Sinner or Saint

by Brenda Donelan

  The couple broke out into laughter. “Don’t you worry. We know for sure that she’s ours,” said Mary Catherine with a wink.

  “We know for sure she’s yours,” said Patrick with a laugh. “But does a man ever know for sure if he’s the father?”

  “Oh, you hush,” Mary Catherine admonished, hitting him playfully with a pillow from the loveseat. “Of course, she’s yours. Now Ellen and Maureen, that’s another story.”

  The Raffertys and Marlee were all laughing when Kelsey entered the room with the toasted brown individual apple pies on a white Belleek tray matching the teacups. “What’s so funny in here? I could hear yas laughing before I even got in the house.”

  “Nothing that would interest you,” Mary Catherine said with a dismissive wave of her hand. “Now watch the front desk while your father and I entertain our guest.”

  Kelsey looked at the floor and then rolled her eyes at her mother. A heavy sigh and loud footsteps made it painfully clear that Kelsey would rather do about anything other than sit at the front desk, greet new customers, and tend to the concerns of the current guests.

  “Kelsey’s a bit disappointed. She’s in love with America and thought she would sit in here with us and ask a million questions about living in the United States. We told her not to be bothering you, but I could tell by the look on her face when she walked in just now that she was ready to start with the questions,” Mary Catherine said with a sigh as she served them each an apple duff on dessert plates. “The twins are only ten, and it will be a few years before they’re any help around here.”

  She didn’t say it directly, but Marlee realized that the Raffertys needed their oldest daughter to keep the B&B running. If Kelsey left them, they’d have to hire someone, which would cut into the profit margin, maybe enough that they’d have to close down and find work elsewhere. It was a situation no small business owner wanted to be in: the exodus of their unpaid offspring.

  “Don’t worry,” Marlee whispered conspiratorially. “I won’t put any ideas in her head.”

  Patrick sat up a little straighter and smiled a bit broader. “Thank you, love. She has visions of movie stars and her own car and apartment if she moves to America. Kelsey’s young and has a vivid imagination. She’s the oldest of our children, but the least practical.”

  Mary Catherine smoothed a lock of her dark brown hair behind her ear. “She watches too much American television and thinks your country is the promised land. She doesn’t understand that life can be very tough no matter where you live when you’re young and just getting started.”

  Marlee nodded along as the couple spoke of the evils they believed would befall their daughter if she moved to the United States. It was abundantly clear why she was the only guest invited to tea that afternoon. The Raffertys were afraid Kelsey would attach herself to Marlee and become even more infatuated with life in America. Their hope was to clip her wings in an effort to maintain the status quo. At least until Ellen and Maureen were old enough to help with the cooking, cleaning, and general upkeep of the B&B.

  For the remainder of her visit, Marlee did her best not to glorify the United States and its varied culture when Kelsey enquired. On one hand, she didn’t want to dampen the dreams of the young Irish girl enraptured with a life different from her own. But on the other hand, Marlee didn’t want to be responsible for luring the Raffertys’ daughter away from their collective livelihood. It was none of her business either way, and so she answered Kelsey’s questions truthfully, but did not amp up her answers with the usual enthusiasm.

  “Surely you’ve been to Hollywood,” Kelsey insisted as she sat on the edge of Marlee’s bed. After their first meeting, Kelsey had taken to coming to Marlee’s room uninvited every evening and plying her with questions after Patrick and Mary Catherine retired for the evening.

  “I’ve been to Los Angeles a few times, but I never did the whole Hollywood tour or anything. We never made it to Grauman’s Chinese Theatre to see the handprints of the stars.”

  “Did you meet anyone famous while you were there?”

  “I didn’t meet them, but we went to a taping of The Tonight Show and I saw the host, Jay Leno. One of his guests was David Arquette. I forget who else was on the show,” Marlee recalled, thinking back to 1999.

  “Who?” Kelsey asked, clearly unimpressed.

  “Never mind. Nobody you’d know. Why are you so interested in movie and television stars? Do you want to get into acting?”

