The Return to Spancil Hill

[DeliciousMaiden]

Kat Kavanagh

"Ah'm sorry, sorry fer leavin' like that with nary a word of explanation.
But Ah had tae or another trageday would've 'appened.
But now Ah'm 'ere to right all this wrong.
It'll again be the way it was, ye'll see."

Kat closed her eyes as she felt his warm breath on her ear and felt his strong arms around her.
She felt like she had died and gone to heaven.
This was all she had ever wanted out of life.
Patrick!

"Ah thank ye for yer 'ospitality again, Kat. I should be goin' though.
See how my fa'er's doin'. Tell 'im Ah'm back, too..."

He drew away slowly and Kat dropped her eyes being sure to mask the disappointment. Just for that moment she had imagined … but no …
She glanced up and saw his sheepish smile.
…Nell …
Her house was not much out of the way between the Kavanagh and the O'Halloran properties.
She bit back a sigh and smiled serenely as leaned forward to kiss her cheek once more, the tender touch bitter-sweet.

"Will ye walk me home, Miss Kavanagh?"

Kat’s eyes met his and sparkled in renewed optimism.
So… he was going straight home after all …!
She smiled, her body suffusing with an unnatural warmth beneath his strong hands which held her waist.
..Oh God … Perhaps ‘t were as well that Patrick did not desire her … else she could be tempted to … “

Delicious though the contact was, Kat eased away, troubled by the knot of need he was causing.

”Aye, Mr Halloran, “

Her voice was somewhat breathless as she raised hooded eyes to his.

”T’would be a pleasure to walk ye home … “

So saying she moved towards the door with him and took his hand casually, as if leading him out, reintroducing him to his neighbourhood, his family.
Fiercely protective, Kat still only wanted his happiness. Let anyone try to reject him whilst she stood by his side, she mused, with a sad smile.
She, Kat would do her best to make Patrick’s homecoming as happy as she could possibly make it!

 

[Poganin]

Patrick O'Halloran

They walked in silence for some time with Patrick running forward in his thoughts to a possible meeting with Nell. He could feel Kat's hand holding his, squeezing tighter from time to time. Every time Patrick would turn to her and smile in gratitude for her presence next to him. Her company made his homecoming all the easier, buffering the locals' disapprobation towards him with her warmth, care and love. Tenderness welled up in is heart and he stopped suddenly, pulling Kat closer and hugging her spontaneously.

"Thank ye fer welcomin' me home, Kat. Yer the best friend a man can ask fer in the world. If 'tweren't fer ye... I don't know. Ye were the only link with our common past I had there. I thank ye, Kat, from the bottom of me heart."

Patrick let Kat go and smiled, embarassed with his sudden outburst a bit but did not let go of her hand. He didn't notice that they were standing almost in front the of the Maguire house, only when they moved forward again did he realise where they were. His eyes inevitably drawn to the windows and who might be standing behind and his breath quickening. He had to fight for control of his feet that tried to turn him towards the gate. He could feel Kat hold on to him stronger now but he had no idea whether she wanted to support him or hold him for herself. He realised what a situation it was the three of them had come into. Having been growing up together it was inevitable that they would be drawn to one another. He could recall his father's words: "Son, I donnae mean to be pryin' intae yer affairs with yer friends but ye should know that yer goin' tae haftae make a choice lest that choice be made fer yourself by someone else. And that might not be tae yer likin' at all. Mind me words, son."

Yes, now Patrick recalled that talk with his father and the days that followed when he'd stay up in his room, not going out to play with Nell or Kat, thinking furiously what to do. His heart was torn, his feelings tormenting him, his father's words drilling a hole in his soul. This choice was not to be made easily.

For Patrick loved Nell and Kat equally strong.

 

[Lay Z Butterfly]

Nell

After turning the knob, Nell entered the front parlor without a look back. Maybe it was blind luck that she hadn’t seen her best friend and ex-fiancé walking hand in hand down the street. Taking a moment, she attentively listened to the sounds from within her home. Nothing. Silence as usual. She fooled herself into thinking this home could ever hold what it once had. Chiding herself for dredging up memories of laughter and gaiety, Nell carefully made her way through the room and into the kitchen. She was quite hungry which was unusual for her because she had always eaten like a bird.


She felt that strong pull in remembering how Patrick would tease her about her appetite. It wasn’t my fault, she would say with a laugh. There was nothing in the icebox and no meal being kept warm, waiting for her return. Silly me, she thought. Nell was the one who now did all the grocery shopping. She had told the shopkeeper that her mother had taken ill and would now be taking over what she had previously done. He had thankfully not asked the usual questions as to what her malady was and in a way, Nell suspected he had already known. The liquor intake in the Maguire home had since tripled since the death of their beloved son and no one faulted the Maguire family for it.


Grabbing an apple, she made her way up the stairs and looked in on her Mum. It was as she suspected, out cold. Carefully she removed the bottle from the tight clutching grip her Mother had on it and placed it on the night table. Nell looked upon her Mum with sad eyes. Peaceful was how she looked as she slept in her drunken slumber. Smoothing the hair off the left side of her face, she gave her Mother a kiss before leaving.


Her father was nowhere about and that was par for the course. He was probably out drinking himself. Shrugging her tired shoulders, Nell went into her room and quietly shut the door.


Sighing a sigh that told of tiredness, Nell began to unbutton the numerous buttons that bound her tightly within the clothes. Damn foolish clothes she thought with a yank at each tiny clasp. It bothered her to no end the fashions women had to wear. She longed for when she was younger and could go about with a cotton slip and nothing else. She smiled at that thought. Patrick, Kat, and she running along the rivers edge getting wet and becoming very much naked by the sheerness of the slips the two girls wore.


Finally, she freed herself from the cloth prison she was constantly trapped in and stood naked; looking at herself in the mirror. It was no ordinary mirror either. Patrick had hand carved the wood that captured the long pane surrounding it. It was her most valuable item she possessed. The full-length mirror stood proudly on a stand in the sunny corner of her room. Remembering back in time how she would gaze at herself in the mirror each day, thinking how she was the luckiest girl in the world having it. Nell, who had not a vain bone in her body, had realized the day he had given it to her how truly much he was in love with her. The intricate woodwork could rival any master artisan in all of Ireland, but more importantly, it was sitting in her room belonging only to her.


Allowing herself a final smile, she slipped a peach coloured nightgown over her head and sat on the bench that had been built just below her window. It was her favourite place to sit and settle after a long day. There she could look out at the moon and count the stars or ….


