Fiona

by Gemma Whelan

  “You’re a good little family historian, Una!”

  Fiona was taking Sean and Una on a tour of the farm.

  “You know that Nellie is insisting I stay here? I told her I was going to book a B&B, but she refuses to let me.”

  Fiona was conflicted. She had expected Sean to stay in a local bed and breakfast and drive out every day. For her own sake, she thought this arrangement would be easier, would help her to get some distance and keep her feelings at bay. But she made no strenuous objections when Nellie announced her plan. And now she felt safer that Sean was sleeping under the same roof, at least until Declan and Julie came and she could relax about Una.

  “I’ll be putting you in Fiona’s parents’ room, Sean. I hope that’s all right? Declan and Julie can have Declan’s room, and I have an extra cot for Una if she wants to move back in with her parents when they come tomorrow.”

  Nellie had the last word.

  “Well, it’s a lot more convenient for you, isn’t it?” Fiona asked rhetorically. “You’d have to drive a good bit to get a decent B&B—there certainly aren’t any in Cregora. And the food could never match this one!”

  Una had spied the old treehouse and shrieked with delight.

  “Is this it, Fiona, this is the place you told me about?”

  “Yep—that’s it.” And Fiona swallowed the lump in her throat when Una rushed headlong and worked her way in to the carved out wooden enclosure and started to explore.

  It was the first moment Fiona and Sean had been alone since their arrival. Fiona had hardly let Una out of her sight.

  “Fiona, are you all right? You seem on edge. And what is it with Frank?”

  “What do you mean?” Surely it wasn’t obvious.

  “I just noticed . . . well, you tensed up. You seemed relaxed enough before that.”

  “It’s just so much history, Sean. The slew of deaths around the same time—Rita and the baby, and Orla.” She partly lied. “It will always be connected. That’s the reason I need to sever the ties.”

  “But didn’t you say you might compromise with Declan and let him keep the land?”

  “I felt pushed into that. Making the film became top priority, so I bargained. And it’s true that I don’t ever have to visit here again.”

  Sean didn’t seem convinced. He looked around at the land, the fields stretching to the horizon, the house in the distance. “It’s an amazing place. Full of history.”

  “Yes. And memories.”

  At that moment Una shouted out to them from the tree cave. “It’s so huge in here. Even you could still fit in here Fiona, now that you’re grown up!”

  They laughed, and Fiona brought Sean over to peek in to her former hideout. They had planned to reconstruct it for the film shoot.

  Fiona and Sean and Una walked a good deal of the land and had a tour of the yard and sheds and machinery. The farm was now rented temporarily and being farmed by locals until Fiona and Declan decided what to do. Fiona showed them the pump at the back of the house—behind the kitchen window.

  “This was where we went to get our drinking water in the big white enamel bucket—from the time we were all big enough to reach up to the handle, strong enough to pump up water from the well and hefty enough to carry the bucket of water back around into the kitchen.” Fiona also showed them the covering of the well. “When you stood in front of the kitchen sink, you could see out on the yard. Poor Mam spent a lot of time keeping an eye on the three of us when we were little to make sure we didn’t get killed by the machinery, eat too much dirt or fall into the well!”

  “Are you putting all of this in the film, Sean?” Una asked.

  “As much as I can, Una. I want to make it as real as possible.”

  That evening, all of them pitched in to help Nellie with dinner. Despite Fiona’s discomfort, Uncle Frank had come over and was acting like part of the family—which of course he was. He had brought over a bottle of Powers whiskey, a bottle of red lemonade and a loaf of his fresh bread.

  “Are you a whiskey man yourself there, Sean?” he asked with a twinkle.

  “I’m more of a beer drinker, but I enjoy a whiskey every now and then—though I’ve never had Powers.”

  “You most likely can’t get that over there in America. It’s our home grown product! Would you like a wee dram before we eat, to boost the old appetite?”

  “Sure. Just a small one. I don’t want to shirk my potato washing duty!”

  Sean had been assigned to the potatoes. Fiona and Una were cleaning and slicing the carrots and parsnips.