  “No, nothing like that. I’ve watched American television as long as I can remember, and I thought the actors were all so glamorous. It’s been my dream since forever to move to the United States. I don’t want to act, but I could make a good living doing hair and make-up for the stars,” Kelsey said.

  “What makes you think that?” Marlee asked, noticing Kelsey’s unruly hair and make-up free face. “Do you have some training in it?”

  “No, but I’m really good at it, and I figure that would be a way for me to get on the movie sets and close to the stars.”

  Marlee sighed. She’d been enamored with show biz when she was younger too but had grown out of it long before she was Kelsey’s age. “Actors on television are just regular people like us. There’s nothing special about them except that they’re famous for acting or singing. They’re not necessarily any kinder or smarter or funnier than we are. They’re just famous. That’s it.”

  “Have you been to New York City? To Broadway?” Kelsey would not be deterred from her quest for info about stardom. Marlee relayed the story of her visit to the Big Apple ten years earlier and going to Phantom of the Opera on Broadway. Before Kelsey could bombard her with further questions, Marlee feigned tiredness with a huge yawn and mentioned that she needed to get some work done on her research before she could go to bed.

  “Sorry for keeping you,” Kelsey jumped to her feet and made her way toward the door. “My parents wouldn’t like me talking your ear off, so I have to sneak up here after they go to bed. They say I’m not to bother the guests, but that’s how I find out about life in the States.”

  “That’s fine. But I really can’t help you much with knowledge about California and New York. I’ve visited but don’t know much about day-to-day life there. I live in South Dakota; the middle of the country. It’s much, much different there than on either coast.”

  “But you’ve been there, and that’s more than I’ve ever done. All I’ve done is go to Wales for a day on a school trip. If my parents have it their way, I’ll never leave home. I’ll be stuck here helping with the B&B until I’m old and gray, still sharing a room with my younger sisters.” She stood at the door with her hand on the knob, looking deflated. “Talking to the guests is my way of traveling to places I may never get to see.”

  “You’re young, and you don’t know what life has in store for you. Sure, you may have to stay here and help your parents for a few years, but that won’t be forever. At some point, you’ll be able to leave home and travel the world if you want. You might feel stuck here right now, but why not make the best of it? Get a degree in an area that interests you so that you’ll have a way to make money when you’re not helping out here. In a few years, you could have a degree in addition to your management experience. Those two things will help you get far in life,” Marlee said, repeating a version of the same talk she gave to many of her advisees back home at Midwestern State University.

  Kelsey seemed inspired by the talk and her mood lifted. “You’re right. I need to maximize my time here and prepare for the future!”

  “Exactly!” Marlee exclaimed. “When it’s time for you to move away from home, you’ll know when. You’ll make it to the U.S. someday, and when you do, be sure to look me up.”

  She smiled as she put away her research materials, reflecting on the motivational speech she’d given Kelsey. Marlee had a flair for dealing with college-aged people, and she knew it. She’d been away from her advisees for a couple months, and she missed giving them advice on academics, career
s, and life. Helping Kelsey sort out her short-term and long-term goals made Marlee feel needed, just like back at MSU.

  Their nightly chats continued for the remainder of February until Marlee had to depart for home. Kelsey was able to satisfy her curiosity about the United States and a culture different from her own. Meanwhile, Marlee was fulfilled by acting as a mentor to Kelsey. There’s an old saying about accepting free advice. You get what you pay for. There’s also another saying about no good deed going unpunished.

  Who doesn’t love a good surprise?

  Chapter 4

  It was ten degrees below zero when Marlee landed at the tiny airport in Elmwood, South Dakota. Snow drifted across the prairie, and the wind chill brought the temperature down to negative twenty-five, colder than usual for early March. It had taken her eighteen hours and three connections to get from Dublin to Elmwood, and after spending that much time on airplanes and in airports, the frigid weather didn’t faze her. Marlee’s goal was to find her car among the snow drifts, hope to Hell that it started, and go home to her little house and her cranky Persian cat.

