The Eden Tree

by Doreen Owens Malek

  Linn looked up the telephone number of Saint Michael’s rectory and went through the usual song and dance to get through to the priest’s home. The only thing worse than Irish “telefon” service was Irish plumbing; all the showers dribbled cold water and the toilets gurgled menacingly with every flush. Despite such inconveniences Linn was madly in love with the place. So much for Yankee materialism.

  She drummed her fingers impatiently while waiting for an answer and finally was greeted by the voice of the housekeeper. Father Daly came on the line at once when he heard who was calling.

  “Miss Pierce, I wonder if you could give me some time today,” the priest began without ceremony. “There is something I must discuss with you.”

  Linn frowned at his tone. He didn’t sound as though he were getting ready to talk about a wedding.

  “Is something wrong, father?” she asked.

  There was a pause. Then, “I would rather discuss this subject in person, Miss Pierce. Do you think you could come over to the rectory?”

  “Now?”

  “If it’s convenient.”

  “Why, yes. I can if you think it’s necessary.”

  “I do. I’ll expect you directly, then. Goodbye.” The line went dead.

  Linn stood staring at the receiver in her hand, wondering what was going on. Had something happened to Karen or Anne, one of her friends at home? But no, she would have been notified at the house. Feeling vaguely alarmed, Linn picked up Con’s keys and went back outside to the car.

  Linn drove back to the town she had just left, passing Larry’s office on the way. She could see the top of Con’s dark head through the window, above the lower frosted portion. He was sitting in the client’s chair facing Fitz’s desk. He didn’t see Linn go by in his car.

  Linn parked outside the rectory and rang the bell. She was received by a gray haired lady wearing a lace apron, who led the way inside after Linn had announced herself. She was left in a spare, very clean sitting room while the housekeeper went to get the priest.

  Father Daly was prompt. He arrived seconds later, walking over to shake Linn’s hand as she stood to greet him.

  “Miss Pierce, sit down. Alice, would you get us some tea, please?” he asked the other woman, who had returned with him.

  The housekeeper nodded and departed in silence.

  “I came as quickly as I could, father,” Linn began.

  The priest sat across from her and folded his hands in his lap. He looked like a man about to perform an unpleasant but necessary duty.

  “Miss Pierce, this will be a difficult interview,” he said slowly. “I have something to tell you that I think will upset you greatly.”

  “What is it?” Linn replied, her uneasiness escalating into alarm at his manner.

  Father Daly sighed heavily. “I have been observing your relationship with Connor Clay and have heard the talk in the town. I generally disregard such gossip but I saw for myself your attraction to the man at the Fleadh.”

  Linn stared at him, baffled. Was this going to be a morals lecture?

  Father Daly was stalled.

  “Go on,” Linn said sharply.

  The priest closed his eyes. “There is no easy way to say this, Miss Pierce.”

  Linn waited apprehensively.

  Father Daly opened his eyes and looked at her.

  “Connor Clay is your brother.”

  Chapter 10

  Father Daly’s voice seemed to be coming from a distance.

  “Are you going to faint, Miss Pierce?”

  Linn shook her head, unable to speak.

  The housekeeper came through the door with the tea tray and the priest said to her quickly, “Bring Miss Pierce a glass of water.”

  The woman set down the tray and left, then returned from the back of the house with a tumbler of water. Father Daly turned to offer it to Linn and then thought better of it. He went to a mahogany roll top desk which stood in a corner of the room and removed a bottle of Napoleon brandy from a drawer. He added a healthy slug of the liquor to the water and then held the glass out to Linn, signaling for Alice to leave.

  Linn turned her head away.

  “Take it, girl,” he urged. “You need it. You’re as white as boiled rice.”

  Linn accepted the drink mechanically, swallowing some of the burning liquid. She licked her lips and whispered, “It isn’t true.”