  “Shur’ this will only enhance your chopping there. Isn’t that right, Nellie?”

  Nellie laughed heartily. “Well it might and it mightn’t. But you’re safe enough with us anyway, Sean, if it doesn’t agree with you.”

  “Will you try a wee drop yourself Nell, then?”

  Nellie laughed again as she seasoned the leg of lamb. “Not if you want this lamb cooked tonight, I won’t! Maybe after dinner I’ll have a wee taste.”

  “And what about yourself, Fiona? Will you indulge?”

  Fiona shook her head. “I’ll wait ‘til after, too.”

  “Grand.” And Frank went to get the glasses from the parlor cabinet.

  “What’s the lemonade for?” Una asked.

  “Why, that’s for you, little girl. And for anyone who might want to adulterate their whiskey by adding a touch of lemonade!”

  Una laughed happily. “You’re funny!”

  Frank poured the drinks as they all continued dinner preparations.

  “And what can I do, Nellie? Are you in charge of the dinner proceedings?” Frank inquired.

  “In a bit you can set the table, Frank. No rush.”

  “Can I help set the table, too?” Una asked. “I’d like to help set that table—are we eating in the dining room?”

  “Indeed we are, and Frank could do with a bit of help.” Nellie teased.

  Fiona’s nerves were on edge. She had hoped to have a reprieve from Frank and wondered if he was spying on her, making sure all was au fait with the film, no references to bad uncles. He had also mentioned earlier, as soon as he got her alone, that they should move ahead and finalize the issues of the will as soon as Declan arrived. He seemed to be in more of a hurry than they were. Put it down to wanting to accomplish his legal duties. Fiona had no problem with this as she was anxious to wrap it up in the shortest possible time.

  But the business with Una was making her nervous. She didn’t want him near her. It was unthinkable that he might try anything. Fiona used to think that what happened with her was an anomaly, a one time aberration. But what if it wasn’t? Was he truly a pedophile? Was Una in danger? It made her wish she could have a drink but she wanted to stay alert.

  Sean savored the glass of Powers. “Nice, very smooth.”

  “Good man, yourself.” Frank approved. “You’ve got good taste for a Yank!”

  “Well, he’s part Irish, Frank, you have to give him that!” Nellie joked.

  They were all relaxing and having a good time. It brought back memory waves to Fiona of happy times spent preparing meals in this kitchen.

  Sean turned to Nellie as he removed the eyes from the potatoes. “You’re a cousin of Fiona’s, Nellie, is that right?”

  “Fiona’s father, James, and Frank’s aunt, Jenny, you wouldn’t have known her, Fiona, as she died when you were only a wee baby in the pram . . . well Jenny and my mother were second cousins. I think that makes your father, God rest him, and myself third cousins—or maybe third cousins once removed.”

  “So you’re my cousin, too.” Una exclaimed as she finished off a carrot. “Oh boy, I have all of these new relatives now. I’ll tell Mom and Dad when they come tomorrow.”

  Fiona laughed. “It’s a bit distant, isn’t it?”

  “Just a bit.” Nellie chuckled as she expertly handled the lamb and bundled it into the oven. “But your parents were always good to me and Ignatius and the brood. They got us through a f
ew hard spells when Ignatius was out of work. Those were some hard times.”

  “You were good to us too, Nellie. I don’t know what Dad would have done without you when Mam was sick—and then after Orla died, and . . . ”

  Nellie nodded. After Aunt Rita and the baby. She started in on the bread pudding she was making for desert. She poured the milk over the bread, added sugar and raisins, stirred it all up. The lamb was beginning to smell delicious.

  Fiona was washing off the chopping knife in the sink when she saw them. Right out in front of her in the yard, Frank was crouching down with Una and holding her hand over the well handle. Fiona tried to stifle the gasp and let the knife slip and nicked her finger. Blood began to flow. Sean and Nellie were deep in conversation, and Sean ran over to her. “What is it? Are you okay?”

  Fiona was shivering. She tried to breathe deeply. “Just a cut.” She held her finger tightly to staunch the bleeding. “Una. I need to get Una.”

  “She went outside with Frank a minute ago.”

