’s buttocks in their hands, desperate for the coupling. Her legs were wrapped around his hips.
“I’m so happy, Liam. I want ye bad. I want ye hard.”
He felt her open in response to his words about trust. He felt her let go. He roused to her playfulness and laughter. He felt himself cast aside his need to protect her as he thrust hard, deep into her, grunting each time he hit home.
They didn’t get much sleep that night, making good use of their new-found trust. It seemed that they were moving into a new phase of their relationship, even with Mary Tisdale hanging over them.
~~~
The early morning sun was shining into the lace-curtained window of Liam’s room as he dressed to go downstairs for Christmas. Dolly dozed sweetly under the quilt. It seemed to Liam she was luxuriating in her post-coital state. Her eyes fluttered open.
“I have somethin’ for ye,” he said quietly. “It’s for Christmas.”
He handed her a small box—a red velvet one, this time.
“I don’t have anythin’ for ye,” Dolly lamented as she propped herself on her hip and elbow, staying covered.
“Don’t worry about that. Ye’re my gift.”
She smiled and opened the box. It was another charm for her necklace.
“It’s a wee Statue of Liberty,” she cooed.
“It’ll remind ye of our plans.”
“It’s so sweet, Liam. I thank ye for it.”
He reached over, taking the chain off her neck and putting the new charm on it, then placing it back on her. She reached around his neck and kissed him.
“You know Dolly,” he whispered. “I think it was a good thing Mary Tisdale was here last night.”
“Why do ye say that?” The statement perked her up.
“Well, think about how our lovemaking was.”
“It was really good, Liam. It was … different. It’s different between you and me this morning.”
“See?”
“Ummm,” she stretched her arms out to him, kissed him once more, and then yawned suddenly.
“Get under the covers and sleep some more,” he said.
She rolled to her back and pulled the quilt to her chin. Her eyes closed immediately.
Not wanting to wake her again, he stood, tucked his white dress shirt into his gray wool-flannel trousers, and buttoned them. He then bent quietly over her, kissing her forehead gently and tucking a wheat-colored lock behind her ear. She smiled in her doze. He walked quietly to the door, unlocked it and took one of two keys from the dresser. He’d told Dolly last night he would lock the door from the outside when he went downstairs, preventing anyone from entering his room unexpectedly while she was there. She would have the second key if she needed to sneak down the back stairs to the kitchen for any reason. She said she didn’t plan on moving from his bed. “But, I’ll need breakfast when ye come back to me.”
~~~
The Dadys were in the dining room for Christmas breakfast already, being the chronically timely people they were. Liam greeted his mother and father cordially, sat, and put his napkin on his lap. Annie poured his coffee and began to plate his food.
“I’m fine, Annie. I can do this.” Liam gently took the serving spoon and plate of fried eggs from her.
“Would anyone else care for anything before I go into the kitchen?” Annie asked politely.
“No thank you, Annie,” Mr. Dady said.
“Then I bid you Happy Christmas.” Annie retreated into the kitchen.
“Yes, Annie,” Mrs. Dady mumbled. “Thank you. Merry Christmas.”
Liam wondered to himself if it had been painful for his mother to be nice to her Catholic cook. He stayed mum, although it pained him to see Annie treated that way.
Turning her attention to her son, Mrs. Dady said, “Don’t you think Mary Tisdale’s such a dear, Liam? She’s quite eligible, you know.”
“She’s a pretty girl, Mother, but I’m not looking for a fiancée at the present moment. Medical school is quite challenging. I can’t afford to be distracted. I’m doing very well, you know.”
“But, if you two became betrothed, you could still concentrate on school. At her age, she won’t remain eligible for long. You are getting older, you know, and some young man in London—”
“I appreciate the thought, Mother, but I am not yet interested in any betrothal,” he interrupted as politely as he could. He had to put an end to this pursuit of hers.
His mother gave a deep sigh.
Liam was as emphatic as decorum allowed. Miraculously, his reply stopped her for the moment. He knew, however, that she was not finished. He’d just have to head her off as more schemes were hatched. He could read her face like an old familiar book. He glanced at her as he reached for the pitcher of freshly squeezed orange juice and poured some in his glass. He could tell that she was formulating her next move with a very brief glimpse at her.
“I should’ve thought to invite the Tisdale’s for breakfast this morning,” she said. “Perhaps I’ll have them for dinner right after New Year and before you leave, Liam. I’ll send the girl with an invitation this week while we’re in Dublin.”
Jesus Christ, Mother. Liam took a giant gulp of his orange juice, wishing there was a dollop of whiskey in it.
