Both men shook their heads. “It’s a rare thing,” Mick said. “Not like Boston, I wager.”
Maura debated about how to answer that. “Last year Boston had, like, sixty homicides.”
Mick’s mouth twitched. “Ireland had about that for the entire country. What’re you having?”
It took Maura a moment to realize that he was talking about drinks. “I don’t need anything. I should be going—I’m beat.”
“Come on,” Jimmy chimed in. “Surely you need to taste Guinness on its home turf. To celebrate your arrival, kinda.”
“All right, I guess. Thank you.” Maura hated to appear ungracious, but it was late, she was tired, and she really didn’t drink much—she’d seen too many barroom regulars reeling home after late nights, sloppy and stupid. Still, she thought she should be polite.
As Jimmy poured her a Guinness, she sat silently, mesmerized as always by the cascading bubbles of the dark stout. It was almost a religious ritual, when done properly—there was no rushing a Guinness. When it was finally judged ready by the men, Mick reached for it and handed it to her with a flourish. “Sláinte!”
Maura raised her glass and nodded, then took a sip. Dark, bitter, yet not heavy. Maybe it was better over here, closer to the source. Or maybe she was wiped out. Had she even eaten dinner? No, or lunch—her last food had been tea and cookies at Mrs. Nolan’s, a long time ago.
Jimmy and Mick exchanged complicated glances, involving eyebrows and nods, and Maura wondered what they were trying to communicate to each other, or if they’d had some earlier conversation. Finally Jimmy said, “You did a grand job here today—don’t know how we would have managed without you. I said it—like an angel, you were, dropping in like that.” He hesitated for a moment, then said, “I don’t suppose you’d be wanting a job?”
It took Maura a moment to digest what he’d said. A job, tending bar—here? In Ireland? “What?”
“You know, working regular like, here. It’s clear you’ve done it before,” Jimmy said.
Maura couldn’t make sense of his offer. “But I hadn’t planned to stay here long. Shouldn’t you be looking for someone more permanent?”
Another exchange of cryptic glances. This time Maura was watching for it.
“I didn’t come to Ireland to spend my time cleaning up after drunken old men, you know,” she snapped, more rudely than she had intended. “I’ve got a flight home next week. And I can’t afford to buy another ticket. I’ve got no money.”
“We’d pay you, of course,” Mick said carefully.
“Enough to live on here, even for only a while?” Maura shot back.
Mick cocked his head at her. “What do you need? I’ll venture Ellen will give you a good rate for a longer stay–she doesn’t see much business herself, this time of year. You’ve got my grannie’s car, and you’ll be needing a bit of gas for that, to get around. That leaves you with food to worry about. We can manage enough for you to get by on.”
“How many other employees are there?” Maura said.
“There’s my Rose,” Jimmy began.
Maura cut him off quickly. “Is she even old enough to be serving here, legally? What about you, Jimmy—do you take your turn?”
Jimmy managed to look hurt. “Now and then–I watch over the business side.” He ignored Mick’s short laugh. “Ordering and the like. But it was Old Mick who covered the bar, most days, and we’re still adjusting to him being gone. When it was slow, he’d sit by the fire there, but when we got busy, he’d be behind the bar, telling stories and having a grand time. We always thought that was what kept him going so long.”
“So do you two own this place now?”
“No, we just manage it,” Mick answered. “Old Mick only died last week. He was ninety-four when he passed, and he’d never married and had no children. He’d outlived most of the rest of his family, or they’re long gone from Ireland. It’ll take a bit to sort out what’ll happen with the place now. We’re just keeping it running until then.”
“I’m sorry to hear about his passing,” Maura said. Not that she was, particularly—after all, she’d never known him—but it was the polite thing to say. “So who does the pub go to now?”
Both men shook their heads. “We don’t know. Old Mick, he didn’t say much about his affairs. There might be a will, or not.”
“Apart from tonight, are there ever many customers here?”
