by Fox Brison
The occasional cluck as Red dreamt of being an eagle soaring amongst the clouds was a counterpoint to the rustle of the paper I held in my hand for the last time.
The last time.
I read Maggie’s letter and studied the picture. I had expressed my gratitude, given my love, and made my peace. Now it was time to say goodbye.
“You’re quiet.” Elisha came out of the shadows in the dimly lit room and I immediately felt a pang of guilt.
“Sorry, did I wake you with my nocturnal wanderings?” It was indicative of my state of mind that I didn’t ogle her firm thighs poking out of her boxer shorts as she pulled them up to her chest.
“No, not at all. I needed the loo.” She glanced at the clock. “Ten past three? Jaysus I thought I’d been asleep for ten hours not three.”
“How do you feel?” She appeared less strained, and there was a hint of sleep induced colour to her soft cheeks.
“A hundred times better thanks to you. And I see we have a guest.” I raised a quizzical eyebrow. “Red,” she replied to my question.
“Ah yes, well I thought you might appreciate a cuddle from your other scrawny bird tonight.”
“Hey don’t say that,” she said firmly. “Red isn’t scrawny!” Smiling she bumped my shoulder.
“Ha ha, very funny! You are feeling better!”
“Brianna, seriously you are not scrawny, you’re my lean, mean, loving machine.” She sat forward and placed her hand on my knee. “Are you going to tell me what’s up?"
“Just thinking.”
“About?” She took the photo from unresisting fingers. “Who’s this?”
“Maggie,” I said softly.
“Woah, you have a real look of her.” She peered intently at the image of the young girl.
“Would you like to read the letter she left me?”
“Yes, I mean if you’d like me to.” I handed over the plain white paper and Elisha gave me back the photo. They were still as pristine as the moment I took them out of the wooden box at my parent’s house, even though I’d spent hours running my finger over a young Maggie smiling warmly at the camera. There was something about the little girl and not just because we shared the same nose, both causing shadows that could tell the time! Bless her. I wondered if she was teased as relentlessly as I was. Thankfully by high school I’d grown in to mine and the ridicule lessened, or perhaps by then my skin was thicker and I no longer felt the stinging barbs. However, it wasn’t so much her face that resonated, but the expression on it. I traced my cheeks and jaw. Was it something we shared? Would Maggie have looked like me if she had lived?
“Bri…? Bri?”
“Hmm?”
“I lost you there for a minute.”
“Sorry.” I leaned into her and Elisha wrapped her arm around my shoulder which proved a little awkward. After a series of failed attempts to get comfortable I rested my head in her lap and lay down.
“Happy?” she asked playfully.
“Incredibly,” I replied drowsily.
“Me too.” She started reading and a few moments later bent down and kissed my forehead.
“This is a beautiful letter, Bri. Poignant and beautiful. I don’t get the sense Maggie rejected you. She made the ultimate sacrifice and gave you a truly magnanimous gift. It can’t have been easy.”
“I know. I told her I understood when we went to Glasnevin.”
Elisha continued reading and said, “St Patrick’s Mountains.” There was the suggestion of a smile in her voice. I assumed she was recalling our first, and only, aborted attempt at Family Reunited. That was a fun game show!
“Yeah, Croagh Patrick must have been very special to her.”
“No, you don’t understand. Croagh Patrick is a mountain. Singular. It isn’t known as St. Patrick’s Mountains. These mountains-”
I sat up, a slight glow from behind the sooty glass of the stove casting atmospheric shadows into the far reaches of the living room. “The Ox Mountains, yes.”
“Are known as St Patrick’s Mountains,” she explained equably.
“Really?”
“Really.”
I burst out laughing. “Poor Edward!” My eyes twinkled mischievously and she chuckled in memory.
“But you know what this means?” She paused.
“Go on,” I encouraged when she remained silent.
“We’ve been searching in the wrong place!” She declared dramatically.
I instantly doused the flames of excitement. “It doesn’t matter, none of this matters anymore. I’ve been thinking about it for the last couple of hours. What happened to Patrick made me realise that we only have one life to live. I need to start living in the now and stop peering myopically into the past for answers. I don’t want to miss anything, to lose anything because I didn’t see it.”
“That’s a good philosophy.”
“And one which I will strictly adhere to,” I said quietly. “I need to make things right with my parents, especially my Dad. I was such a daddy’s girl and it really hurts to think that he’s back home drinking his emotions.”
“He’s still upset you’re here?”
“Incredibly. He can barely talk to me on the phone. I was considering going to see him, try to make things right. It can’t go on this way. I know time is tight and it isn’t Galway or Paris, but would you fancy coming to Romford with me?”
“I’d go to the ends of the earth for you,” Elisha said softly. “We’ll worry about time when we have to.”
“God I really lucked out finding you.”
“We both did.” She kissed my hand.
“It’s weird. I came to Ireland hoping to discover where I came from but I’ve discovered something far more important.” This time I paused so I could look into her eyes, so I could stare into the very depths of her soul. “I’ve found where I belong.” Okay, so flames reignited.
“You mean?” she asked, hoping.
