there. Dont forget the bread pudding. Its in the refrigerator.
Brigid helped the children button their jackets and ushered them outside, waiting a moment at the door. The night was icy cold and crisp, and the moon hung low, large, and white over the distant hills. She could hear the sound of their voices, individually at first, Caitlins low and soft, the childrens eager, before they blended with others on their way toward the
cruinni
at Kathleen Finchs cafe.
With a sense of relief, Brigid filled the tea kettle and sat down at the table. Caitlin would do much better on her own. She always had. These were the same people, a bit older now but otherwise the same, who had followed her lead when she was a child. Annie and Ben were attractive children. They would be an asset to her. The Irish were a friendly race, formal on occasion, slow to forgiveness, but there was a kindness in them, too, and a fierce love for children.
The kettles shrill whistle interrupted her thoughts. Automatically, she went through the motions of rinsing the teapot, filling it with hot water, spooning in loose tea leaves, pouring milk into the pitcher and then into her cup. The tea steeped, coloring the water a lovely dark amber, the color of wet turf turned up from the ground before the sun shriveled it into the dull brown sticks that sustained Ireland through her long, frozen winters.
Brigid poured her tea and added sugar. She wasnt much for late night reveling. Besides, shed heard what everyone in Kilcullen had to offer in the way of talent years ago. And no one would miss another dessert. The tables fairly groaned with food at Kathleen Finchs
cruinni
. She would much rather sit here quietly and figure out how many of Sam Claibornes threats on the phone this afternoon were serious.
She really should have mentioned his phone call. But Caitlin had seemed so happy lately, almost like the girl shed been before she left for America. Brigid sighed.
So deep were her thoughts that she didnt hear the first two double rings of the telephone. She picked up the receiver on the sixth ring.
The voice on the other end had a distinctive southern drawl. It was also quite rude. No Irishman would have addressed her in such a way. Brigid, its Sam Claiborne. Ive been waiting for hours. Where in the hell is Caitlin?
She took the children out, Brigid replied bluntly. They wont return for some time.
Claiborne swore under his breath. I specifically asked her to call me as soon as she got the message.
Brigid threw herself into the fire. She doesnt know you called.
What?
She didnt answer.
Listen, Brigid. This isnt a joke. I need to speak to my wife immediately.
Brigid Keneallys temper was slow to rise but when it did those who knew her stayed away. You listen t me, Sam Claiborne, she said fiercely. I dont know who you think you are but I dont take orders from you. Caitlin is my daughter and in case you have any ideas about my loyalty, let me lay them t rest. It is Caitlins welfare I am concerned about, not yours. Perhaps if you were a bit more civil I might give my daughter your messages. As it stands I see no reason t upset her.
I might just fly over there and upset her a whole lot more if I show up in person.
Brigids hand tightened on the phone. She willed herself to remain calm. No need to let Sam Claiborne think she was afraid of him. You must suit yourself, of course, she said quietly. Be sure you phone for lodgins first. Its racin season in County Kildare.
I know that. Sam was clearly exasperated. He tried another approach. Please, Brigid. This is important. Caitlin wants to see this finished as much as I do. We need to talk.
Perhaps Caitlin did want to be finished with Sam Claiborne, but Brigid would have wagered the pub that Caitlins desired result looked nothing like her husbands. Ill tell her, she said at last, but not until tomorrow.
She could hear his frustrated sigh across four thousand miles of telephone wire. Thank you, he said tersely before
Brigid helped the children button their jackets and ushered them outside, waiting a moment at the door. The night was icy cold and crisp, and the moon hung low, large, and white over the distant hills. She could hear the sound of their voices, individually at first, Caitlins low and soft, the childrens eager, before they blended with others on their way toward the
cruinni
at Kathleen Finchs cafe.
With a sense of relief, Brigid filled the tea kettle and sat down at the table. Caitlin would do much better on her own. She always had. These were the same people, a bit older now but otherwise the same, who had followed her lead when she was a child. Annie and Ben were attractive children. They would be an asset to her. The Irish were a friendly race, formal on occasion, slow to forgiveness, but there was a kindness in them, too, and a fierce love for children.
The kettles shrill whistle interrupted her thoughts. Automatically, she went through the motions of rinsing the teapot, filling it with hot water, spooning in loose tea leaves, pouring milk into the pitcher and then into her cup. The tea steeped, coloring the water a lovely dark amber, the color of wet turf turned up from the ground before the sun shriveled it into the dull brown sticks that sustained Ireland through her long, frozen winters.
Brigid poured her tea and added sugar. She wasnt much for late night reveling. Besides, shed heard what everyone in Kilcullen had to offer in the way of talent years ago. And no one would miss another dessert. The tables fairly groaned with food at Kathleen Finchs
cruinni
. She would much rather sit here quietly and figure out how many of Sam Claibornes threats on the phone this afternoon were serious.
She really should have mentioned his phone call. But Caitlin had seemed so happy lately, almost like the girl shed been before she left for America. Brigid sighed.
So deep were her thoughts that she didnt hear the first two double rings of the telephone. She picked up the receiver on the sixth ring.
The voice on the other end had a distinctive southern drawl. It was also quite rude. No Irishman would have addressed her in such a way. Brigid, its Sam Claiborne. Ive been waiting for hours. Where in the hell is Caitlin?
She took the children out, Brigid replied bluntly. They wont return for some time.
Claiborne swore under his breath. I specifically asked her to call me as soon as she got the message.
Brigid threw herself into the fire. She doesnt know you called.
What?
She didnt answer.
Listen, Brigid. This isnt a joke. I need to speak to my wife immediately.
Brigid Keneallys temper was slow to rise but when it did those who knew her stayed away. You listen t me, Sam Claiborne, she said fiercely. I dont know who you think you are but I dont take orders from you. Caitlin is my daughter and in case you have any ideas about my loyalty, let me lay them t rest. It is Caitlins welfare I am concerned about, not yours. Perhaps if you were a bit more civil I might give my daughter your messages. As it stands I see no reason t upset her.
I might just fly over there and upset her a whole lot more if I show up in person.
Brigids hand tightened on the phone. She willed herself to remain calm. No need to let Sam Claiborne think she was afraid of him. You must suit yourself, of course, she said quietly. Be sure you phone for lodgins first. Its racin season in County Kildare.
I know that. Sam was clearly exasperated. He tried another approach. Please, Brigid. This is important. Caitlin wants to see this finished as much as I do. We need to talk.
Perhaps Caitlin did want to be finished with Sam Claiborne, but Brigid would have wagered the pub that Caitlins desired result looked nothing like her husbands. Ill tell her, she said at last, but not until tomorrow.
She could hear his frustrated sigh across four thousand miles of telephone wire. Thank you, he said tersely before
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