“Or what Nell Maguire?” she said aloud. She couldn’t understand how her memories could remain so fresh after all this time, but they flooded back to her like it was yesterday. She stole a quick look out the window towards the trellis. A long time ago, Patrick used to sneak up that trellis with its hearty climbing clematis vines and share a moment or two with her in the quiet darkness. It never failed for mischief was Patrick’s middle name. He had thrown pebbles at her window, sung to her (to her parents chagrin) and once in awhile stayed the night. Only they had never done anything sexual in her bedroom. It was always purely innocent, their time together.

So, instead she sat on her childhood bench thinking about nothing particular; staring out into the night.

 

[Poganin]

OOC: As DeliciousMaiden decided to withdraw from the role of Kat in this story I would like to ask if any lady would be interested in taking over the role of Kat Kavanagh. Please PM me if you are interested so that I can pass some pieces of information on. I sure hope someone will respond. Thank you.

 

[Poganin]

Patrick O'Halloran

Kat walked Patrick home and they stood before the gate in a silence for a while, holding hands. He was looking at the lit window on the ground floor and a white-blue flickers of TV on the ceiling. She was looking at Patrick, searching his features, trying to understand what was going on in his head. He was confused and a bit scared about the welcome his father would offer him but nevertheless had to step inside and greet his da. Patrick bit his lip and sighed, returning his gaze to expectant Kat and trying to smile but nervousness wouldn't let him. He squeezed her hand stronger.

"Thanks fer walkin' me home, Katie. I think I'll try tae manage it from 'ere. I'll be seein' yeh I guess," he cracked a mischevious smile and hugged her, kissed on the cheek and let go. "If ye need me I'll either be 'ere or in th' Moran house. Thanks for lunch."

"Yer most welcome, Patrick. Well, good luck," Kat smiled and seemed to have wanted to say something more but just shook her head and waved at him, turning to leave.

Patrick watched her back as she moved on her way back home and opened the gate. The rusted hinges squeaked as he had remembered them and a familiar barking sounded from the doghouse and a old, half-blind dog ran to greet the visitor with his teeth. Recognising Patrick's smell the dog started waging his tail and jumped to greet his young master.

"Come 'ere, Laddie, come 'ere, boy!" Patrick played with the dog, scratching his ears and patting the head until a light went on on the porch and his father's figure filled the ddor.

"Who's that?!" he asked in his booming voice and Patrick straightened up, giving the dog one last pat.

"It's me, da, Patrick. Ah've come back," Patrick said, emotion grabbing him by the throat.

"Be that true? That really yeh, son?"

"Aye, pa. Ah'm back fer good. May Ah come in?"

"Jest weit there a minute, let me come down to yeh."

Murchadh O'Halloran stepped down from the porch and approached Patrick. Laddie came to the old master and wagged his tail and the older man patted the dog's head. For a moment the two men eyed each other and then Murchadh spun and hit Patrick it the face with his hard, weathered fist.

"That's fer runnin' on me and yer old ma, may her bones and flappin' tongue find peace where'er she's bein' a pest now. Come on in, son."

Patrick accepted his father's hand and stood up, rubbing his cheek. He followed his father inside the house, Laddie jumping and whimpering around their legs. This night even the dog was let inside.

 

[melusine]

Kat Kavanagh

Kat turned immediately away from Patrick, and started back down the lane with her hands pushed deep into the pockets of her woolen jumper, and her head bowed slightly forward as though she were walking against a strong wind. Much as her heart was firmly anchored on that wonderful spot of ground between the peeling gate-posts of Patrick's father's house, back in that wonderful warmth of his arms, still she wanted to get away from the place as fast as ever she could.

If he turns around and looks after me, what will he see anyway? Me in my shapeless clothes, and hips as wide as a tavern door. No wonder he always had eyes only for Nell. You cannot blame a man for choosing the rose instead of the potato.

"A man can't eat a rose, Katie," her dad would say. "The thorns would stick in his tongue, sure enough."

"Maybe so, Da, but he sure could marry one, and be the envy of the county."

Kat shook herself, as though her gloomy mood were just a ragged shawl that she could cast off at will.

She was not one to cultivate her sadness; to revel in her misery and make of it a kind of shelter, though plenty of times she had been tempted to do just that. A dowdy girl with a gloomy face would be far too much ugliness for poor Spancil Hill to cope with. She'd better do what she could to improve her looks, and at least smile.

"Ahh, Katie! Seeing you always makes the day grand!"

Kat lifted her head, startled, and found she had almost blundered into old Mrs. Mallory, who had been her grammar school teacher, time out of mind. Mrs. Mallory was fairly sagging to one side with the weight of an overloaded market basket, crammed with tinned beef, cabbage, soap flakes, bread and a huge pot of daffodils.

"Here, let me carry that for you, Mrs. Mallory," Kat said softly, and smiled as she reached for the basket. "It's late. Are you just heading along home now? And how is your daughter in Dublin? Baby Maeve is not still down with the cough, is she?"

Mrs. Mallory sighed with happiness as the younger woman assumed the weight of the basket. "I stopped in with Mrs. O'Dowd after my shopping today. Ahhh, you were always the most kind-hearted girl, Katie. I remember that from when you first came to school. If somebody was lonely, you were always their friend. If somebody was sick at home, you were the one who took their lessons over to them to make sure they did not fall behind." She looked at Kat closely with her clear blue eyes. "It's a shame you've no man or children of your own, Kat. There's so much good in you."

Kat dipped her head for a second and let the tangled mass of her crinkled hair fall across her blazing cheeks.

"I'm happy enough with Da, you know, Mrs. Mallory. He needs me at home these days. I'm happy to be there for him, and we're cosy enough."

Mrs. Mallory narrowed her eyes. "I heard a rumour in the village just now, as I stopped to buy my flowers. They say that Patrick O'Halloran has come back. I wonder what Nell will say!"

Kat felt as though she had been slapped across the face, but did her best to keep her expression serene. Even old Mrs. Mallory knows of Patrick's love for Nell!

"Sure enough he is, Mrs. Mallory. I just saw him home, in fact. My, his da won't be half glad to see him again!"

Steady...steady...keep it light. Don't act more interested than you should.

"There's one person then to be happy about his coming home. For myself, I wish he had stayed in California with the rest of the half-witted fools. We don't need his kind in Spancil Hill."

Kat stopped in the middle of the road. "And what kind would that be, Mrs. Mallory?"

She could tell by the look on the old woman's face that she had never expected anything but blithe agreement from her former pupil. Good old Kat, who never surprised anyone, who was steady and uncomplaining as a mule!

"I mean...well...Katie...I thought everyone in town agreed --"

Kat straightened her spine, and her own eyes narrowed. She could feel the hot blood rushing in her ears even as she clenched her fingers on the handle of Mrs. Mallory's basket.

"Not everyone, Mrs. Mallory. Not everyone in Spancil Hill."

