“…Take the wave now and know you are free. Your back’s to the land, as you turn to the sea. Face the wind now, so wild and so strong. When you think of me, wave to me, and sing me your song…”
It was near time to start the service when Eamon came in to announce, “He’s here.”
Tommy was frightened by the look in his father’s eye when Brian said, “Kevin Coogan?” It was the rage of his demon that had been surfacing more and more over the past days, a rage that caused Tommy to decide he would stick close to his father’s side until he was boarding his plane home.
“It’s Patrick. I left him standin’ in the narthex.”
“Patrick came? Will he sit with us?”
Tommy said, “I hadn’t expected he’d come at all. Let him find his place.”
Brian sat in the first pew, between his two daughters; Tommy sat next to Katie, Maureen’s mother sat next to Grace, and Maureen’s two older sisters sat next to their mother; they left an empty space between them in honor of Donovan O’Toole. Eamon and his wife were in the pew behind them, with Mary; other family members filled it and the next pews were crowded with Derry folk and many who traveled from Cong.
Patrick had waited for his family to process past him—he greeted his brother and sisters; Brian smiled but Patrick looked away—and then at a distance he followed them in, choosing to sit not with the family but two rows behind the last of the crowded pews.
Soon after the service began, Kevin arrived outside the church with two men from his brigade; they had traveled to Derry separately and still kept a distance from each other. The two men entered the church first, one at a time, and when they didn’t return it indicated to Kevin all was safe for him to enter. He waited a few minutes more and then went in.
Tommy rose to deliver his remarks and when he looked out over the pews to find Patrick he saw Kevin Coogan was seated right behind him. Tommy recognized him—Kevin had been toasted for two days as the hero of Cong after he saved the young girl from the runaway carriage—and when Brian saw his son’s face change he turned to see what was wrong. The heads and shoulders of family and friends in the pews behind Brian blocked much of his view, so he turned back as Tommy began to speak.
“The most satisfying truth I have found in my devotion to Him is that His plans will always be shrouded in mystery. For his mystery is beauty. His mystery is in the beauty of a flower. Why should a structure of such practical purpose bring delight to those of us who have no role in the flower’s continued existence? I can never understand why that is, but it appears that it must be so, as each and every flower has its own blossoming beauty, and so I find wisdom in the acceptance of the mystery of His gifts…”
Brian was listening to his son, but he was also curious what had brought that look of concern to his face, a concern that still marked him. Brian was afraid it meant Patrick had left, that Tommy had looked for him in the pews and not seen him.
As Tommy continued, Kevin found himself on his knees, praying for Maureen. He had loved her, first like a daughter, then as a sister and fellow freedom fighter, so he prayed for her eternal rest and he prayed for forgiveness, and he prayed for justice.
Kevin didn’t know the young man he could reach out and touch just in front of him was Brian’s son; Patrick had been a boy of ten when they met before and was nearly eighteen now. Kevin had chosen this spot so he could see the whole crowd in front of him, for while he was mourning Maureen, he was wary.
Tommy paused when he saw Kevin kneel to pray, then continued.
“…a greater mystery then is man. Our practical purpose for our lives in this world is to complete His Creation, and we ourselves are created as a divinely wrought beauty, yet how often it seems that each of them, our sense of purpose and our exquisite beauty, is corrupted by the other…”
Brian decided Patrick was still there. If he were to leave early he’d at least wait until Tommy finished.
Before he knelt to pray, Kevin had spotted his two men, one to his left, one to his right, both blending in by sitting right at the edges of the crowded pews.
“…I have seen the work Maureen O’Toole Burke took up, with such care, such devotion, on a lovely wilderness River where God’s children live, where every day she prayed ‘God bless the Innocents,’ where she fought to protect a profound expression of the Great Creator’s beauty from the corruption of man’s avarice and arrogance…”
Kevin stumbled in his prayer when the words ‘God bless the Innocents’ broke through.
Patrick leaned away from the man who had sat right behind him and prayed at his shoulder so close that he added to Patrick’s anxiety, so close he could hear the stranger whisper Maureen’s name and could feel the sadness that shrouded him.
When Tommy was finished and returned to the family, Brian leaned to him to whisper, “Is Patrick still there?” Tommy looked concerned but nodded yes. Then Brain leaned over again and said, “God bless the Innocents. Sure.”
And Tommy nodded, then shook his head.
The service ended and the Burke and O’Toole families prepared to rise from the pews as the priest approached, his Latin chant filling the church. As they stood, Brian felt Tommy’s hand on his arm and turned to see that the look of concern on his son’s face had deepened.
He held his father there so Katie could slip by them.
“Let her pass. I need you to listen to me.”
“I won’t approach him.”
“What?”
“Tell Patrick I’ll leave him be.”
The family had begun shuffling out of the pews, collecting and organizing themselves in the aisles; when Mary saw Brian was talking with his son she took Grace O’Malley by the hand. The chanting priest paused for them to form behind him, but Tommy held Brian where they stood, their backs to those in the pews, then he hugged his father, one Brian was eager to return, for it was the first time he’d been hugged by any of his children since the day he had beaten baby Patrick.
