Hope from the Ocean: (The Prequel to Fireflies )

by P. S. Bartlett

  Rachel reluctantly asked her sister several times when they would eat but Kathryn would only reply that Dell would be along any minute. Finally, Dell Doyle made his appearance, staggering up the street, zigging and zagging and singing at the top of his lungs.

  “Raina?” Kathryn shouted.

  Raina was already flying in and out of the kitchen with their supper, making sure everything was as it was expected to be and then disappearing behind the kitchen door one final time. She was not to be seen again until the meal was over, no matter how long it took. Owen’s head turned left, right and left again, appearing to marvel at not only her speed but her accuracy under pressure, and he whispered to Rachel that his uncle must be a formidable man to have orchestrated such a symphony of obedience.

  Kathryn scooted Rachel in at the dinner table, waving Owen aside and pointing to a seat across from his mother and then raced around the table and slid herself into her seat. The door flew open as if a great wind had blown it and on that wind, the pungent presence of Dell Doyle.

  “Wwwell, good eeevenin’, my dear wife! I sssee our guests have arrived sssafely,” he slurred, tossing his hat onto the rack, then removing his jacket and tossing it as well.

  “Good evenin’, dear. Won’t ye come meet my sister Rachel and her handsome son Owen?” Kathryn’s voice trembled and rose to a lilting pitch, so full of sweetness the words seemed to melt on her tongue.

  Rachel’s eyes turned to Owen and lifted, cueing him to stand and shake the hand of his host as she turned in her seat as well to greet him. Owen’s bangs grew damp and he slid his right hand down over his thigh to dry it before taking his uncle’s clammy palm into his and bowing slightly.

  “Tha’s a fine han-shake ye have there, llladdy! Pllleased ta meet ye!” Dell’s voice boomed, carrying Irish whiskey and cigar mist about the room. “Kathryn, ye held yer tongue on this sssister a yers! My goo-ness, what a lovely lllady ye be. I’m pppleased ta meet ye a last!”

  Dell took Rachel’s tiny hand into his ham hock of a mitt and leaned down and kissed it clumsily. He glanced up at her with bloodshot, yellow eyes and winked.

  “Where’s Raina?” Dell shouted.

  “She’s in the kitchen. Dinner’s all served, dear.” Kathryn patted his hand.

  “Oh aye, yes, a course. Ssso, what do ye make of our fffine city?” Dell inquired, his bobbing head turning to Rachel.

  “I’ve only viewed it from a carriage but it is quite lovely, from what I was able to see.”

  “It’s a dump and it’s not sssafe, either. I forbid Kathryn from leavin’ this house after four o’clock.”

  “I’m sure she appreciates yer concern for her wellbein’.”

  “Dell, would ye like to say the grace this evenin’?”

  “Na, na, na…that wouldn’t be very polite a me, now would it? Ye, lad, wush yer name again?”

  “Owen sir.”

  “Awright Owen, ye give the blessin’ for this evenin’, why don’t ye?” Dell took a slice of bread, tore off a piece and shoved it sloppily under his bushy mustache.

  “Aye, sir.” Owen glanced up at Rachel, cleared his throat, and took a sip of water. Upon her nodding approval, he spoke. “Join hands, please. Bless us, oh Lord, this food to our use, and us to thy lovin’ service; and make us ever mindful of the needs of others, for Jesus' sake. Amen.” He noticed Dell was still chewing his bread and leering at him over the plates of fresh vegetables and baked ham.

  “Did I say somethin’ wrong, sir?”

  “Of course not, son. Please begin and pass the plates to yer left,” Kathryn said.

  “Make us e’er min-ful to—wha was it again? Nnno, wait–the NEEDS of others, ye say?” Dell slurred.

  “Aye, sir. Me unc, I mean me da taught me that when I was a wee lad.”

  “Well, whish is it, lad, ye uncle or ye da?”

  ”How could it be his uncle, Dell? Yer the only uncle he’s got,” Kathryn remarked, again using that sweet tone.

  “Would ye care ta elabrrate on tha statement, lad?”

  “Mr. Doyle, I mean no disrespect at all but my son and I haven’t eaten since before noon and we’re both famished. May we please share this bountiful and lovely meal with ye and perhaps after dinner, Owen will share with us all what the prayer means to him?” Rachel’s voice was calm and reassuring. It bordered on the sound of a harp playing and immediately put the entire room at ease.