They had reached the end of the lane, a tidy cottage with pink roses cascading over the fence, their colours faded to grey beneath the pale light of the moon. Mrs. Mallory reached for the basket and Kat gave it back to her.

"It's a good thing to stand up for your friends, Kat Kavanagh," the old woman said quietly, the muscles around her mouth unmistakably tight. "But don't let your own goodness blind you to the ugly things in others. It's a dangerous way to live. I pray you never see how dangerous."

Kat backed away a step, not sure whether she should thank Mrs. Mallory for her concern, or carry a grudge against her from this night forward, because she was so quick to judge the lives of others.

"Good day, Ma'am," she said finally, the sudden formality sounding strange even to herself.

She was round the corner before Mrs. Mallory could reply.

 

[Lay Z Butterfly]

Nell

Silently she moved from the sitting position on the bench to standing wearily, eyes half closed. "Time for bed," she thought and walked the few steps to her bed. Nell looked like a lost, sad puppy and her eyes,which were unguarded, were definately the windows to her soul. Climbing in to bed, she pulled the covers up to her chin and said silent prayers... to a God she felt had deserted her long ago.

"Lord, please keep everyone I hold near and dear safe from harm. Please, help my family grow strong again. Amen."

She felt the words were wasted breath, but some tiny part of her hoped against all odds that one day everything could be better for all concerned.

The weight upon her shoulders took hold of her eyelids until they drooped down, shutting out the moonlight that filtered in from the window. Nell fell into a dreamless state, a blessing in disguise. She did not cope well with the awful nightmares that plagued her these last few years.

During the night, she curled herself into a tight ball. She felt the smaller the ball the less damage her personal demons could do to her. Only one particular demon wouldn't leave her be. It persisted and wormed its way into her mind, settling in like the steel jaws of a bear trap. The feelings she continued to have for Patrick confused her. She hated him. Hated him for leaving and abandoning her, but deep down she knew he had had to leave the way he did. His life had depended on it, but Nell couldn't get past that. If he had stayed they could have faced the accusations, the whisperings together. "Why, Patrick," her mind wailed as Nell continued to poorly sleep.


OOC: Welcome Melusine! :smiling: Please PM me if you ever have any ideas you'd like to try out and you need my character to do certain things for it to happen. I am excited about this thread, as Poganin knows. Happy Writing!

 

[Poganin]

Patrick O'Halloran

Patrick downed the third glass of cider and looked at his father. He's grown old, he thought, more than a man can age over five years. He scratched his brow and sighed. They were discussing his comeback but Patrick didn't even mention that his father had hardly ever written him. He understood pretty well that his da didn't want to have any trouble with the locals who were openly hostile towards Patrick as the episode in the "Leprechaun" had showed. He didn't even want to know how the people of Spancil Hill had been treating him. He could blame his father for that because he had realised that it was his own fault.

"But Ah'm scaird, pa, don't ye understan'? I met Kat today and when she called to me, mah heart almost stopped in me chest. She was passin' glad to see me but don' ye understan' that Nell probably won't e'en lis'n tae me! I bet she still thinks I killed Mick, juss like most o'th' residents 'ere."

"Yer not gonna knew unless ye ask, right, son? Ah'm tellin' ye, go and throw a pebble or two at her bedroom windae. 'T'll be better if she got tae know that yer back from yerself than from the flappin' tongues of the Hillers. Believe me, lad," Murchadh O'Halloran said, "if she loves ye as you love her, and Ah know she's been turnin' down every suitor came tae her door, she'll listen tae yeh. Ye'll have to face Nell sooner or later... but better sooner than later, lad, truss me on this."

"Alright, da, Ah'll go. But don't be surprised if Master Maguire pumps me full'a lead when he catches me."

"You juss truss God, son. He's smilin' on yeh an' 'at's good, an' ye've also the Devil's luck with yeh. Nothin' bad kin 'appen to one like yeh. Now go, lad. We'll have us a wee dad-son talk in the mornin'."

With a heavy sigh Patrick got up and patting Laddie on his head left the O'Halloran house and walked towards the Maguires' place, his pace slower with every step he took. Deciding not to knock on the front door he silently crossed the garden and stoped under Nell's window. He hoped that she hadn't switched rooms over the five years. He bit his lip looking up, recalling the many times he had been here, spending countless hours on talking, joking and gossiping with Nell. For a moment he regretted that he no longer was that young Patrick.

Gritting his teeth he picked a handful of small stones and hoping that maybe she was sleeping soundly and wouldn't hear threw them at her bedroom window, anxiously awaiting the result.

 

[Lay Z Butterfly]

Nell

At first unaware of the noise, Nell continued to exist within the tight grip of plagued dreams. It took a few moments for her to open her eyes and realize the pinging sounds weren't taking place in her dreams, but in the light of the moon. She was unafraid of the noises and in fact her first thought was Patrick. He was the only one who had ever dared come to her window in the dark of night. Before she could stop herself, she was out of bed and to the window; the lace curtain blowing gently across her face before she moved it aside.


"Patrick?" she asked in a whisper. She did not think immediately of the hate she felt for him, but rather the love that never died away.

Craning her head out the window she looked down to the earthen floor. "Patrick, is that you?"

 

[melusine]

Kat Kavanagh

Kat's brain was pounding so hard with fury after her conversation with Mrs. Mallory, that she completely missed the turn in the lane that led back to her father's small farm. Before she knew it, the few lights of the village High Street had come into view, and she was right back where she had started from, a few hours before, with Patrick.

With a weary sigh, she leaned against the stone lip of the old village well, and tilted her head back so that she could see the stars. In the distance she could hear the barking of dogs, and sometimes the slam of a door further up the street. Spancil Hill, for all that it was small enough to cover with a lady's handkerchief, never seemed to be quiet.

The stars were magnificent in the clear, cold sky. Kat felt her tense muscles start to relax as she searched for the line of three stars that was Orion, which her dad had pointed out to her when she was a child, standing just here, at this well. Shawn Kavanagh would be just up the street with his one pint of ale and his pipe, and a table-ful of decrepit cronies, Kat thought to herself with a smile. Maybe he wouldn't mind walking home with her? It had been ages since they had done that. Kat felt the first stinging of tears, and hurriedly blinked them back. She felt suddenly like a little girl who had been teased by a boy at school, running to her dad for comfort.

Fat cow, she told herself. Now don't start bawling. You always knew it would work out this way. Patrick would come back for Nell, and you would go on alone as you always had. What can't be cured must be endured!

She straightened up, and smoothed her skirt. She gave her dark hair a quick comb-through with her fingers, and then started towards the Prancing Leprechaun.

