Authors: June Ahern
The Skye in June
“Not since author Amy Tan's early writings has a woman's voice so strongly resonated from one of San Francisco's most famous neighborhoods”
.
–
Jim Toland
, author
Fire And Fog
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The Skye in June
By June Ahern
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Published by
June Ahern
Copyright (c) 2011 by June Ahern
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All rights reserved. Without limiting the rights under copyright reserved above, no part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in or introduced into a retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form, or by any means (electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise) without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the above publisher of this book.
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Cover Art by Cynthia Sprugin
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June Ahern’s other books
The Timeless Counselor: The Key to a Successful Psychic Reading
City of Redemption
– A Novel
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Dear Reader, Some words and usage of language might be unfamiliar to you. It is authentic Glaswegian terms and slang words and not errors in spelling. For instance, a Scottish character says, “…he’s
no
right” for “…he’s
not
right.” The Scots will often say
no
instead of not and
yer
for your or you’re,
mah
for my,
ain
for own, a child might say
mammy
instead of mommy because that is how most
bairns
(children) from working class Glasgow referred to their mothers. A baby or wee child (toddler) is referred to as a
wean.
Other examples are
didne
(didn’t),
wouldne
(wouldn’t)
couldne
(couldn’t) One character might use slang while another speaks words in a way with which you are familiar and that’s like anywhere else in the world––it depends upon educational background and choice. Enjoy learning new words!
Table of Contents
Chapter 3 The Gypsy Fortune Teller
Chapter 6 Leaving for a New Life
Chapter 7 Reaching the Shores of America
Chapter 8 Eureka! San Francisco
Chapter 9 Making the Home Sacred
Chapter 14 The Secret World of Magic
Chapter 15 Hogmanay in San Francisco
Chapter 18 The Spirit of Friendship
Chapter 20 Wicked Behavior at Holy Savior
Chapter 22 Dancing with the Moon
Chapter 25 Sister Noel’s Mystical Teachings
Chapter 28 The Devil Passed Through
Chapter 32 Swimming with the Mystics
Chapter 35 Cleansing June's Energy
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GLASGOW, SCOTLAND
May 31, 1950
THE RAIN DRIZZLING down
the windows of the taxi shrouded the riders inside. Cathy MacDonald, the sole passenger, leaned her head against the misted window. She was bound for St. Andrew’s Infirmary to deliver yet another
wean.
“
Does he have to hit every bloody stone in the road?” she muttered under her breath as the taxi bumped along.
Cathy’s
fingers dug into her seat as she readjusted her bulky body. No position seemed to bring relief to her discomfort. She let her head fall forward onto the back of the driver’s seat.
“
Don’t ye worry, Missus. I’ll get ye there in time.” The rough sandpaper voice of the taxi driver startled her. “Ah know all about how fast those weans want out. Got eight
bairns
of mah ain,” he said laughing loudly and began to name all of his children along with their ages ending with the youngest wean, a baby only a one month old. “Yer man’s Jimmy MacDonald, right?”
His talking only irritated her, but not wanting to appear unfriendly she tri
ed to focus on what he had said. Her response came as a muffled sound that could have been an answer or a retreat from the question. She caught him taking a peek at her through the rearview mirror.
“So, yer Mr. B’s daughter then?” he asked
.
The driver, along with so many others in Glasgow, deeply respected Willie Buchanan, or Mr. B, as he had been known for as far back as anyone could remember. Mr. B had earned a r
eputation for being a fair man. Years ago he had rallied a group of well-off citizens to provide funds in support of youth soccer teams for the town’s underprivileged children. He had insisted that the money be shared equally between Catholic and Protestant teams––an unusual act, since prejudice between the two religious groups was still very intense in Scotland. Although some people protested, most citizens supported his efforts.
The taxi swerved sharply to avoid a pile of building ru
bble. Cathy moaned in protest. She fell away from the driver’s seat and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath in and then blew out sharply as jolting cramps came one after another. If Jimmy hadn’t been so worried about getting to his second job, he could’ve been with me. She was sure that if her husband were with her, he’d tell the driver to slow down. She didn’t want this ride to be over too quickly. She wasn’t ready to walk up the four broad, stone steps to St. Andrew’s Infirmary to lie on a bed under a sheet, waiting. She moved her hands over her belly and whispered hoarsely, “Wait, wee one. Just a bit longer.”
It was eight o
’clock at night by the time they arrived at St. Andrew’s. The driver offered to help her up the steps.
“
No,” she said adamantly, assuring him that she had been on the same journey to the Infirmary enough times before. She paid him and he tipped his cap before hurrying off to his next fare.
