Daniel McClintock

by Caroline Clemmons

  Stella sat on the blanket and took her baby from Finn. “I think everyone in town knows why you’re here, Clara. We’re happy you’ve come and are so hopeful for Daniel.”

  Council nodded. “My daughter’s right. The whole town is buzzing about the miracle worker who’s come. My wife will be sorry to have missed you, but she’s staying with our daughter, Nettie, and helping with the new baby.” Like his daughter Stella, he spoke with an English accent.

  Within an hour, they had been joined by Dallas and Cenora and their two children, the rest of the O’Neill family, the McDonalds, and Grandpa and Gran.

  Grandpa settled in his chair and chuckled. “This is a feast of kin, isn’t it?”

  Gran straightened the folds of her skirt and muttered under her breath before saying, “Half the people in the county are under this tree.”

  Austin appeared apologetic. “Gran, would you like some lemonade?” How sad a fine man like Austin had to be nervous about what his mother would say.

  “Not yet, Son. Clara, is that right? Thank you again for the fine handkerchiefs.”

  “My pleasure, Mrs. McClintock. You are looking lovely today.”

  Gran preened. “While you’re here helping Daniel, you should call me Gran.”

  “Thank you, Gran. I appreciate your allowing me to do so.”

  Family members looked at one another as if they couldn’t believe what they were hearing. She could almost hear their thoughts—had Gran undergone some miraculous change?”

  Gran proved not when she turned her attention to Mac O’Neill’s young wife. “Vourneen, don’t tell me you have another on the way so soon.”

  Vourneen O’Neill giggled nervously and spoke with an Irish brogue. “I won’t tell you then but sure and Sean and Peggy are going to have a brother or sister in September.”

  Her husband, Mac, glared at Gran. “Children are a blessing from God ’tis true.”

  Gran peered down her nose. “Harrumph, you’re going to be blessed into the poorhouse if you keep up this rate.”

  Vourneen’s father, Colin McDonald, looked ready to jump to his daughter and son-in-law’s defense.

  Austin quickly said, “You’ve heard about Nettie and Josh’s baby boy, haven’t you? Everyone’s doing fine except we like to have lost Josh.”

  The tension broke and everyone laughed.

  Kathryn widened her eyes at Gran then turned to Cenora’s mother. “Aoiffe, are you keeping well?”

  “Since you cured me years ago, I’m fit as a fiddle and enjoying my sweet home that Dallas gave us. Sure and ’tis such a pleasure to live there.”

  Clara wondered what Aoiffe’s illness had been. In spite of declaring herself well, she looked fragile, unlike her daughter. Cenora was a beautiful woman with auburn hair darker than that of her mother and, apparently, with boundless energy. She laughed at toddler Houston’s antics while caring for baby Kate, sent loving glances at Dallas, and still participated in conversation with those around her.

  Aoiffe’s rounded husband, Brendan O’Neill, slapped a hand on his thigh. “Aye, and don’t we have a grand garden this year with plenty o’ vegetables to share? We’ve kept some, sold some, and given some away. Never would I have believed a poor Irishman such as meself would have such luck.”

  Austin laughed. “The luck of the Irish, right?”

  The others—except Gran—joined in. Gran at least smiled, which transformed her face. She must have been a beautiful woman when younger. If she smiled more she would still be quite attractive.

  Clara was relieved when it was time to eat.

  Kathryn issued plates and eating utensils to everyone who’d come with her. She served Gran and Grandpa from the large hamper on the quilt.

  “You will return to me each of the things you’ve taken. First, perhaps Brendan will give us a blessing.”

  He rose to his feet, his face beaming. “Weel, now, I know just the one.” He cleared his throat and puffed out his chest. “May the road rise to meet you, may the wind be always at your back, the sun shine warm upon your face, the rain fall soft upon your fields, and until we meet again may God hold you in the hallow o’ his hand. Amen.”

  Austin rubbed his hands together. “Thank you, Brendan. Now, let’s eat.”

