out the lantern on her bedside table, she inched herself into bed doing her utmost to not disturb Josiah. She slid under the covers of their bed and closed her eyes.
Stella nearly cried when she felt a rough hand on her shoulder and she realized that Josiah had not been sleeping soundly after all. He turned her onto her back and pushed up her dressing gown. Without a word, he climbed on top of her body and mounted her.
Stella gasped in pain as she always did when he entered her. She struggled for breath from the weight of his body on top of hers. As Josiah grunted and his breath quickened, she stared into the darkness and remembered the trip she had taken to Cottage City and the magic of Illumination Night. She imagined going on such a trip with the young Irishman now sleeping out in her barn. She remembered the day she had bathed him in Gay Head and run her hands over his bare chest.
As Josiah shuddered and rolled off of her, returning almost immediately to his snoring, Stella closed her eyes and prayed for sleep to free her from the confines of both her bedroom and her life. When it did, she dreamed of Christopher.
****
“ So you’ve never sheared a sheep?” Stella asked as she and Christopher walked out of the barn and into the bright sunshine of the surprisingly warm March morning. Henry the dog ran along beside them.
“ Can’t say that I have.”
“ No sheep farmers in Galway then?”
“ No, there were. But I spent all of my time down at the harbor.”
“ Was your father a seaman?”
Christopher shrugged his shoulders. “I really can’t say what he was. He died before I was born.”
Stella stopped walking. “I’m sorry.”
“ Don’t be. It’s not as if I ever knew the man.”
“ What happened to him?”
“ I can’t say that for sure, either. My mam told me he died after a fall, but she wouldn’t say more. When I got older, other children teased me and said my father was a drunk who fell into the sea, that’s what their parents told them. But when I asked my mam if that was the truth, she said I shouldn’t listen to idiots.”
“ Do you think it was the truth?”
“ I do, yeah.” Christopher lifted his head to the sky and soaked in the rays of the sun on his pale face. “I think my mam just believed that you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
“ A wise woman.”
“ That she was.”
“ Was?”
Christopher looked back towards Stella. “Yes. She died three years ago; two days shy of my 18 th birthday.”
Stella noticed a wave of darkness pass over Christopher’s pale face. “I’m sorry.”
“ Thank you.”
“ What happened to her?”
“ She was caught in a kitchen fire at the home where she worked as a cook. The fire spread fast as lightening and she couldn’t get out in time.”
“ How terrible.”
“ It was.”
Stella suddenly remembered the word Christopher had moaned in his feverish sleep while she cared for him at the Mayhew home.
“ When we were at the Mayhew’s cottage and you were sick with fever, you said a word over and over again,” she said. “ Mamaí. Does that mean mother? Were you asking for her?”
Christopher’s face whitened. “I must have been. That was what I called her, yes. It’s Gaelic for mother.”
“ Gaelic?”
“ The Irish language. It’s illegal to speak it now in Ireland because of the English, but my mam taught me anyway. We just always made sure never to speak it to anyone else. It was our secret we had, she and I.” He glanced at Stella, his eyes clouded with pain. “I haven’t spoken it since she died.”
“ I thought the word sounded lovely,” she said.
“ It’s a lovely language.” Christopher smiled down at Stella. “Do you know what you are in Gaelic?”
“ What?”
“ Cailín álainn.”
“ What’s that?”
Christopher grinned. “I won’t tell.”
Stella laughed. “That’s not fair. How do I know you didn’t say I’m something scary or ugly? Maybe a witch or a hag?”
“
Stella nearly cried when she felt a rough hand on her shoulder and she realized that Josiah had not been sleeping soundly after all. He turned her onto her back and pushed up her dressing gown. Without a word, he climbed on top of her body and mounted her.
Stella gasped in pain as she always did when he entered her. She struggled for breath from the weight of his body on top of hers. As Josiah grunted and his breath quickened, she stared into the darkness and remembered the trip she had taken to Cottage City and the magic of Illumination Night. She imagined going on such a trip with the young Irishman now sleeping out in her barn. She remembered the day she had bathed him in Gay Head and run her hands over his bare chest.
As Josiah shuddered and rolled off of her, returning almost immediately to his snoring, Stella closed her eyes and prayed for sleep to free her from the confines of both her bedroom and her life. When it did, she dreamed of Christopher.
****
“ So you’ve never sheared a sheep?” Stella asked as she and Christopher walked out of the barn and into the bright sunshine of the surprisingly warm March morning. Henry the dog ran along beside them.
“ Can’t say that I have.”
“ No sheep farmers in Galway then?”
“ No, there were. But I spent all of my time down at the harbor.”
“ Was your father a seaman?”
Christopher shrugged his shoulders. “I really can’t say what he was. He died before I was born.”
Stella stopped walking. “I’m sorry.”
“ Don’t be. It’s not as if I ever knew the man.”
“ What happened to him?”
“ I can’t say that for sure, either. My mam told me he died after a fall, but she wouldn’t say more. When I got older, other children teased me and said my father was a drunk who fell into the sea, that’s what their parents told them. But when I asked my mam if that was the truth, she said I shouldn’t listen to idiots.”
“ Do you think it was the truth?”
“ I do, yeah.” Christopher lifted his head to the sky and soaked in the rays of the sun on his pale face. “I think my mam just believed that you shouldn’t speak ill of the dead.”
“ A wise woman.”
“ That she was.”
“ Was?”
Christopher looked back towards Stella. “Yes. She died three years ago; two days shy of my 18 th birthday.”
Stella noticed a wave of darkness pass over Christopher’s pale face. “I’m sorry.”
“ Thank you.”
“ What happened to her?”
“ She was caught in a kitchen fire at the home where she worked as a cook. The fire spread fast as lightening and she couldn’t get out in time.”
“ How terrible.”
“ It was.”
Stella suddenly remembered the word Christopher had moaned in his feverish sleep while she cared for him at the Mayhew home.
“ When we were at the Mayhew’s cottage and you were sick with fever, you said a word over and over again,” she said. “ Mamaí. Does that mean mother? Were you asking for her?”
Christopher’s face whitened. “I must have been. That was what I called her, yes. It’s Gaelic for mother.”
“ Gaelic?”
“ The Irish language. It’s illegal to speak it now in Ireland because of the English, but my mam taught me anyway. We just always made sure never to speak it to anyone else. It was our secret we had, she and I.” He glanced at Stella, his eyes clouded with pain. “I haven’t spoken it since she died.”
“ I thought the word sounded lovely,” she said.
“ It’s a lovely language.” Christopher smiled down at Stella. “Do you know what you are in Gaelic?”
“ What?”
“ Cailín álainn.”
“ What’s that?”
Christopher grinned. “I won’t tell.”
Stella laughed. “That’s not fair. How do I know you didn’t say I’m something scary or ugly? Maybe a witch or a hag?”
“
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