The priest began his recession, unaware he wasn’t immediately followed; the family waited for Brian and Tommy.
Brian was crying.
“I don’t care what she’s done, I can’t live—”
“Listen to me Brian. Don’t let go, and listen to what I have to say.” Tommy’s hug became a tight hold. “Seated just behind Patrick, there’s a man on his knees praying for the soul of Maureen Burke.” Brian started to turn. “No, no, don’t look, you won’t see but the top of his head, but I must prepare you, for it’s Kevin Coogan.”
Brian’s strength dwarfed his son’s and he easily broke out of Tommy’s arms to look out over the folks in the pews, many of whom were beginning to wonder about the priest walking alone and this show of what had first appeared to be a son’s loving comfort of his father’s deep despair but was suddenly taking on a harder tone; those who knew Brian grew fearful of the fierce red edge replacing the tears on his face.
First Brian saw Patrick but took no notice of the quick flash of fear on Patrick’s face, for Brian was searching for Kevin and there he was, behind his son, his head bent in prayer.
Tommy had used the moment to step past Brian to stand before his exit from the pew.
“Listen to me Brian.”
They both spoke softly so only they heard each other.
“Maureen’s killer has the feckin’ nerve—”
“We don’t know he’s the killer.”
Tommy turned to lead his father out of the pew to the waiting family.
“What the feck would he be prayin’ for?”
“You have to control yourself.”
Someone had gotten the priest’s attention and he stopped and waited, though he continued his song cycle.
Brian didn’t take his eyes off of Kevin.
Patrick had to look away from his father’s stare, and his stomach was growing sour; his head was light. He leaned forward and put his head in his hands while the family formed itself in the aisle, waiting for Tommy and Brian.
Tommy spoke
to the whole family, and especially Eamon.
“Brian will recess with all of you, and Eamon come take my place next to your cousin. I am going to go talk with Kevin Coogan.” Brian’s stare never wavered; his face was red. “I will arrange for a time and a place for them to have the conversation they need to have. But we’re in a church Brian, and I want you to promise all of us here—”
“I know exactly where we are.”
The family turned to walk down the aisle to join the priest, and Eamon took his place on Brian’s left, so he’d be between Brian and Kevin as they passed his pew.
As they walked Brian never looked away from the man he saw as his wife’s killer, and neither Kevin in his prayer nor Patrick in his fear looked up, but Kevin’s men had noticed the interest Brian and Tommy and Eamon were taking in Kevin, and each of them slowly slid down their pews to sit at the aisle, ready to move.
Tommy took his eyes off Brian just long enough to quickly turn to the altar and bow and then he turned back. His plan was to wait until the family had passed the first filled pews, follow them, then slip in next to Kevin and arrange for Brian to talk with him as soon as Brian was calm.
The family joined the priest at the edge of the crowded pews and continued on, at the priest’s solemn pace. Katie had taken Grace’s hand from Mary and they walked just in front of their father and Uncle Eamon; Mary, enchanted by it all, followed behind. As they drew near, Patrick sensed it and looked up and Katie saw by the empty sadness of his face that her brother shouldn’t have come. She smiled at him, but he didn’t return it.
At the same time the family drew even with these pews, Kevin looked up from his prayer and sat back. When his eyes met Brian’s for the first time Brian stopped while everyone ahead moved on. Tommy walked quickly to join them; Kevin’s men were alert, and Patrick began to shake.
Brian snarled, “I’ve been lookin’ for you.”
Kevin was quiet. Patrick shook harder. The priest didn’t falter. Katie turned at her father’s voice, as did the rest of the family, and she separated herself from the family to slide into the pew next to her brother. She pulled his head onto her shoulder. “He’s talking to the man behind you.”
Eamon urged his cousin on. “We’re goin’ to talk to him later Brian; you’re promised a private meetin’.”
Brian stood there, in the aisle, looking past Patrick and Katie at Kevin.
“The RUC says you IRA killed her.”
Kevin pursed his lips.
Tommy took his father’s arm. “We act to honor Maureen.”
Brian was surprised by his own response. “Maybe she loved the violence. Maybe that’s why she married me.”
Kevin’s men joined the family, waiting to see what came next. Kevin shook his head, indicating they should stand down, then rose to leave from the other end of the pew. Brian’s anger erupted, and he roared “Don’t turn your feckin’ back on what you did!” as he yanked his arm from his son and pushed his cousin aside who stumbled out of the way when he tripped over the end of the pew.
Brian tried to move quickly down the pew after Kevin and the awkward struggle of the narrow passage simply angered him more. Patrick looked up with terror in his eyes to see his father rushing towards him, then towering over him as he passed, then turned to see him throw himself into the man who had reached the end of the pew, and they landed together with a thud on the church’s stone floor.
Brian pinned Kevin under him; Kevin spoke for Brian’s ear only. “The Brits killed her Brian. It was the Brits who killed her,” and he struggled to reach for the pistol in his coat pocket. Brian wrestled for the opening to throw a punch and that allowed Kevin to secure the pistol and when he had a good grip he pressed it to Brian’s belly, hidden from the view of the others, including Tommy and Eamon, and Kevin’s two men who had been navigating the pews to join them, and the rest who stood to watch or got up from the prayers to leave, some running.