  After lugging her bags inside her Spanish-style house, she immediately turned on her desktop computer. Pippa, her temperamental kitty, was ignoring her, so Marlee sought to catch up on what she’d missed since leaving a month ago. Even though she was on sabbatical and had a university-provided laptop while in Ireland, there were still university matters she needed to tend to now that she was back at home. She’d put them off for far too long.

  The flight had left her feeling punchy, with too much energy and no way to direct it. An hour of responding to emails didn’t help her settle down, so she cracked open a bottle of white wine from her sparsely stocked fridge. She needed something to take the edge off.

  Still too wound up to relax, Marlee summoned her supper club and ordered pizza for the group. They were ready to hear about her tales from Ireland and fill her in on the latest gossip from MSU. Gwen Gerkin and Shelly McFarland were the first to arrive. They produced a bottle of Limoncello, the yellow liquor which had proven to be the downfall of the group on previous occasions.

  Diane Frasier arrived minutes later with a six-pack of Heineken. Kathleen Zens was on her heels, holding a tray of cookies leftover from a recruitment meeting for new students. “Yum, snickerdoodles are my favorite!” Marlee said, helping herself to a cookie before Kathleen had a chance to set the tray down and take off her coat.

  “Don’t get too excited. They’re from campus,” Kathleen said knowingly. Most faculty and staff found the food served at the MSU dining hall mediocre at best, but Marlee found the food to be more than satisfactory. Maybe it was the fact that it was food she didn’t have to prepare herself that made it tasty. Whatever the reason, she never had a problem eating four or five cookies in a sitting.

  The five women settled into the small living room on the overstuffed blue chair, loveseat, and couch. Their regular get-togethers consisted of pizza, alcohol, and university gossip. Tonight would be no different.

  The coffee table in front of them held their beverages plus Pippa sitting in the middle glaring at everyone and growling when someone would reach for their drink. “Are you sure she won’t bite me, because I feel like she’s going to bite me,” Gwen said as she inched her beer bottle off the table and held it in her lap. A low growl, a warning, came from somewhere deep within the fluffy cat.

  “She’s just happy to see me since I was gone for a month. I think she might be a bit overwhelmed right now,” Marlee said generously, always one to make excuses for her ill-tempered feline.

  Pippa chose that exact moment to leap off the coffee table and plant herself right at Gwen’s feet. With a loud yowl she arched her back and bared two of her remaining teeth. Gwen retracted her feet and pulled them beneath her on the couch for protection. “See! I told you she would bite me!” Gwen shouted.

  Marlee jumped from the loveseat and grabbed a snarling Pippa around the middle. “I think you need a time out!” she said, relocating the cantankerous kitty to the spare room and closing the door. “Sorry about that,” she said to her guests as she returned to her seat and topped off her glass of sauvignon blanc.

  “Whew!” Gwen put her feet back on the floor, now assured that she wouldn’t be attacked for the foreseeable future.

  “So, tell us about Ireland! Did you dance a jig? Did you eat fish and chips at the Blarney Stone?” Diane asked. “What were your three favorite things about Ireland?”

  “Whoa! So many questions. No, I didn’t do any dancing, but I did see some people doing a jig.” Marlee relayed the tale of her visit to the Brennan Farm and attempted to recreate the dance performed by Mr. and Mrs. Brennan. Jet lag, the second glass of wine on an empty stomach, and her lack of dancing ability left Marlee stumbling about the room like a drunken ape.

  “I ate fish and chips at least ten times while I was there,” she said after falling back onto the loveseat. “One day I took a trip to Blarney Castle and saw the Blarney Stone. Before you ask, no, I didn’t kiss the Blarney Stone.”

  “Why not?” asked Kathleen. “I thought that’s what everyone did.”

