"I wouldn't say no."
Patrick held up his forefinger. "I wouldn't have thought it."
Out of the corner of his eye, Liam saw Ciara reach for a glass. "Why not?" he asked.
"Yours isn't what I would call a drinking family," observed Patrick.
"You've never met my dad."
"No."
Ciara set the pint in front of him and left without speaking. "He was a drinker, I suppose, but then no more than anyone else." He frowned. "I never gave it much thought. No one has ever asked me that question before but now that I think about it, my Dad liked his drink. I never noticed it affecting him, but then work wasn't always steady. Maybe that's the reason." He paused briefly. "If ever there is a reason."
Patrick nodded.
"I don't remember it being an issue between my parents," Liam continued, his tongue unusually loose tonight. "My mother never mentioned it. She keeps things to herself which is why I can't properly answer your question." He grinned.
Again Patrick smiled. "It isn't a requirement." He nodded in Ciara's direction. "Now, tell me, did you have a falling out with that very attractive young publican?"
Liam's grin faded. He looked at Ciara and then looked away. "How did you know?"
"Neither of you has said a word to the other."
Liam shrugged. "I misjudged her, that's all. It doesn't matter."
"It doesn't matter and yet with all the pubs in town you just happened to wander into this one, did you?"
"I was hoping to find you."
Patrick looked surprised. "Really? Here, in Betty's Pub?"
"This is where I met you once before, after you came to dinner. I gave you a lift to Racecourse Road."
"I remember. How can I help you, Liam?"
"You probably have better things to do than listen to my troubles."
"Not at all. I have all the time in the world."
"It isn't something I want to advertise."
"I understand."
Liam lifted the pint to his lips, changed his mind and set it down. He stared into the dark, foamy liquid. "I may have made an error in judgment. I brought my nephew, Evan, to the square to buy a tin whistle. Ciara and her brothers were there."
"Ah, the McCarthy lads."
Diverted, Liam looked up. "Do you know them?"
"I do. Together, they're a force to be reckoned with. I wouldn't want to come upon them one dark night."
"I don't care about that," replied Liam. "They're blow-hards, more bark than bite."
"What's the problem, then?"
"Today, in the square, Ciara was very like them. I couldn't separate her from the two of them. They didn't want her around me. When I offered to take her home, she refused and left with them."
"I see."
"Do you? Because I don't. I thought I could care for her, but the idea of her going home to where they live is more than I can stomach. Why is that?"
"You've been brought up to believe they're not like the rest of us, a clan apart, so to speak, second class citizens. They're not accepted in most establishments because of their behavior and reputation. Ciara is climbing out of that. She's working and trying to educate herself but she's close to where she comes from, with a foot in both camps. Enough time hasn't passed for the likes of them and us to mix freely. They're still travelers. Until they settle into housing estates and give up the roaming, the stealing and brawling, the division remains."
Liam was silent for a long moment. "My mother said the same thing, in different words."
"It doesn't mean people can't cross over, lad."
Liam's laugh held little humor. "Family's important and life's hard enough. I can't see myself sharing a pint with Anselom and Paddy McCarthy and as far as Des McCarthy sharing Sunday dinner with Kate and my mother..." He shook his head. "It won't happen."
For the first time that night, Patrick tasted his pint, taking time to savor the yeasty flavor before setting it aside. "If that's so, I hope it hasn't gone far enough for either of you to be too disappointed."
"I am disappointed," Liam replied, "but I've made no promises."
Patrick's level gaze held a question for which words were unnecessary.
"I've done nothing I regret," Liam hurried to assure him. For some reason it was important that this man approve of him.
Patrick relaxed. "You're a good lad, Liam. Your father would be proud of you."
Liam laughed. "My father would have warned me to get out before it began."
"Don't be so sure. Ciara is a lovely girl and your dad sounds like a reasonable type."
Raised voices at the door interrupted Liam's reply. He turned to see Ciara and two burly men in the throes of a public disagreement. "Speak of the devil," Liam muttered.