Inside the room was fairly glowing -- if you could see past the thick clouds of smoke, that is. Johnny MacBride was on the makeshift stage, packing up his gear from the evening's set. In an upturned hat at the front, Kat could see that he had collected only a very few small coins for his trouble. His bardic warbling was not the style of music that the patrons of the Leprechaun generally appreciated, but then again, the Leprechaun was not likely to attract the likes of The Chieftains either.

"Katie!" called her dad. "Too bad you're so late! Old Johnny here could have used at least one friendly face to play to, earlier on."

Kat rolled her eyes, and smiled up at the long-suffering Johnny. She hoped he realized her dad was only teasing. Then again....

"Now my Katie has a voice, fit to make the angels blush," Shawn was now saying. "You sorry lot is used to her fine cooking, but you've not seen the half of what my Katie can do."

"Och, Da!" Katie said miserably, and bent over to kiss him, hoping to shut him up.

"Is that right, Katie?" James O'Flaherty was now saying. "You been holding out on us all this time?"

"Sing us a song, Katie!" chimed in yet another of the group at her father's table.

Kat thought she would rather face the Morrigan herself than that roomful of grinning, hopeful old men.

Johnny MacBride was bending over her from his perch on the edge of the stage. "I'd be happy to accompany you, Miss Kavanagh," he offered, pointing to his guitar, and Kat had to restrain herself from sticking out her tongue.

Now they were all banging their mugs on the scarred tables and calling out "Katie, Katie" and Seamus himself had come out from the back room in his apron to see what on earth was going on.

What can't be cured must be endured, Kat thought to herself wryly, and accepted Johnny's hand to steady herself as she clambered up onto the stage.

~*~*~*~*~

OOC: Thank you for the warm welcome, Ms. Butterfly. This story was too well written to let die. It's a pleasure to take part in it.

 

[Poganin]

Patrick O'Halloran

Patrick's heart was hammering so hard that he thought it was as loud as the pebbles drumming against the window and then cascading down the shed roof under it. Time seemed to have slowed down and with each passing second the cold trickle of sweat was getting lower and lower on his back. He realised that Nell probably wasn't home or was fast asleep and didn't hear his customary call. For a second he considered throwing some more stones but that could wake not only Nell but her parents as well. He turned to leave when the sound of window opening arrested him dead in his tracks. Was it her? Or was it someone else?

"Patrick?" the wind whispered in the garden and he swallowed hard, the voice so familiar, so gentle. "Patrick, is that you?" he heard Nell ask a little louder.

His heart was punding even harder now and he heard the rush of blood in his ears. He shifted next to the tree trunk he was standing at, hidden from the sight by the branches.

"Who's there?" she called again.

Biting his lip Patrick took a few steps forward, coming into plain view. He was so very afraid! Would she curse him and tell him never to cross her path again? Or worse, would she just glare at him in silence? This was the hardest, unavoidable part in his homecoming.

Looking up Patrick inhaled and hesitating for a split second said, "Aye, it's me. Ah've returned."

 

[Lay Z Butterfly]

Nell

Nell stood silently as the words drifted up to her window. She knew that voice without him even having to say it was he. It was the familiar sound of his voice that matched no other, that met her keen ears. This momentous moment of realization rendered her speechless and motionless. It was if her throat had tightened and she couldn’t breathe.


With eyes that glistened in the moon’s light, Nell continued to stare down at the man once destined to encompass her life. The seconds ticked by with neither of them speaking. She broke the silence first. Although it was not an awkward silence, Nell could not prolong the pain any further. This was do or die time she thought gravely.


“You will come up?” she asked in a soft voice.


Patrick need not be asked a second time. He began his ascent immediately.


Nell opened the window fully and backed away. She stood there in her lace nightgown, looking forlorn and broken.


What was there to say? What words could relieve each and the other’s magnitude of pain?


He’d placed his hands on the sill of the window and began to lift himself inside. Nell stepped back again and watched his every move without the flicker of emotion that normally danced about her eyes.


“Hello, Patrick.” She said quietly and waited with baited breath.

 

[melusine]

Kat Kavanagh

Kat glanced over at Johnny and smiled. To her surprise, now that he knew someone else was going to be the focal point of the patrons' attention, he seemed very much at his ease. He had seated himself on an upturned beer crate at the corner of the stage and was just settling the strap of his guitar over his broad shoulder.

"Dúlamán," she whispered to him, and his freckled face broke into a wide grin as he nodded and began to strum the opening chords.

There was a ripple of approving murmurs across the bar as Kat began to sing. The old Gaelic song came from her effortlessly -- And so it should, she thought to herself wryly. Many were the days she had sung it as she dug potatoes or hung up the wash.

A'níon mhín ó, sin anall na fir shúirí,
A mháithair mhín ó! cuir na roithléan go dtí mé.

Dúlamán na Binne Buí, Dúlamán Gaelach
Dúlamán na farraige, "s é b"fhearr a bhí in Éirinn

Tá cosa dubha dúbailte ar an dúlamán gaelach
Tá dhá chluais mhaol ar an dúlamán gaelach

Dúlamán na Binne Buí, Dúlamán Gaelach
Dúlamán na farraige, "s é b"fhearr a bhí in Éirinn

A few of the old men lit their pipes and leaned back appreciatively in their chairs as Kat's voice sailed through the melody as effortlessly as a trout swims the stream.

Rachaimid go Doire leis an dúlamán gaelach,
Is ceannóimid bróga daora ar an dúlamán gaelach

Dúlamán na Binne Buí, Dúlamán Gaelach
Dúlamán na farraige, "s é b"fhearr a bhí in Éirinn

Shawn Kavanagh winked broadly and raised his glass to his daughter as the song wheeled round to its refrain for the third time and all the bar joined in.

 

[Poganin]

Patrick O'Halloran

Hardly anything had changed in this room, he noticed, even the smells remained the same but he could no longer feel at ease and at home here. Now it was simply a woman's room, no longer a haven for him to come whenever he pleased and spend as much timw as the both of them wanted. Self-consciously he looked around a bit, recalling all those items and their places and making sure he remembered well. The room was dark with only the moonlight making it ghastly brighter and Nell looked like a fay basked in this light, her nightgown like a dress woven from silver threads.

Patrick's heart was still beating hard and fast and he knew he had to say something quickly, respond to her greeting lest she consider him a dream of this weird night when everything was different than it seemed. He could barely remember how to speak though, seeing her like this, so beautiful and unchanged, made his throat clench. He realised how much he'd lost by running away and was aware there was no taking it back now. Not after having left without a word of explanation and moreover because Mell never answered his letters where he lay his love at her feet. Coming back was hard but confronting Nell was even harder, and this night wasn't making it any easier on him.

