Casting Off

by Nicole R Dickson

  “We have to go,” Fionn said.

  Iollan left his beer on the counter and led his partner, Fionn Sr., Fionn, and Rebecca out into the gale. The wind pummeled Rebecca as she clung to Fionn. All she could see was Rowan’s little diapered body lying in the ambulance and Dennis falling away.

  You think you can raise a baby by yourself? You’re too stupid!

  They crawled in the wind across the metal plank onto Iollan’s ship. After Fionn pushed Rebecca into the cabin, he and his father released the mooring line and Iollan engaged the engine. Huge swells crested the boat’s railing as Iollan pulled out beneath the red sky.

  “They have any idea where to look?” Iollan asked his partner as Fionn Sr. and his son came into the cabin, soaking wet.

  “Paddy said Sean indicated to the west, just north of their island.”

  As the boat sputtered, Iollan turned to the south. Rebecca wrapped her arms around herself, watching the bow point up into the red sky and then down into the black sea.

  You were nothing before you met me! I should just throw her over!

  “Come here, Becky,” Fionn said, reaching for her.

  Rebecca shrugged away from him. “Everything’s not fine, Fionn,” she whispered.

  “No, it’s not. You can carry this alone, Becky, like you’ve done for six years, or you can let someone help.”

  Rebecca looked over at him, finding his eyes steady and sure.

  “You can let me help,” he said.

  “This wouldn’t be happening if I hadn’t—let go.”

  “All parents have to give their children their freedom.”

  “She’s only six years old,” Rebecca said, her voice breaking. In her mind, she saw her little girl out on the ocean, crying for her.

  “It’s not your fault,” Fionn said.

  “You’re wrong,” she replied. “It’s all my fault.”

  Iollan turned the boat west and the hull heaved and creaked as the weather slammed it on both sides. The wind, wailing in from the south, pushed the boat north and sent the water crashing into Ina’s island, only to be deflected back. There the wind tore across the sea, shoving the water at the boat, pounding it south. Time was measured by the slamming waves, and twenty minutes passed before anyone said another word.

  “I see lights!” Iollan said. “It’s another ship!”

  “It’s Paddy and Eoman,” Fionn Sr. said, peering out the window as a great wave hit the wheelhouse.

  Rebecca recoiled from the glass. After the water cleared, she leaned forward, watching the lights come and go as Paddy’s ship rolled over the waves. Then she squinted harder, for there, turning on and turning off in the cresting sea, was a tiny little light out in the giant ocean.

  “What’s that?” she asked, pointing to the yellow light bobbing in the gale.

  “It’s a curragh,” Iollan’s partner replied quietly.

  “It is not,” Iollan scoffed.

  “It is,” Fionn Sr. insisted.

  “Who’d go out in a curragh in this?” Fionn declared incredulously.

  Rebecca looked over to Fionn Sr., whose eyes were glued to the madness beyond the calm, dry wheelhouse.

  “Sean Morahan.”

  CHAPTER 38

  Ladder/Basket Within

  Ladder/Basket Within. 1. Jacob’s ladder with basket stitch knitted within the ladder’s rungs. 2. A prayer.

  —R. Dirane, A Binding Love

  Sean could see Old Man Dirane’s dinghy in the fading light. It was listing terribly, but even that brought a smile to his face. The old boat shouldn’t even be afloat, ancient and tattered as it was, amid these swells that had grown as the gale raged. Sean could now hear his name on the wind. Rowan must have seen his light and was calling for him.

  “I’m comin’, girl!” he yelled, pulling hard. His other set of oars sat neatly upon the edge of his hull. He wished he had one of his sons—just one of them. Best would be his first, Matthew.

  Sean found Padrig Blake standing wet on his doorstep, with Fionn O’Flaherty and the gale behind him. In his peripheral vision, Sean could see Mary clinging to Claire.

  The sky had been clear, turning orange just two and a half hours before. The mistle thrush had been singing, but there was no earth smell upon the wave. There was no storm. Sean had sat before the fire, spinning yarn for Liam’s suit, as his son had just turned eighteen. While he watched the wool in his right hand form a triangle as the bobbin spun, the sky turned red. Great walls of water hit the thatch above his head. Sean stood up from his chair. He had not been able to hear Mary or Claire breathing as the gale blew across his roof. Now he stood, the sea’s fury blowing in his door.