When Liam was finished with his breakfast, the barely-held-together family moved to the parlor to exchange a few gifts. Liam went to the
tree and pulled two ribbon-ed boxes for his parents. He had placed them there the night before during cleanup. “Mother, allow me to present you with a Christmas gift,” he said politely, handing her a red velvet box with a white ribbon.
She opened it to find a gold chain-link bracelet. “It’s lovely, Liam, very nice quality. I shall wear it on New Year’s Eve.”
“I’m glad you like it,” he said. “Father, here’s one for you.”
Father, a bit flustered at the rare gesture, took the black box marked with the Royal School for Surgeons insignia and opened it to find a gold-plated pen-and-pencil set. They, too, had the school insignia engraved.
Thank you, Liam. Very nice. I’ll have them at the firm.”
“Very well,” Liam replied.
Liam could barely contain himself at the aloofness his parents insisted on maintaining.
“I put this in my pocket, just in case you showed up for breakfast,” Liam’s father said. He pulled out an envelope from his inside breast pocket. “It’s your gift from me and your mother. We do recognize your hard work at the School for Surgeons.”
Liam took the envelope and opened it. In it was a hundred pounds in smaller notes.
“Thank you, Father, it’s quite generous.” Liam immediately thought that he would use a portion of this money to buy Dolly’s wedding gown. It also occurred to him right then, that he could accelerate his courses in order to finish school, not the following spring, but next year, this time. They could have the wedding perhaps on New Year’s and then head to America in the spring. Patrick O’Brien’s mother was a seamstress, known for her wedding dresses for the Catholic community. He would go to her.
~~~
Once his parents left for Dublin, Liam went into the kitchen to see Annie. She had long finished the breakfast clean-up, as well as the pots and pans from last night. She was putting on her coat for West Belfast and her sister’s for the holiday.
“When will ye be back?” Liam asked with a little smirk.
“It depends on how quickly my nieces drive me insane and I’m forced to leave.” Annie smiled. “I have some food in the icebox for you and Dolly for the next couple of days. After that you’ll have to be on your own.” She tied her red-plaid woolen shawl around her head and neck and put her gloves on.
“Before ye go, I’d like to give ye this,” Liam said. He pulled out a small, wrapped Christmas box from his suit coat pocket and gave it to Annie.
Annie hesitated, gave him a you-shouldn’t-have glance. “What’s this now?” she said.
“Just a little somethin’ for ye, Annie. Ye’ve put up with my shenanigans for quite some time, and I wanted to show my appreciation.” He smirked.
“Your boyish charm is alive and well.” She feigned reproach.
He smiled and shrugged with one shoulder.
“Thank you,” Annie said sweetly. She opened the package with subdued delight. Inside she found a gold chain with a cross. “Oh, Liam,” she whispered in awe. “It’s so delicate.”
He took it from her to put it around her neck. She had to untie the shawl, but she didn’t seem to mind. She turned as he reached around to clasp the chain at the back of her neck. She walked to the little mirror in the kitchen and admired the beautiful piece of gold around her neck as he watched, pleased with her happiness.
“It’s brilliant. It’s a generous and kind gift.” She turned and gave him a hug and a kiss on the cheek.
“Happy Christmas, Annie. Go have a nice time at your sister’s.” He returned the kiss on her cheek and lovingly helped her retie her shawl. He walked her to the cab through the front door hunching in the cold and waved goodbye.
Chapter 22
Winter had a vicious hold on northern Europe. It had been ten months since baby Ellen was born, and eight since Eva’s father had died.
It was just past New Years, and Eva had had more than enough of the confinement. Cabin fever had taken hold of her like the grip of Influenza. The baby had been cranky with a cold for the better part of two weeks. Victor had the same cold now and was equally as cranky and demanding. No one could get in or out easily because of the sub-zero weather. There’s only so much weaving to do, and I can only play so many games of Chinese checkers. I cannot stand to face Victor for another moment, Eva yelled inside her head.
With no other recourse besides murdering her otherwise beloved husband, Eva brought some firewood for the stove and shut herself in the spare bedroom for several hours after she had an early sauna that Saturday. With his cold nearly gone, she knew that Victor was perfectly capable of taking care of the baby, except for nursing. After two hours of self-banishment, her breasts began to tingle. She needed Ellen.
“Victor,” she snapped when she opened the door, “I need Ellen to feed her.”
He brought the baby to her. She took her and closed the door, smiling to herself at Victor’s perplexed expression.
When the baby had had her fill, she cooed with her for a while, she kissed Ellen on the forehead and called Victor from the bedroom door again.
“Come get Ellen. She is done eating.”
Victor came to retrieve Ellen.
“Why are you—”
“She needs changing,” Eva interrupted. Then she closed the door.
