Kilpara (13 page)

When she straightened she said, “It’s famished
ye all must be. There’s plenty of cold meat, cheese, and bread.
Let’s go inside and I’ll have it ready for you in a
flash.”

She smiled at me apologetically. “The Missus
is waiting to see ye, Master Ellis. I'm sorry for delaying ye. And
for—for—” Her voice faltered.

“
I understand, Eileen,” I said.
Maureen moved beside me, found my hand and squeezed it.

I left Maureen, Seamus, and Eileen to their
reunion and made my way to Mother’s room. A prim and patient Trista
Joyce let me in. She had been brushing Mother’s hair and continued
with her task. I sat on the bed and took Mother’s hands in mine.
She looked slightly better than when I had left her. There was
color in her face and she had applied cosmetics in an obvious
effort to appear healthy. I was moved by this and filled with an
urge to pick her up and set her in healing waters. If only there
was such a thing.

Her eyes lit up with genuine happiness. “I’m
glad you’re back, Ellis.” Was there a hint of doubt in her
voice?

“
My trunks are on their way to New
York,” I said.

“
Good. Eileen and Seamus have been
busy all week arranging the same.”

“
Maureen was a big help. She
organized everything.”

Mother’s tired face looked anxious. “The girl
did come back. Didn't she?”

“
She did.”

“
I don’t understand why she
followed you to Baltimore, the young hussy. Too defiant for her own
good. Needs a good talking to, giving Eileen and Seamus fits like
that.”

“
How’s your strength, Mother?” I
asked, changing the subject.

“
Better, much better. Dr. Thompson
is pleased enough with my progress to approve the journey. The man
is a tyrant though. Made me agree to check into the hospital in
Hagerstown for an overnight stay. Then again in New York, before we
set sail. He went so far as to send Sadie a letter telling her that
I must convalesce when we arrive in Galway. As if she needs
reminding.”

“
It won’t be easy,” I said,
weighing each word. “The roads are rough and the sea can be
dangerous. It’ll be a difficult journey even under the best of
circumstances.”

“
I have Dr. Thompson’s permission,”
she replied fiercely.

I wished there was something I could say that
would penetrate her willpower, but I knew there wasn’t. A deep
sadness settled over me and I contemplated what Stonebridge would
be like without her. I thought how empty the house would feel
without her presence here to welcome me when I returned for those
rare visits home. Growing up, I had always managed to gain strength
and confidence from this place where my memories lived. Where my
parents had greeted each other every day and dealt with whatever
problems came their way. Where their decisions were influenced by a
past that preceded their life here, and where their love nurtured
those around them. These walls and the land spoke of their lifetime
struggle together, an era that was destined to end. The
responsibility for Stonebridge was passing into my brothers’ hands
and mine.

Silence lay heavily between us, broken only by
the ominous ticking of the clock. There was no need to speak, for
she knew I had yielded to her immovable determination. An
unexpected little cough came from Trista Joyce, who then announced
it was time for her patient to rest. Mother and I bade each other a
cheerless goodnight. Reluctantly, I went to my room where Eileen
had set out a cold supper.

The next morning, I found Mark in the Great
Room. The sun had already risen with promises of another nice day.
Outside the large windows, everything was coming alive. Jasmine
served coffee and filled plates from dishes on the sideboard.
Maureen had obviously been excused from duty to rest after her
journey. Mark pushed his plate aside, ran his hands over his face,
flattening red hair back off his forehead. He looked across at
me.

“
It’s really happening, isn’t it,
Wiz?” he said. “She’s going to do it and we can’t stop
her.”

“
I wish we could,” I said
helplessly.

“
How do you prepare for death
anyway? You love someone all your life; they’re part of every fiber
of your being. Then one day they’re not there anymore. It’s a
wonder we ever love anyone at all.”

“
Death shadows life. It’s something
we live with.”