  Marlee launched into the lore of the Blarney Stone and how kissing it was supposed to give one the gift of gab. “But what I heard was that the locals go there at night and pee on it. That’s why I wasn’t going to kiss it. Plus, I already have the gift of gab.” She raised her glass of wine and gave the group a wink.

  “Did your research project go as planned?” Shelly asked.

  “For the most part. I was able to tour three prisons and interview several administrators. They even gave me access to their incarceration records. Now I just need to sift through all of my information and craft it into articles I can submit to academic journals.” Marlee summarized her research, keeping it brief because her head was foggy, and she wanted the evening to be fun and uplifting.

  The doorbell rang, and Marlee jumped up to answer it, grabbing a fistful of cash from the table. “Hey, Teo. How are you doing tonight?” She grabbed the two large boxes from the delivery man’s insulated bag and handed him the cash.

  “Doing very well thanks. Glad you made it back home,” he said with a grin. Teo Cook, a lanky Native American man with long, black hair and an infectious smile, had taken classes with Marlee over the years as he decided what he wanted to do with his life. To pay his bills, he worked part time at Domino’s and seemed to be the usual person who delivered her orders.

  She set the boxes on the table and flung paper plates at everyone. A roll of paper towels was passed around for napkins as the group dug into the pizzas.

  “You’re on a first-name basis with the pizza delivery guy? How often do you order pizza?” asked Shelly with a laugh.

  “Hey, I’ve been out of the country for a month!” Marlee said, stuffing a piece of crust into her already full mouth. “Besides, he’s taken some classes with me. He’s a good kid.”

  “What I really want to know is did you meet any men while you were in Ireland?” Diane helped herself to another piece of pizza and removed the empty box from the table.

  “No, not really. I mean, I met tons of interesting people, but no one guy stood out,” Marlee said, hoping they could change the topic soon.

  “No one you’d consider moving to Ireland to be with?” teased Diane, remembering Marlee’s unwanted marriage proposals when she was in India earlier that year.

  “No, nothing like that,” she said with a laugh. “This trip was strictly business with a little sightseeing on the side.”

  “Did you do genealogy research while you were there? Before you left, you said you wanted to find out more about your Irish ancestors.” Gwen took one of the last pieces of pizza from the second box and set it on the floor next to the first one, sensing everyone had their fill.

  “A little. I traveled to Galway, which is where my great, great grandmother lived. Then I went to Limerick, where the McCabes lived before immigrating to the United States in the 1850s. There was a little museu
m in Roscommon with information about the potato famine and the mass exodus from Ireland in the mid-1800s. Many of my ancestors were farmers and had no education. Most were illiterate, so there’s not much written by them, but others kept records, so we have some family history.”

  “Last year, I had a conference in New York City and took a day to tour Ellis Island. They showed the trunks immigrants had which contained all their worldly possessions, which consisted of another set of clothes, a comb, and a hat. That’s if they were lucky. Some only had the clothes on their backs,” Gwen said as the others nodded grimly, recalling their own immigrant lineages.

  The group of friends talked until 9:00 p.m., when they noticed Marlee nodding off at the table. She was still on Dublin time, which would’ve been 3:00 a.m. They started clearing the nearly empty pizza boxes from the floor and picking up glasses from the table.

  “Wait, we haven’t even had any of the Limoncello that Shelly and Gwen brought,” Marlee said, now fully awake as she went into the kitchen to retrieve shot glasses.

  “Are you sure you’re up for it?” Shelly asked skeptically. “You look really tired. We should all go and save the Limoncello for another day.”

  “Are you kidding? I’m wide awake!” Marlee cracked open the bottle of the potent yellow liquor and poured five generous shots, passing them around the table.

  Kathleen made a face after her first sip. “Wow! I always forget how strong this is.”

  “Only the first couple sips. After that it slides right down,” Marlee said.

  Two hours later, their laughter could be heard from the street. The bottle of Limoncello was long gone as were two-and-a-half bottles of wine and numerous bottles of beer. The doorbell rang repeatedly, followed by a brisk knock at the front door.

  “Who’s there?” yelled Diane.