Patrick turned around. "She looks like she's handling her own."
Liam nodded. "For now. If they have drink taken, she hasn't a chance."
"Will you involve yourself?"
Liam kept his eyes on Ciara and her brothers. "Only if I'm provoked, or if they lay a hand on her."
"Half the men in this room will be on them if they do."
"I'll be one of them."
Just then, Anselom McCathy spied Liam. Pointing him out, he shouted. "Your boyfriend's here, slut. Why not us?"
Liam stood.
"Shut your mouth, dirty tinker," a slurred voice called out from the shadows.
"Fuck you." Anselom tore off his jacket. "I'll kill you."
His brother laid a warning hand on his shoulder. Anselom shrugged it off.
"You and who else?" the anonymous voice answered.
Four men separated themselves from the bar and surrounded the McCarthys. "Go home, lad," one of them said. "No one will serve you here."
Ignoring the warning and unable to identify the source of the taunts, Anselom focused his rage on the man he recognized. "Come outside, Enright," he shouted. "I'll be waitin' for you."
Crossing the wide-planked wooden floor, Liam stood in front of his attacker. "I've no quarrel with you, Anselom," he said quietly, "and I won't fight you."
He strained at the arms that held him. "You're fuckin' my sister, you bastard."
"No, I'm not," replied Liam, "but if I was, it's Ciara's business and your father's, not yours. Go home and sleep off your drink."
Anselom sneered. "You're afraid of me, aren't you, pretty boy? You're afraid I'll mess up your face."
Liam grinned. "I'd be a fool if I wasn't. You're three stone heavier than me."
Anselom jerked his thumb in his brother's direction. "Paddy'll fight you."
"That might work, but I've no quarrel with Paddy either."
"I'm not fightin'," Paddy McCarthy interjected. "All I came for was a pint or two."
Furious, Anselom turned on his brother. "You won't be getting' that in here, either. Didn't you hear her?" He pointed at their sister. "She won't be servin' the likes of us. We're tinkers." He drew out the word. "She's forgettin' where she came from."
"I'm not forgetting anything." Ciara tapped a fearless finger against Anselom's chest. "I won't serve anyone who's drunk and making a nuisance of himself. You're spoiling for a fight and the drink is making you brave. Go home and mind yourself. Mam has enough troubles without bringing more down on her. You should be ashamed of yourself, Anselom McCarthy, embarrassing me in front of everyone."
Anselom ignored her. He challenged Liam. "I'm goin' but first I want you to say you won't fight me. I want everyone to hear it."
Liam nodded. Turning he faced the bar where the regulars hung on every word. "I refuse to fight Anselom McCarthy," he said, his voice carrying to the four corners. "You are witnesses." He turned back to Anselom. "Will that do it?"
"Aye. That'll do it." Anselom shrugged away from the now lax grip of the men holding him.
"One more thing." Liam lowered his voice so that only those immediately around could hear him. "Don't come here again bringing trouble on your sister, not unless you want her sacked. If that happens it'll be you who's respons
ible for bringing the groceries home to Mitchell's Crescent."
Anselom threw him one last look of loathing before disappearing out the door with Paddy, a silent shadow behind him.
Like the sun peeping from behind a dark cloud, the mood in the pub lifted and conversation resumed. Ciara smiled shyly. "Thanks, Liam."
"You were managing on your own until Anselom saw me. I did nothing."
"Yes, you did." She turned to resume her position behind the bar.
Liam spoke quickly, before his nerve deserted him. "What happened this afternoon?"
She turned back, ever direct, not misunderstanding his meaning. "Evan was with you. Sometimes, people have to put aside what they want in the interests of good judgment. Anselom isn't predictable. What if he'd provoked you? I didn't want the child to be frightened or, worse, watch you hurt. Who would have helped you? Who would have watched over Evan if you couldn't?" She sighed. "Tonight was different. You know everyone here. I really like you, Liam. I'm sorry if you misunderstood, but if it happened again, I'd do the same thing." She sighed. "I'm from the Crescent, Liam. Things are different for me than for you. I can't afford to be foolish for a principle. I'm working very hard to escape my roots but it takes everything I have. I won't let you disapprove of me."
