Kilpara (15 page)

I smiled weakly. Her experience with Shanley
and the secret we shared had formed a conspiratorial bond between
us. Delving into her apron pocket, she pulled out a telegram and
handed it to me. “I got this from Tom Townsend, the Travers’ groom.
I’d value your opinion.”

I glanced at the words. Tom wrote that he was
informed he would be sent to Stonebridge on a mission to search out
a suitable pony for the Travers’ grandchild. He wanted to know if
he had Maureen’s permission to ask her father if he could come
courting. He understood they had met under unfavorable
circumstances, but hoped she could overcome that unpleasantness. A
letter would follow to explain his intentions more
fully.

“
Well?” Maureen asked
quietly.

“
He did rescue you,” I
said.

Maureen’s eyes clouded. “I know. I’m afraid
that every time I see him, I’ll remember...”

“
I’m sure he knows that's an
obstacle. When you next see him, it’ll be here at Stonebridge. If
you concentrate on his good intentions perhaps it will outweigh the
bad memories, and you can truly make a fresh start.”

“
Maybe,” Maureen said. But she
didn’t sound convinced.

I had been aware since we arrived at
Stonebridge that she was making a conscious effort to put the
incident with Shanley behind her. Eileen and Seamus doted on her
and that was what she needed to help her heal.

“
I’ll miss you,” Maureen
said.

“
I’ll miss you, too,” I said and
meant it.

Eileen came in and announced Rengen and Seamus
were bringing Mother down in a wheelchair. We went to meet them in
the foyer as they brought the chair to rest at the bottom of the
stairs. The silence and sadness was so thick, it felt as though
Mother had already passed away and we were gathering round for her
funeral.

Farmhands crowded the front steps to see us
off. Each of them touched Mother as she passed by. She smiled at
them through a medicinal screen. At the carriage, she hugged the
family in turn, uttering a special message to each of them. Dan and
Mark were last, the strain of watching Mother leave evident in
their moist eyes and tight lips as they struggled to hold back
their feelings.

It was still within my power to stop what was
happening. I wanted to utter the words that could change things
right here and now. They formed in my mind but got stuck in the
back of my throat. Then, as Mother was helped into the first
carriage, occupied by Dr. Thompson and Trista Joyce, she looked at
me and smiled faintly. I could see how much effort this was taking.
She would never see her family again, and while she was causing
them great sadness, the alternative was more painful in her mind.
Did I have the right to deny her decision? No, I didn’t.

As I stood waiting for the second carriage to
move forward, Dan walked purposefully past me leading Brazonhead.
He took the horse's reins and tied them to the back of the
carriage. Without a word, he laid his head against Brazonhead’s
mane and caressed the horse's neck. He stayed there for a moment
before turning to look at me. Not sure what all this meant, I
waited for him to explain.

“
Brazonhead belongs in Ireland,”
Dan said finally. “Take him there with Mother and Father. Let him
taste the life that he was truly made for. He's Father's finest
success and he belongs with them. I'm sure Aunt Sadie will find
good use for him.”

Touched by this gesture, words failed me. I
nodded my agreement. The carriages started to move and I walked in
place behind them, along with the small procession that advanced
slowly down the avenue. The carriages stopped at the cemetery where
I paused with my brothers and their families beside Francis’ grave.
Afterwards, I hugged Dan and Mark, emotion filling our mumbled
farewells. Then I kissed the teary cheeks of their wives and
children. The carriages were ready to move again so I quickly
ascended while still shouting goodbye. Within moments, their
responses faded out of earshot, and I watched their saddened faces
recede into the landscape. We left Stonebridge behind and proceeded
onto the road to Hagerstown.

The first carriage pushed forward with Seamus
leading the team of horses, followed by Rengen taking charge of the
second carriage. The pace was slow. Seamus anticipated trouble
spots, directing the horses slowly over rough areas. He was careful
not to jar Mother even though every precaution had been taken to
cushion her from such eventualities. At times, I unhooked
Brazonhead and we rode between the two vehicles. We stopped at rest
stations along the way to water the horses and allow Dr. Thompson
and Trista Joyce to attend to Mother.