  Fiona didn’t know how she could have missed that. She tried to walk and not run. “I’ll just get her in. It’s probably getting cold.” And she stalked outside.

  The air was mild—not in the least cold—a lovely late summer night.

  “Una, do you want your cardigan?” Fiona tried to keep her voice steady.

  “Oh, no. I’m not a bit cold. Uncle Frank is showing me the old well. He let me touch it but not open it up. It’s too dangerous.”

  Fiona nodded. She didn’t trust herself to speak.

  “How’s the dinner coming along then?” Frank asked. “Is it time to set the table yet?”

  Fiona cleared her throat. “Yes. It’s time.” And hoped it was.

  Una jumped up and grabbed Frank by the hand. “Come along, Uncle Frank. We are the table-setters, so we have to go in now.”

  Frank laughed. “Right you are, little madam. Whatever you say, I will obey!” And they went ahead leaving Fiona to gather herself in the waning light.

  The meal was delicious, fresh succulent lamb, crisp browned roasted potatoes, juicy carrots and parsnips. And the tasty bread pudding to finish off. They all chatted amicably, Nellie filled them in on what her brave brood was doing. They had all done well for themselves and were now scattered all over the country and a few in England, working in their own construction company. Nellie already had eighteen grandchildren, and her three youngest weren’t even married yet.

  “I’m the only grandchild of Grandma Anna and Grandpa James.” Una offered as they finished desert. “But soon I’ll have a little sister. I’m really tired now.” Una spoke it all in one breath.

  “I’m not a bit surprised.” Fiona laughed. “Come on, I’ll get you to bed—the men can wash up!”

  Fiona had to peel Una’s clothes off her and drop her into bed, the little girl was so dog tired. As she kissed her good night, Una managed to ask if Fiona would read Alice to her the following night.

  “I wanted to read it tonight but . . .” and she was out like a light.

  They all put away the last of the dishes and cutlery and then had a final night cap. Now that Una was safely tucked in bed, Fiona felt she could relax. She was still tense from the shock of seeing Frank so close to Una, innocent as it might have been. After all, his touching her on the shoulder during those endless rosaries seemed innocent enough at the time.

  Nellie had agreed to a small whiskey with a lot of lemonade. Frank had his own neat—no adulteration as he liked to joke, just straight up. He fixed one with ice for Sean and another neat for Fiona. Frank was going to walk Nellie home then.

  “Maybe tomorrow or the day after, we’ll fix up the will, Fiona? I’m sure you’d like it over and done with—and Declan, too.”

  “Yeah—let’s see how tired Declan is. If he’s up for it tomorrow, then we’ll settle it up. Did you need to ring Mr. Stanley?”

  “Well, why don’t we have our meeting first, around four or so, sort it all out, make sure we’re on the same page so to speak, and then we can set up the final meeting with Stanley?”

  “Sounds good. Thanks.”

  “Right you be. Bottoms up then!” And he downed his whiskey. “I’ll just pay a visit to the little boys’ room, Nellie, and then we’ll be off, if you’re ready.”

  “Perfect, Frank. I’ll get my cardigan.”

  Fiona stiffened like a corpse. She was frozen in space. She heard Frank’s footsteps on the stairs, getting closer to the top, then couldn’t hear them any more, and she sprung to her feet. “Excuse me a sec. I need to get something from my room.” And she was gone.

  She walked up the stairs as silently as she could. As she got to the top she saw that the bathroom light was on and the door closed. She breathed a sigh of relief. She went into her room anyway, checked on Una who was fast asleep, adjusted the sheet around her neck, waited until she heard the bathroom flush, held herself in suspension until she heard Frank’s footsteps descend the stairs, and then she closed Una’s door.

  After Fiona and Sean saw Nellie and Frank off, they decided to have a small whiskey before retiring for the night. They were both tired. Fiona was emotionally drained with the effort of protecting Una and thus reliving her own past with Frank. She was glad Una’s parents were arriving the next day.

  “There’s something wrong, Fiona, isn’t there? Something else.”

