The Last Rose of Summer

by Kenna Gordon

  “I am, tell me more,” Patrick said patiently smiling at Kate.

  The two chatted for hours until Katelin looked at the clock and with a disappointed tone said, “I’d better go; it’s getting dark.”

  “I’ll take you back,” Patrick assured her. “But first I’m needin’ to know. Are you busy tomorrow?”

  “No.” Katelin's curiosity was piqued by the question.

  “I’ve a special place I’d like to show you.”

  “Where?” She asked wondering what the mysterious invitation was all about.

  “It's a surprise. You’ll be needin’ a suitcase. We’ll be stayin’ the night, if that’s okay?”

  “Sure,” Katelin responded hesitantly.

  “Good, I’ll pick you up at noon.” Patrick smiled and touched his daughter’s hair. “I had a grand time.”

  “Me too,” she said kissing him softly on the cheek and smiling.

  Kate’s time with Patrick had been unexpectedly pleasant. This stranger didn’t feel like a stranger at all. She felt at ease with him, as if somehow they had always known each other.

  Chapter Eleven

  Katelin had just finished her lunch when Patrick’s silver Volvo pulled up in front of the Chapel Street apartments.

  “Mornin’ to you Patrick.” Sean said, placing Kate’s bag in the trunk of the Volvo.

  “I’ll be bringin’ her back tomorrow,” Patrick announced as he drove out of the commotion and noise that was Dublin toward the tranquility of the Irish countryside.

  The drive was as beautiful as it was dramatic; the vibrant green valleys and rugged hillsides provided a spectacular backdrop for the four hour drive. While the two became better acquainted; they talked, laughed, and listened to Van Morrison tunes on Patrick’s CD player. The route was familiar to Kate; she had traveled it many times on the way to her grandparent's home in the small town of Ballingeary. This trip would take them just beyond Ballingeary to the southern tip of County Cork, past villages with funny sounding names like Grangefertaugh, Derrybanane, and Shanballyguff. This was a region of Ireland where Irish Gaelic was the predominate language. Her grandmother had taught her Gaelic, but she only knew enough to get by. Kasey, on the other hand, was fluent in The Irish language.

  “Where are we going? Is it far? Did you bring my mother here?” Katelin asked, without skipping a beat.

  “You’ll see. Have you always been so curious?” Patrick laughed.

  “Maybe,” Katelin replied with a mischievous smile that reminded him of her mother.

  “Patience Cailin,” he said in a fatherly manner, as they turned onto a dirt road just off the main route. A path had been worn down overtime by the continual passage of horses, wagons, and cars. They wound their way through County Cork to a small house tucked away, among the jagged rocks and rolling green hills.

  “Ah, here it is then, Wild Rose Cottage,” Patrick announced pulling in front of a charming two story bungalow that was surrounded by a high hedge of pale pink wild roses, and a front garden filled with native Irish flowers. The whimsical little house looked like something out of a storybook, with its thatched roof, bay windows, and bright blue trim. From the back porch, the view of the harbour and the distant Bantry Bay was magnificent. The white-washed cottage was only a few miles south of the small seaside village of Glengarriff and yet it seemed as if it were in the middle of nowhere.

  “I’ll be taken your bags in. Why don’t you have a look round,” Patrick proposed.

  Katelin followed the roughly lain stone path from the cottage to the water’s edge. Standing in a small cove surround by the high steep rocks that defined the Irish coastline, she listened to seagulls squawking as they nested in the cliffs. Kate recognized this place; she could almost see the five friends smiling their arms around one another, as they stood on the beach in front of her.

  Closing her eyes Katelin suddenly felt close to her mother, a closeness she had never felt before. As she listened to the calming sound of the waves pushing their way up onto the shore, Kate thought about how difficult it had been to lose her mother, but knowing that she never really knew her—hurt the most.

  “It was your mother’s favorite place,” Patrick said as he came up behind her and placed his hand on her back.

  “Thank you for bringing me here.” Katelin’s eyes filled with tears as she stared out at the harbour.