“Ah, you’ve just seen it at a slow time,” Jimmy said jovially. “Come the weekend, there’s lots more going on. And summer! We’re right along the main road here, and there’s many a tourist who stops by for a quick glass. It’s a solid business, isn’t it, Mick?”
“It could be,” he agreed. “If Old Mick had done anything with the place, it could have been better.”
Maura yawned. “Listen, guys, I’m about to fall over. Look, I’m glad I could help out today, but that doesn’t mean I want to keep doing it, okay? Let me think about it. Good night.”
She gathered up her bag and jacket and walked quickly out the door, to end any discussion. The road was deserted, and nothing moved. Quiet: something she wasn’t used to. There wasn’t any real quiet back where she came from, or any real dark. She crossed the road slowly, marveling at the unexpected emptiness. Gravel crunched under her feet as she walked down the drive that passed in front of the now-dark Keohane house and found her way to the back door leading to her room.
But before going in, she sought out a plastic chair on the small patio and dropped into it. She was exhausted, but she was also confused and bewildered by what she had seen and done that day. She’d spent time with what was probably her grandmother’s oldest surviving friend; she’d acquired a car, if temporarily; she’d been offered a job. Before she’d left Boston, she’d thought about what she might say to Mrs. Nolan, once she’d learned of her existence, but the car and Jimmy’s offer had come as a complete surprise. And as for that last, she needed to think. Now, when she was wiped out? Heck, maybe that was the best time—her first reaction might be the truest one. If she had a job, even short term, she could stay around as long as it lasted. Did she want that?
Maybe—and she was startled to find herself thinking that. Of course, that would give her more time to get to know Bridget Nolan, and her last chance to learn anything about her gran’s life before she went to Boston. That would be good. And maybe, just maybe, she should learn something more about Ireland—the real Ireland, not the shoddy caricatures. She knew that it wasn’t all shamrocks and rainbows, but what was it really? And wasn’t she Irish herself? She had a passport that said so, but she’d never really felt it, inside.
And there was nothing waiting for her at home. In fact, there was no home. She had no ties, here or there. So why not stay awhile?
Maura stood up, slid the door open as silently as she could, and slipped inside, stopping only to brush her teeth before she fell onto the bed.
And still couldn’t sleep. She had come to Ireland because her promise had made Gran happy, and she wanted to honor her memory. She had planned to spend at most a week doing her duty to Gran. She’d been so caught up in burying Gran—next to her father—and then clearing out what little there was in their apartment, that she hadn’t had time to think about what she wanted to do next.
But now she had freedom, and an unexpected opportunity. She didn’t have to rush, and if she could make enough money to cover her simple needs, she would have some breathing room to decide about her future. And it wasn’t like she was making a long-term commitment; she would be helping out, just for a bit, while she got to know the area better. Got to know people who had known her gran and her father, as a child. This would probably be her only chance, so why not take it?
Feeling obscurely reassured, she turned over and fell asleep.
Chapter 6
The next morning Maura was awakened by the tapping of rain against the glass sliding doors. It came as a surprise, but Maura realized it shouldn’t have: it must rain all the time in I
reland, to keep all those fields so green. Still, she was glad she’d had a day of sunshine first. If it had stayed cold and grey, like the day she’d arrived, she might have turned tail and run. She lay listening to the sounds: the rain, of course, but also the clinking of pans and plates in the kitchen above, and the young voices as the Keohane children pounded down the hall and out the door. She thought she heard the rumble of a male voice as well—Ellen’s husband? She didn’t want to move, but she knew Ellen would probably be waiting breakfast on her, and surely her landlady had other things to do today.
She checked the clock: 8:00. That meant she’d had no more than six hours of sleep, after a long day yesterday. The night before, Jimmy and Mick had offered her a job at the pub. And by the light of day she still thought she wanted it. She could stay longer. It wouldn’t be much of a vacation, working all the time, but she’d never had any vacations anyway, so nothing new there. She wouldn’t be seeing much of Ireland, but she’d never been a fan of touristy things back home in Boston, and she didn’t plan to join groups of gawping tourists here. And she’d get to know some real people.