After this, Eva would come out briefly to get food or to run to the privy, but otherwise forced Victor to fend for himself.
“Eva, aren’t you going to cook supper? I am hungry,” he said as she walked away from him toward the bedroom with several pieces of firewood in her arm.
On the second day of Eva’s self-exile in the spare bedroom, the sun was shining, filling the house with pale, winter sunlight. It was mid-morning and Eva had just fed Ellen, played with her for a while, and then handed her back to Victor. She could tell by the glare she received from her husband that he was not at all happy with the arrangement. She shut the door and sat in her rocker with some knitting.
After a short while, she could hear him shuffling and thumping, moving things around in the other room. She couldn’t imagine what on earth he was doing, but she was not going to get up to see. A few moments later, the noise stopped and Victor burst into the spare room. She yelped and jumped up out of the rocking chair, dropping her knitting.
“That’s it,” Victor huffed. “Put your coat on. The baby is ready. You are going to visit your mother.” He walked over to her, took her by the arm, and swiftly escorted her to the entryway. “I’ve put Ellen in the sled, so you can pull her to your mother’s. She’s waiting in the entryway.” He had a reindeer pelt lining the sled, wrapped around ten-month-old Ellen, who was already bundled in layers of wool and a rabbit-pelt baby bag. “Get your skis on. The snow may not support your every step.”
“I am not going,” Eva replied. “You may not scold me.”
“Shut up!” he barked.
Angry that Victor had taken this tact with her, she stood stiff as he dressed her, boots, skis, and all. She continued to protest, but changed her demeanor to more apologetic.
“I’m sorry I’ve been ignoring you,” she said. “You will agree it was better than hitting you in the head with an iron pan.”
“You are beyond apologies, my dear wife.” Victor handed her a gnarly-headed wooden walking stick. He was sweating now.
She looked into his eyes. The otherwise companionable couple was now beyond its loving teasing ways. Her good-natured husband seemed beyond cajoling, but she tried once more anyway. “I said I was sorry. I don’t want to go.”
He said nothing more and gently shoved her toward the door by her shoulder. She clomped out of the entryway into the cold air. Victor carried the sled out that contained their daughter. At least, it appeared that Ellen was inside the sled. All Eva could see was a burbling bundle of fur, snuggly secured with a leather strap.
“Victor, I said—” she hissed through her teeth.
Eva tried one more time to say something, but Victor turned away, stomped back to the door, went inside, and slammed it shut. She he
ard a metal click as he apparently shoved the lock into its sheath from inside. He peered out the nearest window, still with a furrowed brow. He mouthed the word “go,” and pointed in the direction of the path to her mother’s.
“I am angry with you,” she yelled.
Victor pointed to his ear, shrugged his shoulders, and shook his head.
“You know what I said, you brat,” she replied. She was aptly defeated and, with her own furrowed brow and mood to match, she huffed through her nose. She picked up the rope for the sled and went on her way, taking the far path to her mother’s. Eva grumbled and muttered epithets in the general direction of her husband, whom she decided, had lost his mind.
“Don’t listen to me, Ellen, I am saying bad words,” she murmured.
~~~
Victor watched her disappear over the rise from the window. He had a second thought or two about what he had done, but he started to laugh, recollecting her dumbfounded expression the whole time he was getting her ready, and how he’d shut her up when she tried to speak.
After a few moments of giggling, Victor caught Hannes out of the corner of his eye, walking swiftly down the other path with purpose toward the cabin. Sensing something different in his brother, Victor put on his coat and hat and went to greet him outside the door.
Hannes was winded from the trudge through the lung-irritating air. “I came to warn you about the wolf pack we heard just before dawn,” he said. “You're behind this rise and may not have heard them. They seemed quite close.” Hannes showed Victor the old Colt repeater tucked in his belt under his coat. “I saw fresh tracks crossing the path from the farm just now, heading in the direction of the Maki’s. Don’t go out.”
Victor’s chuckling was replaced with a tight, sick feeling in his belly.
~~~
After a minute or so of acclimating to the cold air, Eva found the traversing easy. The weather for the last few weeks had frozen the top layers just under the dusting of snow from a day ago. She would not have needed the skis. Still muttering and preoccupied with her irritation at Victor, she was about halfway on the quarter mile path to her mother’s house. The cold air stung her cheeks, so she stopped for a moment to catch her breath and to make sure Ellen’s face was protected from the frostbite cold. She bent to readjust Ellen’s rabbit-pelt hood when she heard ominous deep-throated growls. It came to her rapidly that she was in deep trouble. She straightened slowly to see four full-grown wolves, surrounding her and the baby. Her only weapon was the wooden walking stick. She turned it around to use the big handle at the top.
Eva and the Irishman Page 23