  “My pologies, Mrs. Whelan, I’m sure that’ll be a fine sssubstitute for havin’ ye both starve.”

  Once Kathryn had filled Dell’s plate to capacity, they passed the bowls and ate their dinner in complete silence.

  “Raina?” Kathryn called out.

  Raina rushed from the kitchen, clearing plates and leftover food, while the diners waited for Dell to rise so that they could leave the table. Dell’s eyes slid sideways in an unholy glance at the girl, as he lifted his glass a final time, waved it slightly in the air and then as Raina waited patiently, handed it over to her with a smirk. Owen watched him with contempt, fearing this lodging would be more unpleasant than he could have ever imagined. He felt Rachel’s tired gaze upon him and turned to her, showing her every bit of his angst and fury. Dell had yet to stand, if he even could, but pretending not to know his place, Owen rose from his seat.

  “Leavin’ are ye, lad?”

  “No, sir. I would like to help me Ma to bed. She hasn’t been feelin’ well today.”

  “G’on then. When yer trough tuckin’ her in, bring ye ssself back down here and we’ll discuss yer blessin’ a bit.”

  “Aye, sir.”

  Owen assisted Rachel upstairs to her room and closed the door. He leaned his ear to the wood and waved a finger at her, and then pulled it to his lips, holding it there for a few moments before stepping towards her.

  “What were ye thinkin’, son?”

  “That man is the worst kinda scoundrel,” Owen whispered and drew a deep long breath through his nostrils.

  “We’ll have ta live around him Owen. We’ll learn ta avoid him and handle him. Ye just be careful and watch yer tongue.”

  “Did ye see him? Did ye see him lookin’ at that girl as he did? A grown man has no business doin’ that!”

  “Shhhhh…please Owen.”

  “I didn’t like him breathin’ his smelly breath on you, either. This will wear us out, or run us out.” He sat down next to Rachel and buried his face in his hands.

  “I can tuck meself in. Now go back downstairs and make yer mark.”

  “What does that mean?”

  “Let him see who ye are. Let him know ye’ve a brain in yer head and yer not some scared little boy who’ll be meddled with and talked down to. Ye don’t have to pretend, son. Just be yerself. He’ll figure it out on his own.”

  Rachel placed her hand on his shoulder and kissed him lightly. He rose to his feet, walked head down to the bedroom door, took the doorknob in his hand and looked back at her.

  “I am ye know?”

  “I know. Maybe fer the very first time, I know.”

  * * *

  Owen began the long journey across the hall and down the stairs. His hand left a moist handprint as he gripped the railing. As the echoing voice of Dell Doyle grew louder and louder, he quickened his steps.

  “Rainaaaaaaa?”

  “I’m back, Uncle Dell,” Owen said as he entered the room. “Would ye like me to join ye at the table or shall we move to the parlor?”

  “What?” Dell shot back.

  “Ye wanted to ask me about the blessin’ sir?”

  “Oh, aye, aye. Sssit down here.” Dell clumsily pushed the chair to his left at him.

  “Ssso, ye think we should all jus open our pockets and help the needy, do ye?”

  “Well, sir, there are many ways we can help the needy that don’t cost money.”

  Dell burst into laughter, pressing Owen back into his chair away from the assaulting plume of sour breath, and holding his own until it dissipated. “They want money, laddy. Fresh offa the bo
at, ye are. Ye jus wait ‘til ye see ‘em in the streets with their hands out, beggin’ ye for a how’d ye do!” Dell leaned in when he spoke, continuing to offend Owen with every spattered syllable. He inched his chair away.

  “Ye’d know better than I. Ask me again in a month and I’ll give ye a more educated answer, I suppose.”

  “I suppose ye will. Once ye walk yerself to school a few times or trolley yerself downtown or find yerself a job even, then ye come and I’ll ask ye again. Uh…wha was it I asked ye?” Dell laughed, loud and hard, and slammed his hands on the table, followed by a rough and angry cough which went on for minutes.

  Owen imagined the beastly man tipping over and dying with his bald, sweaty head hitting the table with a farewell bang.

