IRISH FIRE

by Jeanette Baker

  I want to go now.

  Brigid tried another approach. Ben doesnt want t go back to Kentucky.

  Annies face crumpled. She drew a deep hiccupping breath. I know.

  What if you went t a different school, made a fresh start?

  There isnt another school.

  Aye, there is. But Ill have t speak t your mum about it first.

  Where is it?

  Its the parish school, the school your mum and aunts attended. If I can get Caitlin to agree, will you give it a chance, for me?

  Annies feeble, I guess so, wasnt the response Brigid had hoped for, but beggars couldnt be choosers and acquiescence was a long way from where they had started.

  She wasnt prepared for Caitlins flat denial later that afternoon.

  Absolutely not. Ill not have my daughter going to school in that place. I hated it when I was there.

  I cant imagine what youre talkin about.

  Caitlin stared at her mother from across the gleaming oak table. No, she said softly, Im sure you cant.

  Brigids hands clenched on the arms of her chair. Trust Caitlin to make more of something than there was. Forcing herself to remain calm, Brigid crossed her arms. Your daughter is miserable, Caitlin. Shes in her room right this minute, two hours earlier than shes supposed t be, cryin her eyes out because she doesnt fit in.

  Caitlins cheeks flamed and her eyes were very bright. Ill talk to Annie.

  Do you care about your daughter, Caitlin?

  Youre not serious? Caitlins voice cracked.

  Youll have t do more than talk, Brigid pounded relentlessly. Youll have t put yourself in her place. Everythin thats happened t you, youve brought on yourself. You ran away t America and married an unsuitable man. When you couldnt stand it anymore you ran back here, but this time with two innocent children whove been snatched away from everythin familiar, everythin they love. You arent the only victim here, Caitlin, but youre the only one with any control. Show the child some compassion.

  Compassion. Caitlin rolled the word around on her tongue. I dont think either of us are very good at that.

  For the space of a single agonizing heartbeat, Brigid froze. Time stopped and she wondered if all shed endured, all shed given up had been for nothing. Long seconds passed. The sick feeling in her stomach receded. Wetting her lips, she spoke. Whatever it is you think I did, surely you cant say that I ran away from anythin. I worked myself t the bone t take you and Kitty out of the National School and send you t Saint Patricks. You had the choice t go on t university but you refused it. Was that my fault as well?

  Brigid waited but Caitlin remained silent. All right, then, dont be like me. Learn from my mistakes. Im tryin t make up for them. Annie isnt like you, Caitlin. She needs somethin other than herself t believe in. Most of us do. Let her go t Saint Patricks. Let her have a choice.

  Silence stretched out between them. John Hurley came to deliver more peat but Brigid waved him away.

  The quiet had gone on too long. Say somethin, lass, demanded Brigid.

  Im going to see Annie now.

  What if she wants t go back t Kentucky?

  Caitlin paled. Ill work something out with Sam. If its school she doesnt like, maybe I can teach her at home or hire a tutor or she can attend school in Kentucky part of the year. She sat down in the nearest chair and buried her face in her hands. I dont know what to do, Mum. Maybe Ill just have to give up and go home.

  Brigids heart ached. Caitlin was an adult but why did she seem no different than the little girl who came home all those years ago with scraped elbows and bloody knees? Ill take over in here, she said gently. Its nearly time for Kirstys shift anyway. Go t Annie and Ill walk down t school and tell Ben he doesnt need to wait for her.

  Caitlin found Annie squatting on the sidewalk in front of the pub with a half-filled jar of worms by her side. What are you doing, love? she asked, kneeling beside her. Annies red-rimmed eyes spoke volumes as did the resistant look on her face. Caitlin recognized that look. She would have to step carefully. This wouldnt be the first time that Annie refused to be patronized.

  Its rained and the worms are out, the child replied. Im collecting them to put in the yard.

  But why?

  Annie looked up at her mother scornfully. Her pupils were very large, filling up most of the iris. So no one will step on them.