He couldn't deny it. He had disapproved of her. "How do you live with them?"
"They aren't home much. Our paths rarely cross. I have to get back to work." She smiled. "I hope you'll ring, but if you don't, it won't damage me. I've been hurt before and no doubt will be again."
He watched her fill two pints, set them in front of her customers, return a teasing jibe, make change and wipe down the bar before he remembered he'd left Patrick in the middle of a conversation. Crossing the room, he apologized.
"Don't even think about it," replied Patrick. "I enjoyed the show." He pulled a twenty euro note from his wallet and handed it to Liam. "You're a fine young man, Liam Enright. I'll be on my way now. Your pint's on me. Take what's left and buy the lady a cup of coffee."
Chapter 34
Dolly
"Who are all these people anyway?" Dolly stood at the foot of the stairs, her hands on her hips, a frown on her face. "They're scaring Seamus. He won't come out from under the porch."
Johannah, balancing food-laden platters on both hands, stopped briefly on her way to the dining room. "It's Evan's birthday. We've invited people from town. Seamus will be fine. If he so much as bares his teeth at anyone, he'll spend the rest of the night in the tool shed."
"I don't like your tone, Johannah. It sounds as if you're threatening me."
"I'm threatening Seamus, not you." She disappeared around the corner.
Dolly considered going after her, remembered all the people in the house and decided against it. Johannah never did like confrontations. Instead, she sat down on the stairs and rested her chin in her hand. It seemed as if she'd been here forever and she didn't like it. Who in the hell was Evan anyway?
A shadow appeared at the door, followed by a large, male body. "Hello. Is that you, Dolly?"
She breathed a sigh of relief. "It is. Come in, Mickey. I'm feeling very low just now."
He stepped inside. She noted the wrapped package in his hands. "I suppose you're here for Evan's birthday, whoever he is. There are strange people all over the house."
He sat down beside her. "He's your grandson. Why are you feeling low?"
She thought a minute. "I'm no longer necessary."
"How do you mean?"
"If I wasn't here, not a single thing would change." She frowned fiercely. "Don't you dare tell me it isn't true."
"I wouldn't dream of it." He shifted and stretched out his legs as if to stay a while. "I was thinking how liberating that could be."
"Liberating? To be unnecessary? How did you come up with that?"
"Think about it, Dolly. All your life you've been responsible to your children, your husband, your home. I can only imagine the pressure you were under." He smiled. "But now that's over. You can enjoy your life. Let other people be responsible. Let them cook and clean, plan parties and write thank you cards. You, on the other hand, have nothing to do but look lovely, smile graciously and do exactly as you please. If guests stay late, you can excuse yourself and go to bed. With any luck, everything will be cleaned up by the time you come down in the morning. As far as I'm concerned that's a pretty good trade for a lifetime of caring for others."
She stared at him. He'd always been a lovely man, but sometimes his head was a bit skewed. "There is satisfaction in doing for others, Mickey Enright."
"There is satisfaction to be found in all of life's stages, Dolly Little."
She wouldn't beat around the bush. "Even in yours?"
He nodded. "Even in mine."
"Will you be here long?"
"Not too much longer, I think. Something will happen soon. I'd thought to do more good, to make it easier on everyone. Instead I've learned patience as well as a bit of acceptance. In fact, now that I think of it, this whole endeavor was more than likely for my benefit, not the others."
"I have no idea what you're talking about."
"No. I suppose not."
Dolly reached over and touched his arm. "You've done more than you think. Johannah always was independent, but not particularly strong. She's strong now. Liam is a good boy. He's a quick one, Liam is. You don't have to say anything twice."
"What about Kate?"
"Kate is... searching. She might search her entire life. Some women do."
He sighed. "I worry about Kate. I'm not sure she realizes how much she has to lose."
"I always liked you, Mickey, but you've changed."
