by I D Johnson
“I think you just did,” his granddad replied, smiling at him through several missing teeth.
Aaron laughed only slightly at his grandfather’s attempt at humor. His heart was heavy. “I mean, I’d like to ask you a question, though I’m afraid you might get upset.”
“Why would I get upset?” the older man asked, stopping his task and looking at his grandson with concern. “Have you ever known your granddad to raise his voice?”
While the answer was yes, on occasion, Aaron knew that wasn’t what he was expected to say. “No, Granddad.”
“Well, then what is it, lad?”
Aaron cleared his throat and studied the potato bin. “Granddad, I’ve a friend I’m worried about. I’m afraid I don’t know much about the… agreement, and I was wondering if you could tell me if she might be safe.” He glanced up at his granddad and waited to see if it was safe to proceed.
Ferris adjusted in his seat. In a cautious tone, he said, “You know it is forbidden to discuss such matters.”
Nodding, Aaron said, “I have heard. I just… didn’t know what else to do.”
There was silence for a long while as the grandfather seemed to contemplate the question. After a bit, he asked, “What is the name?”
A lump in his throat prevented a hasty response. Eventually, Aaron managed, “O’Malley.”
“Which O’Malley, lad? There is more than one O’Malley family in Killarney.”
Though Aaron knew that, he wasn’t sure it would matter. He was a bit embarrassed to answer, as he hadn’t told his family about his affection for her, but eventually he said, “Aislyn, Granddad. Her name is Aislyn.”
His forehead creased, and he scratched the top of his balding head. “Aislyn O’Malley?” he questioned. “I’m not sure which one she is. Who is her father?”
“He was called Colin before he passed away,” Aaron explained. “Seana O’Malley was her great-aunt.”
“Oh, that’s right. Renny’s niece,” the old man nodded. “Beautiful girl.”
Aaron said nothing, only stared at his grandfather, blue eyes narrowed in anticipation.
“Well, my boy, if I’m not mistaken,” he began in a softer voice than Aaron had heard in a while, “it is the Seamus O’Malley family, the one that lives near the base of Mount Torc, that is protected as members of the Order.”
Feeling his breath catch and his heart seem to stop beating for several seconds, Aaron became sick to his stomach. The idea that Aislyn could truly be in danger was enough to make him panic. “Grandad! What can we do?” he asked, his voice quiet but the intensity evident.
With a shrug, the elderly man said, “Nothing, Aaron. I’m sorry. We have an agreement. It is the only way to keep our families safe.”
“But what about the other families?” He could feel the anger building up inside of himself. “They deserve to be safe, too.”
“There is nothing we can do.” He continued to shrug and shake his head, and his complacency was enough to make Aaron want to pick up the entire basket of potatoes and toss them.
Perhaps if he hadn’t been so full of rage, he’d have heard his mother approaching behind him. “Aaron? What’s the matter?” she asked. “Your face is as red as a cardinal’s breast.”
“Nothing to fret about, Bree,” Ferris assured her. “We were just talking about some important matters, nothing a woman need worry her head about.”
Seeming to accept that, Bree turned to Aaron and said, “Will you take these inside to Genty? She and Channing are getting them ready to take to market tomorrow.”
Without another word, Aaron rose and picked up the basket, steadying it on his hip as he made his way inside. He would not accept his granddad’s answer, but he wasn’t sure how to go about making a change either. And since he was forbidden from speaking about the agreement with anyone, it would make finding a solution that much harder.
As soon as he walked in the door, his sister’s face fell. “Aaron? What happened?” she asked. “Come, sit down.”
“It’s nothing,” he assured her, not sure he should bring up the subject with her or his brother. He set the basket down on the small table where they dined, adding it to the multiple baskets his siblings already had stacked there.
“Are you certain?” she asked. “You look upset.”
“You look angry,” Channing clarified from where he sat at the far end of the table, counting potatoes. He was thirteen, big and strong, nothing like his younger brother who was wiry and fast but not bulky.
