Hannie Rising

by Jeanette Baker

  Walking briskly into the canopied darkness, she barely noticed the bench just off the path, occupied by two people, a man and a woman. She would have missed it entirely if it wasn't for the bird, a particularly large crow unexpectedly rising from the rose bushes carrying something in its mouth. Her eyes followed the bird's flight and her glance happened to settle on the woman. She narrowed her eyes, rubbed them and looked again. Sure enough. It was Kate, and with her, sitting much too close for Johannah's comfort level, was Ritchie O'Shea.

  Frozen into immobility, Johannah stood in place for nearly a minute before mustering her senses enough to retreat, backing away slowly and then nearly running back to her car.

  * * *

  Kate

  "We should have met in town," Kate pleated the fabric of her skirt.

  "Nervous, Kate?"

  "It looks as if we're doing something wrong. If we'd met at Heatons or Manor, there might be a few raised eyebrows, but no one can hang a person for talking in front of the entire town."

  "That's all we're doing here, talking."

  "Why did we come here, Ritchie? What is it you have to say to me?"

  He took her hand. She pulled it away. "I'd like to start over, Katie. We had something once. It's wrong to throw away friendship."

  "What exactly do you mean by friendship?"

  "Let's start by not avoiding each other. There's no shame in having a coffee together occasionally or visiting now and then."

  She looked at him skeptically. "Is that it?"

  He looked away. "Do you know you haven't changed? You're still so beautiful I can't stop staring at you."

  "This conversation is pointless. We aren't a possibility. You know that."

  "We always come back to that, don't we?"

  She didn't answer.

  "I'd like to get to know you again," he continued, "but you're skittish. We haven't exchanged more than a sentence since I've come back. What's happened to you? You've never been one to run from the gossips."

  Kate shook her head. "I have a child to think of, Ritchie. I live with my mom. There's more to think of than just you and me."

  "Give it a try," he coaxed her. "Who will it hurt?"

  Reluctantly, she laughed. "You can't be that naïve, Ritchie O'Shea. It will hurt Dermot and his family and it could hurt mine as well. Evan loves his father. Dermot and I have a civilized relationship. I don't know what would happen if he thought we were seeing each other. He might even think I'd left him because you'd come home. Ridiculous, isn't it? All I need to do is tell him the truth about us."

  "Why don't you?"

  Kate stood and looked down at him, at the thin, honed symmetry of his face, the blue, blue eyes and bright coppery hair, at the wide, squared off fingers and strong hands. Her heart twisted. She couldn't go there. She wouldn't go there. "Don't flatter yourself. It's because of my mother. And even if there was something between us, ten years is a long time and I'm not a child anymore. Let's go, Ritchie. God forbid that anyone should see us here alone in the woods."

  He walked easily beside her, their pace well-matched and comfortable. "I won't be staying here forever, you know."

  "Where will you go?"

  "Back to the States."

  She bit her lip wishing she didn't care about asking the question or, more to the point, learning the answer. "Why?"

  "It's difficult here, smaller somehow, narrower. You must know what I mean. You've been away from Tralee, from Ireland. There's not much here to hold a man, or a woman for that matter. It's like turning my back on opportunity. Do you know what I'm saying, Kate?"

  She nodded, suddenly wanting to clear her head and vent on a subject that tormented her too often to ever be comfortable. "Sometimes it makes me scream. Here, everyone thinks the world is divided by football clubs, Mitchel's green and gold, The Rock's black and amber, Strand Road's blue and white. God forbid should anyone poach on either side of the divide. For those poor souls it's a lifetime of whispered gossip 'a bit of the Mitchel's comin' out, like,' or 'pure Rock Street your man there is.' It's a nightmare, a desperate nightmare with no end in sight unless it's driving off Fenit Pier."

  He stared at her. "You're very bitter, Kate. You're not one of those thinking of driving off Fenit Pier? Because if you are, you'd better come away with me today, even if all I am to you is a means to an end. There isn't anything worth staying for if the staying makes you feel like that."

  She shrugged. "Sometimes I feel that way, not always, of course. There's Evan to think of and my mom. My dad's only been gone a year."