Patrick had pulled away from his sister and slid down the pew away from the battle, feeling more and more faint, the slow growth of a spell beginning to accelerate, then rush. He was determined to leave the source of it, but when Patrick stood, the great surge of the spell swallowed him whole and he blacked out and collapsed; as he was going down he hit his head hard with a loud bang on the edge of the pew. Katie saw it, and heard it, and felt it. “Patrick!” She was at his side in an instant.
When Brain felt the pistol barrel press into him, he froze.
“You’re too smart to use that on me here.”
“If you leave me no choice. But I warn you, Brian. While there’s many who sympathize with your grief, they will still accept it as their duty to do you one notch worse than whatever you do to me.”
The four men had formed a semi-circle around them, and were at the ready.
“I was her friend, Brian. Count me among those who loved her.”
“Then you should have protected her.”
“I told her to leave.”
“Tell me why she came.”
“There are questions I won’t answer.” He pressed the pistol deeper into Brian’s stomach. “Now get off of me.”
Brian climbed off of Kevin and they both stood, though Brian held tight to Kevin’s coat.
Maureen’s sisters joined Katie at Patrick’s side; he lay in the aisle, unconscious. Mary collected Grace and led her away from danger.
Kevin held his pistol at the ready in his coat pocket. Brian gripped him so close the two men would be nose to nose if Brian weren’t inches taller.
“I came to show my respects.”
“What the feck does that mean comin’ from you?”
“And I came to tell you I am sorry for your loss, but I know for certain it was the British who killed her.”
Brian’s fist tightened its clench on Kevin’s coat, and Kevin felt the need to raise his pistol again.
“You know that for certain.”
“That’s right, with rogue RUC pulling the trigger on the gun.”
Tommy stepped forward. “Let’s continue this conversation in private.”
Brian ignored him and asked Kevin, “Why?”
“That’s another question I won’t answer.”
“If RUC killed her, she must be IRA.”
They stood facing each other, staring, and then Kevin slowly removed his hand from his pocket.
“I let go of the gun. Now you let go of me.”
Brian didn’t loosen his grip.
“My advice is you and Grace O’Malley return to your Eden and leave our troubles behind.”
“An Eden built with IRA money?”
Kevin hesitated just long enough for Brian to guess he was right, then said, “I can promise you, Brian, you’ve no worries there.”
“I don’t have to worry that I’ve infected life on the River with the sins of you murdering innocents…” He pushed Kevin away hard.
The priest stood over the women attending to Patrick. Katie had removed her sweater and made a pillow for his head, but except for his breathing he showed no sign of life. She called out to her father and brother and uncle. “Patrick’s hurt bad. He bashed his head on the pew as he was falling from a faint.”
Tommy and Eamon turned at her voice; Brian hesitated just a moment.
“I don’t want to see you or hear from you ever again. So tell me all I need to know to get on with my life.”
“You know Maureen was a wonderful woman, and you’re safe in your camp with your daughter and your Indians.” Then Kevin walked away, and his men stood guard until they were certain Brian was returning to his family.
When a damp cloth across his brow failed to revive Patrick, the priest sent an altar boy to fetch the local doctor. Someone found a pillow to replace Katie’s sweater under Patrick’s head, then a cushion for Katie to sit on, for she wouldn’t leave her brother’s side. She held his hand and caressed his face, and slowly rocked back and forth.
When first Brian joined the family and saw his son out cold on the floor, his
confusion about what happened was soon replaced with the understanding that it was somehow the result of his own actions. The look from Katie as he knelt next to her confirmed it, and the condemning tone in her voice as she explained what happened drove him away. Tommy led him to a pew where he sat, his head in his hands, Tommy at his side.
Another minute passed when Katie felt her brother’s hand jerk and he came awake. “Don’t get up. Stay there. We’ve a doctor coming to look at you. You fainted and hit your head on the pew.”
Patrick raised his hand and held it over the side of his head, just above the temple, where he’d received the blow, where the pain was dull but deep, then rubbed his eye with the heel of that hand.
“How long was I out?”
“Maybe four or five minutes.”
Patrick lay on his back, looking up at his sister, collecting his thoughts and memories of what had happened.
“A double.”
“What?”
“A double.”
“What’s a double?”
“I fainted and then I was knocked out.”
“Yes, I guess that’s right.”
“Is he still here?”
“He wasn’t coming after you; it was some fellow messed up in Maureen’s death who was sitting right behind you.”
“I know. I saw him tackle the man and knock him to the ground…Make him leave.”
“Tommy is talking to him about—”
“Make him leave right now. But first you tell him this was his last chance.”
“Let me get Tommy for you.”
When Tommy left to speak with Patrick, Mary led Grace to her father, and she sat next to him. Mary stepped back but stayed attentive. Brian was still crouched over in the pew, his head in his hands. Grace put her hand on his knee.
“I love your mother so much Gracie Girl, that I hurt deep inside.”
“Me too.”
Brian looked up, then put his arm around her and held her close.
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