  “Wicked weather to be out,” he murmured, his heart thumping so hard against his ribs that he could barely catch his breath.

  “We found—we found—” Padrig Blake’s eyes were wide and his face was ashen.

  “A body’s come up on shore near my house,” Fionn O’Flaherty said. “We can’t make it out, but—”

  “It was wearing this.” Blake finished the sentence, and from behind his back he pulled a drenched gansey.

  It had the Trinity stitch knitted between two sets of double zigzags, bordering a huge Tree of Life as its main panel. Sean had made it for his oldest the week he found out Matthew was to be a father, for it had taken four years for Mary to conceive.

  Mary was standing behind Sean. Holding on to Claire, she had been watching the whole exchange. Now she screamed, a cry pealing over the howl of the gale.

  Sean himself stood mute.

  “Are any of your sons here, Morahan?”

  “No,” Claire said. “They all went.”

  “Joe can swim,” Sean said absently. “Joe’s the strongest.”

  “Matthew!” Mary keened, holding her belly. “Please, Sweet Jesus! Not Matthew!”

  Claire hugged her daughter-in-law, bringing her over to the fire where Sean had been sitting.

  “We’ll wait for the others,” Sean said, staring absently at the gale beyond his door. “Joe will bring them back. Would you like to come in and have tea?”

  “No, thank you. Best be headin’ home. We’ll keep Matthew in the shed where he is until the storm passes. We have him covered and well kept. My prayers are with you.” Fionn nodded to Mary.

  She didn’t look up. She held her belly, rocking back and forth in pain.

  “Thank you, Blake, O’Flaherty,” Sean said.

  They nodded and headed back out into the storm.

  “Joe will bring them back,” Sean muttered as he closed the door.

  “Sean!” Rowan cried, hanging on to Siobhan. They were wet to their knees and the old dinghy was taking on water. The wind screamed from the south as Sean watched two fishing trawlers making their way toward him. It was Iollan and Paddy.

  “I’m almost there!” Sean yelled.

  The waves were rolling. Sometimes he could see Rowan over his shoulder, sometimes not. Light faded, and when his curragh slammed down into a furrow between waves, it was silent and black like the ocean depths.

  “Not yet.”

  On the next crest, he could see the lights of the fishing trawlers aimed exactly where he was, and when he turned he found the dinghy right beside him. It sat now with its bow parallel to the next oncoming wave. Sean pointed his bow into the wave and gave one great pull on his oars. His curragh touched the dinghy’s side.

  “Give me your hands!” he yelled, pulling his oar in and holding out his hand to the girls. Siobhan grabbed his palm and as he pulled on the little girl, the oncoming wave slammed into the side of the dinghy and Sean pulled Siobhan into his curragh. When they crested the wave, he saw the dinghy recede in the furrow. Rowan fell out of it and into the sea.

  “No!” Sean screamed.

  The dinghy and Rowan disappeared.

  “Hang on to the bench, Siobhan!” Sean cried, pulling the little girl off his body. The fishing trawlers were very close now. Sean could see Paddy on his bow.

  “Wrap your a
rms around the bench and don’t let go! Your da’s right there!” The wave passed and Sean looked for the dinghy and Rowan.

  “Rowan,” Siobhan cried, clinging to the bench.

  The tip of the dinghy rose up not ten yards from his curragh, and as it did Sean could see Rowan hanging on to its bow. Iollan must have spotted her, too, for his light spun around, reflecting on the tip of Old Man Dirane’s boat, which floated upside down in the ocean. When Sean looked up at the light, he saw Fionn and, next to him, Rowan’s mother. She stared at him, terror in her eyes. Sean jumped into the water.

  He went under and it was cold. His body was weak. He had been cruel to it this day, first with his run to the docks to keep Paddy from the sea and then with his trip in the curragh out to find Rowan and Siobhan. But even in his weakness, all he could think of was Rowan in the rain and the sea with no gansey. Her life had to be fleeting. The fingers of the sea beckoned him below, but Sean pushed his head above the swell, swimming with all he had left to the dinghy. He was right there, his hand grasping for Rowan, who was still clinging to the overturned boat. Her eyes were closed, her face drawn and spent from her struggle to hang on, and he saw her fingers relax as she let go, without so much as a whimper.

