“Say yes to what?” Jon asked warily.
“The owner of this building needs to sell. He’s too old to take care of it anymore.”
“Doesn’t look like he took care of it in the first place,” Jonathan said, looking over the ragged building.
“Anyway,” Aryl continued, “he offered to sell it to us on time. We assume the loan, and give him a kickback of ten percent of the total monthly rents, so that he maintains a small income. If he outright sells, with the value of real estate being so little, he’ll owe money.” Aryl was excited now and talking fast. “If we each take an apartment, that will leave nine to rent, plus the two ground floor shops once we get them fixed up. We live rent free, and after the mortgage is paid plus the kickback to the owner, we save the profit, plus what we make at the shipping yard. We save everything and do it again. There’s got to be more deals out there like this, until we have enough rentals that we don’t have to work at the yard anymore. It’ll take time, but it can be done,” he finished proudly.
“Renters,” Jonathan said flatly. “We can’t pay a mortgage without renters.”
“There are already four long-term renters that have agreed to stay if we fix things up. And as for the rest, we steal them right out from under Victor. Caleb has already talked to several people in our building, and even if we didn’t undercut Victor’s prices, they agreed to move. But if we do cut rent even a few dollars, we’d have people lined up to save some money, and we’d always be full.” Jonathan took a minute to roll all of this around in his mind.
“How sure of a deal is it?”
“Very sure. We have a tentative agreement to take over March first. We need the money down, plus money for repairs, and I won’t lie, it’s pretty bad. It’ll be a lot of work. Other than that, we need you on board.” Aryl waited for his reaction with baited breath. Jonathan started to feel a spark of life creep back into his chest. He didn’t recognize it yet as hope.
“Have you told the girls yet?” Jonathan asked, looking over the broken down building.
“No. We didn’t want to get their hopes up. We wanted to wait until we had you on board.”
Jonathan suddenly felt a wave of relief that almost brought him to tears, as he realized this meant being out of Victor’s building and having something of his own again.
“We’ll tell them tomorrow,” he told Aryl with a hint of strength in his voice. Aryl smiled wide.
“Okay, then. We’ll do it.”
∞∞∞
“Oh, Mr. Jonathan, Mr. Aryl, ye missed me Scottie, singin' like an angel in the choir!” They heard Maura’s loud brogue from down the street. Having missed the children’s mass and choir performance, Aryl and Jonathan walked to Maura’s to wait on the stoop for everyone to return.
“I’m sorry we couldn’t make it,” Jonathan apologized quietly.
“Well, you must be freezin’. Come in and I’ll make us all hot drinks before dinner,” she said, making her way to the door. Ava was relieved to see Jonathan for reasons she didn’t understand. She stood in front of him. He wouldn’t make eye contact and she could see the red, swollen rims of his eyes and blotchy face.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, standing closer to him. He avoided her eyes and tried to appear convincing with his lie.
“Well, I was shaving.” Aryl eyed him cautiously. “And this jackass here scares the hell out of me. I got lather all over my face and in my eyes.” He attempted a rough laugh and shoved his hands in his pockets.
“Sorry,” Aryl said sheepishly. “And to make matters worse, when I was running from him, I tripped over your chair and it broke. I'll fix it, though,” Aryl offered.
“You boys. I swear,” Ava said, shaking her head. “But you didn’t finish shaving,” she mentioned.
“Jonathan has decided to grow a beard,” Aryl interjected matter-of-factly, holding the razor in his pocket that would not be soon returned to its owner.
“Shall I be servin’ drinks out in the street, or are ye goin’ to join us inside?” Maura yelled from her door.
Maura’s home was one of only four apartments in a brick building that might have once been a single home, but it was warm and friendly. She introduced everyone, going around the room, pointing as she said the person’s name. Between friends, cousins, uncles, aunts, nieces, and nephews, there were almost two dozen gathered in the small living room. The girls offered their help in the kitchen and filed in behind her. Maura pulled a turkey from the oven and smiled.
“Oh, it’s beautiful!” Arianna exclaimed.
