CHAPTER 9
The Light of a Winter Day
Christmas, 1850
Banished awhile are cares that fret,
Sad memories of grief and woe;
We make a truce with old regret
And bitter tears of long ago:
Such cares may come, such tears may flow
Before the winter shall have died;
But cares and tears must never know
The merry days of Christmastide.
─an Irish Christmas song
As Brigit mixed the bowl of frumenty she was glad the headache had subsided so that she could share Christmas dinner with her family. Charlie sat on the floor playing with the wooden farm animals, which Daniel had carved him for Christmas. Daniel and Mr. Horn had taken the other children all the way to Kitley for Christmas morning Mass but someone had to stay home and cook. Besides, she had suffered such an intense headache on Christmas Eve that she thought at first she was dying. She drank the draught that Daniel had prepared for her and it had helped the pain to fade. She was still feeling weak and shaky, however. Worse, from the rafters of the house she thought she heard Katy’s voice singing “Scent of Roses.” But it was only the wind, for her Katy was no more.
As the wind blew up spirals of snow, glittering in the sunshine, Brigit thought once more of Katy, who until one day last spring had walked in the brightness of day. She tried to turn her mind from the paralyzing memories, which would keep her from her work and make her head ache. Once she began to look back she would start to retrace the entire ordeal in her mind and ponder every moment for something that she might have done differently. Then she would not be able to move or think of anything else. She had almost caught her hand in the loom shuttle while in such a daze. She had to be more careful, and concentrate on what she was doing, or else there would be another terrible accident.
Brigit bent over the wide hearth to baste the goose that was roasting on the spit. The heat of the fire on her face brought back to her the heat of the sun on her face as she hung the clothes out to dry on that day last May . . . .
The birds were singing as if it were the first and final day of the world combined. It was indeed the first warm day of the season, which was why Brigit had decided to wash all the sheets and blankets as part of her spring cleaning. She had the huge cauldron brought outside and after each item was washed she and Joanna would haul it with wooden tongs into the washtub for rinsing. Then each would take an end of the sheet or blanket and together they would wring the water out before hanging it on the line to dry. They sang and chatted while they worked. From the blossoming orchard came the laughter of Mary and Charlie, whom Katy had stayed home from school to watch. Katy, now fifteen, loved school, especially since Mr. Horn had begun teaching; Brigit hated to keep her home but they needed someone to mind the wee ones that day. In the months that he had been there Duncan Cameron Horn had become a close friend, making their conversations at meals both lively and educational. As schoolmaster he was strict and demanding but the children in the Long Point vicinity learned as never before.
It had happened so fast. The cries of play from the apple orchard suddenly turned to screams of terror. The dog, Finn, was barking hysterically. Brigit and Joanna dropped what they were doing and ran in the direction of the shrieks. “Get Pa’s rifle!” cried Brigit to Joanna, and the latter ran back towards the house. Daniel was far afield, sowing barley, but his gun was in the house. As Brigit approached the orchard, five-year-old Mary was running towards her, wailing, tears running down her face. Behind Mary was Katy, face down upon the ground, a huge grey wolf tearing at her leg. Beneath Katy was Charlie; she must have flung herself upon him in order to shield him; only his chubby legs could be seen. Finn was jumping at the wolf, trying to distract it from Katy and Charlie.
Brigit screamed and searched the ground for a stick. When she found a big one she beat the creature until it let go of Katy. It turned towards her snarling and gnashing its fangs. Its face was covered with foaming saliva, which only served to confirm her suspicion that the beast was mad. As it leaped at her she swung her stick at it, but the wolf was stronger than she and knocked the stick out of her hand. A shot rang out; the wolf yelped and curled backwards in mid-air, as it fell to the ground writhing. She heard the sound of the rifle being reloaded before Joanna fired a second shot and the wolf lay still.
Brigit heard Daniel calling from a distance. He must have heard the screams and the shots. “Daniel!” she yelled at the top of her lungs as she stumbled towards her children on the ground. She heaved bleeding Katy into her arms as Joanna extricated little Charlie who, though sobbing inconsolably, was unscathed. “Daniel!” she shrieked again so he would know where to find them. “Take Charlie and Mary into the house!” she ordered Joanna in a quavering voice. “Burn Charlie’s clothes and scrub him from head to toe with soap and hot water!”