“I’m fine,” Aaron replied, his fisted hands refusing to relax.
Genty’s eyes dropped from his eyes to his hands and then back to his face again before she said, “If you say so, little brother.” She cleared her throat and went back to tending to the potatoes as she asked, “Are you going with us tomorrow to deliver these? Onora has promised to be there. I can’t wait to see how large her belly has grown.”
Onora, who was seventeen now, had married a young man from the village late last year, and now she carried her first child. She had married an other, and now that they were wed, if the agreement were true, he would be safe, as would their children. While Aaron would not mind at all to see his sister, the thought of marriage, safety, children, and most of all, the agreement, made him angry again. “I think I shall go chop some wood,” he announced, and without even answering his sister’s question, he went back out the door to the wood pile in hopes of finding a way to unleash some of the rage he felt in his heart.
Later that night, as he lay looking at the thatch above him, Genty rolled over and snuggled her head up next to his ear. He could hear his granddad snoring from his bunk below them, and though his mother had just put her sewing aside and turned to her own cot a few minutes ago, he could tell by the rise and fall of her chest that she was also in a deep slumber. “What is bothering you, little brother?” Genty asked, her voice a whisper in his ear.
He turned to face her, glancing over her at Channing who was also sound asleep. “I can’t speak of it,” he sighed.
Though the firelight didn’t quite reach the loft, he felt her nod her head next to him. “Can you indicate what it is that you cannot say.”
His sister was bright, and he was sure there would be a way he could voice his concerns to her without saying too much, should he choose to do so. He’d been keeping his anger bottled up for so long, it seemed like letting it out might be too explosive for such a small space. He took a deep breath and finally said, “It just isn’t fair. And I wish that it were.”
She leaned up on her elbow. “I understand. And I agree. But I don’t know what we should do about it. I don’t suppose there is anything that can be done.”
“I just wish I were older,” he continued, “so that maybe then I could keep… more people safe.”
The gleam from the fire off of her white teeth let him know she was smiling. “You mean Aislyn?” she asked.
He said nothing, only averted his eyes and resumed his staring at the ceiling.
“Aaron, even if she isn’t part of the agreement, she’ll likely still be safe. There are so many people, and even though it seems as if they are taking more and more each day, there are many others who will grow old with no fear of being turned or taken.”
Believing her would have been the easy thing to do, but her words were of no comfort. “I cannot bear to think of it,” he said, feeling a tear in his eye, which he hoped she could not see. “I cannot bear to think of any of it. It should not be this way.”
She smoothed back the hair on his forehead. “I know, little brother. But it is the way of it. And there is nothing that we can do.”
Aaron glanced up at his sister, pondering whether or not he was brave enough to tell her what Kian had said, that word he had used, the one he’d never heard before. Perhaps Genty would know it’s meaning. She was his best sister, his favorite of all, and he knew in his heart that if anyone could help him find a way, it was her. “Genty, have you ever heard of a Hunter before?” he
asked, just barely a whisper.
“A hunter?” she repeated. “You mean, like those who claim the king’s deer?”
“No, I don’t think so,” he replied. “Kian said it the other day. I think it has something to do with the… them. I think there might be more to this understanding than we know about.”
“Oh, little brother,” Genty said, still smoothing his hair. “I think it best if we do not discuss this further, and that you and Kian don’t either. You are treading on thin ice, my love. I know that you are fearful for your friend, but I am certain that, if you pray for her each night, the Lord will look after her. And I shall say a prayer for her, too. Now, close those pretty blue eyes of yours and get some sleep. We have a long day ahead of us tomorrow.”
He knew that there was nothing more to be said on the topic now. Clearly, Genty knew no more than he did, and she wasn’t willing to risk saying more even if she did. With a sigh, he nestled his arm under his head and considered her words. She kissed him gently on the forehead, and just as she was about to lie back down, he asked, “Genty, why do you stay?”