  Father Daly examined her sadly, looking suddenly very old, the lines in his kindly middle aged face seeming more pronounced. “It is true, more’s the pity. Kevin Pierce, your father, was Con’s father as well. I did not interfere before this because of promises I made long ago when I was a young man. But when I saw the serious turn events were taking I knew I had to speak up to prevent a tragedy.”

  Linn had a hysterical urge to laugh. Prevent a tragedy? This man, with one sentence, had just ruined her life.

  “How?” she asked dully. “How did it happen?”

  “Kevin got Con’s mother pregnant before he left for the States,” the priest answered simply. “Her marriage to Trevor Clay was made in order to cover her condition and give the child a father.”

  Linn looked up sharply, feeling a wild surge of hope. “Con told me he was born ten months after his mother and Clay were married,” she said rapidly. “He knew that his mother had been in love with Kevin; he said she had never gotten over it. But Trevor Clay was his father.”

  Father Daly shook his head slowly, clearly unhappy to be dashing her argument. “No, lass. He thinks he was born ten months after the marriage because that’s what he was told. Everyone here believes it too. He was born in England where Trevor supervised the mines, and when he and Mary came back to Ildathach they said the baby was three months younger than he actually was. A discrepancy of three months is easy to hide in an infant. The size of babes under a year varies so much.” He dropped his eyes from Linn’s and turned away. “I’m the only one left who knows the truth,” he added quietly.

  “Tell me,” Linn said evenly. “Tell me about it.” She was amazed at her own control. While one part of her wanted to run screaming into the street, another part wanted to hear the chain of events that had conspired to separate her from Con before they’d ever met. Even the pain of listening to the story would be preferable to the numbness that seemed to be engulfing her. The Ice Princess, freed from her cold prison by Con’s love, was being enclosed again in a wall of frost.

  Father Daly sat again and folded his hands in his lap. “If there is a villain in this piece,” he began, “it was your grandfather Dermot. A hard man, very hard. Con can be like him in that way, stubborn and unyielding. Dermot kept those two from having the life together that they should have had. He’s paying for it now, I’ll warrant, getting his just desserts from a higher judge.”

  Linn listened, her eyes fastened on the priest’s face.

  “Mary Drennan worked at the house. She was a lovely girl. You have no idea how beautiful she was. Con doesn’t resemble her much, except in the eyes. Hers were green, not blue, but they had that same light and the beautiful, full lashes. She was a sight to behold at twenty-one: slim, with a quick, graceful step and soft hair the color of honey.”

  Father Daly smiled at the memory, and Linn thought he sounded as if he’d been half in love with Mary himself.

  “Kevin fell in love with her and she with him. They were able to keep the affair secret for a while, but your grandfather had ways of finding out everything that went on about him. He was furious that his son was consorting with a servant—not up to standard, you see. Dermot was an awful snob. He packed Kevin off to the States on business, and while he was gone Dermot discovered that Mary was pregnant. He scared that poor girl half to death, let me tell you. You can’t imagine what a terrible thing it was for a woman to be with child and unmarried thirty years ago, especially in this country. Dermot told Mary that Kevin would not be back, that he’d left the country expressly to be rid of her. Dermot persuaded Mary to marry Trevor Clay, an employee of his who
had met Mary during a visit to Ildathach and admired her. Clay was a mining supervisor from England who looked after some interests Dermot had there. As I said he liked Mary, and a few words from Dermot about the future of his position convinced him that he should marry her. So Mary was sent to Derbyshire and the child was born there. After a while when Dermot considered it safe, he brought the couple and the little boy back to the estate so he could keep an eye on his unacknowledged grandchild. Dermot gave the Clays the gatehouse, rent free, to live in all their lives. When Con reached college age he paid for his education anonymously under the guise of a parish scholarship.”

  “How could he play God like that?” Linn cried. “Those poor people, being manipulated by him as if he were a puppeteer and they were his marionettes.”

  The priest was silent, watching her closely to see if she were about to crack under the strain. Linn noticed his scrutiny and deliberately modulated her voice.

  “And my father?” she asked quietly.