  "Your mother will survive. She won't expect you to live your life for her. As for Evan, bring him with you. He'll be glad you did when he's old enough to know anything. For Christ sake, Kate, you're a trained dietician. You have a degree in nutrition. What are you doing in Tralee? You should be in Cork or Dublin or back in the States where you could actually work in your field. Doesn't that appeal to you?"

  They'd reached the entrance to the woods. Kate stopped to look directly at him. "It's not that simple. Evan has a father. You might not think that's important, but it is."

  "People divorce, even in Ireland." Again he reached for her hand. Again she pulled it away. "There's something else, isn't there. Say it."

  Nausea cramped her stomach. She swallowed. It was best to just get it out, even though it was no longer satisfying to hurt him. "The thing is, I don't trust you, Ritchie. That won't change. I'll never trust you again. You played with me. You always knew there could never be anything between us, even before I did, and yet you let me think there was."

  "But all impediments are gone. We could begin again. The past is over. It doesn't matter."

  Her eyes, the deep winter green particular to her mother's family, were narrow and dark with contempt. "It matters to me, Ritchie, and shame on you for not knowing that."

  Chapter 19

  Liam

  Liam switched the bag of take-away Chinese from his right arm to his left and opened the door. "Anyone home?" he called. "I've picked up food for tea. Mom, Nan, are you here?"

  A movement on the stairs caught his attention. "Hello, Evan, my man. What are you up to?"

  The boy shrugged. "Nothing."

  Liam frowned. Evan, normally so exuberant, sounded rather dismal. "Where's your mom?"

  "On the computer."

  "I've brought home Chinese. Would you like an egg roll?"

  "Not so much."

  Liam abandoned his bag on the side table and sat down beside his nephew on the stair. "You sound forlorn, lad. Is anything wrong?"

  Evan's eyes, round and blue like his mother's, met his. "What's forlorn?"

  "It means sad or out of sorts."

  Evan nodded. "I feel forlorn." He lost the "l", pronouncing forworn.

  "Tell me about it."

  The child sighed. "I want to go home. I want my dad."

  Liam was silent for a minute. "I know how you feel, Evan. I miss my dad, too."

  For a moment the child looked interested. "But you're big and you don't have a dad."

  "I had him for a very long time. Just because I'm big doesn't mean I can't miss him. You remember Grandad, don't you?"

  Evan nodded. "He made my swing set." Then he changed the subject. "Do you know when we're going home?"

  Liam hesitated. How much information could a four-year-old take in? "I'm not sure lad. But it isn't so bad here, is it? You have your mom and Nan and me and my nan. You even have Seamus. You like Seamus, don't you?"

  "Yes."

  "We have a garden here. You like having a large garden, don't you?"

  "I do, but I'd rather go home."

  Liam was stymied. The poor little bloke really did look miserable. He wondered if Kate knew the extent of her son's unhappiness. "I'll tell you what, Evan. I'm not sure when you'll be going home, but what if we worked on something together to show your dad when you see him next?"

  Evan looked skeptical. "What will we work on, Uncle Liam?"

  "How would yo
u like to learn a tune on the tin whistle?"

  "I don't know how to play the tin whistle."

  "I'll teach you."

  "Really?"

  "Absolutely. You'll be a regular whistle player by the next weekend. How about that? Will you give it a go?"

  A smile lifted the corners of the small mouth. "I will, Uncle Liam. I'll try and try until I'm the best whistle player in Tralee and my dad will be proud of me."

  "That's the spirit. We'll have our tea and tomorrow after school we'll buy your very own tin whistle. Will you help me serve up the food?"

  Evan nodded. Slipping his hand inside his uncle's, he appeared deep in thought. "Will it be easy for me to learn?"

  Liam pretended to consider the matter carefully. He stroked his chin, mindful of the small hand in his. "Well, Evan, my lad, I'll tell you this: practice is the key. At first it will be difficult, but if you practice every day, the easier it will be. Anything worth having takes time and effort."

  "Nan says that all the time," replied Evan.