  Caitlins heart broke. Oh, Annie, she whispered. The urge to wrap this frail girl in her arms and never let go was so strong only the look on Annies face stopped her. She dug her nails into the palms of her hands. Perhaps people will walk around and not disturb them, she suggested.

  Annie shook her head.

  How do you know?

  At school all the boys were stepping on them. I told them to stop. Annies voice cracked. But they wouldnt and the girls just laughed.

  Rage blurred Caitlins vision. She closed her eyes briefly, drew deep breaths, and willed herself back in control.

  I was late to school, Annie confessed, because I stayed to throw them into the grass. Mrs. Sutcliffe said I was in trouble, that you would be mad, and I wasnt to be late again. She looked up. Are you mad at me, Mama?

  Not a bit, replied Caitlin promply. I think you did exactly right.

  Annie brightened. Really?

  Caitlin didnt trust herself to speak. She nodded instead. Here, she said, picking up a brown earthworm from a puddle. Ill help you. Well work together.

  They worked in silence for several minutes. There was an art to rescuing worms, Caitlin found. Thumb and forefinger worked best initially. Occasionally the creatures would wind themselves around other fingers or her palm and then she needed two hands. Annie was far better at it than she was.

  When the last worm had been deposited in the grassy area by the woodshed, and a small degree of silent communion had been established between them, Caitlin spoke. Would you like to change schools, Annie?

  Her daughters eyes filled with tears. I want to go home, she whispered.

  Caitlin brushed away the ones that spilled down her own cheeks and gathered her daughter into her arms, moving back and forth in the gentle rocking motion instinctive to all mothers. Oh, Annie, she murmured against the soft hair, Ill take you home if thats what you really want. But I cant leave everything up in the air just now. Can you wait for awhile, at least until the school term is over?

  The child sniffed. Are you coming home, too?

  This is my home. I cant live at Claiborne anymore. But if you still want to go back at the end of the term, Ill take you home to Daddy and Grandma Lucy.

  But where will you live?

  Im not sure. Lets wait and see. Whatever happens, Im not leaving you, Annie.

  Until then, can I go to Saint Patricks?

  Caitlin tightened her arms around her daughter. Of course you can, love, if its that important to you. Ill enroll you tomorrow.

  To save time, Brigid had left the road and crossed the bog on foot. Overnight it seemed as if autumn had colored the land. Gorse, wild mustard, and heather blanketed the hills. Frost colored the leaves red, gold, orange, and brown. Clouds hung low, heavy, and gray in a slate-colored sky. Darkness rolled in early and lingered late. Smells of peat and burning leaves filled the air, and if one breathed deeply, the sharpness of smoke and frost and pollen stung the inside of noses sensitive and red from unaccustomed rubbing.

  Mud oozed up around the sharp marsh grasses, caking the soles of Brigids boots, sending forth the sucking sounds of swamp muck, larvae, insects, and late-flying birds taking a brief respite from their journey south. Seventy-one seasons had passed her by, seventy-one autumns just like this one, warm air turning to cold, green leaves deepening to rust, all of them uneventful, busy, unnoticed, all except one.

  Students were just beginning to come out of the old wood building that served as the National School for children whose parents preferred a secular education over a parochial one. Honesty forced Brigid to admit that just as many National School students went on to pass their O levels, earn their le
aving certificates, and attend university as did those from Saint Patricks.

  She felt the exact moment Bens dark-haired, sturdy figure came through the exit. She saw him look up, recognize her, and grin as if the sheer sight of her standing there waiting for him was his greatest wish. Her heart contracted. Had any of her daughters shrieked with delight when shed entered a room after a days absence? What was it about this wee lad that turned her resolve to mush? She held out her arms and watched him run like a homing pigeon straight into them.

  She pressed her lips against his forehead. Hello, love. Was it a good day?

  He nodded. My spelling words were all right and Mrs. Tott says I shall learn arithmetic tomorrow.

  Already, his speech was acquiring Irish nuances. Wonderful, Brigid said approvingly. Youre a bright lad.

  He tucked his hand into hers. Wheres Annie?

  She wasnt feelin well and came home early. Your mums home with her.

  Im hungry. Whats for tea?