  “No! Rowan!” he yelled, diving under into the black. Iollan’s light shone down in the darkness, reflecting on her little hand. Sean grabbed it and with a push, he lifted her to the surface. He came up behind her, his legs giving out. Holding Rowan with his right arm, her body still and unmoving, he fought the sea with his left hand, swimming to the curragh.

  “Siobhan!” He coughed weakly, pulling Rowan to the side of his boat. Siobhan peeped over.

  With his final effort, Sean pushed Rowan up. Siobhan grabbed her friend and pulled her in. Sean was now completely spent. He lay still in the water, receding into a furrow as a great swell rose, taking his curragh up on its crest toward heaven. He saw Iollan’s boat veer into Paddy’s with a great metal screech. As he gazed up, Sean could just make out Rowan’s mother, her eyes glued to him.

  Claire wept, wringing her hands as she paced her brother’s kitchen floor.

  It had taken Sean a month to find out where Padrig Blake had taken his wife. He had gone over to the Diranes’ farm, demanding to know Claire’s whereabouts, and wasn’t it little Ina O’Connelly, who was over for a visit, who let it slip. Now he stood before his wife as the sun poured through the windows, lighting every corner of the house. But the warmth of early summer did not heat Sean’s heart; it was as cold as any winter wave. He looked at Claire, who peered into his eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks.

  “All gone,” she whispered. “All gone.”

  “You think I killed them,” Sean stated, his voice as cold as his heart.

  “No, love,” Claire replied, wiping her cheeks.

  “Yes, you do. You think I killed them. Killed all of them,” Sean repeated. “You think it’s my fault because I sent them out.”

  “The storm took them, Sean,” Claire whispered.

  “If I hadn’t have sent them out, they’d be standing here in the sun with Mary! You think that!” Sean was shouting now, moving closer to Claire.

  “Sean, no,” Claire said, her eyes widening as she backed away from him.

  “Stop looking at me like that! It wasn’t my fault!”

  Claire looked away, sliding in front of the kitchen cabinets, toward the door.

  “You’re not getting away again!”

  “I—I need—air,” Claire said as she reached for the door.

  Sean grabbed her arm, spinning her around.

  “No! Sean!”

  Sean had Claire by the throat, staring down into her eyes—her accusing, frightened, blue-green eyes. They had seen the truth, and they reflected it back at him now. He wanted them to close forever.

  His heart was slow as the icy nothing at the bottom of the ocean curled its prickly fingers around his legs. He could no longer hear the wind or the water. Filling him with calm was Rowan’s mother, gazing down on him from the deck of Iollan’s boat. It had been so long since he had been looked upon so—as a man—a man who would save his children at the cost of his own life. He thought he smiled weakly up at her, but he was too cold to know if his face moved.

  “Father, take care of my Rowan,” he whispered. “And her mother.”

  Then, Sean Morahan let go and slipped below the surface of the water, into the blackness that embraced him.

  CHAPTER 39

  Lattice/Bobbles Between

  Lattice/Bobbles Between. 1. A lattice pattern, and at each intersection a single bobble is knitted. 2. A community of people coming together to help others. 3. Holding on to one another so no one is blowing in the wind.

  —R. Dirane, A Binding Love

  Rebecca had watched Rowan fall out of the boat and disappear in the water and the wave’s furrow. She almost screamed until she heard Sean yelling something to Siobhan. The little girl lay down, hiding from the turbulent sea and Rebecca’s sight. But she saw Sean looking down into the water. Rebecca followed his gaze and as Fionn pointed the light, Rowan, in the water and the dinghy beside her, came up to the surface.

  Rebecca stood on tiptoe, desperately trying to figure out how to get off the deck and into the water to reach her little girl. But Iollan’s trawler was high in the waves one minute and then receding fast the next, causing the boat to slam into the furrow as another wave rolled toward it. As she was about to lift her leg to the railing, Sean met her eyes. He was calm and steady and he jumped into the sea.