  Rebecca guided Clara to the serving tables. She pointed to one cake and whispered. “That’s from Avis Dunhill. Don’t get any.”

  “Daniel warned me. Perhaps we should take some and throw it away so the poor woman doesn’t feel slighted.”

  “Later, right now I’m filling my plate with food I’ll eat.”

  Clara was amazed at how much food others were piling on their pates. She understood, though, because there were so many varieties offered.

  Rebecca insisted they go back for seconds. Clara took a huge slice of Mrs. Dunhill’s untouched cake.

  Rebecca whispered, “You can’t mean to eat that?”

  “No, but she will not know. Do you not think it sad that no one takes any of her cake? I would not want her feelings to be hurt.”

  “Okay, now I feel bad. I’ll do the same.” Rebecca cut a hefty portion.

  When they passed a rubbish bin, both women secretly broke up the servings they’d taken of the cake and dropped the remains into the container.

  Rebecca giggled. “We’re only encouraging her. Next year she’ll probably bring two cakes.”

  Before they had finished eating, Grandpa stood. “Time for speeches. Mine’s short but you know Mayor Quinlan. Prepare to be bored for an hour.”

  The mayor stood on the gazebo and gave a long speech praising the community and all it offered. His droning on with her stomach full and a soft quilt in the shade had Clara growing sleepy until the mayor caught her attention.

  “Folks, this year we’re having a special ceremony. Fifty years ago, the young couple you know as Vincent and Zarelda McClintock settled here and established our town. This evening, the town council would like to present this plaque to Vincent and Zarelda McClintock for having the courage and foresight to settle here, plan our town, and invite others to join him.”

  Applause rippled across those gathered.

  Mayor Quinlan motioned to Grandpa. “Step over here, Vincent, and say a few words.” After handing over the plaque, the mayor stepped aside.

  Grandpa appeared poleaxed. “Don’t think I’ve ever been this surprised. I’m proud of this town and the people who live here. My wife and I thank you.”

  More applause resounded while Grandpa wended his way back to his family amid people congratulating him.

  He sat in his chair and handed the plaque to Gran. “Guess I’ll have to quit saying rude things about Mayor Quinlan.”

  Gran read the plaque. “Oh, I hate that now people will know we’re old.”

  Austin rose and gave his mother a hug. “No one thinks you’re old, Gran. But, they know you have a son who’s forty-seven and, therefore, can’t be in your twenties.”

  Gran patted his arm. “I know, but hearing the mayor announce to everyone that we’ve been here fifty years was a shock. I don’t feel old enough to have a son your age. Actually, inside I feel about your age, Austin. Of course, not when I look in the mirror.”

  Grandpa chuckled and patted held his wife’s hand. “My bones tell me my age anytime I try to do anything that involves moving.”

  Rebecca pointed to a group of men and boys. “Look, they’re going to light the fireworks.”

  Loud bangs preceded the sky lighting with a shower of bright colors.

  Happiness wrapped a veil around Clara. How nice to be among friends on a night like this. Momentarily she thought of Daniel and hoped he was being spoiled by Emma. America was a wonderful place, at least for Clara.

  When she’d settled in a comfortable haze, a flare caught her eye. “Cover the children! The rocket is coming!”

  She leaped into action with others. She grabbed one of the quilts and tossed it over the babies as the flares struck. Panicked people ran toward them. Rebecca and her friend led t
he way.

  Most of the wayward sparks landed on Gran. She screamed and beat at spots on her dress with Grandpa’s help. Clara picked up the older woman and rolled her in a quilt to put out the fire. When she uncovered her, the flames were extinguished but smoking.

  “I’m sorry to have handled you so roughly, but I was afraid the fabric would melt to your body. Are you all right now?”

  “I…I believe so. My dress is ruined and so is the nice handkerchief you gave me.” She held out her hands and blisters already were forming.

  Grandpa hugged Clara. “Thank you for your quick thinking and saving my wife. There were so many places we couldn’t get to them all. They were erupting into flames and spreading.”