  Cheese sandwiches and tomato soup, Brigid improvised. They were his favorite. Theres trifle if you can manage to wait until I whip the cream.

  Ben nodded, satisfied with the menu. After a minute he tugged on her arm and pointed to a spot across the quiet street. Theres Mr. Hennessey, Gran. Can we ask him about the colt?

  Brigid recognized Brian coming out of the bank with Martin OShea by his side. Both men crossed the street and came toward her.

  How are you and this fine lad today, Mrs. Keneally? Brian asked.

  Very well, thank you, Brigid replied. Ben has a question for you.

  Brian ruffled the boys dark hair with a gentle hand. What can I do for you, Ben?

  Mum says youre going to start weaning Irish Gold this week.

  Brian nodded. I am.

  May I watch, Mr. Hennessey, if Im no bother? Im allowed to watch at home.

  Brian glanced at Martin. What do you think, Father? Can this lad be trusted to sit quietly and watch while a skittish colt is brought out for his first day of weanin from his dam?

  Martin appeared to consider the matter. Ive no idea, Brian. The decision is yours. Still, if the lad has watched at home

  Brian knelt down to where he was eye level with the boy. Youve done a good job for me at the farm, Ben. I think youve earned yourself a place in the yard to watch. Tell your mother to bring you around as soon as schools out, startin tomorrow.

  Bens face lit up from inside. I will, sir, he breathed reverently. Can Annie come, too?

  Brian kept a straight face. Youre a hard man to drive a bargain with, wee Ben. If you must have Annie then bring her along. He stroked his chin. Come to think of it, shes done her share of work around the place as well.

  Ben rushed to explain. Sometimes Mum is busy in the afternoons. If Annie is to come, we wont have to wait.

  Martin laughed. A reasonable argument, although I cant remember a time when Caitlin would rather do something else than be around horses. Have you become a taskmaster, Brigid?

  Brigid drew herself up to her full height and looked Martin squarely in the eye. I dont remember givin you leave t use my Christian name, young man. Your collar doesnt give you the right t be disrespectful. Youve always called me Mrs. Keneally and thats what I prefer.

  The color drained from Martins face. I meant no harm, Mrs. Keneally, he stammered. Im sorry.

  Brigid nodded. I should hope so. She watched the stud farm manager rise and formally shake hands with Ben. Bestowing a dazzling smile on Brian, she turned her attention to her grandson. Come along, love. Were late for tea.

  Looking back over her shoulder she waved to the two men. To her satisfaction, she saw that Martin OShea hadnt quite gathered himself after the setdown shed given him. Cheeky lad. As if she hadnt turned him over her knee more times than she could count, not that it had done him any good.

  Brian Hennessey was another matter. The look of amusement on his face made her wonder if she shouldnt have chosen someone else to figure in her scheme for Caitlins future. A man who understood too much too quickly would never do. A man like that could not be counted on to behave predictably.

  12

  Caitlins hands closed around the carved arms of the chair so tightly that the knuckles showed white beneath her skin. Shed spent a great deal of her youth in the office of Saint Patricks Catholic Girls Academy and the memories still had the power to reduce her to a childish state of rebellion.

  Well need your daughters transcripts, Mrs. Claiborne.

  Sister Mary Lucia, a sweet-faced, petite nun in a modified gray habit that revealed auburn hair without a hint of gray was new to the school, a small detail that didnt mitigate Caitlins attitude in the slightest.

  Mrs. Claiborne?

  Caitlin swallowed and wet her lips. I arranged for them to be sent to the National School, Sister. Im not sure if theyve arrived. Perhaps I can send them to you later?

  The nun smiled. Theres no need for that, my dear. Ill write a note and someone will bring them around. Well also need her baptismal certificate.

  The remaining color drained from Caitlins cheeks. Why had she ever agreed to this? Annie isnt baptized, Sister, she mumbled.

  Oh. The nun looked startled. I dont understand. Why then she stopped.

  My husband wasnt Catholic. We werent married in the church. I Caitlin faltered, searched for a tactful explanation that would explain her lack of devotion, found none, and decided on the truth. Experience told her that when dealing with women like this one, it always came out in the end. I fell away, she said simply.