“What’s that?” she asked, her head hovering above the mat but no longer resting on her arm.
“I asked why you stay. Why haven’t you ever married? You’re nearly twenty.”
She giggled softly. “I told you long ago. I love you best, little brother.”
He turned to look at her as she rested her head. “That can’t be it.”
“Don’t worry yourself about me,” she assured him, gently pulling on the thin quilt that covered the three of them. “Someday, when you are older and have built a home of your own with Aislyn, then I will find a man and make a life with him. In the meantime, I will always be your Gen.”
As Aaron pushed thoughts of the Dark Ones and sweet Aislyn aside, he reflected on how lucky he was to have such a wonderful sister. At least he knew his Gen would always be safe from the Dark Ones. They could never take her. They had an agreement.
Chapter 3
Killarney, Ireland, 1846
Aislyn was standing next to the well, the one that most townsfolk used to water their animals when they were out on the commons as her family’s sheep were now. Though he had no animals and no reason to be congregated near the watering hole, he realized he was approaching, and there was nothing he could do to prevent himself from doing so.
At fifteen, she was just as lovely as ever. Her hair was longer still, and she almost always wore it in a single braid down her back, though he still liked it best free and billowing in the wind. She had the loveliest green eyes and the kindest smile. Her porcelain skin looked soft and creamy, and though he’d never run the back of his hand down her cheek, he’d imagined doing so would feel like touching fine silk linen.
He’d taken to speaking to her whenever he could, and he was beginning to think perhaps she fancied him, though he knew she couldn’t be nearly as fond of him as he was of her. Still, as he came to an abrupt halt before her, only a few grazing sheep and old Ms. Sutton within earshot, her smile broadened, and she looked up at him through long, thick lashes.
“Good day, Miss O’Malley,” Aaron said, not able to hold back the grin that spread across his face. “How are you this day?”
“Oh, Aaron, you’re always so formal,” she replied, smoothing her worn blue frock. “You know you may call me Aislyn. We’ve known each other since we were wee ones.”
“Aye, we have, though tis true that neither of us are so wee anymore.” She peered at him for a moment, her brow furrowed, as if she were not sure what he was alluding to. “That is to say, I’m seventeen, and you’re nearly sixteen, aren’t you?”
She nodded. “Fifteen and a half.”
Continuing to smile at him, she began to hoist the bucket up from the well, and he took hold of the rope, brushing her hand as he did so. She blushed, and he said, “Pardon me. Would you like some assistance?”
“If you don’t mind,” she replied, letting go the rope, and running her hands along her frock again.
Still feeling the warmth on his hand where he had made contact with hers, Aaron lifted the bucket out of the well and emptied the contents so that the animals may drink from the nearby trough. “There you go.”
“Thank you,” Aislyn said, still smiling. “Our flock has gotten much smaller lately. It isn’t such a chore to herd them as it used to be, though Mac is quite helpful, as you can see by his attentiveness.”
Aaron laughed as she gestured at the skinny black and white dog who lay in the shadow of one of the many trees that offered shade to the watering hole. “He is a hard worker indeed,” he agreed.
Aislyn glanced up at him and then away again, back toward the dog, biting at the corner of her lip as if she were about to speak, but it took her a moment to ask, “Are you plannin’ to attend the cross-roads Sunday? I don’t believe I’ve seen you there. I know you never attended when the dance master visited, but I’ve heard you are still quite the nimble performer.”
Feeling the color rise in his face, Aaron cleared his throat. While he had also heard his dancing skills were above par, he had always hesitated to attend the popular dances held every few weeks at the intersection of two nearby roads where many of the young people of his village gathered to enjoy each other’s company for fear of embarrassing himself in front of Aislyn. Kian was always ribbing him, saying he should come and look the fool if it be so; at least he’d have an opportunity to speak to her away from church or randomly bumping into her in town—though lately these chance meetings had become much more calculated on his part. “My reputation may leave one wanting, but I had considered making an appearance.”