  “It was my pleasure for sure—now let’s eat.”

  After dinner, Patrick lit a mound of peat in the fireplace filling the room with a glow, and the earthy smell of turf. The two sat in silence as they reflected on their memories of Kathleen.

  Staring into the fire as if she were looking for answers, Katelin asked, “If you loved her...why did you let her go?”

  Patrick thought about his response as he poked at the dried earth in the fireplace. “Katelin, there are things you don’t know, and may not understand.”

  “What kind of things?”

  “I’ve made choices most people wouldn’t approve of. Some of those people want to hurt me. Hurt my family.” Looking over at his daughter, he continued, “It’s because of those people, Kathleen, and I couldn’t be together. It’s why I stayed away from you and your sister for so long.”

  “I don’t understand.”

  “I’m needin’ you to trust me Kate. Can you do that?”

  “Yes, I can do that.” Katelin could see the sincerity and love in his eyes; it was surprising to Kate how easy it was to trust him, this man who had been a stranger a few days ago—her father.

  “It’s late; we’d better be gettin’ some sleep,” Patrick suggested.

  Katelin reluctantly stood up and kissed him on the cheek; the affectionate gesture felt natural to Kate. “Goodnight,” she said.

  Patrick smiled. “Goodnight, mo cailin milis.”

  It was hard for Katelin to sleep that night, with all the day’s events swimming around in her head. But the trip to Glengarriff had been just what she needed. Her desire to meet Patrick had been unwittingly replaced by Kate’s longing to know her mother. As she recalled the sadness in her mother’s eyes, Katelin understood her regret. Kathleen had not only left her country, but the man she loved.

  The next morning Patrick dropped Katelin off at Sean’s, and continued home; He began to lament the decisions he had made so long ago. He wished Kathleen was still here—with him. He wished he had been a part of his daughter’s lives.

  That night as Patrick lay in his bed staring at the ceiling he thought about what a wonderful day it had been and recalled the last time he saw Kathleen. She had come home for Aidan’s funeral. Her marriage to James was on shaky ground, and she needed some time away to consider their future together.

  It was a cold and rainy day in late December. Gathered in the small village churchyard were the friends, and family of Aidan McKenna, they had come to say their final farewells. Patrick caught a glimpse of Kathleen standing next to Aidan’s mother, Rose McKenna, and his two sons Kevin and Sean. Her cheeks were wet with tears; she and Aidan had been close as children and Patrick knew that she would miss her friend. Kathleen smiled as Patrick approached her. It was her smile he missed the most, she always had a way of making a difficult situation better with the warmth of her smile.

  “I’m sorry for your loss Rose, if you or the boys are needin’ anythin’; you’ve only to ask,” Patrick said.

  “Go raibh maith agat.” Rose thanked him in her native tongue.

  Placing his hand on Kathleen’s back, he asked, “Would you care to join me for a pint?”

  “I would,” she replied.

  As the two sat in the local pub drinking pints of Guinness, they reminisced about their friend, about their lives in this place they called home. They laughed and cried until all the small talk had diminished, and they were left with nothing but their feelings for one another.

  “Would you go back to the Wild Rose with me?” Patrick asked.

  Kathleen thought about James, but the loneliness that consumed her and
the desire to be with someone who loved her—really loved her, made her sense of duty disappear.

  Patrick took her back to his family’s cottage near Glengarriff. They had spent most weekends there, when they were younger; it had always been a place of solace for Kathleen. The 100-year-old structure had withstood all that nature had thrown at it, and she found a comfort in knowing that.

  As she stood in the front room, she began to cry, overwhelmed by all the memories that came rushing back.

  “Don’t cry a ghra,” Patrick said running his thumb softly over her wet cheek.

  Kathleen slowly began tracing the outline of Patrick's face with her finger tips. She remembered being drawn to him from the first day they met. Patrick took her hand in his, and turning it over, he softly kissed the palm of her hand. His touch and the warmth of his breath excited her. Patrick pulled Kathleen close to him. His lips began to caress hers until she parted them, inviting his tongue to seduce her. His kisses were intense and filled with a passion Kathleen had only experienced with Patrick. Both of them moaned with pleasure as the intensity of their desire for one another grew.