The memories of moments they had spent together surfaced and he recalled those countless precious minutes and felt tender tears well up. He wanted to grab her in his arms and hug her so close, embrace her and stroke her hair, feel her close to him, making sure both of them were real this night... But he would not, dared not... Not being sure how she felt, what she was thinking right now.

With his vision blurring he merely tried to smile and whispered, "Hello, Nellie."

 

[Lay Z Butterfly]

Nell


Standing there seeing him for the first time in a long time it was all that Nell could do to keep her from racing into his arms. Her heartbeat slowed down quite a bit after it had thudded quickly within her chest as he climbed up the old trellis. As impossible as it may have seemed to her, Patrick was more rugged and handsome. She felt the tear slip down from the corner of her eye , leaving it unchecked as it rolled down her cheek.

The two simple words that he spoke almost made her openly weep…almost. However, something within her made her stand there in silence. She had to retain some shred of dignity after having been abandoned. Without a shadow of doubt though, he still had the power to astound her as a tiny fragment of her heart began to warm.

Nimble fingers began to toy with the soft laces she had tied earlier in the evening. A nervous gesture she had never quite mastered to keep hidden or under control. He had called her Nellie; a private endearment only meant for her ears.

“I have to sit.” She said it and did it all in one graceful movement, sitting upon the floor with her legs tucked under her. With a rueful smile she added, “Sit or faint.” It was the closest she could come to lightening the tension that filled the air.

“So, you’ve come back, have ya.” There was no iciness to her voice, no accusatory tone either. “I bet your Da is happy to see you or have you not gone home yet?”

When Patrick rubbed his jaw, it was hard for Nell to keep the smile from her lips. “No need to answer then, I know you have.” Turning her face away from him, she gathered her thoughts and wore them around her like a cloak.

In a voice that was a touch above a whisper, she continued on, “I have your letters Patrick. Every single one of them. All hidden in my closet- unopened.”

Her fingers rubbed along the fabric of her nightgown

“You left.” Her voice braking. “Me.”

The tears she had fought hard to keep from ever spilling down in front of anyone, cascaded along her cheeks. She had no need to keep them hidden from him, the boy she was still, to her softening heart, hopelessly in love with.

 

[melusine]

Kat Kavanagh

The last roaring chorus broke up into laughter and applause finally, and Kat prepared to leave the stage. She was barely conscious of Johnny MacBride awkwardly getting to his feet beside her, thanking her for saving the evening's entertainment. She could hardly hear him for the blood that was suddenly roaring in her ears. With the exhileration of singing draining out of her second by second, the pain she had been pushing to the back of her mind all evening threatened to overwhelm her.

"Now, now, Kat, don't be so stingy! Give us another one!" called out Ned Curran from the back of the bar. "Maybe something soft-like, to send us home to dream."

Kat's immediate reaction was to make some excuse about needing to be up early in the morning to bake soda-bread and bannocks and bacon pies for the Leprechaun's lunch crowd. What she needed more than anything else at this moment was a good cry in the dark cocoon of her solitary bed, after all the emotional tension of Patrick's homecoming. But Johnny had her by the elbow, and the old men in the audience were urging him not to let her leave the stage, so finally she had to take the path of least resistance and promise them one last song.

Johnny's freckled face lit up with a smile, and once more he planted himself on his Beamish crate, fingers hovering over the strings of his guitar. Kat stood in silence a moment, thinking of all the songs she knew. Was there anything that she could sing, that would ease the hurt in her soul by giving voice to it?

"Play Bridget O'Malley," she whispered in Johnny's ear.

The bar quieted down as Johnny played the first chord progressions that hinted at the melody to come. Kat stood at the far corner of the stage, her hands thrust down into the pockets of her jumper and her shoulders slightly hunched. Her head was bowed low, and the lights above her picked out the warm reddish glow of her long dark hair. Just before she was to sing her first note, she raised her head slowly and closed her eyes. You could have heard a pin drop in the Prancing Leprechaun now.

Bridget O'Malley, you've left my heart shaken
With a hopeless desolation I'd have you to know.
It's the wonders of admiration your quiet face has taken
And your beauty will haunt me wherever I go.

The white moon above the pale sands, the pale stars above the thorn tree,
Are cold beside my darling, but no purer than she.
I gaze upon the cold moon till the stars drown in the warm seas
And the bright eyes of my darling are never on me.

My Sunday it is weary, my Sunday it is grey now.
My heart is a cold thing, my heart is a stone.
All joy is dead within me, my life has gone away now
For another has taken my love for his own.

The day is approaching when we were to be married
And it's rather I would die than live only to grieve.
Oh, meet me, my Darling, e'er the sun sets o'er the barley.
And I'll meet you there on the road to Drumslieve.

She had thought that by singing a man's lament for his unfaithful sweetheart, no one would be able to guess what she really sang of. The borrowed agony of another allowed her to pour out the utter despair in her own heart. When would the blow come, she wondered? When would Patrick come running up the path to her father's farm, and take her hands warmly in his, and tell her, without a thought of what she suffered, the glad news that Nell had agreed to become his wife?

She sang obliviously; for her the audience was not there at all. This song was her private sorrow, and as she sang it her voice swelled with a dark majesty that sent shivers down the spines of everyone who listened.

Only to Shawn Kavanagh, who sat with his pipe growing cold in his hand, was the meaning of Katie's song only too clear. He had heard the rumours flying around Spancil Hill that day. He knew whose shadow had fallen once again across his daughter's life.

Patrick O'Halloran, may the Devil take his soul.

 

[Poganin]

Patrick O'Halloran

With his heart almost lurching out to draw Nell close and comfort her Patrick took two small steps in her direction and knelt on the floor next to this girl, now grown woman, whom he loved so desperately and beyond all measure. He had no idea what to say, what to do, how to react. That's why he was so very afraid of confronting Nellie, because he wouldn't know how to react and what to do. Just like now: he wanted to embrace her and let her cry or hit him, he wanted to explain it all but the no words were coming out of him, he wanted to cry with her but his tears had been all shed long ago. He was a boy again, at a loss for what to do and how to show Nell that even though he had been far away he had never forgotten her, their friendship, their love or the moments they had shared.

"Nellie..." he managed to say in his hushed voice, hoarser now than usual, emotions clawing at him, not letting him gather his thoughts. He extended his hand and almost touched her shoulder but his arm retracted just short of brushing the strap of her nightgown. "Aye, Ah've escaped but..." he turned his head, he couldn't look at her tears. "But there was not a single day that I haven't regretted this decision, not a single day that me heart hadn't urged me to come back to yeh, to Spancil Hill, home. I tried explainin' it in me letters but you never replied so I thought to meself that Ah've nowhere to come back to, that it was no longer me home here and that Ah wasn't worthy of yeh. And Ah understood why yeh could hate me and wouldn't have anythin' tae do with me. And yet Ah dared hope ye'd one day answer me desperate calls and write me back. That's why Ah kept on sendin' those letters, in each and every one beggin' you to try to understand me and me actions. Ah know Ah've no right to come to you anymore..."