“Tis,” Maura agreed and pulled her flask out of her sweater pocket. “To another perfect turkey!” She toasted with a swig and passed it around. Ava and Claire took a dainty sip but Arianna passed it back.. Maura looked at her and her hand flew to Arianna's head. “Are ye feelin’ poorly, Miss Arianna?”
“No, I feel fine.”
“Well, what then? Tis not like ye to turn down a drink. If I’m rememberin’ correctly, yer the one that starts the pourin’!”
“Well, it appears that I won’t be doing any pouring for a while. At least six more months.” Maura’s eyes opened wide when she made the connection, and she grabbed Arianna in a tight hug.
“Oh, Miss Arianna! How wonderful! A wee babe! Does Mr. Caleb know yet?” she cried.
“Well, if he hadn’t, he would now.” Arianna smiled at her loud enthusiasm. “But yes, he knows.” Maura reached under the sink and pulled out a large bottle.
“Been savin’ this for a special occasion, and there's nothing more special than celebratin' news of a new babe.” She cradled the bottle and walked into the living room. “We have more cause to celebrate!” she called out, getting everyone’s attention. “Miss Arianna and Mr. Caleb are expectin’ their first wee bairn!” The whole room erupted in cheers and applause and even Jonathan couldn’t help but smile. Arianna moved from the kitchen to Caleb’s side, somewhat embarrassed. He put an arm around her while everyone around the room, even those who didn’t know them, took turns toasting and soon the large bottle was empty.
Arianna looked truly happy, although slightly self-conscious, and Ava couldn’t help but be happy for her, feeling that this is the way the news should have been announced. Not with tears and anxious concern for the future. Caleb grinned proudly as if he had accomplished some fantastic feat.
Jonathan stood next to Ava against the wall of the small room by the window, which had been opened to relieve the stifling buildup of body heat. Claire and Aryl found a spot in the corner near the fireplace to watch the loud and jovial crowd as cousins teased cousins, aunts scolded nephews and nieces, and later the oldest family members told embarrassing stories of the younger generation.
Maura produced a modest but beautiful dinner that filled the entire table. She announced it was time to eat, said a quick blessing and proclaimed that the oldest and the youngest be allowed to the table first. They gathered to form a line and then found whatever spot they could to settle and eat. The room filled with chatter, the clinking of dishes and glasses, eruptions of laughter and a few more toasts in Caleb and Arianna’s honor. Maura made it a point to walk by Arianna several times with a bowl or platter to heap more food on her plate, ignoring her protests that she couldn’t eat another bite.
“Maura, that was wonderful,” Aryl told her as she took his empty plate. He sat down on the floor and Claire sat beside him, taking his hand in her lap.
“Are you okay?” she asked. He rolled his head over to look at her.
“I’m just so tired, Claire,” he said, not sure he could make it to midnight. She slipped her arm around his shoulders and pulled him over to rest his head in her lap. She put her hands on his head, playing with the unruly curls and massaging his head lightly until he was quite tempted to fall asleep.
Jonathan remained quiet against the far wall, standing beside Ava, grateful to be removed from the center of conversation and commotion. He was exhausted as well and on the verge of passing out himself, if not for the lingering
excitement of Aryl’s news and wanting to talk to Ava to explain himself, beg her forgiveness, answer all her questions and convince her of how he really felt. The bustling room provided no privacy; he would have to wait until they got home.
Maura announced that her husband, Ian, would read The Christmas Story while she prepared dessert and everyone gradually settled down. Ian sat on a thatched stool by the fireplace, balancing Scottie on one knee and the Bible on the other. He had a wonderful voice for storytelling, and, even though everyone in the room had heard it many times, the way he spoke held everyone entranced. Maura passed out plates of pie, stepping over legs and bodies in the crowded living room.
Toward the end of the story, Maura gathered empty plates from guests and began clearing the table of empty serving dishes. By the time Ian finished the story, Scottie was asleep on Ian’s chest. Maura lifted him carefully and took him to bed. Three other relatives with sleeping toddlers of their own followed her to settle them for the night.