  They surrendered to one another that night, and as they lay in each other’s arms Patrick buried his nose in Kathleen’s hair and softly spoke her name. Knowing that their reunion was brief they cherished their moment together. It would be the last time Patrick would ever kiss her, would ever hold her—would ever see her again.

  As he fell asleep, Patrick remembered how Kathleen softly traced the outline of his face with her fingertips; he remembered the warmth of her kiss, and their passionate love making. The thought of her soft silky skin against his aroused him. Closing his eyes he remembered her body pressed against him, how she surrendered. The way she raised herself to meet him as he thrust himself inside of her. Patrick began to move his hips as he pictured their love making. A wave of ecstasy flooded over him as he felt spasms of pleasure. He could almost hear her call his name, Patrick, and smell her scent as he buried his nose in the pillow.

  “Kathleen,” He whispered remembering the sound of rain on the roof as they made love.

  Patrick fell asleep entangled in his blankets and dreamt he was wrapped in her arms.

  The morning sun shone through the window as Katelin packed her bags for her return trip home. She thought about her visit, about Wild Rose Cottage, about Patrick, but mostly about her mother. There were so many things she wanted to know about her, so many things she wanted to understand. Lost in contemplation she didn’t hear Sean as he entered the room.

  “Well now, you look like you’re a million miles away.” His cheerful Irish lilt made Katelin smile.

  “Thank you again for letting me stay here.”

  “You’re family. You’re always welcome here.”

  “Thank you.” She smiled and continued packing.

  “Will you give this to Kasey for me?” Sean handed Kate a book that had frayed with time. As she looked its faded leather cover, she noticed it was a collection of poems by William Butler Yeats.

  “You know Kasey can be obstinate, but she is also fiercely loyal, I know she’ll always be there for me.” Katelin remarked as she carefully placed the book in her backpack.

  “You’re tryin’ to tell me somethin’ aren’t you?”

  “Yes, I know Kasey better than anyone, she still loves you Sean. Don’t give up on her—okay?”

  “I couldn’t if I tried,” he assured her. “We’d better get goin’; we don’t want you missin’ your plane.”

  When Katelin and Sean arrived at the airport, they found Patrick waiting to see his daughter off.

  “I want you to have this,” Katelin said, handing Patrick a small photo album filled with pictures of Kathleen with her two little girls—his family. Patrick’s eyes filled with tears as he ran his finger over a picture of Kasey; he looked sad.

  “She’s stubborn, like you I imagine. Kasey will come around, give her time.”

  Patrick reached over and gently brushed the hair away from Katelin's face. “Is there someone in your life then?” Her father asked.

  Kate wasn’t sure how to answer his question and stared out at the runway as she thought about Myles and her feelings for him.

  Patrick could her affection for someone and continued, “Katelin, I let certain situations keep your mother, and I apart—I regret that now. You and Kasey shouldn’t be goin’ through the same heartbreak.” Patrick took his daughter’s hand, “Hold on to the people you love—hold on tight.”

  Katelin gave Sean and Patrick a hug, “I’ll be back,” she promised.

  “We’ll be countin’ on it,” her father said, giving her a kiss on the cheek.

  She was glad to be returning home, but the long flight made Katelin anxious, she wasn’t sure how to tell Kasey about her discoveries, and she still wasn’t sure what to do about Myles.

  Kasey was waiting for Katelin when she arrived. “Bryan was busy, so I volunteered to pick you up. How was your trip?”

  Katelin didn’t have to say anything. Kasey could see that her sister had something on her mind, “Let’s get some coffee,” Kate suggested.

  “Okay,” Kasey wasn’t sure she wanted to hear what her sister had to say.

  As they sat in the airport coffee shop Katelin recounted her trip, and as she did the color drained from Kasey’s face. The newly discovered revelations about Sean, Kevin, Patrick, and their mother were devastating to Kasey.