“I know it’s early days and I’m not putting any pressure on you, or on us, but I don’t see a future without you in it.” Elisha cradled my face and kissed me, her own special seal of approval.
I could get accustomed to signing off on all our agreements this way.
“You scare me sometimes,” she admitted.
I couldn’t help but laugh. “Really?”
“Oh yes. I spoke to Shannon a few days ago, basically sounding her out about herself and Kate taking over the day to day running of the camp should the need arise.”
I, fleetingly, thought about Elisha moving to Romford. Now that was scary. I couldn’t see it, although her willingness to forgo everything she’d worked for to be with me?
Swoon!
“I could never ask you to leave these mountains or the Free to Dream project. I know how much they mean to you. And honestly I felt an affinity with this place almost immediately, even with the odd rat!” I said wryly.
“I’m so glad,” she sighed in an exaggerated manner and I couldn’t help but chortle at her antics.
“Maradona?” I suddenly asked and Elisha held her head in her hands.
“I hoped you’d missed that one!”
“Nu huh.” I grinned.
“It was meant to be Madonna.”
“Religion or iconic pop star?” I teased.
She winked. “Knowing my mammy, I’d say the latter, although it’s irrelevant because Daddy had had a few and the registrar mis-understood his drunken slur as Maradona!”
She had gone and done it again, made me laugh during a time of sorrow. “Christ, how did that go down at school?”
“Surprisingly not too bad. No offence but after the hand of God goal he scored against England in the Mexico world cup, people thought Da did it on purpose, even though that happened two years after I was born!”
I pulled her to her feet and picked up the box. Opening the sideboard door, I tucked it in behind three large serving dishes. This time nothing called me back, this time nothing compelled me to reach in and rip open a wormhole to the
past.
This time I didn’t need to search the past to understand my future.
My future was Elisha Maradona Callery.
Chapter 43
Brianna
“I told Bridget we’d be by at five to pick her up,” Elisha called from the doorway separating the kitchen and living room. She carried in a tray with sandwiches and two cans of coke balanced on top. “How did the meeting with Dom go?”
“We’re still on schedule,” I smiled with a hint of smug relief. “However, I won’t have much spare time over the next few weeks. We’re in the middle of first fix and I’ll have to be on hand to deal with trades. Give that lot an inch and they’ll fuck everything up!” I was concerned Elisha was taking on too much. Picking up the slack at Patrick’s farm, helping Thomas and with the build heading to a conclusion, she would have plenty to organise to get the camp up and running. Her shoulders may have been broad, but there was only so much one person could do.
“Speaking of Dom, he’s offered to help out at Pat’s farm. Himself and Declan Murphy. We’re going to meet at the Fiddler’s tomorrow night and draw up a schedule of who can do what and when.”
“Thanks be to God,” I said.
“Jaysus! You sounded just like Biddy.” She widened her eyes, a look of terror crossing her face.
“Be afraid,” I intoned and then chuckled. “When I’m in my seventies I hope I’m half as fit as she is.”
“You think Bridget’s fit? Should I be worried?”
“Health wise you eejit! Anyway I’m glad the lads are helping out. I had visions of you collapsing through physical and mental exhaustion.”
“I’ll be fine,” she waved off my concern. “I’ll tell Thomas not to expect me to be around as much when we go to Da’s for dinner on Thursday.” We both shuddered because that could go either way depending on Isabella’s mood.
“You know she only invited us because she wants the gossip,” I said cynically.
“Maybe, but perhaps she is genuinely making an effort,” Elisha sighed. “I don’t know, Bri. I keep hoping she’ll change, and I keep giving her chance after chance. She’s family.”
“Isabella doesn’t deserve a sister like you. If she was my sister, I’d probably be in jail.”
“It’s just as well you’re an only child!” she said and winked. “What’s that?” Elisha changed the subject and pointed at the sheet music I’d been studying.
“‘The Fields of Athenry.’ I’ve never played it before and wanted to practise before we left. I thought Patrick might find it comforting when he came out of recovery.”
“That’s really sweet, Bri. Mind you do love the maudlin, don’t you,” she observed.
“It makes the heart poetic.” I began humming the tune. It was haunting, especially when paired with the words and the story behind it.
“Truly, but why don’t you play that one from the pub, you said you learnt it for school. Maggie’s Waltz?” She said quizzically. “Patrick loved that one; remember he said no one ever played it as well as you did.”
It was astounding the amount of times Elisha did or said something that made my heart stutter. We’d become totally immersed in each other’s lives, and although I didn’t have a photographic memory, not for lots of little things, but then they aren’t as important…
I narrowed my eyes.
I suddenly realised I’d had it completely wrong all these years. Like the stars in the sky, the million little pinpricks of light you saw every day impacted more than the ostentatious comets that ultimately had negligible substance and were over in a flash. Elisha was my Milky Way. She not only listened to me, but noticed the minutiae of our daily lives and cared enough to remember.
I hoped I was returning the favour.
I wasn’t certain if smearing an inch of ketchup on her bacon butty compared, but it was a start. Recalling those small details could make a relationship, never mind break it, and I made a solemn promise there and then to never stop paying attention to the little things.
Elisha deserved nothing less.
