There was a knock at the door and Brigit heard the voices of Daniel and Andrew as they entered with Father McDonnell. She heard Daniel leading him upstairs. The older children, Joanna, Mick and Katy, followed. They quietly entered the curtained alcove. Soon Father McDonnell was standing over Mary Ann’s wasted form. There was a candle burning on the bed stand. Daniel stood stalwartly nearby. He clasped Brigit’s hands in his own. They left as Father heard Mary Ann’s confession. They returned when it was time for her to receive her Viaticum, her last Holy Communion.
“I’ll raise her head up,” said Brigit. Mary Ann opened her eyes.
“Mammy!” she croaked faintly. “Hold me!” Brigit slipped behind Mary Ann so that the little girl was cradled in her arms, her matted dark blond head against her breast.
Father held up a small piece of the Host. “Ecce agnus Dei qui tollis peccata mundi.” “Behold the Lamb of God who takest away the sins of the world.”
Daniel and the other children fell to their knees. Daniel responded on behalf of them all. “Domine non sum dignus ut intres sub tectum meum, sit tantum dic verbo, et sanabitur animam meum.” “Lord, I am not worthy that Thou should enter under my roof. Say but the word and my soul shall be healed.”
Father made the sign of the cross over Mary Ann with the fragment saying: “Corpus Domini Jesus Christus…” “May the Body of Christ bring you to everlasting life.” Mary Ann opened her mouth and Father placed the fragment on her little parched tongue. So emaciated was her neck and throat that they could see every movement of the act of swallowing. Then Mary Ann smiled as she closed her eyes and nuzzled her head against Brigit. Father then began to anoint Mary Ann, praying in Latin. Daniel led the rosary. Brigit tried to focus on the rosary but her anxious mind could find no rest in the familiar prayer.
Mary Ann let out a long gasping breath and then lay still. “No, no . . .” choked Brigit. “No!”
Daniel reached over and took the child’s hand. “She’s gone,” he murmured in a voice that did not sound like his own. His face collapsed against the little hand as Father began the prayers for the departed. “Go forth, O Christian soul . . .” Brigit clasped Mary Ann tightly against her, not letting go until Granny O’Grady came to prepare the body for the wake. She released Mary Ann, stood up, and then collapsed onto the floor.
Later, when Brigit looked back, she had no memory of Mary Ann’s funeral, although Daniel insisted that she was indeed present and on his arm the whole time. Nor had she much memory of the days that followed. Granny O’Grady had made herself a bed in the kitchen and helped Brigit as she blindly performed her chores in a state of abstraction. Daniel had an extra whisky or two every night so that he often fell asleep in his chair by the fire, book in hand, or at the table with his head pillowed in his folded arms.
“He’s pierced to the heart, poor lad,” whispered Granny to Brigit, as they struggled to help him to bed one night.
Brigit began to suffer from headaches so intense she had to lie down, and yet even in her sleep the pain raged, causing her to wake to an even greater affliction. The children’s voices were like knives through her brain; it took all her effort not to snap at them and sometimes her efforts failed. One day in particular Mick was harassing his sisters by stealing their paper dolls and tearing off their heads. The sounds of the girls’ cries were like a hot poker inside her brain. She grabbed Michael, gave him a shake and almost threw him across the room. She dragged him out to the woodshed and switched him hard. She was screaming at the lad all the while she meted out the punishment. Daniel came running from the barn, thinking there had been an accident. Mick was howling “I’m sorry, Mammy!” amid a deluge of tears.
Daniel grabbed her arm which still held the switch. “’Tis enough. The lad’s sorry.” Mick ran away. But Brigit kept yelling and trying to hit the air with the switch. It took both of Daniel’s strong arms holding her close to calm her.
She hardly noticed when spring came, except that the house was quieter for she could send the children outside. Granny O’Grady stayed on. Andrew McArdle helped Daniel with the spring plowing and planting, and Mrs. McArdle often sent over bread and potatoes.
Concerned for Brigit’s health, Daniel opened his medicine chest. The neighbors all knew about his time of study with the physician in Cork and so he was regarded by many of them as being the closest thing to a doctor. Daniel was good at prescribing remedies and had saved lives. While he performed an occasional blood-letting, he shrank from it, saying it was best for folk to seek out a surgeon barber. However, his ability to set broken bones was renowned throughout the county.