“Yes, Ma!” sobbed Joanna. She scooped up Charlie and ran from the orchard, with a howling Mary tottering after her. They passed Daniel and Mick, who were hurrying towards Brigit and Katy.
“‘Twas a mad wolf!” exclaimed Brigit as they approached. “It attacked Katy!”
Daniel paled when he saw Katy, who had fainted. “My God! My God!’ He took Katy from Brigit. “Examine Finn for bite marks,” he said to Mick. “If he has any, shoot him. Then burn the wolf where it lies!” Daniel carried Katy into the house and laid her upon the bed, which they kept in the kitchen near the fire. Her leg was in a bad way, bitten to the bone, bleeding profusely and beyond the skill of Daniel to dress properly. He called to Joanna, who was comforting Charlie on her lap: “Tell Ben to take a horse and ride for Dr. Matthews in Lyndhurst! Then fetch Mr. Horn. He knows something of medicine.” Joanna handed Charlie to Brigit and sped from the house.
In the meantime, Daniel dressed the wound as well as he could and bound it with the clean rags they kept for bandages. Katy flinched as he applied the whiskey to her wound but otherwise appeared to be unconscious. Mr. Horn arrived within minutes and splashed some whiskey from Daniel’s jug on his hands, rubbing them together. Brigit had heard both men agree that they followed the counsel of the medievalists who insisted that cleansing with alcohol was important in the healing process. Mr. Horn felt Katy’s pulse and spoke quietly with Daniel. Brigit had never seen either man look so grave.
“Tell me! Keep nothing from me!” Brigit cried to them. Daniel told Ellen to take the younger children upstairs and then he went over to Brigit and put his hands on her shoulders.
“Darling, the wolf had hydrophobia, which means our Katy now has it, too. We might have to be sending for the priest.”
Brigit felt a shriek rising inside her. She suppressed it and it became a long shuddering “No!”
Daniel put his arms around her and held her close. “We’ll consult with the doctor first,” he said, in a choked voice. “Right now all we can do is keep our girl as warm and comfortable as possible. And we must pray.”
The doctor did not arrive until late in the night. He redressed the wound, congratulating Daniel on dressing it so well. Then he gravely faced both parents, saying, “The other children should stay away from Katy and in fact, they should be sent away as soon as the symptoms begin.”
“Dr. Matthews, what might the symptoms be?” asked Brigit.
“There will be a fever, with chills and a sore throat, and perhaps a cough, Mrs. O’Connor,” replied the doctor. “You will know then that it is time to send the other children to the home of a relative. And send for the priest. None have ever survived hydrophobia. During the final ordeal, she might have to be tied down to keep her from further injuring herself. She will most likely refuse water. She might become lucid right before the end.”
Brigit was speechless and could do nothing but grip Daniel’s hand like a drowning soul. Daniel gripped hers as well. “We will send the younger children to my brother Charles O’Connor in Beverley when the time comes,” he said hoarsely.
A week passed as they all slipp
ed into their regular routines, except for Katy, who stayed in the bed in the kitchen as her leg healed. Soon she was chattering away to Brigit as she cooked and laughing at notes and drawings from the other children who were heroically staying away from her. Joanna sat next to her in the rocking chair and read from The Scottish Chiefs, Katy’s favorite novel. The wolf attack faded like a bad dream. Nevertheless, Daniel and Brigit would not leave her alone for an instant, and took turns sitting beside her all night.
One morning Brigit woke to find Daniel putting cold compresses on Katy’s head, which was damp with perspiration. Meanwhile she shivered so hard her teeth chattered. “It started in the night,” Daniel replied to Brigit’s inquiring gaze. “She said her head hurt, so I gave her something for the pain. But then she began having chills and a fever.”
“Why didn’t you wake me?”
“There was nothing you could have done,” said Daniel. “I am trying to bring down her fever. I woke Mick early and sent him to Granny O’Grady’s to find out where Father is. I want you to be packing the children’s things while I send word to my brother Charles.”