  Liam laughed. "I suppose she does." Standing, he lifted Evan to his shoulder and picked up the bag of food, heading into the kitchen. "Mind your head, lad. Today, the men are taking over the kitchen."

  Giggling, Evan clutched his hair. "You're funny, Uncle Liam. What's Chinese food?"

  "The same as Irish food, pork, chicken, fish and vegetables, only the sauces are more interesting."

  "Are there potatoes?"

  Liam frowned and swung his nephew from his shoulder to the worktop. "There you have me, Evan. I don't think the Chinese eat potatoes." He handed Evan a fork, opened the bag and began removing boxes. "Open one of those and tell me if you recognize any vegetables. Feel free to sample anything that looks good."

  A tiny wrinkle appeared between the child's eyes.

  Liam laughed and rephrased his words. "If something looks tasty, you may eat it."

  The wrinkle disappeared and soon a myriad of open boxes lined the worktop. "I like Chinese food, Uncle Liam," the boy announced.

  "You have exceptional taste, lad. I'm pleased to be the one to introduce it to you. Is there enough left, do you think, for the rest of the family?"

  Kate appeared in the doorway. "Something smells good."

  Evan held up his fork. "I'm eating Chinese."

  "I can see that," replied his mother. "What do you think of it?"

  "I like it. Uncle Liam is going to teach me to play the tin whistle."

  Kate's eyebrows rose. "Is he now?"

  Evan nodded happily, all signs of his recent pout laid to rest. "I'm going to show my dad after I've learned."

  Kate found a plate in the cupboard and began spooning rice into it. "You might have asked me, Liam. It might make him sick."

  "Which one, Kate, the tin whistle or the food?"

  "Don't be nasty."

  "I won't if you won't."

  "It's just that he doesn't eat spicy food."

  "Evan's tough," replied her brother, "aren't you, lad?"

  "Yes, I'm very tough." Evan held out his arm. "Look at my muscles, Mommy."

  Kate smiled and lifted him from the worktop, setting him on the floor. "Impressive. If you're finished eating, go wash your hands. I'll help you."

  "No," he said. "I can do it. I'm tough."

  She laughed. "Run along. Call me if you need help." Waiting until she heard his footsteps on the stairs, she turned on her brother. "What are you doing, Liam? Since when have you taken an interest in your nephew?"

  Liam looked at her steadily. "I admit I haven't been the best of uncles, but it isn't too late to start. The boy needs a man's influence, Kate. He misses his father. I found him sitting on the stairs nearly in tears talking about wanting to go home. He believes it's only a matter of time before the two of you go back. When are you planning to tell him?"

  "Nothing is decided yet."

  "Why can't Dermot see him more often?"

  "I'm not keeping Dermot from Evan."

  "Then what's the problem?"

  Kate bit her lip. "It's hard on Dermot. I don't want to hurt him."

  "It's harder on Evan. He's four years old. He doesn't understand. The two of you should put your own feelings aside and think of your son. Besides, when did you start to care about Dermot's feelings."

  "That's not fair. I do care about Dermot. He's a good man, better than I deserve. When did you become the expert? You're not a parent."

  "I'm not a fool either." He stood. "Divorce isn't good for children. Think about that while you're reinventing yourself." He set his fork in the sink and changed the subject. "Where's Mom and Nan?"

  "I'm not sure. They weren't here when I got home." Kate's mouth trembled. "You can be very cruel, Liam."

  "I suppose it's easier to judge others than to look at yourself." He turned on the spigot, thought better of it and turned it off. "Help yourself to the food. I bought it. You can clean up." With that he walked out of the room.

  Kate called after him. "It's very nice of you, Liam. Thank you."

  Upstairs, Liam poked his head into the bathroom and grinned. Evan was examining his muscles. "Brush your teeth, lad. You don't want a mouthful of false ones by the time you're thirty."

  Evan spat his toothpaste into the sink. "I'm tough, Uncle Liam. Look at my muscles."

  "Right," he agreed. "You don't see muscles like those every day."

  Evan beamed. "I'm very tough."

  Chapter 20

  Johannah

  She was late coming to Aine's. Tralee was uncomfortably crowded in the summer with tourists flocking in for the festival and European Union buses parked at the museum. Maura had already ordered for both of them, coffee for two, her pert nose deep inside Kerry's Eye.