***
Bridget was sat at the kitchen table when we arrived. Her eyes were heavy and the dark circles surrounding them suggested she had barely slept for four winks never mind forty.
“Are you feeling okay?” Elisha asked.
“Yes. Memories.” Bridget replied succinctly.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Elisha took a seat next to her, and I stood with my back leaning against the counter ready to leave should Bridget want privacy.
“No… no it’s fine. Now, will it be light enough to put the chickens away when we get home?” I could see from the worry lines creasing Elisha’s forehead that she wanted to push, but for the moment she left well alone. Bridget was very good at compartmentalising things.
Forget the memories. Deal with the chickens. Visit Patrick.
You gotta love the pragmatism of age.
***
The hospital was a dreary place, but thankfully we didn’t have a lot of waiting around. Pat sailed through his operation and Doctor Hynes said we could see him the minute he returned from recovery. Unfortunately he nodded off in transit. Elisha decided refreshments were the order of the day, and whilst she went to the café for tea and scones (sometimes I wondered if there was anything else to have with a cup of tea in Ireland) myself and Biddy remained by Pat’s side.
I unpacked my instrument from its case. I brought the acoustic violin because I thought it was more appropriate for a hospital setting than the electric one! “Do you mind?” I asked Biddy.
“Not at all. It was a wonderful idea to bring it, Brianna.”
I began to play and Biddy held Pat’s hand. After a few bars, a smile spread across his face. Elisha returned with our tea and as she closed the door behind her, Pat opened his eyes, looked at me and slurred, “Tha’s ma lass, Maggie May.” His eyes shuttered and he was gone again. I stopped playing and glanced at Elisha first, who shook her head and shrugged, and then at Biddy. She looked a million miles away, or perhaps it was a million years. Her expression switched back and forth between joy and sadness, bittersweet memories singing a refrain in her mind.
Pat spent the next half hour drifting in and out of consciousness. It was disconcerting and I could see Elisha was growing concerned. “Excuse me,” she said to the nurse who had arrived to take his vitals, “Is this normal? He can hardly keep his eyes open and when he does, he seems disorientated and confused.”
“That’s to be expected,” the nurse assured with a comforting smile. “It can take a good twenty-four hours for the effects of anaesthesia to wear off completely.” This put Elisha at ease and we all relaxed. I played another couple of songs, but none initiated the response as Maggie’s Waltz.
What was it about that song which affected Pat so deeply?
***
I watched the evening drawing in, every kilometre bringing us closer to home, and as we passed the Fiddler’s something occurred to me. “I wouldn’t have pegged Patrick for a Rod Stewart fan.”
“He isn’t,” Biddy said.
“I wasn’t even playing that song,” I added. “It was Maggie’s Waltz.”
“Yes, I know.” Her response was brusque.
“So where does Maggie May come from?” Elisha interjected.
Bridget laughed. It was quiet, desolate and barely audible. The next three words, however, were as clear as a bell. “Our daughter, Ann.”
It was one of those shocking moments when your first response is to laugh. Also, the expression on Elisha’s face was hilarious, a cross between what the fuck and who the hell are you?
“Leesh!” I shouted as she almost missed the bend.
“Feck! Sorry!” She drove on for another few minutes and then, “Daughter?” was finally spat out.
“Yes. Pat and I tried for years and had given up hope when a miracle happened, but we couldn’t agree on a name. I wanted to call her Ann after my grandmother and Pat wanted to name her Margaret after his mother.” She
chuckled, wryly this time. “We thought the fairest way was to toss a coin, so we did and I won. But Pat, well you know how stubborn he can be, refused to accept the outcome and always referred to her as his Maggie May because that’s when she was born.”
We drew up outside Biddy’s house and she quickly hopped out. “Tanks a million for the lift, girls, I’ll see you tomorrow.” Elisha and I stared at each other in the rear view mirror.
Talk about a cliff hanger!
“Daughter?” I asked Elisha as we drove back down the lane.
“I’m shocked,” she said.
“You had no idea?”
“Not a bloody clue.”
“Did your dad never mention her?”
“No,” she said hesitantly. “I wonder why? He’s lived next to them all his life.”
“Perhaps she died,” I murmured.
“I suppose that would explain why they never mention her, especially if she died when she was a baby. Imagine trying all those years only for her to be snatched away before they even got a chance to know her.”
“It would almost be too much to bear.” I held onto Elisha’s hand, both of us requiring comfort from the melancholic thoughts of babies dying before they’d had a chance of a life.
Chapter 44
Brianna
I finished chopping the lettuce and tossed in chicken and bacon. Caesar salad, my favourite. If I never saw another cheese sandwich I’d be happy! Elisha and I had arranged to meet for lunch by the waterfall. She was in town at the local employment office arranging interviews for key workers, and my morning was taken up arguing with a plumber.
I needed the fresh air.
The past two weeks had been crazy. We’d barely seen each other, an hour in the evening when we were both too tired to do anything but snuggle if we were lucky. I was working late down at the site and Elisha was taking Biddy to the hospital, often not returning until it was dark. The scarce moments we did manage to sneak in were usually interrupted by a vibrating or ringing phone.