When she returned, Maura stood in front of the fireplace to make an announcement. “As most of ye know, me young niece, Tarin, arrived from Ireland last month. She will be stayin’ here to watch the babes while we go to mass, but ‘fore we leave, she is goin' to honor us with singin’ one of our favorite songs,” she said and smiled with pride, stepped aside and Tarin took her place in front of the fireplace. Ian picked up his guitar, and began playing the soft and gentle opening to Ave Maria.
When the first words of the song were heard, everyone was impressed by the powerful and majestic voice that erupted from the tiny girl. It completely filled the room, drowning out the city’s noises of barking dogs and wailing sirens. When Jonathan closed his eyes, he could easily have been sitting in the balcony of a fine opera house. Maura watched both Tarin and Ian with pride. She glanced around the room at her guests, who were completely spellbound at the performance. She watched Jonathan reach blindly, his head leaned back with eyes closed, for Ava’s hand and held it tightly, once found. Caleb stood behind Arianna with arms locked around her waist and his head next to hers, and he had the same look of awe at Tarin’s angelic voice. Arianna was intently watching the youngest guest, a baby of only a few weeks, sleeping in the arms of Maura’s cousin. Glancing to her right, Maura saw Claire looking down adoringly at Aryl, who was lying on his side with his head still resting in her lap. His eyes slowly closed as he drifted off to Claire’s touch and Tarin’s hypnotic voice. Maura watched the couple; Claire serene and contented to watch over Aryl as he slept with an expression so peaceful that it almost moved Maura to tears.
Tarin sung the crescendo that caused the few dry eyes to blink with welling tears and others to swallow hard against the rising lump in their throats. She finished the song with a long note and her audience was completely silent. Maura cleared her throat and wiped a tear, stepping toward Tarin.
“That was absolutely amazin’, Tarin,” she said. The other guests fell in with compliments and admiration and shortly after, Maura announced it was time to leave. The room burst into a flurry of activity as everyone began to gather coats and hats in preparation for the chilly walk. Aryl stirred, yawning and stretching, and Caleb held Arianna’s coat for her. Only Jonathan remained motionless against the wall, still holding Ava’s hand with closed eyes. Ava stared at their entangled hands, ignoring everything else around them.
Maura gathered Jonathan and Ava’s coats and made her way over, saying his name gently to get his attention. He opened his eyes and as he reached for his coat, his sleeve rose just enough for Maura to catch a glimpse of the angry, red score on his wrist, and her eyes flickered from it to Jonathan’s red-rimmed eyes and quickly away again. She was the last to leave, after seeing all of her guests out, and she stretched up on tiptoe to take the straw cross off the nail where it hung above the door.
∞∞∞
On the street, they were a large, loud bunch with Jonathan, Ava, and a very sleepy Aryl lagging behind. Jonathan took Ava’s arm and laced it through his without explanation. Claire walked ahead with Arianna toward the front of the group, holding her arm and talking about the wall murals Caleb had already asked her to paint. Maura came up between Jonathan and Ava, removed Ava’s arm from Jonathan’s and replaced it with her own.
“Ye go chat with yer girlfriends about babies and knittin’ and such. I’m goin' to steal yer husband for a bit,” she ordered. Ava took Aryl's arm and did as Maura told; hurrying ahead with relief that everything would be all right once Maura set Jonathan straight.
“I’ve been meanin’ to talk to ye, Mr. Jonathan,” Maura started, clinging to his arm with both of hers.
“Maura, just Jonathan. No mister is needed any-”
“I’ll call ye whatever I damned well please, and I’ll thank ye to leave me alone about it,” she barked lovingly. Now that authority was established in the conversation, she continued. “I never told ye the story of the night of the big wind, did I, Mr. Jonathan?”
“I don’t believe so, Maura,” he said, patting her arm.