Cathy
hesitated for a moment before walking up the steps to St. Andrew’s. She took in a deep breath of the cool night’s air and was momentarily mesmerized by the silhouette of the gibbous moon. It would not fully illuminate the night for a few more hours when spring’s late twilight would drop into darkness. Rain clouds moved above, blanketing the moon. To Cathy, the light and dark of the Scottish sky was like the passing of time. Gently caressing her belly, she remembered a time long ago when she had stood on a hilltop surrounded by the celestial beauty of the Scottish Highlands. The moon, like this one, had not reached its fullness. It had hung high in the northern skies as she drew down its power to her and with her hands over her heart made a wish for the future. Cathy shuddered at the memory of the force of energy that had surged through her body when she had uttered that wish. Exhilarated by the rush of the energy, she mistakenly believed her desire had been granted. Now, in sadness, Cathy looked away before seeing the clouds were once again revealing the moon.
Her legs shook as the life within her pressed downward, reminding her of her reason for being there. She seized hold of the metal railing to pull herself up the steps while supporting her huge belly with the other hand. Her well-shaped calves were of little help to her tiny frame burdened by the weight of pregnancy.
She reflected on her earlier five visits there to deliver her babies. She hoped this birth would be easier. Painfully, she moved down the corridor of the infirmary toward the maternity ward while keeping her moans to a minimum so as not to draw undue attention.
Nurse Flora Hamilton met Cathy
in the maternity ward. She was a tall, florid-faced Highlander who had been at St. Andrew's Infirmary for many years and was one of Cathy's favorite nurses. She escorted Cathy to a birthing room and helped her change, get into bed, and then gently laid a white sheet over her.
“
I’ll be right outside if you need me,” Nurse Hamilton said gently. She left the door partially open behind her.
Cathy was all too glad to be left alone. She lay panting, staring at the hallway light shinin
g through the half-closed door. After a while, she heard footsteps rapidly clicking on the polished floor outside her room. The nurse entered the birthing room.
“
Dr. MacFadden should be here presently. He said the baby was quite overdue and had been expected by early May. Is that right, dear?”
Cathy didn’t answer as the nurse took her pulse.
She put her hand on Cathy’s belly and glanced up to the round clock on the wall. A worried look crossed her face. She said, “Well, don’t you worry now, dear, we’ll take good care of you,” and rearranged Cathy’s sheet before leaving her alone.
Cathy
turned her head to the window and saw that the darkness had finally arrived. Laboriously, she pulled herself up out of the bed and shuffled to the window. The strong beams of the moon’s light sprayed across her face as she peeked through the curtains. With great sadness she remembered the death of her first born at St. Andrew’s. Quickly, she said a prayer to Our Lady, Jesus’ Mother that this new baby would to be delivered safely.
Firm, measured footsteps came down the hospital corridor. The nurse scooted
into the birthing room to announce Dr. MacFadden’s arrival a moment before he entered. The doctor, a six-foot-four Highlander, was a stylishly handsome man. He had been the attending physician at all of her girls’ births. She trusted him completely. He knew her greatest hopes and fears. After her last delivery Dr. MacFadden had tried to convince Cathy not to have any more babies because of the difficulties she experienced with each of the births.
“
Hello, Mrs. MacDonald. I am glad you came back to visit us, but so soon?” Dr. MacFadden said pleasantly, putting a hand on the pregnant woman’s shoulder. He then picked up Cathy’s chart from the bedside table and, loosening his tie, read in silence. He looked at his watch and said, “Labor pains every minute for the past three hours? Well, let’s get that baby out before the witching hour is upon us.”
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BATTLE OF WILLS
JUNE 1, 1950
BY EARLY MORNING, the hushed murmur from women lying in hospital beds holding their newborns gave the ward a peaceful, happy feel. The new mothers in the six-bed ward were served pots of steaming black tea with creamy milk and sugar.
Cathy felt a wave of contentment flow through her tired body as she enjoyed a cup of tea
. She had only a few hours of sleep after delivering her baby in the first hour of the new month. This birth was the hardest one yet.
Shortly after the birth when Nurse Hamilton placed the baby in Cathy’s arms, the nurse had said, “Our Lady must have something special for you two in this life.”
Looking down to her baby in a bassinet next to her bed, Cathy wondered what Jesus’ Mother would have in mind for them in the future. She did hope that this new child would bring to her what she longed for––peace of mind. She also intuitively sensed that, although she was only thirty years old, this would be her last child. She moved the blanket back. “We made it, my wee pet,” she whispered, tenderly and traced the roundness of her new daughter’s pink face.
The baby opened her eyes and stared inquisitively up at her mother
. Cathy hoped this baby daughter would capture Jimmy’s heart. He had said unkind things to her for not giving him a son, as though his wife gave birth only to girls just to spite him.
It
’s best not to dwell on that, Cathy resolved, refreshing her tea. She peeked over the rim of her cup at the young mother in a bed next to her. “What did you name him?” she asked.
With a teacup at her lips, the full-faced young woman widened her large, dark-brown eyes at Cathy. Putting down her cup, she said,
“How’d ye know ah had a boy?”