“
Do you believe in Heaven, Wiz? Do
you really think we have souls and there’s a place we go after we
die? Or do you suppose it’s all conjured up to help us deal with
the inevitable pain of losing our loved ones?”

I had heard this same torment before in Mark's
voice when Father and Francis died. I had witnessed the naked agony
he suffered after he had brought Francis’s battered body back from
the war to Stonebridge to be buried. The pain of that journey and
the war itself had etched lines in his likable features that
reminded me so much of Father. Now as we spoke, he grew haggard
before my eyes and looked at me with undisguised longing for
reassurance that I could not offer.

“
I don't know if there’s a Heaven,”
I said. “Life may be all there is, and we have to make the most of
it.”

“
Mother believes in Heaven,” Mark
said. “Father and Francis did, too. Do you suppose Mother’s afraid
to die?”

“
If you believe in Heaven, I’m sure
it makes dying easier. I don’t think Mother’s afraid. I just wonder
if she’s ready to leave everything behind. No one ever is I
suppose. Too many loose ends.”

“
Going to Ireland is not the
answer.”

“
It's not. But it’s where she and
Father began their lives. She’s convinced she wants to end hers
there.”

Mark ran his hands through his hair again. “Do
you really believe that, Wiz? That Ireland’s where she’ll find her
final peace?”

I shrugged. “I don’t know. I only know I’m
being forced to take her there, and I don’t want to.”

“
She shouldn't go. She should stay
here with us to the end, the way it was with Father. I still miss
him. And Francis.”

“
Yes,” I said, “—and
Francis.”

A lot of whispering and wondering was going on
at Stonebridge during the next few days. Mother forged ahead with
arrangements. The strain of leaving was telling on her, yet she
remained stubborn in her decision. I noticed grave looks in Dr.
Thompson and Trista Joyce’s eyes. The progress Mother had made
during my absence seemed to be ebbing away. Dr. Thompson called
Dan, Mark, and me together to prepare us.

His face solemn he said, “I know you boys
don’t want your mother to undertake this journey any more than I
do. But right or wrong, her mind is set. You all know how dangerous
this endeavor is. She may never see Ireland. But pray to God she
does.” He threw out his hands and sighed. “If only she wasn’t so
stubborn and listened to my advice. All I can do now is to give her
medicine that will ease her discomfort...” He shook his head,
acknowledging our helpless looks. “Try to be strong. What lies
ahead will be difficult for all of you.”

With only two days left, the lawyer arrived to
disclose the contents of Mother’s will. Dan, Mark, and I were
summoned to her room. We entered in solemn reverence. Her face was
filled with anguish, her breathing coming in uneven rasps. Her
hands shook as she welcomed us. There was pity on Dan and Mark’s
faces as they listened soberly to the monotonous tone of the lawyer
who read out Mother’s last instructions. Stonebridge was to be
divided equally among all three of us. Eileen and Seamus were to
spend their remaining days in the house if that was their desire.
There was fifty acres each for Maureen and Seán upon their
marriages. Rengen would keep his house and the few acres around it.
Compensation for the other workers was to be decided jointly by
Dan, Mark, and me.

An uncomfortable silence followed when the
lawyer finished speaking. He asked if there were any questions and
if all the terms of the will were understood. We nodded. Satisfied
we were in accord, he closed his attaché case, bid us good day, and
departed. After he left, Dr. Thompson ordered us out of the
room.

“
She’s too sick to travel,” Dan
said, when we entered the library. He fingered the rim of his hat,
a sign that he was trying to decide something.

“
I’ve said everything I can think
of to try and persuade her,” I said, “but she won’t budge on
this.”

“
She’s getting worse,” he said,
laying his hat on a chair and fixing drinks. “As the eldest, I
should demand that she stop this whole Ireland
nonsense.”

Mark shook his head in disagreement. “Remember
what Dr. Thompson said. It’s the only thing keeping her going. If
he can’t persuade her it’s too risky, how can we?”