“Your sister, Genty, is often there. You could accompany her,” Aislyn offered as one of the sheep nudged itself against her leg.
“Perhaps I could accompany you.” Aaron was a bit taken aback at his own boldness, and as Aislyn’s cheeks turned a light pink, he heard Ms. Sutton break into laughter on the other side of the well.
They both turned to face her, and she said, “Aw to be young again! If I’d known then what I know now—that Tommy Lynch would be the only one to ever ask for my hand—I’d have married that ox of a man before Peggy Monahan snatched him up. Listen to the words of an old woman, little lass, you’ve got a fine lookin’ young man in the McReynolds lad here. Don’t be foolish like me. You’ll regret it someday when you’ve only a skinny cow and a lazy dog to call your own.” And with that, the buxom woman took the lead on said cow and began to teeter away back toward her home, the yellow dog she’d referred to following at her heels.
Aislyn broke into a fit of giggles, and seeing her genuinely joyful, Aaron began to laugh, too. Her laughter continued until, in an effort to keep from losing her balance and toppling over, Aislyn rested her hand on his chest, and with her touch, Aaron regained his composure, the feel of her warm palm permeating through his shirt. Her other hand was resting atop the well, just inches from his own, and realizing they were now alone, he slid his hand over a bit to rest on top of hers.
She suddenly became quite serious as well. Her green eyes flickered from her own hand where it rested near his shoulder back to his eyes, and though she looked hesitant, she did not pull away. With his other hand, he reached up and encircled her delicate fingers so that her hand was confined to his chest. He said nothing, only looked into her eyes and smiled. This was by far the closest to her he’d ever been.
Aislyn returned the smile, though she couldn’t maintain the eye contact, and blushing, dropped her gaze to her own boots. “I’d love to attend with you, Aaron,” she said glancing up to him. “I’m not sure what my Ma will say. Perhaps we should meet there.”
“I do believe your Ma is partial to me,” he reminded her, readjusting their hands that still rested on the well so that their fingers were intertwined. “She always speaks to me at mass, and she’s yet to chase me off your property with a broom whenever I stop to say hello.”
The giggling had returned, and she wore the pink blush again.
Aaron brought her other hand up to meet the one resting on his chest so that both of her hands were clasped between his. “She is fond of you,” Aislyn admitted. “It’s only that I am her last child living at home, and I fear she’ll miss me if I… leave.”
Aaron felt his heart catch in his chest at the realization that she’d been about to say “marry” instead of “leave,” an indication that she may actually be willing to become his wife. Though he’d hoped and prayed for such an outcome for longer than he could remember, the idea that she might potentially become his one day in the not so distant future made him feel lighter than air. He couldn’t help but grin at her, and though he wanted to acknowledge her words, no sentences would form.
“What is it?” Aislyn asked, eyeing him cautiously, though she still smiled. “Have I said something peculiar?”
“No,” he assured her. “Not at all. I will be more than happy to meet you at the cross-roads on Sunday evening.”
Her smile reached her eyes, which twinkled with glee. “Good. Then I shall take Ms. Sutton’s advice and consider myself a lucky lass.”
“Aye, and I shall know for certain that there isn’t a man in all of Ireland as fortunate as I,” Aaron replied watching the pink turn to crimson and turn the exposed skin above her chest a telling red, which began to crawl up her exquisite neck.
“You make me blush, Mr. McReynolds,” she said, dropping her eyes.
“Who is being too formal now?” he asked. Momentarily releasing her hand, he brushed a fine strand of red behind her ear, and as he did so, his knuckles kissed her cheek. Though it was nothing more than a fleeting glance, he now knew for certain that her skin was as soft as silk. Recapturing her hand, he returned it to its former position, just above his heart.
Aislyn surveyed their surroundings, and though no one approached, her sheep were beginning to wander, the dog unconcerned. “I should be going,” she said, her voice revealing that she was truly in no hurry to do so.