He handed Brigit a small brown bottle with a cork. It was the laudanum, which he used to stop various ailments, including ague and diarrhea. “Put twenty drops of this into your tea, twice a day. At night, put twenty-five drops in a mug of boiled milk. But be careful not to take too much. ‘Twould be well to wean wee Bridget, since the laudanum would do her no good.”
Brigit took the laudanum that night and the headaches soon became more manageable, without disappearing all together. One night, she awoke feeling ill again and decided to take a few more drops. She soon fell asleep and into a strange dream in which she seemed wide awake and happy. She walked in a field in the sun, her hair loose about her. Ahead of her, she saw Owen O’Connor. She had not thought of Owen for many years, but suddenly there he was, with his bright smile and the mischievous sparkle in his eyes. His thick curls blew in the wind and he held out his hand to her. She picked up her skirts and began to run to him. Just as her fingers touched his outreached hand, she woke up. It was a cold Canadian dawn and baby Bridget was crying in her crib nearby.
With the help of the drops, her headaches disappeared. Brigit’s days were enveloped in a golden haze, as she seemed to float from chore to chore while the children’s voices seemed to harmonize with the birds singing in the apple trees. Often she caught Granny O’Grady looking at her strangely, as she flitted around the house singing an old Gaelic song and getting the words all wrong. At tea one evening, she found herself laughing uncontrollably at something one of the children said. Daniel looked at her from the other end of the table with an expression of concern.
“How much of that laudanum are you taking?” he asked later in the evening after she had settled the children.
“Enough to get rid of me headaches,” she said, taking up her mending basket.
“Your nose is running. Are you coming down with a cold?” he queried.
“Me nose is not running” insisted Brigit. But then she felt it and it was. She had not even noticed. She drew her handkerchief out of her sleeve and wiped her nose as daintily as Daniel had taught her.
“You’ve been taking more than I told you to take,” Daniel stated simply. She hated it when he scolded her. Why had she gone and married an old man? She wondered what had become of Owen. Rumor had it that he had gone to Bytown and married an Irish girl.
“I take enough to help me feel better,” she replied, refusing to meet his eye. But when she did look up, she saw Owen standing behind Daniel, grinning at her. She burst out laughing again.
Daniel quietly rose and went into their room. He came back with the brown corked bottle. “I am keeping this with me and I will give you the drops from now on. I’ll ease the dose down gradually. This laudanum will make you into a madwoman if you let it.”
Brigit said nothing as she tried not to let him see how angry she was. That night, he gave her a reduced amount of drops. He also handed her the small, worn wooden crucifix which he always carried in his pocket, the one his mother had given him, called the “Paradise Tree.”
“Hold onto this,” he murmured gently, closing her fingers upon it. That night she slept peacefully, and did not dream of Owen.
The next evening, as they were saying their family rosary after supper, she felt a peace come over her, accompanied by a flow of tears. She continued to weep after they finished the rosary; she felt several small pairs of arms go around her neck and shoulders.
As the little ones embraced her, Joanna and Katy wept quietly on either side of Daniel, who put his arms around them. Mick took Brigit’s hand; as he kissed it, she felt a stoic teardrop. Suddenly, Daniel gently moved the children aside and took Brigit in his arms, holding her tightly. His frame shuddered violently as her arms encircled him. She kissed his bearded cheek and he began to sob quietly into her neck. They all cried until they were too tired to do anything but tumble into bed.
The following day after morning prayers, they sat around the table as usual eating porridge with maple syrup and heavy cream, when Ellen burst out abruptly: “Mama! I saw Mary Ann last night.”
“What do you mean, darling?” asked Daniel.
“In a dream, mo mhuirnín?” queried Brigit.
Ellen’s grave blue eyes gleamed, making her thin five-year-old face seem older and otherworldly. “We-e-ll, it was kind of a dream. I opened my eyes and Mary Ann was standing near our cot, and she said to me, ‘Ellen, tell Mammy that I am happy.’ Then she went away, quickly like. I went back to sleep.”