  “Are you okay?” Katelin asked.

  “I found this.” Kasey pulled a crumbled piece of paper from her pocket and handed it to her sister.

  It was an article from the Irish Times. The headline read: A University of Dublin Professor named in IRA murder. Below the headline was a picture of Patrick. Examining the picture of closely, Kate observed a young Kevin McKenna standing in the background.

  “I love you Kasey but sometimes you are your own worst enemy. We mortals can’t always live up to your standards you know.”

  “What does that mean?”

  Katelin continued without answering her sister’s question. “I don’t know what Patrick has or hasn’t done. All I know is that he’s our father, and I want to get to know him.” Kate handed the article back to Kasey. “I know you’re hurt by our mother’s secret and I know that you’re having trouble accepting that Patrick is our father. Give him a chance Kasey—that’s all I ask.”

  Kasey remained silent as she thought about what her sister had said.

  “Sean wanted me to give this to you.”Katelin gave her sister the book of poems, as a look of recognition came over Kasey’s face.

  Setting the book on the table in front of her it automatically opened to a shamrock that had been pressed between its pages. As Kasey ran her fingers over one of the poems she began to cry, the familiar words had softened her demeanor for a moment.

  “Call him,” Kate said.

  Chapter Twelve

  Dusk was beginning to paint the sky a beautiful shade of steel blue; the dark shadowy outline of ponderosa pines lined the gravel road, as she made her way up the mountain to the Kinkaid’s cabin just south of Evergreen.

  Driving along the winding mountain road, Kate thought about her conversation with Kasey the day before, about her trip to Ireland. She could hear her father say, hold on to the people you love. Katelin was worried, what would happen to Kasey and Sean? Would they be torn apart like their mother and Patrick? The thought that Kasey might turn her back on Sean, on Ireland, on the life she was meant to live made her sad—and what about Myles? Katelin didn’t know what she was going to say to him, but she knew she had to see him, talk to him; she needed clarity so that she could move on with her life. If Myles didn’t share her feelings, she could accept that, but Kate didn’t want to lose their friendship.

  As she continued through Evergreen, Kate’s memories were of summers spent here. Nick, Kasey, and Bryan were usually off hiking the mountain trails, while Myles and Katelin would go for long walks together, on the nearby path. They would talk about e
verything from music to sports, and sometimes they would walk in comfortable silence, saying nothing at all. One of her favorite places was the meadow next to the cabin. It was filled with wildflowers, and in the middle of the meadow stood a tree where Myles had hung a swing for her.

  As he pushed her on the swing, she would say, “Higher Myles, higher.”

  “Katie, you know you'll have to come back to earth sometime before dinner,” was his reply.

  “Not if I can help it.” A precocious smile beamed across her face.

  Myles laughed and pushed her higher into the air.

  He was the only one that called her Katie, and the way he said it always made her feel special. Recalling the forgotten memory, she began to understand that her relationship with Myles had started long before the summer they first made love. She had always felt connected to Myles; a connection Kate had never experienced with anyone else.

  Katelin was surprised as she pulled into the drive where the Kincaid cabin once stood. In its place was a large milled timber home that looked like it had been under construction for several months. As she got out of the car, she looked up to see Myles coming down the ladder from the partially finished roof. He was wearing a tattered pair of blue jeans and a sweat stained t-shirt.

  “Katie?” Myles looked surprised to see her.

  “Bryan told me you were here.”

  “I am glad to see you.” Myles removed his t-shirt and wiped the sweat from his brow.

  Kate tried not to notice his muscular arms, the ripped leanness of his flat abdomen, or the way his defined obliques seemed to draw her attention to the line of hair that started at his navel and made its way down to his masculinity.

  “We tore the old cabin down about a year ago and started building a new one. What do think?”

  Kate's distraction caused her to pause for a moment.

  “It’s beautiful.”

  “Thanks. How was Ireland?” He asked

  “Great, I came to tell you all about it.”

  “I’d love to hear about the trip. Would you like the royal tour first?”