  Rebecca watched as he swam and fought the ocean, risking his life to save her daughter while she stood safe and helpless on the deck above. Dennis and the gale screamed in her ears, accusations of stupidity and weakness roiling around in her mind as sure as the sea boiled below. Her child’s life now depended on the struggle of a cruel man. She had been in this place once before—hoping that a cruel person would spare her daughter’s life. She had begged and pleaded back then as the burning hate within her wanted—willed—that man to die. At the time her conscious thought had been to save him, but when she reached her hand out to Dennis, had that burning hatred made her too slow and sent him to his death as she saved her child’s life? Now Rebecca needed the help of a cruel man so Rowan would live, and even as she held that deeply in her heart, she hated herself for asking anything of cruelty.

  Rowan went under for a split second, but Sean was on top of her, ducking beneath the wave. He rose with Rowan and crawled through the wild water, hoisting her into his own curragh.

  At that moment, Iollan’s engine whistled. Iollan screamed something indistinct out the wheelhouse door, and as the next wave crested the railing Rebecca felt Iollan’s boat slam into Paddy’s.

  “Shit!” Fionn yelled. “Becky, get away from the railing!”

  Paddy’s boat was pulling away in a furrow as another swell threatened. Rebecca gazed at Sean. He smiled up at her, and went under. The screaming of her past and the ever-present gale went silent as Rebecca blinked in the stinging spray of the ocean’s storm. His eyes weren’t furious, turning to terror as Dennis’s had been as he’d slipped into the black abyss. They were gentle—almost kind. Like a mistle thrush’s wings fluttering as the bird darted by, Dennis’s eyes falling away and Sean’s gaze sinking into the depths passed through Rebecca’s mind. Could cruelty have a different face?

  A need as deep as her hate had been for Dennis six years before rose in her heart then, as red as the sky above her. It burst into flame, and Rebecca stood hot and sweating on the deck of Iollan’s ship. She had no word for it. She pressed the Saint Bridget’s cross to her burning heart and looked over to the curragh, so small in the great sea. Siobhan’s face twisted in terror as she clung to Rowan’s limp body. Without another thought, Rebecca climbed up on the railing. Taking a deep breath, she heard the air fill the depths of her lungs in the utter silence of the gale.

  “Becky!” Fionn yelled. “Get down from there!”

  Rebecca launched herself i
nto the air and dove off of Iollan’s boat. As she hit the water, everything went black. It was searingly cold—colder than any water she’d ever been in. She could feel the tug of the sea pulling her down as Iollan’s boat rolled just behind her. Kicking her feet, she fought, beating the ocean with her fists until she came to the surface, breathing shallowly in the icy water.

  Sean’s boat was close and Rebecca started swimming. The water was frigid. She could feel her muscles tightening. Her gansey hung loose, getting in the way of her stroke, and as she crawled endlessly toward Sean’s curragh, she peered down into the blackness.

  Iollan’s light passed over her head, and right below her feet Rebecca could make out something bright in the darkness. It was a gansey. It was Sean. There was no Dennis in the blackness below. There was simply a man who had put her daughter’s life before his own and now was sinking away into oblivion. Taking a deep breath, Rebecca dove, pushing herself down in the freezing water. She found Sean’s left hand. Struggling to lift him, she lurched toward the surface. Her lungs burned for air, but he was weighing her down. Suddenly a hand reached out and grabbed her, lifting her to the surface. She gulped for air.

  “I have Sean!” she choked out, pulling him up.

  “We’re gonna freeze to death if we don’t get out of the sea,” Fionn yelled over the gale, reaching for the old man and pulling his head above the water. Rebecca and Fionn pulled Sean to the curragh.

  “Siobhan!” Fionn called.

  The little girl peeped over the edge of the boat, crying hysterically. “Rowan won’t wake up!”

  Fionn lifted himself over the side of the curragh as the sea receded. Another great swell was on its way. “Hurry! Give me your hand!” he said, reaching out for Rebecca.

  “I’m still moving. Sean’s not. Sean first,” Rebecca grunted, pushing the old man forward.

  Fionn tugged and pulled, turning his worried eyes to the south, and managed to get Sean into the bottom of the boat. Rebecca nearly flew out of the water as Fionn pulled her in. Quickly he sat down in the back of the boat and lifted the oars.