  “I know yer kind, ye stinkin’ waste a life,” Owen thought. “One more drink now and ye’ll be breakin’ things and then one more after the damage is done, and then ye’ll pass out.” No sooner had the thought registered in his mind than his Aunt emerged from the kitchen with a full glass of Irish whiskey, setting it down on the table before him. Owen smiled as he realized his aunt was dramatic and full of flair but was no fool at managing this unmanageable man in the only way she knew how.

  “Brilliant.”

  Without speaking Owen smiled the word at her but at the same time, when their eyes met, he silently told her he would not be her babysitter and she looked down and away, either in understanding or complete embarrassment.

  “I’m goin’ up to read my book, dear. Will there be anythin’ else before I go?”

  “Na, na, na… I’ll jus chat a bit lllonger with Owen here and I’ll be up later.” Dell guzzled the whiskey and managed to get most of into his mouth. He then proceeded to ramble on about the “Goddamned lousy railroad” and how jobs for a man such as himself were nowhere to be found. He cursed about how the Germans in the north and Italians and Jews in the south were at fault for everything, not to mention the free slaves. Soon, he began to tip forward, giving Owen high hopes for his dream but leaving him disappointed when Dell suddenly stopped talking and tried to stand.

  “Would ye like me ta help ye ta bed, Uncle?”

  “Na, na, na…” He finally stood, straddling the chair and nearly tipping it over before Owen jumped up and caught him. Dell turned in the direction of the kitchen, waving his arm limply. “Jush get me ta the den.”

  Owen led him to the den and plopped him down on the sofa.

  “Yer usheful after all,” Dell murmured, and fell into a deep sleep. Owen picked up “A Christmas Carol” from the shelf, tucked it under his arm and headed off at last to his bedroom.

  This was a day he would never forget. He’d forgotten many nights such as this but now they were back to haunt him.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Owen spent many nights at the table after dinner, listening to Dell Doyle’s drunken stories of America as he saw it, until he started school and found himself nose deep in his work as well as his independent reading. His aunt had a very nice collection of books, both literature and plays but Owen read through those in twelve days. He enjoyed peeking at Raina from the den and through the other doorway, peeking occasionally at his mother and his Aunt, either reading or doing their needlepoint in the parlor. Most of his time, however, was spent making up for his wasted childhood.

  On his first day of formal American schooling, he was shocked at how far ahead he was of the other children. He struggled only a brief month with mathematics but soon realized how easily his mind welcomed any and all new information as if he were consuming a warm bowl of Raina’s chicken pie. That was his favorite dish and she’d begun to make extra especially for him and hide it under the kitchen counter before she left for the evening.

  Aunt Kathryn accepted the friendship reluctantly but Owen knew she kept a watchful eye on them. Over time though, it seemed that having her sister with her to share her thoughts and days with, calmed her, and the yelling nearly stopped as well. However, Rachel confided in Owen that even after months in her sister’s company, she hadn’t yet scratched the surface of the truth

  Although this new adventure with school ignited a passion he’d never before experienced, sitting in a classroom did not come easily to Owen. He wasn’t accustomed to such restrictions and it made him feel caged. The most enjoyable part of school was the library. Every day he explored new subjects, borrowing four or five books a night and more to take home on the weekends. Rachel commented on the way in which he ate words and retained information as if he were a living, breathing, human library. Every evening before bed, their conversation started with, “Mother, did ye know…?”

  Rachel constantly praised Owen, not only for his educational accomplishments but for how he was handling his new life in America He made a few friends who shared the same interests and with each passing day, he left earlier in the morning and returned later in the evening. Unfortunately, Rachel confided in him one evening that his absence was being noticed by someone other than herself but Owen brushed it off and refused to believe that Raina cared even the smallest bit about him—other than his love of her cooking.

  By December, Raina begged her Aunt and Uncle to allow her to stop working for a while and pursue some area of study. She confided a great deal in Rachel, who offered to speak to her Aunt and Uncle but Raina didn’t believe that to be good idea. Rachel did encourage Raina not to give up. She believed every child deserved an education, especially girls. The world was changing and the roles of women, specifically in America were evolving and expanding far beyond the kitchen and garden parties. Rachel couldn’t go back in time and change her past but if she could do anything to see young women forward in life, she certainly believed it worth the effort.

  One early December morning, Owen sat quietly studying in the den, when he overheard Rachel and Raina in the kitchen.

  “No, no mum. Please do not speak vis my Aunt and Uncle. Zey are how do you say, old fashioned. I can read and vrite and for a girl, to zem, zis is enough.”