Patrick dared lift his eyes from the floor and saw Nell watch him intently, her cheeks shining in the moonlight from the tears she shed. Her expression was unreadable though. He didn't know if she was boiling inside, pitying him, wanting to curse him and tell him to go, touch him and say it's fine, forgive him, or simply tell him to burn in Hell. He was grateful enough that he was allowed to see her once again, the picture he had taken with him worn out and damaged now from constant touching.

"Nellie, Ah'm really, really sorry about all that happened. Ah sincerely didn't want for all to turn out like this. Ah'm sorry," Patrick apologised and dared reach out to her and squeeze her hand once.

 

[Lay Z Butterfly]

Nell


Nell flinched. It wasn’t because she was being hurt or repulsed by Patrick’s touch. It was because she hadn’t been touched in a long time. She avoided it like the plague. Better to be untouched, as she was unloved by anyone. Even Kat had stopped trying to hug her in an attempt to comfort and console. Patrick brought his hand back as if he had been physically slapped.

She felt his anguish. It hung in the air, heavy and thick. Unspoken words, feelings filling the room making her feel claustrophobic. She was afraid to let him inside her heart. Afraid to say the words that threatened a total breakdown of her soul, but she knew she must. It was their time, uninterrupted.

In a voice that held all the grief and sorrow, she had never let anyone see, she began. “The news spread like wildfire with the townsfolk clamoring around our house.”

“Mick dead at Patrick’s hands.” To be exact. “Momma and I didn’t believe a word they said as Da had gone in search of the sheriff. I had told Momma that Mick must have been drunk, and intended to sleep it off instead of coming home to a scolding by her. We had laughed together, Momma and me. She knew this to be true as you and Mick had done it often.”

Pausing to reflect, Nell continued. “You should have seen the people Patrick. It was like a mob only it seemed to me that they were gloating in their knowledge. People knocked on the door and I refused to let Momma answer it. Why get more than the earful we were receiving through the closed windows?”

“I had Momma lay down because I could tell she was getting anxious. I promised to waken her when Mikey and Da returned. Only, Da returned alone and a different man.”

“I could tell Patrick even from the distance he was from the house. I knew that what the townspeople’s evil tongues wagged was true. He was dead. My brother was dead. My parent’s only son was dead and cold. Your best friend…was dead.”

“I felt a knot form in my stomach right then and there. Twisting and turning filling me with dread.”

Before Nell could continue on, she uttered a wail of such pent up heartache. Patrick at first tensed, waiting for her parents and was surprised that no one came running to her room.

Nell had begun to dig her fingers into the palms of her hands to calm herself down. She read the surprise in his face and smiled a bittersweet smile. “You see, I am dead to them as well, Patrick. Momma is the town drunk and I masquerade the fact that the brandy I buy from Bulla’s General Store is to help with her ailments. Da is never home, spending
his time in the pub’s outside of town too ashamed to face me at home and the people of this town.”

“So, you see I have no one. I lost not only my brother, but also my parents, :taking a long shaky intake of air: and you left me.”

The brevity of her words reflected upon Patrick’s face.

“I was abandoned by everyone. Thank the Lord above that Kat did not leave me as well. For it was she who brought me back from the brink of killing myself.”

“Does that shock you?”

“Kat found me at the Old Man Lynch’s pond. I was ready to end it all. Why live when everything good has gone? Have you a clue Patrick? Have you any idea what life has been like for me? The sad looks cast my way, the whisperings behind my back as I am passing people. The halfhearted attempts for my hand in marriage? Men leering at me with nary a glance at them to begin with and when I speak not to them be called such ugly things. You have no idea what it has been like.”

“You may say then why did you not leave. But where would I go? With no one escorting me. A woman left alone signals to other men usually a tramp. Who would hire me for work?”

The questions, the words coming from Nell’s lips tumbled without stopping. Years of silence and a broken damn could not hold her tongue any longer. And as the words had started the words stopped. She stared at him. Her eyes portals to the hell she was living in. Yet, without his return these words would have remained unspoken; continuing their slow descent of killing what Nell once was…..


“Help me,” she whispered.

 

[Poganin]

Patrick O'Halloran

Patrick knew that it must have been a terrible time for Nell but he never imagined that the people of Spancil Hill could have turned into such bloodthirsty monsters, preying upon the Maguires' pain after the death of Mick. And his disappearance coupled with his mother's gossiping mouth only made it all even worse for in such a small place as Spancil Hill people had little entertainment and the gruesome event fuelled their imagination and curiosity to immense proportions. Only he had never even imagined they would have behaved the way they had. He could understand the hatred they had for him and was surprised the people at the "Leprechaun" hadn't got up to pound him some. The thing that was bewildering was the way they had unloaded their anger at the poor Nell and her family. Instead of supporting them they had turned on them like wild beasts.

Patrick was shocked to hear Nell's story, heartbroken because of all the pain he heard in her spilling words, every utterance falling from her lips like an accusation. And he knew her to be right, all that had happened to her, all the unpleasantries she had been sufferring over the years had their source in his gravely mistake. He understood that he should have reported the accident to the authorities, surrendered himself to whatever judgement would have been passed. Then there would have been no problems and his mother would have only said "Haven't I told you so?" instead of flapping her tongue left and right. People would have left Nell and her family alone to grieve in peace and he would have served what had been due. His escape had only inflicted even more pain to himself, to Nell, to the Maguires; it had done more harm than good he realised.

O'Halloran didn't know what to say. No apology from him would right all the sufferring, all the pain Nell had gone through in Spancil Hill. The despair in her voice showed him just how much it had all hurt her and he hung his head in shame. While he had been in California working his hands to the bone and sweating his guts out to earn even the poorest living she had lived through a living hell. He had no more right to see her and his comeback wouldn't do anything. Patrick shook his head, realising what useless, cowardly fool he was. Even if it all had just been a terrible mistake the fault was entirely his.

"Nell, I'm sorry, from the bottom of me heart I'm sorry for all this pain you have been enduring ever since that terrible accident. I didn't know, Nellie, I swear to God I didn't know any of that. If I had suspected things like that were happening I would have come back immediately to give myself in but I didn't know, I never even imagined. If only someone told me..." he trailed off, not really knowing what to say. Nothing he could say would be adequate, nothing.

Instead he just took her hands in his and then drew her closer and embraced her sobbing frame even though she protested weakly. He didn't want her to see the tears that welled up in his eyes as her pain pierced into his heart and shook him. "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, Nell," he whispered holding onto her hard, afraid to let her go lest he lose everything.