  The nun stared at her with shrewd, all-seeing eyes. Her voice was gentle but firm with commitment. Perhaps this isnt the best place for your daughter, Mrs. Claiborne.

  Oh, but it is, Caitlin blurted out, desperate now that the carrot was being held out of reach. Annie wants it, you see. Shes not like me at all. The National School isnt right for her.

  Sister Mary Lucia drummed her fingers on the desk. There is a participation requirement here at Saint Patricks. We require that our parents be involved in supporting the school. Can you do that, Mrs. Claiborne?

  Yes.

  Annie will have to begin religious instruction. Is that also acceptable to you?

  Caitlin deliberately sealed off the memory of her years spent memorizing the dreaded catechism. Of course.

  There is the matter of tuition.

  Caitlin waved her hand. Ill manage.

  The nun stood. Fine, she said briskly. Then we shall expect you and Annie at Mass next Sunday. Malones is the usual place to outfit her with a uniform for school. Shes welcome to begin classes as soon as shes dressed properly.

  Back on the street, Caitlin leaned against the flagstone-covered wall and breathed deeply. Was this really happening? Had she truly enrolled Annie, her beloved daughter, her child who found joy through light and words and music, in this place of damp stone, plaid skirts that scratched cruelly, and rules created a century ago for women who would never set foot beyond the streets where they were born, women who only a generation before birthed fifteen children and acquired tuberculosis and a cemetery plot by the time they were forty? What had she done? If Sam ever had reason to whisk Annie back to Kentucky, this was it.

  Caitlin Keneally? Can it be you? A lean, black-frocked figure with a full head of silver hair stepped through the doorway of the rectory.

  Caitlin sighed and straightened to wait for the priest to reach her side. Misery came in threes and here she was already at number two. Father Duran had never really approved of her. She couldnt blame him. Shed hardly been a model student.

  Hello, Father.

  He stood before her, a proud, handsome man in his early seventies, with the chiseled features and clipped speech patterns of an aristocrat. Were you here for devotions, lass? I didnt see you in church.

  She shook her head. I was enrolling Annie in Saint Patricks. Shes not happy at the National School. A perverse impulse goaded her on. I hope shes happier here than I was.

  Father Durans lips tightened and the eager, h
opeful look hed worn when he first saw her disappeared. Instantly, Caitlin was ashamed. She had disliked him as a child for reasons she could no longer remember. But childhood was no longer an excuse. Shed behaved badly. Im sorry, Father, she said before she lost her courage. That was poorly done.

  He looked surprised and then amused, as if he actually approved of her, a first between them. She would have walked away but he fell into step beside her, hands clasped behind his back, silvery head bent in a thoughtful position.

  Whats the difficulty at the National School?

  Caitlin hesitated.

  Its only a question, lass, not confession.

  She laughed. When did you acquire a sense of humor?

  Perhaps you never gave me a chance.

  I wonder why, she said out loud.

  He smiled. I dont take it personally. As I recall, you didnt want any part of us here at Saint Patricks.

  Caitlin stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jacket. It was true. Her dislike for the parish school was a feeling shed accepted as normal when she was a child.

  The priest was saying something. She lost the beginning of his sentence. Im sorry, Father. What were you saying?

  I was asking about our Annie.

  What about her?

  Father Duran looked at her curiously. You said she wasnt happy at the National School, he reminded her gently.

  The move has been difficult for her, Caitlin explained. She misses her father and her friends. Apparently the girls havent exactly welcomed her.

  Will you be staying in Kilcullen permanently?

  Not for one minute did she believe his question was as casual as it appeared. He disapproved of her. She was divorcing her husband. The entire Catholic church disapproved of her. Father Duran would like her to pack up and move back to Kentucky with Sam.

  Caitlin had grown up believing what he did, that marriage was a sacrament that only death could dissolve, but no longer, not when a marriage was so wrong. Im divorcing my husband, Father, she said bluntly. Whatever happens I wont be returning to Kentucky.

  He ignored her implication. In time, Im sure that Annie will be comfortable here.