There was a knock at the kitchen door. Brigit opened it like a person in a dream. It was Granny O’Grady. Granny reminded her of their old apple tree; she could be anywhere from sixty-five to a hundred years old. She never altered, only endured. Her hair was covered with a turban-like scarf, with strands of grey wisps hanging down. She wore a greyish linsey-woolsey dress with a worn linen apron and a black shawl. “I have come, mo mhuirnín. I’ll be taking care of things for you.”
Brigit moved through the days that followed as if in a trance. Granny took over the cooking so Brigit could devote her energies to Katy. When she wasn’t cooking or cleaning, she sat by Katy, insisting that Brigit go to her room and sleep. Brigit hardly remembered packing the children’s things and later she realized it was because Joanna had done most of it, with help from Ellen and Margaret, who were trying to be as grown up as possible. The day after the fever began, a wagon arrived driven by their neighbor Squire Andrew MacArdle, who had come to take the children to Charles O’Connor in Beverley. The wee ones were excited because Joanna kept telling them that there were lots of children to play with at Uncle Charles’ house, plus there was a mill in Beverley that they could visit, the “grandest mill ever” as Joanna described it. Brigit trembled as they drove away; she felt as if she were losing most of her family as she had done once before, long ago in Ireland. As Charlie and Mary shouted with glee, Margaret and Bridget Gabrielle looked anxious. Ellen waved her handkerchief at Brigit and wept; she did not stop waving until the wagon rounded the bend in the road. Brigit went into the house and sobbed.
The children departed none too soon, because that night Katy began to shriek and writhe in pain. She could no longer swallow and gradually a deathly froth surrounded her mouth. Her eyes rolled into her head and the sounds she made resembled nothing human. Daniel bound her to the bed with a rope thick enough not to cut her. Then Brigit and Daniel kept vigil together. There was nothing they could do but watch and pray. They prayed the rosary all night as Katy flailed against her bonds and screamed. Joanna and Granny O’Grady joined them. Eventually Mr. Horn entered quietly, sitting in a distant corner of the kitchen with his head in his hands. Brigit worried. Mick had not yet returned with the priest.
Around noon the next day, Mick arrived with a young priest whom Brigit had never met. He said his name was Fr. Spratt and she could tell he had never seen a sight so horrific as Katy in the throes of her illness. Neither had any of them, for that matter, witnessed such agony. All Brigit could think of was that she did not know how Katy would receive Holy Viaticum when she could not swallow. And she was not even able to confess. But Father Spratt could see that, and began to anoint her. He then gave her the Apostolic Blessing. “Our help is in the name of the Lord.”
Daniel made the response: “Who made heaven and earth.”
Father Spratt continued: “Do not keep in mind, O Lord, the offenses of your servant nor take vengeance on her sins. Lord, have mercy. Christ, have mercy. Lord, have mercy. Our Father . . . .”
As Brigit knelt and prayed she felt Joanna’s arm go around her. Katy continued to growl in a bestial fashion. Then suddenly, she fell silent. Father Spratt recited the prayers for the departing soul.
Go forth, O Christian soul, out of this world, in the Name of God the Father almighty, Who created you; in the Name of Jesus Christ, the Son of the living God, Who suffered for you; in the Name of the Holy Ghost, Who sanctified you, in the name of the holy and glorious Mary, Virgin and Mother of God; in the name of the angels, archangels, thrones and dominions, cherubim and seraphim; in the name of the patriarchs and prophets, of the holy apostles and evangelists, of the holy martyrs, confessors, monks and hermits, of the holy virgins, and of all the saints of God; may your place be this day in peace, and your abode in Holy Sion. Through Christ our Lord. Amen.
As Father Spratt prayed, Katy fell into a peaceful slumber. She was still sleeping when the priest took his leave. Brigit felt herself near collapse and could not move. She was vaguely aware of Daniel taking her in his arms and carrying her to her room, where she slept as if she herself were on the threshold of death. When she awoke she did not know how much time had gone by. It seemed to be noon but of what day she knew not. The window of her room was open and a breeze was pouring in. She saw Granny O’Grady standing over her. “Come,” the old woman said.