 

[melusine]

Kat Kavanagh

Shawn Kavanagh, in a sudden spurt of paternal pride, cried out that he would buy a final round for everyone in the Prancing Leprechaun to celebrate his daughter's triumph onstage.

Kat felt her face flush red. Triumph onstage indeed! She shook her head wryly as she edged into a back corner, looking for a shadow to hide in. She could just imagine the spectacle she had made of herself in her limp cord skirt that had been washed far too many times, and a baggy old jumper of her dad's, bellowing like a bean sidhe the very same songs she sang while scrubbing the floor or pulling weeds. Kat pressed her cold hands to her burning cheeks and just prayed everyone had been too drunk to remember her performance tomorrow.

"Kat!"

Someone was calling her, but with all the smoke and shouting, it was hard to make out who.

"Kat!"

Ahh, it was Johnny MacBride, carrying two pints of ale in his hands, and trying rather vainly to get to her corner without spilling half the contents on the shoulders of the jostling crowd.

"Och, Johnny...you're a prince. I was that dry too." Kat rescued her pint (now something less than it had been when Johnny set out from the bar) and took a very welcome gulp of the clear cold brew.

Over the rim of her glass, Kat's sea-green eyes rested on Johnny's flushed and sweating face. Though she had known him for most of her life, Kat had to admit that there was something different about him tonight -- something livelier. Probably it had to do with his having been onstage, she thought. She had always vaguely known that he harboured dreams that went beyond the delivery of ale and beer to the region's bars and pubs, though that had been his job since he was old enough to drive a lorry.

"Whew, but it gets hot up there, " Johnny said with a grin, and ran one hand through his shock of reddish blond hair. "I never thought so many would turn out tonight at the Leprechaun."

"Well, there's not so much to do of nights here, you know, Johnny. Spancil Hill's not exactly Dublin then, is it?" Kat winked and was rewarded with a hearty grin.

Kat watched in silence for a few moments as Johnny continued to drain his glass. She could not help noticing how long and tapering his fingers were, how immaculately clean. They were something finer than what she would have expected from a man who earned his living heaving heavy crates of bottles in and out of a delapidated old truck.

"I wanted to tell you, Kat," Johnny said in a somewhat lower and more serious voice, "You really saved the night for me. I was floundering. Nothing I played could make them stop talking amongst themselves. And my singing! Well...."

"You sang perfectly beautifully when you joined in on the chorus of Bridget O'Malley," Kat broke in to say.

"Aye, well...that was you again, wasn't it? You could make anyone sound good, Kat."

Kat bit her lip and looked down into her ale, but the colour was high in her cheeks. It had been an awful lot of fun, singing the old songs with Johnny at her side, playing the accompaniment. She had to admit they had made a good team.

"I was thinking...maybe you and me...we could get up an act together." Johnny suddenly said in a rush.

Kat looked up at him and blinked. "An act! Surely you must be joking, Johnny. I'm no singer!"

"You've got the voice of an angel. No...the voice of a goddess. A strong Irish Goddess with the power of the storm in her voice. Queen Medb if she were here would sing like you."

Kat, overwhelmed by so much praise, could only shake her head and step backwards, until she was pinned in the corner, with Johnny's extremely broad shoulders blocking her from view of the pub beyond. She wondered just how much about Queen Medb Johnny really knew. For example, had he heard the story that her sexual appetite was so huge that she boasted that she slept with thirty men in one day? Uhhh...no....probably it was just the first mythological Irish female's name to pop into his head.

"It would be such fun, Kat. And who knows where it might end?" Johnny reached out his hand and took hers, gently, but with a firmness that she found both surpising and strangely...thrilling.

"I'm no good on my own, Kat," Johnny said. "There's no music at all without you there to sing the words."

 

[Lay Z Butterfly]

Nell


The space between Nell’s eyes crinkled as Patrick put his arms around her. This was wrong, her mind said, and protested weakly, but without any conviction. The feel of someone touching or rather embracing was almost more than she could bear. It had been so long and with Patrick, being the one holding her; caused a fresh spew of tears to escape her eyes.

Nell knew in that instant how wrong she had been not reading or answering his letters. Pride, anger, and hurt prevented her from doing what she knew in her heart to be the proper course of action. Her delicately shaking frame pressed against Patrick, craving the comfort she so desperately needed. Incapable of speaking what her heart wanted to say, Nell clung to Patrick. She needed him of that she was sure of. However, at what price?

Although her feelings stayed at bay, Nell understood all too well the implications of his return. She couldn’t even conceive of the idea of her parents hearing the news. How would they react? In the darkness of night, safely hidden away from prying eyes, Nell could be in Patrick’s arms. But what of the daylight? In the open, walking down Main Street? People believed he had killer her brother. Nell knew this to be false. She knew her Patrick would have come forward; taken any punishment like a man.

Shivering against his warm body and banishing those horrid thoughts to the outer perimeter of her mind, she returned to the here and now. Her arms had found their way around his waist and her head now lay upon his shoulder. Without thinking, Nell wiped her nose against the collar of his shirt, kissed the side of his neck, and drew back. A small impish smile greeted him.

“I didn’t have a handkerchief to take care of the leak. Which was your fault to begin with, Patrick O’Halloran.”

Using the back of her hand, she wiped the spent tears from her cheeks.

“You know, a girl just has to have a good cry now and then.” She hadn’t meant to make light of the emotionally charged reunion, but Nell had a sharp humorous side to her that was all but buried away. In all honesty, to Nell, the humor was meant to mask whatever pain she was feeling and truly believed no one saw through it. And no one did, except for Kat and Patrick.

Patrick looked upon her with eyes of calmness. He knew she had to be exhausted with all her energy spent. They had much to talk about, but he being wise took her by the hand and helped her up. “Nellie….,” he began..

 

[melusine]

Kat

Kat shook her head, far too conscious of the warmth of Johnny's body as the crowd pushed him close against her. Why oh why did they have to be standing in the only corner of The Prancing Leprechaun that seemed to be full of people? It occurred to Kat that the neon green sign "WC" above their heads was probably a clue.

"Johnny, I'm that flattered that you'd invite me to sing with you, but you know that I've never been the kind of person who enjoys standing in the limelight. Give me a hot kitchen and a string of onions to chop and I'm in my element. But standing up there --" She glanced at the makeshift stage. "Even here in a pub where I've come to fetch my dad almost since the day I could walk, I have to confess that I was terrified."

