“The critics have yet to disappoint you.”
“There’s always a first time, Mollie. My run of luck can’t last forever.”
“I’d call it talent.”
Once again he kissed her, lingering in the softness of her lips. “You’re not exactly impartial.”
“I’ve seen the play, Sean. You have nothing to worry about.” She tugged at his hand. “Let’s go down. The car must be here by now.”
“How is your father taking all this?”
“He’s amazingly calm. It’s Alice who can hardly contain herself. Thank you for inviting them, Sean. They’ll never forget a night like this.”
“He’s your father and the children’s grandfather.” Gently, he rubbed his hand across her flat middle. “Have you told them yet?”
She shook her head. “I wanted to wait until tonight at dinner when we’re all together.”
“Four months, and you’re still not showing.”
“It’s completely normal, according to the doctor. I have gained weight.”
“Three children are a lot of work. Maybe we should relax this summer, let your mother take them with her.”
“I’ll be fine,” she reassured him. “You worry too much.”
“I love you.”
“I’m counting on it. Now, we really have to go or we’ll miss the first act.”
The Rolls-Royce threaded its way through the hemmed-in traffic crowding the front of the entrance of the Abbey Theater.
Alice stared out the window at the throngs of people waiting outside. She clutched Patrick’s arm and nodded at Sean. “You must be thrilled at such attention.”
Sean loosened his collar. “It’s a bit nerve-racking, actually.”
Eileen smiled at him. “Will it ever change, do you think?”
Sean laughed. “Perhaps, when it doesn’t matter so much. Right now I’ve a family to support with another—”
Mollie pinched his arm. “Look,” she interrupted. “Isn’t that Mother and Ward?” The Rolls pulled up to the curb, and Emma waved.
Grateful for the diversion, Sean stepped out first and helped his wife and then his mother.
A reporter broke through the corded-off area. “Do you consider this to be your finest piece, Mr. O’Malley?”
Sean favored the man with his smile. “I do, but I always feel that way about my latest work. Let’s wait and see what the reviewers say.”
An usher led them to a private box slightly above the stage. Sean waited until everyone was settled and comfortable before seating himself. He reached for Mollie’s hand.
Keeping her eyes on the stage, she smiled at the predictable nature of her husband’s habits. Who would have thought this man, so leery of commitment only a short time ago, would turn into such a devoted husband and father? He was a complicated man, far more complicated than she’d realized, but maybe every new bride felt that way about the man she married. It was a toss-up, really, the successful merging of two people to create a family. Mollie hadn’t quite figured out why some unions worked and others didn’t. She hadn’t spent a great deal of time analyzing her marriage. She was far too busy, too content, and too incredibly happy to spend a great deal of time on the why of it all. Maybe someday she’d go back to teaching, but not now, not with three small children and another on the way. Besides, she loved being home while Sean worked in his office a few doors away. She especially loved it when he read his scenes to her, particularly the challenging ones.
The lights dimmed. A collective hush of anticipation fell over the audience. The curtain rose. As usual with Sean’s plays, it began with an event that elicited a gasp from his audience, followed by a series of flashbacks weaving past and present to develop the nature of the characters. Dialogue was his specialty, and the witty ripostes for which he was famous were greeted with appreciation by a friendly applause.
Gradually, as the play progressed, his grip on her hand relaxed, and Mollie knew he was satisfied with his achievement.
Dinner at Chapter One in the basement of the Dublin Writers’ Museum on Parnell Street was superb. Mollie, finally finished with her morning sickness, ordered the spring lamb and parsleyed potatoes. She refused the wine and the traditional champagne toast.
Over dessert, a delicious sherried trifle which Mollie also refused, Emma leaned across the table. “You’ve skipped the wine all evening. Do you have something to tell us, love?”
Mollie blushed. Under the table, Sean’s hand gently squeezed her thigh. “Yes,” she said, smiling at her family. “In November, Sean and I are going to have a baby.”
Amid the congratulations and waving champagne glasses, Mollie’s glance met her husband’s and her breath caught. She knew that look and what it meant. Now she had the perfect excuse. “I’m a little tired,” she announced. “If you don’t mind, I’ll say goodnight now.”
Sean stood beside her and slipped an arm around her waist. “Take your time. We’ll take a taxi back to the hotel and see you in the morning.”
Mollie rested her head on her husband’s shoulder. “Do you think the girls will still be awake?”
“Caili will be,” Sean predicted. “She wraps Annie around her little finger.”
“Will she be happy about the baby, do you think?”
Sean smiled. Already Mollie’s sentences were ending with questions, a peculiarity of Irish dialect. “She’ll be thrilled.”
“Are you thrilled, Sean? Really?”
He kissed the top of her head. “I’ve no words to tell you what you’ve brought into my life, Mollie O’Malley. I’ll just say that my cup runneth over.”
Satisfied, Mollie closed her eyes and gave herself up to the rocking motion of the taxi as it made its way back down Parnell Street toward Saint Stephen’s Green. Soon, very soon, morning would come and they could go home.
Mabry O’Farrell stood on the cliffs of Dun Aengus and looked out over the sea. Rare June sunlight lit the cloudless sky and the water to a shattering, electric blue. A wave of gulls screeched overhead, and in the harbor several small, single-manned fishing boats motored their way toward the dock. It was a start, a small one, but a start nonetheless.
She pulled the newspaper she’d picked up that morning out from under her arm and scanned the front page of the theater section until she found what she was looking for. Then she reread it. It took more than a minute. Her eyes were fading, even in the brilliant light of a June morning. Words like brilliant and inspired leaped up at her. Appropriate words to describe the thoughts put into words of a man like Sean O’Malley.
Mabry thought back to the wedding that had taken place nearly eighteen months ago. It was an island event. No one had dared miss it. Sean was one of their own, but Mollie was their savior. Strange how things worked out. Mabry was feeling her age.
Sighing, she folded the paper and turned toward home. A small figure, nimble as a goat, ran up the path, breathing heavily. “What is it, Christie?” Mabry asked.
“Da sent me,” the child explained when she caught her breath. “It’s Mam’s time. He says to hurry.”
Mabry’s fatigue disappeared. Her step was light as she hurried down the path to her cottage. The age-old birthing ritual called out to her. Once again she felt the pulse of the earth beneath her feet, the pull of the tides in her blood. Soon, very soon, she would bring another islander into the world.
Author Bio
In the winter Jeanette Baker lives in Southern California where she teaches, dabbles in organic cooking and enjoys the company of whichever of her children arrives home to destroy the spare bedroom. In the summer she returns to County Kerry, Ireland where she writes, researches and listens to her favorite jazz musicians, particularly, her husband, saxophone player Tommy O’Callaghan.
Copyright © 2014 Jeanette Baker
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions
By payment of required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the
text of this book. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented without the express written permission of copyright owner.
Please Note
The reverse engineering, uploading, and/or distributing of this book via the internet or via any other means without the permission of the copyright owner is illegal and punishable by law. Please purchase only authorized electronic editions, and do not participate in or encourage electronic piracy of copyrighted materials. Your support of the author's rights is appreciated
No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the publisher, except where permitted by law.
Interior format by The Killion Group
http://thekilliongroupinc.com
Thank you.
Spellbound Page 29