“
What if she doesn't make it,” Dan
said. “What if the end comes somewhere in the middle of the ocean?
We’re being denied our proper good byes.”

He paced the floor, his eyes wandering around
the room. “I remember when Mother and Father used to come in here
to sit and talk. Even now this room feels like them: their voices,
their laughter, their disagreements, the door that slammed on more
than one occasion.” Dan looked at us with a half grin. “They always
made up because they couldn’t stay angry at each other, even when
Mother swore she’d never speak to Father again.”

“
Remember how Father used to say
Mother couldn’t stay mad at him for very long,” Mark said sadly.
“She tried giving him the silent treatment but that never lasted
long. Father showered her with compliments to break down her
resolve. If that didn’t work, he tried jokes, then singing. Mother
couldn’t hold out against his singing. It was so bad. She’d give in
and he’d dance around gleefully, declaring he was irresistible,
which always brought a smile to Mother’s face. Fact was she got
tired of his pestering. But Father was right. She couldn’t hold on
to her anger.”

I smiled as I thought about those times. “They
really did love each other,” I said. “I’m beginning to understand
why she wants to take Father back with her. She won’t be parted
from him. Ever.”

“
They were united in life, I expect
that’s how they want to be in death,” Mark said. “But not in
Ireland. Here—at Stonebridge. That way they’ll still be with us in
a sense.” He slammed his hand on the desk then turned away. I knew
he was fighting back tears.

Dan rubbed his forehead. “God knows, I want
them here, too, Mark. But something stronger than us is pulling at
Mother and I don’t know how to change that.”

The next day passed in hushed sadness as
nervous anticipation hung over the household. Two coaches were
being readied for the journey, one of them stocked with pillows and
bedding to ease the ride for Mother. We were due to leave the
following morning at sunrise.

Dan and Mark went to Stile Valley. Work helped
to take their minds off Mother. I took Brazonhead out and galloped
through the countryside to relieve my tension. Once more I stopped
by the fields where Lilah worked. She saw me and came over to the
clump of grass where I had reined in Brazonhead. Cocking her head
to one side to avoid direct sunlight, she looked up at me. “Youse
be leaving us, Mast’r Ellis.” She laid her hand on top of mine
where it rested on Brazonhead’s neck. “The strength of your
ancestors be guiding you. Only the mistress’ body be dying. Her
spirit’s still with you. In your heart “

I tried to smile, but it was a bad
attempt.

“
Your life be joined with hers now,
Mast'r Ellis,” she said in a sad voice.

Slowly, she turned and walked away. I watched
her return to work, reluctant to move. There was something soothing
about the methodical way the workers tended the fields.

When I returned to the house, I decided to
check on Mother before going to my room to wash up. Entering the
corridor, I saw Trista Joyce, Seamus, and Eileen, arms loaded,
going toward the back staircase that was closest to the stables. I
was almost upon Mother’s room when I noticed a shiny object on the
floor. I stooped to pick it up, recognizing it as the harp brooch
Trista Joyce wore on her uniform. I was examining it when a murmur
inside Mother’s room rose to a distinct sharpness. I hesitated
where I stood.

Mother’s words came cracked from raised
forcefulness. “Don’t chastise me, Adam, for putting my family
through this separation. I know all about separation and pain,
remember? Sadie and I watched our own mother turn to skin and bone
from this very disease when we were girls. Day after day, for
months and years, we watched her fight the illness as it ate away
at her. She begged God to give her relief and to take her soul. We
begged God to keep her from leaving us—but she died anyway. We
watched as she was fed, cleaned, and comforted. When she got really
bad, we weren’t even allowed to be in the same room with her.
Father’s orders. He isolated Mother to just one room and kept us
out because he feared infection and contagion. We didn’t understand
then that he was trying to protect us. We could only watch her
through the keyhole. Can you imagine what that was like, Adam? I
won’t let my boys or my grandchildren see me deteriorate that way.
They’ve been through enough already with their father. With
Francis.”