  “Oh, when he heard that Mary had married in his absence it broke his heart. I was his childhood friend, lass; we were at school together. When he received the news he wrote to me and said that he could never come back to Ballykinnon and see Mary married to another. And as you know, he never did. He stayed in the States.”

  “And a few years later he married my mother,” Linn whispered.

  “Aye, so he did,” the priest agreed. “But the whole situation caused a permanent break with Dermot. Kevin knew his father had had something to do with Mary’s marriage, though he never knew about the child. He probably thought Dermot has just bribed Trevor with advancement in his mine job. That was Dermot’s way of controlling everyone, usually with money.”

  “How is it that you’re the only one who knows this story?”

  “The principals kept silent for obvious reasons and they’re dead now. I was brought into it after the fact when Mary and Trevor returned to Ildathach. Mary came to me and begged me to help her, telling me what had happened and asking me to keep her child’s true paternity a secret. I could see no reason to hurt her and the innocent baby any more. I altered the records which had been sent from Britain, changing the date of Con’s birth and listing Trevor as his father. I had access to everything because of my position. I thought I was acting for the best but look what has come of it.” He bent his head. “God forgive me.”

  “He should forgive you for telling me about it!” Linn burst out, overcome with anger and despair.

  The priest raised his head, his eyes wide. “Girl, the man is your half brother! Could I keep silent and abide an abomination?’‘

  Linn closed her eyes, his final word lancing through her like the stroke of a knife. An abomination? Her love for Con, and his for her? It was the most precious, sacred thing in her life and he was telling her it was something foul and dirty.

  “Don’t you say that,” she said in a low, dangerous voice, rising from her chair. “Don’t you use that term again.”

  The priest stood also, alarmed. What was he going to do with an hysterical woman on his hands? He grabbed Linn’s forearms and steered her back into her chair.

  “Calm yourself,” he soothed. “It will avail us nothing for you to become so upset.”

  Linn subsided, shaking, forcing herself to see reason. This man was not her enemy; none of this was his fault. He thought he was doing the right thing in this situation and taking her feelings out on him wasn’t fair.

  “Where is your proof?” she asked coldly. “How do I know you’re telling me the truth?”

  Father Daly regarded her sadly. “Would I lie about such a thing? Think, girl, what reason would I have to inflict such cruelty?”

  “I want to see the proof,” Linn said flatly.

  Father Daly sighed. “And so you shall, if you go to the office of patient records for Holy Rosary Hospital in Limerick. Con was brought there for a childhood illness and the officials there consulted his birth records in Derbyshire for information. The hospital has a copy of Con’s real papers.” The priest bit his lower lip. “Don’t fight it, child. That will not help you to accept it, as you must. You know in your heart that I have told you the truth.”

  Linn was silent, unable to disagree.

  “You love Con very much, don’t you?” the priest asked softly.

  Linn nodded, her lower lip trembling as she fought off tears.

  “Then don’t tell him,” Father Daly said. “Just go and let him remember Trevor Clay as his father. Clay was a good man who cherished Mary and her child. Con was devoted to him.”

  “I know that,” Linn said, remembering Con’s anguish over Trevor’s unhappiness.

  “Then just leave without destroying his illusions. Your loss alone will be enough for him to bear without adding the hurt the truth would cause him.”

  Linn nodded again, dumbly.

  “You must go now,” the priest added sternly. “You cannot remain; you cannot stay together, surely you see that?”

  Linn broke down. “I don’t know how I can leave him,” she sobbed. “I’ll be leaving my soul behind on Ildathach.”

  The priest’s resolve faltered for the first time. For just a second he forgot proprieties and biblical injunctions and the laws of the church he’d served for thirty-two years. His heart went out to the slight, pretty girl in the chair before him, crying as if she would never hope again.

  He went to Linn and put his hand on her shoulder. “There, there. You must be strong, my child. God never sends us a burden heavier than we can bear.” He took a wad of tissues from the pocket of his cassock and handed them to Linn.