The day had turned to late afternoon when our
weary party rode into Hagerstown. Women were scurrying home from
markets and shops loaded with baskets of vegetables, flour, and
other foodstuff as we engineered the busy streets to the hospital.
Orderlies came out to greet us and offer aid when the carriages
halted in front of the large red brick building. After Mother was
suitably settled, they showed Dr. Thompson and Trista to their
quarters in an adjoining building. Rooms were also readied for
Seamus and Rengen in the attached coachman’s quarters. I stayed
long enough to make sure Mother was comfortable before walking to
the Commonwealth Club to spend the night.

The concierge showed me to my room and offered
to bring me a light dinner. When he left I set about washing off
the dust from the journey, and then relaxed in a high-backed chair
with the Tribune until my meal arrived. I could barely concentrate
on the print, my mind returning to Stonebridge and the sad faces of
my brothers and their families as we left them behind. Staring at
the worn flowered wallpaper, I reflected if there had been more
time to consider Mother’s conversation with Dr. Thompson, would I
have confessed to Dan and Mark the real reason behind her leaving?
Almost certainly I would, since I was ready to blurt out everything
to Dan the same moment Maureen interrupted us. And then what? Dan
had a different way of looking at things than anyone else I knew.
He would have felt dutiful toward Mother, done everything in his
power to take care of her. But that was the last thing she wanted.
Mark would argue that she belonged at Stonebridge under the care of
the best doctors and nurses.

Could Mother’s determination have withstood
the emotional battle with my brothers? Such a confrontation would
surely worsen her fragile condition. Any deterioration in her
health would force my brothers to go along with her plan in the
end. After all that, it was questionable if her health could endure
the voyage. Denying her choice of how and where she wanted to die
could hasten her death and leave us all feeling guilt-ridden. I
sighed. Right or wrong, the journey was underway.

I turned my attention to the food set before
me, beef, potatoes, and savory vegetables. I couldn’t taste
anything, eating only to fill the emptiness in my stomach.
Afterwards, I was surprised to find I could hardly hold my eyes
open and prepared for bed. As I drifted off to sleep, the town fell
silent outside the partially opened window.

Next morning I arrived at the hospital to hear
that Mother had slept well through the night with the help of
medication. Dr. Thompson had ordered her meals specially cooked,
keeping in mind her delicate digestive tract. She was in the middle
of a light breakfast when I greeted her. A smile lit up her
strained eyes when I poked my head around the door.

“
Come in,” she said with forced
cheerfulness, an attempt I knew to cover up the struggle of leaving
Stonebridge behind.

“
Hmmm,” Dr. Thompson said arriving
behind me. Moving next to Mother, he performed a quick examination.
“Good thing I insisted we wait a day before taking the train to
Baltimore. You should rest.”

She nodded, leaning further into the pillows
and closing her eyes.

I squeezed her hand, grateful that Dr.
Thompson had insisted on accompanying us first to Baltimore and
then onto New York. He arranged for Rengen and Seamus to come along
too, to help with the luggage.

Outside the hospital, morning mist had given
way to clear blue skies. Hailing a hansom cab, I rode the short
distance outside town to the large granite Mausoleum sitting a few
hundred yards back off the road. The odd-shaped structure always
surprised me because at first sight it could be mistaken for a
church-like temple in a park setting. But on closer inspection, the
wide steps leading up to the vault-like door and the brass dome
hovering above gave the building the appearance of some architect’s
attempt at distinction.