“That means she’s in Heaven!” said Katy. Brigit pursed her lips together to keep from crying again.
“Children,” said Daniel, “Usually a dream is just a dream. We do not let dreams rule us. But sometimes, God may send a dream to comfort us, as He has done in the lives of the saints. I think we can be confident that our Mary Ann is in Heaven with the angels.”
“And with Jesus, Mary, God and Joseph,” stated Ellen in her most serious tone. Daniel and Brigit’s eyes met and a smile flashed between them for the first time in months.
It took Brigit until the autumn to wean herself off of the laudanum. Then Daniel gave her a concoction of lavender and skullcap to help her when the headaches came. That winter she found she was with child again and found herself happier and stronger than in a long time. The next October a baby girl was born and they called her Mary.
CHAPTER 8
Of Blue Willow and the Reverend Mr. Smith
October, 1849
Two birds flying high,
A Chinese vessel, sailing by.
A bridge with three men, sometimes four,
A willow tree, hanging o'er.
A Chinese temple, there it stands,
Built upon the river sands.
An apple tree, with apples on,
A crooked fence to end my song.
~Old Poem
Brigit stirred the pot of parsnip and apple soup in the cast iron pot bubbling over the fire, adding a bit more cream before Katy took the pitcher to the table for dinner. It was late Thursday morning and the Methodist minister was coming to dinner at noon, as was his custom once a month. He had sent word that he was bringing a colleague, a young Methodist missionary. Brigit had wondered at Daniel for inviting Protestants to dinner. She was afraid it might confuse the children. Many Irish Catholics were leaving the faith to become Protestants; Mike Kelly’s oldest daughter had just had a fine wedding presided over by the local Anglican rector.
But Daniel disagreed. “Our children have no nuns to teach them, and they hardly ever even get to hear Mass or a sermon or even see a priest. They have no chapel nearby. It is for us to teach them their Faith. I shall teach them by debating the truths of the Catholic Faith with the Methodist minister, the Reverend Mr. Smith.”
“Very well,” conceded Brigit, doubtfully. ”But remember, Mr. O’Connor. It is a very serious thing to confuse a child.”
“I will not confuse them, Mrs. O’Connor. The True Faith is the truth, and the truth will speak for itself, if explained correctly. It is essential that they become acquainted with the arguments against our Faith and learn how to refute them.”
Daniel had built a log schoolhouse down the road for the children living in or around Long Point, including his own. Eighteen-year-old Joanna was the first school mistress. She taught on Mondays, Wednesdays, and Fridays; on Sundays the building was rented to the Methodists. Daniel had placed an advertisement in the Kingston and Brockville papers seeking an able schoolmaster of good character, someone who could teach every weekday. Joanna could not teach every day, as she was needed to help make the butter and cheese that was sold at market. Joanna also helped Brigit in the loom house, weaving the cloth necessary to clothe the growing household. Katy, fourteen, helped Brigit in the kitchen, especially with the baking, while Ellen, ten, and Margaret, eight, were in charge of sweeping and dusting the house, and making the beds. Six-year-old Bridget Gabrielle watched the little ones: Mary, who was four and Charlie who was two. Katy, who was especially clever, also taught all the younger children their letters, numbers and colors.
“The bread is ready to go on the table, Katy,” said Brigit, bending over to remove the steaming trays of batch bread. She wrapped the tall squared breads with their thick brown top crusts in a clean linen towel and placed them in a basket for Katy to take to the table. Katy skipped and sang “Scent of Roses.”
Farewell! But whenever you welcome the hour
That awakens the night-song of mirth in your bower,
Then think of the friend who once welcomed it too,
And forgot his own griefs to be happy with you.
Her sweet high voice rang through the house. It was a strange song for a child to sing but then Katy was a fey soul, especially since Mary Ann died. Brigit took the potatoes out of the oven, then the mutton. She began to sing as well.
His griefs may return, not a hope may remain
Of the few that have brighten'd his pathway of pain,
But he ne'er will forget the short vision, that threw
Its enchantment around him, while lingering with you.
