difficult.
Brigid nodded. She had more cause than most, growin up without a father.
The priest sat unmoving behind her. The silence stretched out between them. Why did he make her so uncomfortable after all these years?
Is there anything I can do for you? he asked at last.
She stood and moved out into the aisle. I dont think so, Father, she said primly.
Youre in the sanctuary, he insisted. There must be a reason. Are you troubled, Brigid?
Brigid stared at him, amusement clearly stamped on what were once lovely features. Youve known me for a long time, Father. Im not one t be advertisin my troubles. Good day t you.
She felt his eyes on her until she reached the doors. When she turned around her breath caught in her throat. What a picture he made, tall and lean in his flowing cassock, white haired, strong featured, his hand holding the flame-lit taper near the candle wick, his lips moving in silent prayer.
Brigid hurried out of the church and down the road toward home.
Caitlin had readied the children for the
cruinni
. They waited in the kitchen, eyes shining, faces scrubbed, dressed in clothing that no Irish family in Kildare could spare the money to buy.
Even Annie was excited. The rare smile flickering across her features nearly broke Brigids heart. While Ben was a love, a helpful, mischievous, sparkling, uncomplicated child young enough to make the adjustment from Kentucky to Ireland, Annie was her real challenge.
Sensitive, moody, startlingly intelligent, mature beyond her years, Annie was a child whose spirit needed cultivating. Brigid was very afraid that this move had done irreparable damage to her. The trouble was that Annie didnt fit in. Neither did Caitlin for that matter. Shed married into another class, assumed another style of speech, a way of dressing, an air of refinement. America and money had changed her. The Irish were a proud people. They would forgive her for it but they would make her pay.
Reaching out, Brigid smoothed her granddaughters shining hair. You look lovely, lass, she said, emotion making her voice gruff.
Caitlin, who had just come into the kitchen stared at her mother. Brigid flushed as if caught with an embarrassing secret. She had never been one for compliments. Pride was a sin she had actively discouraged in her daughters. But she was a grandmother now. Surely a grandmother could loosen up a bit and leave the molding of a childs character to the parents.
I look nice, too, piped up Ben.
Brigid smiled. She would tell Caitlin about the phone call later. No sense in upsetting her before the
cruinni
. That you do, love, very nice indeed. Theres no need t wait for me. Run along. Ill change and be there shortly.
Caitlin frowned. Id rather wait for you, Mum. It might be a bit awkward for us going by ourselves.
There it was, that edge in her voice. Had it always been this way between them or was there a significant moment where she could pinpoint exactly when she had fallen out of grace with her youngest daughter?
Brigids sharp-eyed gaze moved over Caitlins slim figure. She wore a long dark skirt and a ribbed sweater, red, with a scooped neck that brought out the ivory color of her skin and snugly molded her waist and breasts. Black hair, the sides pulled up and secured with a clip, curled around her shoulders. Silky wisps framed her forehead and temples. Her face was heart-shaped, her features small and fine. She wore red lipstick, a deep rich russet, the same red as her sweater. Only the exotic slant to her dark eyes proclaimed her Celtic heritage. Had she always looked this way or had America changed that too?
You were born here, Caitlin, Brigid said. Nothins changed. Take your children and introduce them around. Its the only way. Youve nothin t be ashamed of.
Caitlin opened her mouth to speak, looked at Annies anxious face, and thought better of it. She summoned a bracing smile and took both childrens hands in her own. Youre absolutely right. Well go on ahead and wait for you
Brigid nodded. She had more cause than most, growin up without a father.
The priest sat unmoving behind her. The silence stretched out between them. Why did he make her so uncomfortable after all these years?
Is there anything I can do for you? he asked at last.
She stood and moved out into the aisle. I dont think so, Father, she said primly.
Youre in the sanctuary, he insisted. There must be a reason. Are you troubled, Brigid?
Brigid stared at him, amusement clearly stamped on what were once lovely features. Youve known me for a long time, Father. Im not one t be advertisin my troubles. Good day t you.
She felt his eyes on her until she reached the doors. When she turned around her breath caught in her throat. What a picture he made, tall and lean in his flowing cassock, white haired, strong featured, his hand holding the flame-lit taper near the candle wick, his lips moving in silent prayer.
Brigid hurried out of the church and down the road toward home.
Caitlin had readied the children for the
cruinni
. They waited in the kitchen, eyes shining, faces scrubbed, dressed in clothing that no Irish family in Kildare could spare the money to buy.
Even Annie was excited. The rare smile flickering across her features nearly broke Brigids heart. While Ben was a love, a helpful, mischievous, sparkling, uncomplicated child young enough to make the adjustment from Kentucky to Ireland, Annie was her real challenge.
Sensitive, moody, startlingly intelligent, mature beyond her years, Annie was a child whose spirit needed cultivating. Brigid was very afraid that this move had done irreparable damage to her. The trouble was that Annie didnt fit in. Neither did Caitlin for that matter. Shed married into another class, assumed another style of speech, a way of dressing, an air of refinement. America and money had changed her. The Irish were a proud people. They would forgive her for it but they would make her pay.
Reaching out, Brigid smoothed her granddaughters shining hair. You look lovely, lass, she said, emotion making her voice gruff.
Caitlin, who had just come into the kitchen stared at her mother. Brigid flushed as if caught with an embarrassing secret. She had never been one for compliments. Pride was a sin she had actively discouraged in her daughters. But she was a grandmother now. Surely a grandmother could loosen up a bit and leave the molding of a childs character to the parents.
I look nice, too, piped up Ben.
Brigid smiled. She would tell Caitlin about the phone call later. No sense in upsetting her before the
cruinni
. That you do, love, very nice indeed. Theres no need t wait for me. Run along. Ill change and be there shortly.
Caitlin frowned. Id rather wait for you, Mum. It might be a bit awkward for us going by ourselves.
There it was, that edge in her voice. Had it always been this way between them or was there a significant moment where she could pinpoint exactly when she had fallen out of grace with her youngest daughter?
Brigids sharp-eyed gaze moved over Caitlins slim figure. She wore a long dark skirt and a ribbed sweater, red, with a scooped neck that brought out the ivory color of her skin and snugly molded her waist and breasts. Black hair, the sides pulled up and secured with a clip, curled around her shoulders. Silky wisps framed her forehead and temples. Her face was heart-shaped, her features small and fine. She wore red lipstick, a deep rich russet, the same red as her sweater. Only the exotic slant to her dark eyes proclaimed her Celtic heritage. Had she always looked this way or had America changed that too?
You were born here, Caitlin, Brigid said. Nothins changed. Take your children and introduce them around. Its the only way. Youve nothin t be ashamed of.
Caitlin opened her mouth to speak, looked at Annies anxious face, and thought better of it. She summoned a bracing smile and took both childrens hands in her own. Youre absolutely right. Well go on ahead and wait for you
Similar Books