Surveying this odd structure in rugged
surroundings, I climbed the steps to the heavily inscribed door.
After pulling the thick red rope, a dark-suited caretaker with a
paltry consoling smile greeted me. He led me inside where it was
cool. Our footsteps echoed on the white marble floor as we solemnly
passed the circular foyer lined with crypts along the walls and a
fountain sprinkling water serenely into a stone basin. In the
center of the fountain stood an angel statue whose sympathetic eyes
followed us as we passed various tropical plants and iron wrought
benches. We paused at the crypt containing my father’s coffin. His
name, Angus O’ Donovan, was inscribed in brass letters on the
outside. After a moment of silence, I nodded, and the caretaker led
me through an adjoining door. We entered a room containing an
assortment of tools, pickaxes, shovels, and rakes propped against
sacks of mortar. Nearby, coffins in various stages of construction
lay unfinished. The caretaker pointed to a stand where a large
wooden crate stood. Standing beside it, he moved his hand along its
smooth edge.

“
This has been especially made to
journey your father’s coffin to Ireland,” he said reverently. “We
used the sturdiest oak we could find.” He patted the inside
confirming its toughness to withstand the voyage. I nodded my
agreement and he took me to an office to inspect the docket and
accompanying legal documents. Satisfied that everything was in
order, I gave my written consent.

I rode the cab back to the train station that
echoed the noise from steam engines, conductor whistles, train
doors slamming, and voices shouting above the din. I found the
station master who efficiently made immediate arrangements for
Brazonhead to travel with us in cattle-cars on the same trains. He
offered to make arrangements for him to be stabled at the livery in
New York Harbor until we sailed. I shook his hand gratefully and
walked to the telegraph office to cable the ship lines that
Brazonhead would join our party on the voyage.

Fortunately for us, there was a large cargo
area in the ship’s hold to accommodate animals. As I waited for
confirmation, I again puzzled over Dan's decision to send
Brazonhead to Ireland. Shrugging, I concluded his action wasn't any
more peculiar than my keeping the truth from him and Mark about
Mother. Still, qualms persisted about his offer to give Aunt Sadie
such a well-bred animal. We'd been told she was a practical woman
with practical needs. But she was also a perceptive woman with
insight into human nature. Perhaps she would share Dan’s vision
that Father's most prized horse belonged together with him and
Mother in Ireland.

Thinking of Brazonhead, I went to check on him
when I returned to the hospital. I went inside the stable and found
Rengen talking softly to him.

“
The noise and traffic be bothering
him Mast’r Ellis,” Rengen greeted me. “It be making him skittish.
We’s got to get him out of here so he can run it off.”

We had passed an abandoned patch of land on
our way into town. I suggested that we take Brazonhead there and
Rengen nodded his agreement. He rigged a blindfold made of
kerchiefs to cover the horse’s eyes and ears, then trotted him to
the outskirts of town behind the carriage. When we arrived at the
open ground, Rengen removed the blindfold. I rode Brazonhead around
in small gallops until I felt the tension go out of him. At one end
of an open field, we found a well-worn track. We rode along this
through peaceful countryside until our energy was spent.

Our strange little party progressed to the
hotel-car of the Baltimore Express amid early morning hustle and
bustle at the railway station. This new train model was said to be
considerably faster than the usual Baltimore locomotive, by more
than ten miles an hour. The hotel-car was divided into various
compartments, one with sleeping bunks, one with seats and divans,
and one with a table and soft-covered benches behind which stood a
sink and some cabinets. Together, Seamus, Rengen, and I settled
Mother on one of the divans. We found places to sit throughout the
car as the train pulled out of Hagerstown. Mother’s rest in the
hospital and nutritious food seemed to restore her. I sat beside
her and held her hand. Several times, I wanted to tell her I knew
what she was trying to do; that I wasn’t frightened by her illness
anymore. But the words always died on my lips.

“
Thank you, Ellis,” she said, at
one point in the journey. “I know this isn’t easy for
you.”

“
How could I deny you?” I
said.

She looked at me curiously, surprised by my
change of heart. “You don’t mind. Truly?”

“
No, Mother, I don’t.”