But there were a lot of things that were murky, starting with how long Jimmy and Mick might expect her to stick around, and how much money she’d actually see from the job. She’d served in enough bars to know that it was hard work, hard on the feet and back. In Boston she’d had to fend off her share of randy drunks who thought she was an easy target. Would it be like that here?
Maybe she should talk to Mrs. Nolan about it. Maybe she should take another look at the pub: if it stood up to her inspection on a gloomy day like today, maybe there was hope.
Maybe she should get out of bed.
She swung her legs to the floor, then stood and crossed to the door to pull the curtains back. No one for miles to see her standing there in the ratty old T-shirt she slept in, unless she counted some curious sheep a few miles away. The sky hung low with grey clouds, and sheets of rain swept across the harbor, obscuring and then revealing the hills beyond. In the nearest pasture the cows were huddled together in one corner. The land on the right was filled with dark pines, closely packed, with no visible buildings. A few birds she couldn’t identify swooped low over the water, then sped away.
She shook herself. Take a shower, put some clothes on, and go eat breakfast. Then visit Mrs. Nolan. Then come back and take a long hard look at Sullivan’s. She showered, dressed in her last clean pair of jeans, and shoved her feet, sockless, into her shoes. After running a comb through her hair, she declared herself ready to attack breakfast.
“Ah, there you are,” Ellen said cheerfully as Maura walked into the kitchen. “Will you be wanting the full breakfast again?”
“Don’t go to any trouble, please. You can give me whatever’s easy.”
“If you don’t mind what the children have left, there’s plenty. Always late for school, they are. Except Gráinne here.” Ellen reached down to tousle the curls of the little girl that had been hiding behind her legs. “Come on, darlin’, let Mummy do breakfast for the nice lady.” Gráinne didn’t budge, but stuck her thumb in her mouth and stared at Maura. “Shall I bring it out to you?”
“Do you mind if I sit in here with you again?” Maura asked. “I like having someone to talk to, and besides, I’ve got some questions for you.”
Ellen cocked her head at Maura curiously. “I’d be glad of the company—it’s a treat to talk with someone older than ten, and I have few guests this time of year. Gráinne, will you sit down at the table now?”
Reluctantly Gráinne sidled up to a chair across from Maura and climbed into it.
“Coffee, Maura?” Ellen asked.
“I’ll take tea, if you’ve got it made. I should get used to it, shouldn’t I?”
“Sure.” Ellen filled a mug and set it in front of Maura. “My husband, Thomas, tells me there’s a strange car out back—would that be yours?”
“Yes and no, I guess. Bridget Nolan offered to let me use it while I’m here, I think mostly to be sure I’d be able to come back and see her again.”
“I’d been wondering how you’d get around—Mick’s not always handy to give rides.”
“What the heck does Mick do? I gather he’s supposed to be working at the pub, but he’s not there much. Does he have another job?”
“He does a bit of this and that. When he’s away he’s usually in Cork City. He used to work for one of the big foreign companies that set up here, but then the economy fell apart and so did his job. You’ll hear a lot of tales like that, mostly from men sitting in the pub in the middle of the afternoon.” She took a swallow of her tea and handed Gráinne a toy. “Do you know, I’ve been thinking of your gran. Nora, she married a Donovan, did she not? I knew some Donovans back when I was in school, but that would’ve been after she went to Boston, I’d guess. When was that?”
“She left here not long after my grandfather died, more than forty years ago, I think. She managed all right while my dad was growing up, and I guess things looked up after he got married and they had me. But then he died in an accident at work.”
“Did you have the chance to know him?” Ellen asked as she dished up scrambled eggs from a pan on the stove. “Go on, finish them up for me. I never know what my lot is going to want to eat in the morning, so I make plenty.”
Maura obediently forked up some eggs. “I barely remember him—he’s more like a big shape to me than a person, if you know what I mean. Anyway, according to Gran, my mother couldn’t take it, living with an Irish mother-in-law and taking care of a squalling kid. She just packed up and left one day.”