  She wiped her streaming eyes ineffectually. “I think he has this time. I don’t want to live without Con. I can’t.”

  “You can, and you will.” Father Daly’s expression became thoughtful. “Where is Con today?”

  “He’s in town with Larry Fitzgibbon. They had some business to discuss.”

  Father Daly nodded. “That’s good. You can pack while he’s occupied and be gone before he gets back.”

  Linn stared at him, stunned. “Now? You mean I can’t see him ever again?”

  The priest eyed her levelly. “What would happen if you saw him?” he asked sternly.

  Linn put her hand over her eyes. She knew what would happen. He would want to make love and when she refused he would demand to know why. She would wind up telling him about his father. She recoiled silently, afraid to think of the other possibility, the one uppermost in Father Daly’s mind. If Con pressed her, would she give in? She loved and wanted him so much; would she sleep with him rather than tell him? And if so, what would that make her? She swallowed a shuddering sob and looked up to meet the priest’s concerned gaze.

  “I’ll leave this afternoon,” she said.

  Father Daly sighed in relief. “How can I help you?”

  Linn stood on legs that threatened to give way under her. She grasped the back of the chair for support.

  “No one can help me,” she said quietly.

  The priest watched her struggle with admiration. This was a brave lass. He knew he had dealt her a mortal blow, and she was staggering but still on her feet. Kevin would have been proud of her.

  “Did you drive here?” he asked. “Can you drive back?”

  “Yes. I have to return the car and get my things.” She glanced around the room. “May I use your phone?”

  “Certainly,” Father Daly answered, indicating that she should go to his desk. As she picked up the receiver he tiptoed past her and quietly left the room, shutting the door after him.

  Linn called Bridie at Ildathach, hoping that she would be back. She was. She answered on the third ring.

  “Bridie, it’s Linn. I want you to do me a favor,” Linn said, trying to keep her voice normal.

  “Aye, what is it?”

  “I’d like you to pack a bag for me, enough for overnight, and get my passport and travel things together. I’ll be back in a few minutes and I want to be able to just pick up and go.”<
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  “Where are you going?” Bridie asked, her voice unsure.

  Linn put her hand over her mouth for a second, and then gained control. “I have to go back to the States right away. I can’t explain now; it’s too much to go into over the phone, but please just do as I ask. I’ll be bringing the car back and I’d appreciate it if you could look for that car rental information I got once before. I think I left it in the library on my grandfather’s desk. I’ll be needing transportation to the airport.”

  “What about Con?”

  “Con can’t know I’m leaving,” Linn answered.

  “Wait a bit! What is happening, Aislinn? Something’s amiss. Tell me what it is.”

  Linn cleared her throat. “Please, Bridie, just do as I ask. If Con should call or come back early, stall him or get rid of him for me, just long enough for me to get away. I know you don’t understand but do this on faith. I’m begging you. Please.”

  There was a heavy sigh from the other end of the line. “I’ll pack for you. But I want an explanation when you get here.” The line went dead.

  Linn sagged against the wall and then steeled herself to make a second call. This one would be more difficult.

  Larry Fitzgibbon’s secretary answered.

  “Hello, this Aislinn Pierce from out at Ildathach. Can you tell me if Mr. Clay is still with Mr. Fitzgibbon?”

  “He’s just after leaving, Miss Pierce. He was going on to Dr. McCarthy’s, I think he said.”

  Linn exhaled on a long breath. “Then may I speak with Mr. Fitzgibbon, please? It will only take a moment.”

  “Just as you say.” There was a pause and then Larry’s vaudeville brogue came over the wire.

  “Well Aislinn, hello. Connor is just after leaving here; you’ve missed him. If you wanted to give him a message you’re too late.”

  “No, I wanted to ask you to do something for me.”

  “Oh, aye? Whatever you say.”

  “Larry, you’re a lawyer and I’m your client. If I ask you to do something and keep it strictly confidential, would you?”

  “Of course.” The lawyer’s tone had become guarded.