Brigit hastened to the kitchen. Katy was still in the world. Her eyes were open, and she was talking to Daniel. Her eyes seemed more brilliant and blue than ever. Brigit took her limp white hand and kissed it. “Katy me darling,” was all she could say.
“Mama” whispered Katy. “There’s a beautiful lake. And an island. The boat will take me . . . and the sun is shining.” She smiled and sent forth a long happy sigh as her soul departed.
Brigit tore at her hair, falling to her knees. She wailed as did the mourning women of Ireland. “Katy, Katy, Catharine Maria!” she keened over and over. She rose, taking Katy’s body into her arms and covered her with tears. After a few minutes she felt Daniel’s hands on her shoulders.
“Brigit darling, Katy is at peace with the angels and saints. She is with God and Our Lady. There is no need to despair.” Brigit released Katy, and wept in Daniel’s arms.
Brigit brought out her tablecloth of the finest Irish linen, sent as a gift from Daniel’s wealthy brother John several years ago, before the famine had devastated Ireland. The family would be arriving home from Mass soon and she wanted everything to be ready. After she set the table, she gave the goose another turn on the spit and sampled the apple and potato stuffing. The puddings were ready, including the suet and the plum as well as the frumenty; they made the entire room smell of spirits. The ham has been ready since yesterday and she had only to slice it. The bread was cooling on the hickory kitchen table; the cheeses, butter and cream were already on the dinner table. The cabbage, turnips and parsnips could simmer in their pot a bit longer.
Charlie needed to use the chamber pot; she kept one in the kitchen for every baby in the family. After he finished his business, Brigit took him onto her lap in the rocking chair by the fire. It was time for both of them to have a short nap. She had sat up most of the night with Daniel, Mick, Joanna, Ben Slack, and Duncan Horn, watching the Yule Log burn, swapping stories, eating mince pies and drinking hot whiskey. Every room was adorned with holly, pine and fir branches so that the scents of the forest pervaded the house. Lighted candles in each window cast a warm glow, a comforting tradition of symbolically lighting the way for the Holy Family as they sought shelter in the darkness of the first Christmas Eve. While the night was heavy with the holy joy of Christmas, the usual merriment was subdued, each of them recalling that it was supposed to have been Katy’s first time to stay up late on Christmas Eve.
Brigit had learned long ago to take cat naps with a snoozing baby or toddler in her arms. All was quiet, except for the sizzling goose, the click
ing clock in the parlor, and the cat purring on Daniel’s chair. She rocked and sang a Christmas song until Charlie fell asleep.
Hang up the holly, nor forget
The waxen-berried mistletoe;
What matter if the wind be wet?
And roads be slushed with melting snow?
The lamplight's gleam, the yule-log's glow,
Shall brighten all the hours that glide,
And we will bless them as they go
The merry days of Christmastide.
Next year, Joanna would stay behind and fix dinner so Brigit could go to Christmas Mass. She wished there was a church close enough so that she could have gone to an early Mass and come home in time to cook. She had vague memories of what it was like in Ireland, where there was a chapel in every village and three Masses on Christmas day, so that everyone could make it to Mass, including the cooks. But here in the wilderness there was one Mass several hours away, if they were lucky. There would be no dinner if someone did not stay behind to prepare it. As it was they would be eating around three in the afternoon.
Knowing how cold it was outside, and how cold it was possible for a person to be, Brigit felt especially warm and safe with her son in her arms. She gazed on his face; sleep made his impish features angelic. As she rocked before the crackling fire she turned to watch out the window for the family. Near the window was the old apple tree, its naked gnarled branches laden with clumps of snow, which the wind was turning to sparkling faery dust, like thousands and thousands of stars. It looked like the Tree of Life that grew in Paradise, as described in the Apocalypse which Daniel had often read aloud to them. She had always believed in Heaven, but for a few moments she more than believed, she saw, with the eyes of her heart, the real place where their Katy now lived in happiness beyond anything in this world. She kissed Charlie’s forehead. How doubly precious Charlie had become to her since their Katy had given her life to save him.
The Paradise Tree_A Novel Page 15