Brigit went out to the side porch to ring the dinner bell. She saw Mick coming in from the barn and waved at him. At sixteen her eldest son was taller than his father and almost as broad-shouldered. He was handsome like the Trainors, with blue-green eyes, a slightly aquiline nose and straight light brown hair. A hard worker, he ran the blacksmith’s shop when Daniel was busy with the law. Even at that moment, Daniel was in the front parlor with a guest who had come to see him on business in his capacity as magistrate of Leeds County.
Mick entered the house and immediately joined Katie’s song in his rich baritone.
And still on that evening, when pleasure fills up
To the highest top sparkle each heart and each cup,
Where'er my path lies, be it gloomy or bright,
My soul, happy friends, shall be with you that night;
Shall join in your revels, your sports, and your wiles,
And return to me, beaming all o'er with your smiles --
Too blest, if it tells me that, 'mid the gay cheer,
Some kind voice has murmur'd, "I wish he were here!"
Brigit changed out of her cooking apron and house cap and put on her good starched linen cap and apron, trimmed with lace tatted by Joanna, which she kept on a hook in the kitchen. She was wearing the dress she usually saved for Sundays, her brown poplin. At the neck was a coral brooch, which Daniel had given her for their fifteenth wedding anniversary, four years ago. Her honey-colored braids, now streaked with white and silver, were tucked back into a snood beneath her cap. The younger children ran into the dining room, circling the table before climbing onto their chairs. Joanna came in from the buttery and with Mick and Katy they finished the song.
Let Fate do her worst, there are relics of joy,
Bright dreams of the past, which she cannot destroy;
Which come in the night-time of sorrow and care,
And bring back the features that joy used to wear.
Long, long be my heart with such memories fill'd!
Like the vase, in which roses have once been distill'd --
You may break, you may shatter the vase, if you will,
But the scent of the roses will hang round it still.
Wee Charlie was singing, too, by the final verse; on the word “still” he made his voice soar higher and longer than the others as everyone laughed. At that moment t
here was a knock at the door. The minister had arrived.
“Joanna, please fetch your Pa,” said Brigit. “And ask his guest to stay for dinner.” Joanna slipped around the corner to the parlor, her brown and gold calico dress sweeping the floor. Her lustrous curling black hair was in a braided knot at the back of her head, while in the front it was parted in the middle and pulled down over the ears in long ringlets. Brigit was so proud of Joanna’s modest bearing and pleasant manners. They were hoping to make a good match for her but as yet there was no one Daniel thought worthy. He said she resembled his mother in looks, as well as in level-headedness and thrift. As Joanna left the room Ben Slack entered. Ben was Daniel’s assistant in the blacksmith shop. He was of Dutch and English descent, ruddy and fair-haired, with a sturdy build and diligent work habits. His Loyalist grandfather had come to Leeds County from Albany, New York in the 1700’s. Ben took all his meals with them and slept in a room over the shop. He was saving money to buy a farm. Brigit was convinced that he was sweet on Joanna, which made her nervous since Ben was a Protestant.
Brigit surveyed the table. It was a sight she had once never dreamed would be hers. The white linen tablecloth, starched with her homemade potato starch, set off the Blue Willow pattern dishes, which included a large soup tureen. Daniel had bought her the dishes for her thirtieth birthday, which had occurred the same year that Mary Ann had died. There were pewter candlesticks and utensils, given to them by Daniel’s commanding officer, as well as glass water goblets from Ireland, sent by Daniel’s brother John who had married wealthy. Daniel had made the table and chairs of walnut, Brigit had woven and dyed the linen curtains the color of elderberries. There was a crucifix on the wall over an etching of the Holy Family, based upon the work of some great artist Brigit had never heard of.
More food than she could ever have imagined as a child adorned the table. There was mutton and colcannon, soup and bread, cream for the coffee and milk for the children, as well as slabs of butter and wedges of cheese. Beets and carrots, roasted with the mutton, added color to the array. She thought of the famine in Ireland, which had raged throughout the last decade causing the death of millions. They had heard of boatloads of starving and sick people being dumped unceremoniously in Montreal, only to die in inhuman conditions. Collections were taken up throughout the various parishes to aid their fellow Irishers. How grateful Brigit was for the bounty she and Daniel enjoyed. How glad she was that her father had brought her to Canada before it was too late.
The Paradise Tree_A Novel Page 13