“And she never returned? In all these years? Never called or wrote to see how you were?”
“No. Or at least, if she did, Gran never told me. She really believed in family loyalty, and when my mother ran out on us, she was as good as dead to Gran. Heck, I turned eighteen a few years ago—if my mother had wanted to find me, she could have. Gran raised me on her own.”
“It was a hard life, then?” Ellen pushed a plate of toast toward Maura.
Maura took a piece and buttered it. “I guess, but we managed. I’ve been working since I was sixteen, but Gran told me that I had to finish high school. Then I started working full-time. Just like Rose at the pub. Didn’t she ever want to see more of the world than this small town?”
“She’s a good girl, and she’s stuck by her dad. As you said, family comes first.”
Maura resolved to have a chat with Rose when they had a bit of quiet time together. But talking about Rose had reminded her of what she wanted to ask Ellen. “Can you sit for a moment?”
Ellen checked to see that her stove was turned off, then took a chair next to Maura, pulling the still-silent Gráinne into her lap. “Nice to have a few minutes of my own. You said you wanted to talk?”
Maura fumbled for a way to ask politely but in the end just blurted out, “Jimmy and Mick asked me if I want to work at the pub while they figure out who the new owner will be. I hadn’t planned to stay around long, and I’ve got a ticket back next week. I’m not sure what to do.”
Ellen tilted her head at Maura. “What is it you’re asking me?”
“I’m not sure.” Maura considered. “Probably a couple of things. I mean, I’ve been here, what, not even two days? First Bridget Nolan hands me the keys to her car, and then these guys offer me a job. They said you’d give me a deal on my room if I stayed. Sorry, that sounds kind of pushy, but they’re the ones who brought it up. I don’t even know if they talked to you about this. And I really can’t afford much.”
Ellen sat back in her chair and laughed heartily, and Gráinne in her lap looked up at her curiously. “Ah, that’d be Jimmy, I’ll wager. No harm done. But is that what you want? Why’d you come to Ireland at all?”
“Because Gran wanted me to come—I’m doing it for her sake. I think she wanted to come back herself, but we never had the money. When she got sick, she went fast—she was only seventy. I think she wore herself down, between worrying
about me and working, and sometimes she even took on extra jobs just to make ends meet. I helped as much as I could, but it wasn’t a lot, until I finished high school. So before she went, I promised her that I’d come over and at least tell Bridget Nolan face-to-face.” Maura looked down at her plate, her eyes blurred with tears. “I never even knew until after she’d died that she kept in touch with Mrs. Nolan—Gran never talked about her life in Ireland. I only found out when I was clearing out her things.”
“I’m so sorry—she must have been a good woman. Sounds like you’ve had a hard time of it. So you’ve no place to go back to? No one who’s waiting for you back home?”
“No,” Maura said, then added, “Jeez, that makes me sound pathetic. No home, nobody in my life, and here I am dumping on you, when I only met you the day before yesterday. It’s not your problem.”
Ellen was silent for a few moments, thinking. Then she said slowly, “But you came to me, asking what to do. Since you asked, let me tell you this: I think you need to give yourself some time. You’ve had a lot to worry you, for a long time, and maybe now you should just step back and not decide anything for a bit. If you go back now, you’d have to deal with finding a place and a job and all that. You need to give yourself time to grieve for your gran. If you stay here, you can get by on little while you figure out what it is you want. There’s no need to hurry. Do you see that?”
“You mean, sort of put my life on hold and just be?”
Ellen smile. “Maybe. Have you ever done that?”
Maura shook her head. “I never had the chance. But I guess you’re right. If I can switch that plane ticket, I suppose there’s no reason I can’t just hang out here in Leap until I figure out what comes next.”
“Exactly. And I’ll see to it that Jimmy and Mick pay you enough to cover your room.”
“You can do that?”
Buried In a Bog Page 5