  Both of them were sitting in comfortable armchairs in the living room. Fiona looked despondently at Sean. Her whole being ached to trust him, but she felt the need to hold herself back. There was too much at stake. Sean walked over, took her hand and knelt down by her. All of her resolve melted at his mere touch. All of her pent up frustration and worry. She tried to hold back her tears.

  “Sean. I’m really a mess. You would be better off keeping your distance. I can’t . . . I need you to direct the film.”

  Sean stroked her hand gently. “It’s not mutually exclusive, you know. Loving you and working with you.”

  “I’m not so sure.” Fiona thrilled at his mention of loving her, and wanted to run the opposite direction as fast as she could.

  “Well, I am.” Sean pulled her gently down beside him. “I am very sure.”

  Fiona’s body yearned to be touched by Sean, her whole being reached out for his love, and another instinct told her she was fooling herself if she thought she could make a relationship work. She pulled away.

  “You don’t know me, Sean. Not really.”

  He drew her back. “I know enough, Fiona. And you’ll share as you wish, as you need to.”

  Fiona knew she had to stop running. It was all coming to a head, converging. “Sean . . . ”

  “Shh . . . ” he placed his fingers gently on her mouth. “No words . . . ” And then his lips reached over to meet hers. And his kiss was light as can be, a sprinkle of magic dust, electric and galvanizing. Fiona responded. They spoke in kisses. Easy, slow, lightly landing, tantalizingly soft and gentle. Kisses made to last. To lead to more. To last.

  They climbed the stairs together and parted at the top with a soft kiss and went to their rooms to rest and sleep off their weariness.

  CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

  ENDGAME

  “You need to claim the events of your

  life to make yourself yours.”

  ANNE WILSON SCHAEF

  Fiona slept fitfully. She was awakened several times with thoughts of Frank, memory flashes of the abuse which took place in this very bed, worries about seeing Declan, about Una’s safety. Though she dreaded the meeting regarding the will, she wanted desperately to get it over quickly and move on with the film and get that done too. Maybe then she could get back to living her life.

  The next morning at 10:30, Sean knocked on Fiona’s bedroom door, and, when he heard a sleepy “come in,” he entered slowly with the breakfast tray.

  “Rise and shine!”

  Fiona and Una roused themselves and began to emerge from the sheets.

  “We serve breakfast in bed in this fine establis
hment.” Sean joked as the two ladies extracted themselves from the sheets and propped themselves up on pillows. Fiona was shocked when she saw the time and remembered what the day had in store for her.

  “I really overslept. I need to get moving.”

  Sean presented her with a cup of sweet milky tea. “Well, you need a good breakfast.” And he handed Una an orange juice. “I played it safe with scrambled eggs and toast—I hope that is satisfactory,” he pronounced with mock ceremony.

  “This is fun.” Una giggled as she devoured her juice.

  Fiona relaxed. “Quite satisfactory.” She joked. “The cup of tea is the most important.”

  “I knew that!” Sean replied. “I even made myself one—couldn’t find the coffee maker.”

  “Probably because there isn’t one. I bet there’s some instant. We’ll have to get you a coffee maker and fresh beans.”

  “And my Mom likes coffee in the morning, too.” Una devoured her eggs.

  “We definitely need to invest in one, then.” Fiona added. “I like coffee when I’m writing.”

  She finished her breakfast, helped Una wash up and then jumped in the shower to prepare herself for the day to come.

  Declan had rented a car at the airport, and he and Julie rolled in to the front yard right on schedule in the early afternoon. Nellie greeted them with a light meal and scrumptious scones which they relished. Fiona thought that Declan seemed unusually withdrawn—he didn’t rise to his usual level of jocularity in company. When Fiona got a moment alone with Julie, up in Declan’s bedroom where their suitcases had been installed, she asked her if everything was all right.

  “I honestly don’t know, Fiona. He’s been withdrawn since you left with Una. When I ask he says he’s fine—but he’s not.”

  “Maybe he was worried about Una, being away without you both for the first time?”

  “That’s possible. I was surprised he gave in so easily. But if that’s the case he could have mentioned that to me. It’s normal. Of course, we knew she would be fine with you.”