  Austin cradled his mother as if she were a small child. “You sure you’re all right? Kathryn has her medical bag, Mama. You sit back on your chair and let her take care of you.”

  Gran kept her hands slightly curled and close to her body. “Your father’s hands need looking after.”

  “That would mean yours do, too.” Kathryn took one of Gran’s hands. “Good heavens, you must be in pain.”

  Rebecca was out of breath. “Gran, I’m so sorry this happened to you.”

  A man with a badge rushed up to Austin. “Anyone seriously hurt?”

  “My parents’ hands are burned. Kathryn is tending to them. Mother’s dress is ruined. What the hell happened?”

  The sheriff looked ready to punch someone. “That Dexter Farris was drunk and fell against the base for the roman candles. Sent some right at you. I’ll let him sober up in jail and stay there ’til he’s learned a lesson.”

  Dallas still held his son. “With Dexter, that’ll mean a life sentence.”

  Grandpa looked up while Kathryn treated his wounds. “Clara, Miss Van Hoosan saved my wife. The flames were spreading faster than we could beat them out. Everyone was trying to save the children, which is right of course, but they didn’t notice Zarelda needed help.”

  The sheriff held out his hand to Clara. “Tom Yates is my name. Sure pleased to meet you.” When he noticed her hands had burns, he pulled his back. “Sorry, but reckon Kathryn will tend to your burns, too. We’re all hoping you can help Daniel walk again. Looks like you’re a genuine miracle worker.”

  Stella held baby Vincent Dallas. “That’s right. She threw a quilt over the children and then rushed to Gran. By the time I realized we were in danger, Clara had acted.”

  Clara shrugged. “I was facing the way the rocket shot from. You young mothers were not.”

  Kathryn finished with Gran and Grandpa. She held out her arm to Clara. “Let me see your burns. Thank you for saving the day.”

  Clara glanced at the quilt in which she’d wrapped Gran. “I’m afraid two of your lovely quilts have scorched and burned places on them.”

  “Better them than people. That silly Dexter hasn’t half a brain when he’s sober, which is not often.” Kathryn applied soothing ointment on Clara’s hands before she bandaged them.

  “As soon as the ointment was on the burns, they hurt less. They feel much better. Thank you, Kathryn.”

  The healer closed her medical bag and stood. “I think our celebration is over and it’s time to go home.”

  The men helped fold quilts while Kathryn collected eating utensils.

  Austin laid his arm around his wife’s shoulders. “I’ll bring the wagon. You gonna be okay here while I do?”

  She smiled at him. “Of course I will, but thank you for asking.”

  When they had loaded what seemed like twice what they brought, they climbed on the wagon and headed for home.

  Chapter Nine

  Clara stuck her head in Daniel’s room to check on him before she went to bed.

  The hour was late but he was still awake. He looked up from the book he’d been reading. “How did your first Independence Day Celebration go?”

  “Can I tell you tomorrow? We had an eventful evening.”

  He shut the book and laid it aside. “Not after that teaser. Why are there bandages on your hands and burned spots on your dress?” He patted the bed beside him.

  She ventured closer but stood. “The afternoon was lovely. Thank you for that chart or I would never have kept people straight. Not certain I have everyone’s name memorized even with your help. I remember the English are the Claytons and that the O’Neills and McDonalds are Irish.”

  Changing her mind, she sat at the foot of his bed. “Your grandparents received a grand plaque commemorating the fact they founded the town fifty years ago. The mayor presented the award.”

  “No kidding?”

  “Your grandfather said he will not make rude comments about Mayor Quinlan after this.”

  Daniel reared back his head and laughed. “Sure he will. They’ve been friendly adversaries for as long as I can remember. What else happened?”

  “A man named… Dexter something… never mind, he was drunk and somehow sent some rockets into the crowd. The crowd specifically being your family. Gran’s dress caught on fire but she’s all right. Kathryn took care of the burns on hers and Grandpa’s hands.”

  Daniel held up a hand. “Wait, let me get this straight. Gran let Mama doctor her?”