“A long time ago, when me grandmother was a small girl, there was a great storm that swept over Ireland. It came down so swiftly and with such force that there was no time to prepare, not that any amount of preparations could have done much given the ferocity o' the storm. Hundreds of lives were lost, homes destroyed, fields flooded and stores of food for livestock were ruined. Folks said that the storm was so enormous that it almost covered all o’ Ireland. Me grandmother woke in the middle of the night to howling winds that shook her family’s small cottage. Her mother gathered all the children in the kitchen by the warmth of the stove while her Da’ went out to secure the animals. He barely made it back to the cottage with the wind and drivin’ rain such as they were. As the wind became more violent, it ripped off large pieces of the thatched roof and rain flooded the fields and the floor. Me grandmother and her family believed that the end of the world was at hand. They ran from the cottage when the storm took the rest of the roof. They tied the smaller children together with a rope to help get them safely to the barn where they remained the rest o' the night. The storm made such a deafening roar that it sounded as if the whole world was bein' torn apart. They huddled together in the barn, cryin’ with fear, sayin’ prayers and waitin’ fer the end to come.” She paused with a far off gaze and Jonathan jostled her arm.
“What happened after that?” he asked.
“Well, obviously, twas not the end of the world. The storm passed and the next day, the sun shone bright. They lost everything, although most of the barn survived, and they had a few animals left that hadn’t run from the thunderous noise. Their cottage was scattered in bits as far as the eye could see. Only two things survived the night. Everything else was gone.”
Jonathan was quiet, all too able to relate to the feeling of devastating loss.
“Is that when your family came here? After losing everything?” he asked.
“No. They remained. They buried their dead, rebuilt their homes, bartered skills and services to help one another along. They cared for their fields and reset the boundary stones. Families crammed together under one roof as life was slowly restored. It was a great deal o' tiresome work. And it wasn’t without tears and sorrow, mind ye. But in time, babes were born under newly thatched roofs, couples were wed in green meadows of summer and crops were harvested in fields of gold the following fall.
“My people survived the greatest storm in over three hundred years and came out stronger and more resilient for it. And when hard times come now to my family, here and back home, when compared to the devastation and heartache of that day, it truly puts it into perspective for us.” She stopped walking and turned to face Jonathan, still holding his arm. “Tis not the end of the world, Mr. Jonathan. Babes will be born, yer to be an uncle. Homes and marriages can be rebuilt if ye work hard enough. And love, hope, and faith are things ye can harvest all year long. If yer in the right mind to.” Her words were gentle and sincere, and Jonathan fought the sting in his eyes and the ti
ghtness in his throat, realizing the intention of Maura’s story. He cleared his throat, looked away from her, unable to speak for a moment, and then asked her a detail she omitted from her story.
“You said two things survived that storm. What were they?” he asked, still looking away.
“The stone foundation of the cottage, and wedged between, near where the door once hung, a small cross made by her mother.” She pulled the straw cross out of her pocket and showed it to Jonathan. “That cross remained in our family, passed down and protected as a great treasure for generations. One year my mother carefully unwove the fragile and delicate fibers, which were by then over seventy years old and beginning to show wear. She wove new crosses for each of her children and within each, one of the original fibers was woven in from the cross that survived that storm. And this,” she said, holding it out to Jonathan, “is one of the crosses she made. She gave it to me the year before I left Ireland with Ian, and I want ye to have it, Mr. Jonathan.”
Jonathan looked at her, stunned. “Maura, I can’t take this. This is far too special–”
“I insist and I won’t hear another word about it. I have the story in my heart, Mr. Jonathan. And, I know the lesson within the story. It needs to be with someone who needs it. And that someone is you.” He opened his mouth to protest again, but she quickly interceded. “If ye don’t take it, Mr. Jonathan, I shall have me mother on the next boat from Ireland to argue with ye herself, and I promise ye I am a mild-mannered angel compared to that woman.”
Jonathan smiled, finding it hard to believe someone could be more brazen and stubborn than Maura.
“You are an angel, Maura,” he said, holding the cross in the palm of his hand for a moment before tucking it in his pocket. “I’ll take good care of it, I promise.”
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