Echoes Through the Mist: A Paranormal Mystery (The Echoes Quartet Book 1) by K. Francis Ryan Page A
Authors: K. Francis Ryan
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sounding indifferent to the matter.
“Will he?” the Hagan said and looked up sharply, “I have the feeling he will be with us for a while yet. That should please you some, eh?” As an aside the Hagan added with a pleasant smile, “By the way doctor, when did you decide to take up fishing, or is it still fishing if the fish is out of the water?”
Ailís Dwyer stiffened at the older woman’s remark, but said nothing.
“You saw his shirt of course when you took it off of him – along with everything else. By the by, that’s unusual treatment for a head injury, but then you’re the doctor, aren’t you, darlin’,” the Hagan said pointedly and grinned.
Her hand rested on one of Julian’s neatly folded dress shirts. “Now why do you suppose a man would tramp around Ireland in workman’s clothes wearing a shirt that cost a workman’s monthly wages?” the Hagan said thoughtfully. “And isn’t it fun we’ll have finding out the why of it and more importantly, the who of this Julian Blessing.”
Chapter Nine
With a dull ache throbbing behind his eyes, Julian sat on the cot in Sean Maher’s jail cell. The big man was a picture of wretched dejection. Earlier he had said he felt sure a pint of porter would lift his depression somewhat, but Julian remained adamant that they needed to concoct a plan before any pints would be consumed.
Maher wasn’t good at making plans and felt this one flaw would leave him parched throughout eternity.
“Let’s go over this again,” Julian said softly.
Sean sighed. “That great brute of a bastard, Liam McMaster, has given me the boot and now Oi’ve no job and no one will hire me because Oi’m a convict and me wife and children will starve and I’ll be forced to go to some filthy place like Cork where Oi’ll be worked to death by a money grubbing bastard who is an even bigger money grubbing bastard than Liam McMaster.”
Julian had to admit it had all the elements of a middling Shakespearian tragedy or a country-western song. It lacked literary force, but Maher’s impassioned telling of the tale made up for that.
“You really have to stay away from depressing thoughts like that,” Julian said.
“Why?” Sean asked. “I’m Irish, it’s what we do best.”
“Well, let’s move along. What can you do?” Julian asked kindly. “If you had the choice, what would you like to be?”
“Oi’ve always worked in the fields. Oi don’t know anything else. It was out of the school Oi was at an early age because Oi got into fights, Oi wasn’t very smart, and the nuns hated me. Never trust a nun. They will do you unto death and never think twice about it and that’s for sure.”
“Sean, Sean, Sean, let’s get back to the subject. If you could do anything you wanted, what would it be?”
Sean Maher had to give this some thought and the effort was wearing him out. He screwed up his face and bit his lower lip. He took deep breaths that would draw his massive shoulders up to his ear lobes. The exhalations were nearly as dramatic. In the end, he had to give the whole thing up. Thinking this through was beyond him.
“Oi’m just not smart like you Mr. Blessing.”
“We went over this before, Sean. You can call me Julian and you are plenty smart. We just have to figure out the best fit for you.
“Why don’t you go home to your wife and children? They’ve not seen you in three days and your sentence is up,” Julian said.
Sister Eugenia had tried, convicted and sentenced Sean to three days in lock up. The nun had decided to go for the upper limits on the cruel-and-unusual-punishment scale by not allowing the prisoner any alcohol. It was the worst torture imaginable for Sean Maher. “Hard labor from a hard nun,” he called it.
“Oi can’t go home for the shame that is on me,” Sean said.
“What shame? You did the entire village a huge favor.”
“Oi brought shame on meself and all of me family, Mr. Julian.”
“It’s just Julian. Sean, it
“Will he?” the Hagan said and looked up sharply, “I have the feeling he will be with us for a while yet. That should please you some, eh?” As an aside the Hagan added with a pleasant smile, “By the way doctor, when did you decide to take up fishing, or is it still fishing if the fish is out of the water?”
Ailís Dwyer stiffened at the older woman’s remark, but said nothing.
“You saw his shirt of course when you took it off of him – along with everything else. By the by, that’s unusual treatment for a head injury, but then you’re the doctor, aren’t you, darlin’,” the Hagan said pointedly and grinned.
Her hand rested on one of Julian’s neatly folded dress shirts. “Now why do you suppose a man would tramp around Ireland in workman’s clothes wearing a shirt that cost a workman’s monthly wages?” the Hagan said thoughtfully. “And isn’t it fun we’ll have finding out the why of it and more importantly, the who of this Julian Blessing.”
Chapter Nine
With a dull ache throbbing behind his eyes, Julian sat on the cot in Sean Maher’s jail cell. The big man was a picture of wretched dejection. Earlier he had said he felt sure a pint of porter would lift his depression somewhat, but Julian remained adamant that they needed to concoct a plan before any pints would be consumed.
Maher wasn’t good at making plans and felt this one flaw would leave him parched throughout eternity.
“Let’s go over this again,” Julian said softly.
Sean sighed. “That great brute of a bastard, Liam McMaster, has given me the boot and now Oi’ve no job and no one will hire me because Oi’m a convict and me wife and children will starve and I’ll be forced to go to some filthy place like Cork where Oi’ll be worked to death by a money grubbing bastard who is an even bigger money grubbing bastard than Liam McMaster.”
Julian had to admit it had all the elements of a middling Shakespearian tragedy or a country-western song. It lacked literary force, but Maher’s impassioned telling of the tale made up for that.
“You really have to stay away from depressing thoughts like that,” Julian said.
“Why?” Sean asked. “I’m Irish, it’s what we do best.”
“Well, let’s move along. What can you do?” Julian asked kindly. “If you had the choice, what would you like to be?”
“Oi’ve always worked in the fields. Oi don’t know anything else. It was out of the school Oi was at an early age because Oi got into fights, Oi wasn’t very smart, and the nuns hated me. Never trust a nun. They will do you unto death and never think twice about it and that’s for sure.”
“Sean, Sean, Sean, let’s get back to the subject. If you could do anything you wanted, what would it be?”
Sean Maher had to give this some thought and the effort was wearing him out. He screwed up his face and bit his lower lip. He took deep breaths that would draw his massive shoulders up to his ear lobes. The exhalations were nearly as dramatic. In the end, he had to give the whole thing up. Thinking this through was beyond him.
“Oi’m just not smart like you Mr. Blessing.”
“We went over this before, Sean. You can call me Julian and you are plenty smart. We just have to figure out the best fit for you.
“Why don’t you go home to your wife and children? They’ve not seen you in three days and your sentence is up,” Julian said.
Sister Eugenia had tried, convicted and sentenced Sean to three days in lock up. The nun had decided to go for the upper limits on the cruel-and-unusual-punishment scale by not allowing the prisoner any alcohol. It was the worst torture imaginable for Sean Maher. “Hard labor from a hard nun,” he called it.
“Oi can’t go home for the shame that is on me,” Sean said.
“What shame? You did the entire village a huge favor.”
“Oi brought shame on meself and all of me family, Mr. Julian.”
“It’s just Julian. Sean, it
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