  “Yes, fortunately your mother had her medical bag with her. Both Gran and Grandpa had burns.” She held up her hands to display her own bandages.

  “Clara, you don’t understand the importance of the occasion. In all the time my parents have been married, Gran has never, and I mean never, as in not once, let Mama give her medical advice or take care of her. Not even a cup of herbal tea. Nothing.”

  “Really? How odd when your mother is so good.”

  “We know that and Gran probably has all along, but she refused to let Mama near her and has criticized her healing every time she saw Mama.”

  “Something must have happened. Perhaps having her dress on fire changed her.” She tilted her head in thought. “No, before that happened, she told me to call her Gran and thanked me for the handkerchiefs.”

  “Amazing! Has to be one of the mysteries of the universe.”

  “Did Emma sufficiently spoil you in our absence?”

  “In my opinion spoiling me too much is impossible. In answer, she did pamper me.” He patted his abdomen. “I couldn’t eat another bite. Plus, I beat her at checkers three out of five games.”

  At once the night’s drama took toll and she thought she must lie down immediately or fall. “The hour is late and I must go to sleep. Good night, Daniel.”

  “G’night.”

  ***

  The next morning, Clara removed the bandages from her hands, pleased to see the burns had scabbed over. She wondered about Grandpa and Gran’s injuries, which were much more serious.

  At breakfast, Daniel spilled coffee on himself. “Damn. Look what I’ve done. How the hell could I be so clumsy?”

  Kathryn snapped, “Watch your language, young man. As for spilling, everyone has an accident occasionally.”

  He held his nightshirt away from his body. “Sorry, Mama, but that coffee was hot.”

  Clara noticed he had finished his breakfast and so had she. “Let us go to your room and wash off the coffee and find you something clean, shall we?”

  In his room, she searched through his folded clothing in the chest. Her fingers touched a volume and she pulled it out to examine.

  She was surprised when she opened the book and read. “A book of poetry?”

  He stretched out his hand. “Hey, that’s private. Either put it back or give it to me. You have no right to read my writings.”

  She paid no attention to his demand as she read. “Daniel, these are wonderful. Have you had any of them published?”

  He used his hands to sit up. “Of course not. Close the book now, Clara. I mean it.”

  Shaking her head, she read one aloud.

  “Home

  Weary as I head for home,

  After a long day

  Of the work I love.

  I revel in the
feast

  Of my senses.

  I feel the caress

  Of the spring breeze,

  Hear the rustling

  Of the majestic trees,

  And smell the sweetness

  Of the lush, green grass.

  As the sun sets,

  The crystal blue sky

  Turns to the colors

  Of the sunset.

  In rich hues

  Of purple, orange,

  And precious gold.

  This is my home,

  And my heart

  Is full.”

  When she’d finished, she closed the book and sighed. “You are gifted at many things. You paint, keep records, and write poetry.”

  “I keep Pa’s records and I’m good at that. I dabble at oil painting and water colors. My poems are stupid and private.”

  His self-abasement angered her. “Don’t be selfish with your talent. God gave you abilities to be used. Does not the Bible say you must not hide your light under a basket?”

  He threw up his hands and flopped back on the pillows. “Why do I even try to argue with you? You always turn an argument against me.”

  She set the book on top of the chest and gathered up a clean nightshirt. She tossed it to his bed then grabbed a washcloth and towel and poured water into a basin.

  He pulled the soiled shirt over his head and dropped it onto the floor before laying against his pillows once more.

  Clara sat on the bed and wrung out the cloth. Without thinking she washed his chest and rib cage where the coffee had spilled. She became aware of his heated gaze and satisfied smile.

  She handed him the cloth. “I think you are enjoying this far too much. Clean yourself.”

  He laughed and dried his torso. “I believe you did a very nice job. Too bad you stopped.” He pulled the clean garment over his head.

  She took the basin to empty and the pitcher to refill. When she returned, he asked, “Did you know that all the swans in England belong to Queen Victoria?”

  Astonished at his need to throw these random facts at her, she sat down the pitcher and basin. “Where do you get these tidbits?”