Toward the Sea of Freedom by Sarah Lark Page A

got better a long time ago.”
    Ian shrugged. “Good for her,” he said with a note of sarcasm. “But perhaps something else takes you to Wicklow. They say a ship is sailing soon, for London.”
    Kathleen frowned. “Ships are always sailing from Wicklow,” she said.
    Ian nodded, and something flashed in his black eyes. Was it mischievousness? Cruelty?
    “But not every ship has condemned lads on board on their way to Australia. And I’ve heard one of them sailing on this tub has some connection to you.”
    “To London?” Kathleen blurted. “They’re sending Michael to London? And thence on to, to . . . Do you think I could see him one more time?” In her excitement she grasped Ian’s arm.
    “I don’t know,” Ian replied curtly. “I only know I’m driving to Wicklow early Monday, to the horse market. And if I meet you somewhere outside the village, then I’ll gladly take you with me.”
    Kathleen thought it over. There would be plenty of trouble if she ran away without telling her parents anything. They might refuse to take her back in afterward. But that would certainly be the case if she told them about the ride. And what exactly did Ian Coltrane have in mind with this offer? He would not drive her to town out of pure neighborliness.
    “What do you get in exchange, Ian?” Kathleen asked distrustfully.
    Ian shrugged. “I’ll get to see golden hair blow in the wind and green eyes shine. Perhaps I’ll even hear a thank-you from tender red lips.”
    “Oh, enough,” Kathleen said. “You don’t need to flatter me. And I’ll tell you right now: I don’t have more than a few looks and a few words to offer. Whatever people say.”
    Ian bowed gallantly. “I would never have thought of asking anything indecent of you, Mary Kathleen,” he said. “On the contrary, I admire you. Such a dutiful girl who is always on her way to act as a nurse for her old aunt.”
    Kathleen pressed her lips together. Her instincts told her it was not a good idea to take Ian’s offer. But her heart yearned to see Michael once more, even if she couldn’t speak with him.
    “I’ll think about it,” she told Ian.
    He laughed. “I’ll wait for you on Monday.”

    At barely first light on Monday, Kathleen heard Ian’s cart rolling through the village, and she slipped out of the house while her family slept. Ian and his two-wheeled cart, with two donkeys attached this time, were waiting at the edge of the village.
    “You didn’t have to think long,” Ian teased when Kathleen climbed onto the box. “I can understand someone finding it lovely to watch the ships sail. But how much lovelier it would be to sail with them.”
    “If you’re eager to go, you only need to take three sacks of Trevallion’s grain,” she said impudently, “and they’ll book you passage free of charge.”
    Ian laughed. Then he began to talk about the horse market in Wicklow. It was early spring, the time of year when people bought work animals. He hoped the donkeys would fetch a good price. At least, that was what he told Kathleen. She cast a fleeting glance at the animals and thought she recognized the gardener’s donkey as one of them. Lately, old O’Rearke had cursed about the animal all the time. It was old and lame. Now, however, it seemed quite nimble and did not drag its leg. Ian Coltrane seemed to have a talent for rejuvenating his wares.
    He laughed uproariously when Kathleen remarked on this.
    “Aye, you could call it that,” he said and then began to brag shamelessly of his success.
    Kathleen did not listen. She had no desire to converse. Her thoughts were only with Michael, and she guarded as a treasure the letter Father O’Brien had given her the day before.
    “I should not support it,” the old priest had said, almost with remorse, when he stopped Kathleen after Mass. “My brother of the cloth, who sent me this, advised me to throw it away. But alas, I have a too-soft heart.” With that, he had pressed a letter into her