  “But dear, is it really enough for ye?” Rachel asked, standing at the sink drying the breakfast dishes as Raina washed them.

  “You are so fery kind Mrs. Vhelan but I cannot defy my Aunt,” Raina finished the dish washing and turned away from Rachel, swiping a tear.

  “Well, if ye feel a time comes when yer ready, I’d be more than willing to speak on yer behalf,” Rachel said softly, placing a comforting hand on Raina’s shoulder.

  Owen began to feel a twinge of guilt for barely giving the girl a decent hello or goodbye for weeks and quickly gathered his things, exited the front door of den and shot off to school.

  * * *

  “Raina, I can’t seem ta find me good hat. I’ve a job to see about this mornin’ and I need me good hat!” Dell bellowed from the doorway.

  “Aye sir,” she replied, dashing out of the kitchen.

  “Helpin’ the help are ya?” Dell asked with a crooked smile.

  “Not exactly Dell. The child and I were speakin’ is all.”

  “We pay that girl ta work here. She’s not kin nor a guest…is all I’m sayin.”

  Rachel returned the dish towel to the counter and turned to walk away when Dell reached for her wrist and slapped his clammy palm onto it.

  “I beg yer pardon?” Rachel said, pulling it away.

  “How long’s that husband a yers been dead? Two years now accordin’ ta my reckonin’.”

  “What difference is that ta ye?” Rachel shot back.

  “Well, I suppose not havin’ ta answer to a man’s left ye a bit feisty or not knowin’ yer proper place.”

  “I don’t have a place Mister Doyle nor did my husband provide me with one.”

  “So ye say now? Well this here is me home and that girl works fer me not ye and what I say goes under this roof,” Dell hissed stepping to within a foot of her.

  “I’d appreciate it if ye’d not speak to me as if I’m an eejit Mister Doyle. I know well and good whose home this is and who’s money paid fer it as well. I a
lso know what ye need yer best hat fer but I love me sister, God knows I do, and yer not worth breakin’ her heart over. Now move and let me pass and dontcha be gettin’ any ideas about that girl neither or swear I’ll do ye in meself. I knew men just like ye back in Ireland and I watched me Da run one through with a pitch fork when he put his drunken hands on me when I was a wee girl.”

  “Oh so now I’m supposed to worry ye’ll do me in aye? What if I put ye and that boy a yers in the street? Then what’ll ye do?” Dell pushed himself straight and folded his arms at his chest.

  “Ye go right ahead. Ye and yer threats don’t frighten me. Ye toss us and I’ll take me sister and me family’s money with her, and then ye’ll be the one in the street.”

  “Kathryn won’t be goin’ anywhere, least of all with ye and that uppity boy, I can tell ye that much.”

  “Ye know, it’s a peculiar thing when ye help with the laundry in this house. Ye find all sorts of interestin’ things,” Rachel quipped, turned away from Dell and stepped to the kitchen window shelf. “I knew this day would come Dell Doyle, so I saved a little token fer the occasion,” Rachel spoke as she took a matchbox from the shelf and slowly opened it, delicately lifting a small, teardrop earring , dangling it in the air. Not knowing what Dell’s reaction might be, she stood close to the back door in case she’d need to make an escape from what she thought may be his impending rage.

  “An ear bob?” Dell burst into laughter, but didn’t take a step either towards her or away.

  “Aye. I found it in the pocket of yer ‘best’ shirt last week.”

  “Kathryn has dozens of those! I most likely found it ‘round the house and forgot to return it is all. Yer somethin’ aren’t ya? An ear bob…” Dell put his hands on his hips and turned to leave but Rachel wasn’t through yet.

  “Yer right ye know. Me sister loves her ear bobs Dell but the funny thing is, she has dozens fer sure and every last pair...has a mate.”

  Dell stopped and froze with his hand on the door, “Ah, so now yer fixin’ ta blackmail me too?”

  “Whoever this one belongs to must really like ye although fer the life a me I can’t imagine why. She took the time ta place this one in yer pocket and face outtin’ ye to yer wife. So, I suppose me helpin’ out ‘round here isn’t such a bad thing after all now is it? Seein’ that I was the one found it and not Raina. The girl would have no idea how many ear bobs Kathryn owns and would have certainly made sure to return it to who she believed its rightful owner.”