  Johannah slid into the opposite chair. "That's a rag, you know. There's not a word of truth in the whole paper. Have you been waiting long?"

  "As a matter of fact, I have." Maura surfaced and folded the paper. "What kept you?"

  "I've been arguing with Gerry Fox again. County employees are considering a strike. Two representatives of the union must go to Dublin and, apparently, I've been elected, along with Billy Roache."

  "So, what's the problem?"

  "He's threatening to dock our salaries. He doesn't understand that he's required to comply with the bylaws and allow us the days with full compensation."

  "Surely that's a matter easily verified?"

  Johannah sighed. "One would think, but I'm dealing with Gerry Fox."

  Maura stirred her coffee. "What about your mother? Who will look after her?"

  "I left a message with Kathleen."

  Maura snorted. "She'll never ring you back. You haven't a prayer of a chance. You'll have better luck asking the Pope to house-sit for your mom."

  Johannah laughed. "You're dreadful, Maura. I don't even know why I bother to tell you anything."

  "You bother because you know I won't spare you. I tell you the truth and because I do, you're prepared when it actually happens. Good Lord, Johannah, think what it would be like if you actually had expectations of Kathleen stepping up to the plate. How disappointed you would be when you couldn't go at the last minute." She cocked her head, brown eyes sparkling with curiosity. "I assume the holiday is all expenses paid?"

  "It isn't a holiday. It's a business trip."

  "All expenses paid?"

  "Yes."

  "Will you and Billy drive down together?"

  "No. He'll leave early with his wife. They've a daughter in Dublin and will stay with her."

  Maura reached over to lay her hand on Johannah's. "If the worst happens, and it will, and you have no one, and you won't, I'll take your mother."

  Johannah lifted her chin and spoke carefully. "That's very kind of you, Maura, but there's no need. Kathleen will step in. I know she will."

  "Suit yourself, but the offer stands." She held out the paper to Johannah. "Look at this. Ritchie O'Shea is playing tonight at the Meadowlands Hotel. Shall we go?"

  "Certainly not. I can't ima
gine anything he'd do would be of interest to me. Besides, it's disloyal to Dermot."

  "Your son-in-law? What's he got to do with anything?"

  "Kate wants to divorce him."

  Maura's eyes widened. "You can't be serious. Who gets a divorce a Tralee?"

  "My point exactly. It's desperate."

  "You mistake my meaning, Hannie. Half the town is living with someone other than the man or woman they stood up with. Why bother with divorce? It's expensive, not to mention scandalous. Kate will be the talk of the town for ages."

  Johannah tapped her forefinger on the table. "I don't care about that. I care that a very good man will be hurt for a whim and that whim is Ritchie O'Shea. What does she see in him anyway?"

  "You can't be serious?"

  "He's no better looking than Dermot and he's certainly not as plump in the pocket."

  "He is better looking than Dermot. He's better looking than everyone and then there's his music. Money doesn't matter all that much to someone Kate's age. It's romance that counts. Besides, Ritchie's hardly poor. How do you know all of this anyway? Surely she isn't daft enough to tell you."

  "I saw her in Ballyseedy woods sitting on the bench with him."

  "You didn't?" Maura's eyes sparkled. "What were they doing?"

  "Nothing at all, just talking."

  "Oh." Maura drew back disappointed. "You can't exactly hang her for that, can you Hannie? There's no crime in talking."

  "If talking was what they were after, they could have gone to Galley's or Manor or The Grand. Why would they sneak off to the woods?"

  "I have no idea but I can tell you this: Kate isn't the sneaking around sort. Why not come out and ask her?"

  Johannah didn't answer.

  Maura sighed. "Ok. But that doesn't explain why you're against seeing Ritchie perform."

  "I want him to go away."

  "If you do, I do, too," Maura said loyally, "but first I want to see him play." She leaned forward again. "Aren't you the slightest bit curious? He's made a name for himself in the States where there's far more competition than here in Ireland. He's got to be good. What can I do to convince you to come with me?"