"This is no place to talk," Johnny said as yet another pub patron on "urgent business" pushed him into Kat. She felt...No! It couldn't be. Kat's cheeks flushed to beet red and she edged backwards until she could edge no more. Perhaps it had something to do with the excitement of being onstage? Did nervousness stiffen a man like that? "I had to bring the lorry from work to hold the amplifiers," Johnny went on, and now there could be no doubt at all of what was pushing so insistently against her thigh. He was ready as a stallion. Apparently well provided-for by God, as well. "I can have it loaded in a minute, and we could have a drive."

Kat felt panic rising inside of her. Of course, not for a moment did she believe that Johnny harboured any kind of sinister intentions towards her, but then again, he might think her the sort of girl who...well...did that sort of thing.

And why shouldn't I be that sort of girl? Another part of her brain whispered. Because of Patrick? Because of Patrick who is probably at this minute on top of Nell, with not a thought in his head of me? How long will I live in this self-imposed fairy tale where Patrick comes to me in my dreams, and loves me in my wild imaginings? Why do I turn everyone else away because I only have feelings for him? I'm daft! Clean daft! I'll die a virgin and all because I'm too stubborn to give up my stupid child's love for my best friend's intended husband.

"I promised to walk home with my dad," she said softly.

"I doubt Shawn Kavanagh is a man who would get lost on his way home," Johnny said with a wink. Unmistakeably, his hand around her wrist tightened. "Surely you'd never be afraid of me, Kat, would you? How long have we been friends now?"

He pressed against her again.

 

[Poganin]

Patrick O'Halloran

Patrick was a little shocked by the sudden change in Nell's attitude: from a woman burdened with life's brunts she turned into that familiar, merry Nell with sharp with and a prankster's glint in her eye. Still though he was very much aware that she had merely pushed her sadness away for a while. He hoped he would be able to at least make her not recall all her pain anymore, he daren't hope for anything else, not after what he had realised listening to her heart-chilling words. If only there had been a way to reverse all this...

As Nell smothered her torment under a pillow of joke, Patrick became deadly serious. He knew what had to follow and dreaded to speak about this aloud. He'd confessed it many times over the five years, not one time relieved after the confession and atonement, not really believing he had been granted absolution as his conscience still gnawed on his heart and soul. Not ever had anyone save for priests heard this tale, not once had it been spoken aloud and now he had to pronunce it before a woman he loved dearly, who was sister unto him whom Patrick couldn't save.

He helped Nell up and held her in his arms, his palms crossed at the small of her back. "Nellie," he began, "I promised meself that I would do two things when I'm back, if I'd ever come back. One was to say to ye what had really happened on that night... And the other..." he couldn't bare looking into her eyes, there was too much pain in the both of them and he knew it was showing no matter how hard they were trying to hide it and pretend to be cool and composed.

"Yes, the other?" Nell hurried him with a whisper he so much loved in her as she tightened her grip on his arms.

"The other..." he swallowed hard, realising what he was about to say... and do. "It was to do what I had promised you to do after the festival. Even if..." he broke off and sighed. No turning back now. He could read nothing from Nell's expression. Had she forgotten? he thought. One way to make sure.

Patrick closed his eyes and kissed her lips. "I love you, Nellie," he whispered against them.

 

[melusine]

Kat

"I'm off now, Katie." Shawn Kavanagh had materialized at Johnny's elbow, already shrugging his jacket on. "You coming? Or does this young man have other designs on you?"

Johnny let go of Kat's wrist and moved away from her as surreptitiously as he could, but the sly smile on her father's face made it plain that nothing had gotten past his sharp old eyes.

"I've been trying to convince her to go for a drive, to tell you the truth, Sir," Johnny said, surprising Kat completely. "But she'll have none of it. She says she's got a prior engagement with you."

Shawn Kavanagh gave Johnny a sympathetic nod. "Aye, she's a hard woman, Johnny. Takes after her mother, she does. One day you and I can drink a pint and I'll share with you all I've learned. On second thought, it might be several pints."

Kat's mouth dropped open. What on earth had gotten into her dad?

"But for now, son, go and pack up your gear. Let me have a minute with my daughter."

Johnny gave the old man a grin and held out his hand for a hearty shake. Kat did not think she had ever been more furious with her father in her life.

"Now just what was all that about, Dad?" she asked in an angry whisper the instant Johnny was out of earshot. "You sick of my cooking? Don't I iron your shirts just right? Are the heels of your socks knitted wrong?"

'Hush, woman. None of your carping at me now. You know I love you as I love the very earth, but I can't stand by one more time and watch you send a perfectly good young man away with hurt feelings because of your misplaced mooning over that damned Patrick O'Halloran."

"Dad! That's none of your affair."

Shawn Kavanagh took his daughter by the shoulders and gently shook her. "It is my affair, Katie, beloved girl. I've watched you through all the years when you and Nelly and Patrick were growing up. I've watched you through all the years when Patrick was away. And by God it's been like watching a rose blighted by an early snow! Now I don't ask you to marry Johnny MacBride. I don't ask you to love him or even ever to give him a second chance. But tonight, Katie, tonight, for once in your life step out of the shadow of your doomed love."

"Excuse me, Shawn. Old bladder is not what it used to be." One of Shawn's old cronies pushed by on his way to the WC. Kat reached out for her dad and drew him away out of the path of traffic, praying that none of their conversation was being overheard.

"Dad. You don't know what you're saying to me. How can I be untrue to my own heart? What you're asking is not fair to Johnny and not fair to me. I've made my choice for right or wrong. I've never loved anyone but Patrick and I never will."

"You will, Kat, because you must. No daughter of mine is going to go through her life like a half-witted fool, throwing herself at a man who will never love her. If Patrick were even worth caring for -- which he is not -- still I would talk to you this way. As your mother would, if she were still living, God rest her soul."

Kat turned her head away, unable to bear the anguish she saw in her father's eyes.

 

[Lay Z Butterfly]

Nell

Her hands had almost become claws as his lips made contact with hers. Nell's first reaction was to slap the man who had left her years ago. Slap him with all her might, perhaps knocking a tooth or two out of his mouth. Her senses reeled as he whispered words she had longed to hear. The tears started down her damp cheeks as arms pulled him tightly to her petite frame.

The depth of feelings was wound tightly between pleasure and pain that the line blurred. So much pleasure wrought from a simple kiss. Yet, it was not simple; the lips pressed against hers. It was as complex as the sight of a rainbow with its colours sparkling high up in the sky stretching and reaching to the land of fantasy.

Their kiss spanned the hurt and pain, crossing over betwixt daylight and moonlight; to the here and now. Her Patrick within her arms, kissing lips that moved slowly over hers.

And his words...how she had longed to hear them. They filled her wilted heart and breathed new life into what had been deemed no man's land by the menfolk of their town.

"Patrick," she whispered and fell deeper into the kiss wanting it to never end on this blessed night.