"Have I?"
"Aye. You've a kindness to you, a sort of softness I never saw before."
"Before?"
"You know, before you came back to us."
Patrick stared at her, amazed. "You're a remarkable woman, Dolly. You've the advantage. But, will you keep this talk to yourself? I've made a promise, you see."
"Who would believe me?"
"That could be an advantage."
"If you say so." She bit her lip. "When you go, Mickey, I'd like to come with you."
He nodded. "I wish it were possible, Dolly. I really do, but the decision isn't yours, or mine, to make." He stood and held out his hand. "Shall we join the others?"
She shook her head. "You go ahead. I'm manning the door. You can expect a few surprises today. Hannie has invited half the town and Kate the other half. It should be interesting."
"If you're sure. I don't like to leave you here."
She waved him away. "Come back if it suits you. I'll be here."
Dolly watched him disappear through the door to join the party. It was a shame, really, that he'd been taken so early. She'd liked Mickey Enright from the beginning, liked him more than that first young man Hannie brought home. There was something about Francis O'Shea and that family of his that didn't ring true. Dolly had no proof but she'd always believed he hadn't done right by Johannah. Luck was with them all when she called off their engagement and married Mickey. The whole thing had happened so quickly, too quickly for respectability as far as Dolly as concerned, but she would have given more than a little respectability to be rid of Francis O'Shea. There were a few tense moments when Kate seemed caught up in the O'Shea drama with that handsome son who emigrated to America, but then she married Dermot. There was nothing wrong with Dermot Kelliher and a great deal to appreciate, even if he did have that stuffy mother. Speaking of parents, she probably should make an effort to socialize and help Johannah.
She pulled herself to her feet and was nearly into the other room when she heard the bell ring. No one ever rang the bell. People knocked, announced themselves and walked right in. It was customary in Tralee to welcome neighbors, to leave doors unlocked or, at best, to attach a house key to a string and leave it dangle through the post drop so guests could wait in comfort inside. Keys were never lost that way. The system worked quite well exce
pt when the occasional traveler caravan showed up in the town. Entire households attending weddings and funerals had been wiped clean by tinkers who read the news.
Dolly looked through the glass. This man was definitely not a tinker. She opened the door and waited.
"Hello," he said.
"Hello," she replied. "If you're comin' in, mind the mud. The floors are just washed."
Carefully, he scraped the mud from his shoes. "I'm sorry to disturb you, but I have a bit of a problem. I've hit a cow crossing the road. It came out of nowhere. I wonder if I might use your phone?"
Dolly's eyebrows lifted. "A cow did you say?"
"I did."
"Was it a cow or a bull?"
He looked nonplussed. "I'm not sure."
"Where did you hit this cow?"
"Sorry?"
"Did you hit the cow in the head?"
"No." He looked confused for a moment. "At least I don't think I did. Why do you ask?"
"If you hit the cow in the head and he lost his teeth, you might be liable, you see, because the cow wouldn't be able to eat."
Realization dawned. "Is that so?"
She saw the twinkle in his eye. He wasn't slow.
"I'm sure my insurance will take care of the cow."
She persisted. "What kind of coverage would you have?"
"I really need to use your phone."
Dolly crossed her arms. "What business do you have here in Tralee?"
He held out his hand. "My name is Jack Rafferty. I'm here to see Johannah Enright. Would you know her?"
Dolly ignored the gesture. She didn't trust men in expensive suits and posh accents. "What do you want with her?"
For a fraction of a second he hesitated before answering. "We met in Dublin. She told me to stop in when I came to Tralee."
"This is Johannah's house. We're having a birthday party. Can you come back tomorrow?"
"Yes," he said after a slight hesitation. "I'll do that. Will you tell her I stopped in?"
Just then Johannah opened the kitchen door. Her initial look of surprise turned to pleasure. "Jack, how are you? I see you've met my mother." Gently, she nudged Dolly aside. "Please come in. My grandson is having a birthday party. I hope you'll join us."
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