Tirnan'Oge

by Amanda McIntyre

  He wondered which of those Meg would turn out to be.

  He sat across from her and tried not to ask too many questions though his mind swirled with them. She explained how she and William went to Monte Carlo together and where she’d been when she heard that his car had gone over the wall on a sharp curve.

  Deeply saddened in hearing the details, Roan considered how William lived his life with no restrictions, no fear. “I’m sorry he didn’t know. I think he would have been happy.”

  A tear slid down her cheek. “Do you think so? I had planned to tell him that I’d missed my monthly, but I never got the chance and then I forgot about it. My nerves were so shattered.”

  Roan nodded, unsure what to do, so he took a sip of his tea.

  The echo of the mantle clock’s steady ticking seemed to fill the silent room.

  “Look, Roan, I’ve no where else to go. My family is very strict and they said if I wanted to come back home, I’d have to give the baby up. After all, I’m not married. Of course, never mind that they took my older sister and her three children in after that drunken slob of a husband left them.”

  She sniffed, wiping her nose on a hankie that looked as though it was well used. “My mother indicated that if I was old enough to get myself into such a mess, then I could bloody well get myself out of it.”

  He frowned at the thought of a parent turning away their child, even one of Meghan’s age and capability. His heart broke for her. “Have you got any relatives I could contact for you? Perhaps someone in the States?” he asked as he considered what portion of William’s estate was left that he could give her to start a new life with a child.

  “No, the only siblings I have are still at home or have families of their own.” She grew silent as she stared at the protrusion in her lap. “Maybe I should have been more careful, but I loved William, more than anything, and I know he loved me.”

  She swallowed before continuing. “There are some who thought I wasn’t good enough for him, but he always treated me special, you know? I just assumed that we’d get married one day. I never thought anything like this would happen.”

  Roan didn’t hesitate at his next thought. “Meghan, you and the child should stay here. At least until you’re able to decide what you want to do.”

  She dropped her face in her hands and great sobs racked her body.

  Unsure of how he planned to follow through with his offer, Roan dropped to his knees in front of her. Awkwardly, he rested his hands in his lap and then on the arms of the chiar, nervous as to what to do with them. “Look Meghan, I’m not much of a conversationalist. I’m pretty much a recluse and there are those in town who find me a bit eccentric, if not crazy, because of my beliefs.”

  “You mean your stories about faeries, right?”

  She sniffled and gave him a weary smile. He noted the deep circles of fatigue beneath her otherwise lovely eyes. Roan wondered how long she’d been wandering around trying to figure out what to do. The fact she carried William’s child was more than enough of a reason to help her.

  “Yeah.” If she thought him as much a lunatic as others, she didn’t let it show on her face.

  “William told me about your fascination with the old stories and legends. It was after that day at the pond. Do you remember that afternoon, when you disappeared on us?”

  Roan smiled. Had a day gone by when he hadn’t thought of that afternoon? It’s all that kept him from going crazy as some claimed him to be. “Yes, I remember. I behaved rather badly toward your girlfriend, I also recall.” He averted his gaze to her stomach.

  Meghan smoothed her palm over sweater. “As I recall, Clarissa behaved poorly. Oh, quick, put your hand here, no, right here.”

  She grabbed his hand and placed it on her belly.

  “There, do you feel that?”

  I small lump nudged at his palm and he jerked, astounded at the life inside this stranger. A life that was in part due to the love his dearest friend had for this woman. How could he not feel compassion for her?

  “You know, my grandmother used to tell me stories when I was little. Maybe you can use some of them for your research?”

  And seated in front of the crackling fire on a chilly autumn night, their relationship was forged. For now, all she needed was a roof over her head and a midwife when it was her time.

  Roan glanced up at Meghan, his hand still resting on her belly. For the first time since William’s death, he saw in her eyes, life beyond his sequestered state… that and friendship. “That would be wonderful,” he remarked.

  ***

  Roan rubbed his eyes and looked up to see Meghan through the open door of the kitchen. Her swollen belly filled with his best friend’s child protruded beneath the white apron she wore. Fortunate for him, she loved to cook and he was all too willing to enjoy her experimental tinkering with recipes. It was a companionable existence and over the past few weeks, his affection for her had grown as her presence nestled commonplace in his heart. Yes, if he had to guess, he would say that on some level he was falling in love with Meghan, or at least with the idea of what loving another human being was like.

  If indeed he could manage to have a normal life, perhaps caring for Meghan and raising William’s child would give him that chance.

  “Supper’s on, Roan. Don’t be long, it’ll get cold,” she called from the kitchen.

  He considered that Meghan seemed happy here, comfortable in the arrangement between them. Though he’d not specifically asked her, she appeared content. Could that mean she’d grown too in her affection for him?

  He pulled out the chair across from her and scanned the simple additions she made every time she set a table. Fresh flowers graced each meal, cloth napkins were folded neatly beneath his fork. She’d brought a great deal of light to his lonely existence.

  She took his bowl and ladled it full with a rich lamb stew. The aroma reminded him of the past. Happier times when he sat in the kitchen with both of his grandparents.

  “Shall I give thanks, then?” he stated, taking the bowl from her. Roan realized after he’d spoke that those were the very words his father used each night at the table.

  There was a flash of confusion on Meghan’s face before she nodded and bowed her head. Roan followed and chose his next words very carefully. “Thank you, Lord, for this bounty and for those who prepared it. And thank you for good friends and this warm house and the promise of new life. Amen.” He glanced up as he reached for his spoon. She held his gaze, studying him.

  “What’s that look? Did you think I wasn’t capable of prayer?”

  She shrugged her slender shoulders in response as a small smile played on her lips. “I’ve been here nearly three months and not once have you blessed a meal. Perhaps you simply appreciate my cooking more, or you’re beginning to have grave concerns over it.”

  She picked up the loaf of fresh baked bread and broke off a hunk, handing it to him. Her smile remained in place.

  “Your cooking is exceptional, Meghan. If I’ve failed in expressing that before now, accept my apologies. I guess I’m not used to having a most gifted woman in my house.

  “Gifted, is it?” She smiled up at him with her spoon paused in midair. “What is it you have on your mind, Roan McNamara?”

  “What makes you think I have anything on my mind?” His remark had a defensive ring to it.

  “Because, Mr. McNamara, you never strike up a conversation with me at the table. So it’s my guess that you have something weighing heavy on your mind that you’re wantin’ to get out?”

  Roan cleared his throat. True she was in her assessment of him. He was nervous, very nervous. Conversation with women had never been his strength. That was William’s expertise…obviously.

  Uncertain, he focused on the soup in front of him, keeping silent. How could he know if what he felt for Meghan was more than what he felt for Feeorin? Was he willing to give up his life for Meghan? Certainly, if she was in imminent danger, he’d do anything to protect her. It w
as his duty as William’s friend. Nevertheless, did he love her and was his love enough?

  “Do you miss William, Meghan?”

  She didn’t mask her look of surprise.

  “I’m reminded of him everyday.” She patted her belly. “Of course, I miss him.” Her brows pinched together with her curious expression. “Why do you ask? Don’t you miss him?”

  “Of course. What I meant was, well, can you imagine what it’s going to be like, raising a child alone? I mean do you think you’ll ever love anyone else as you loved William?”

  She stopped eating and he realized she was beginning to get the point he’d been stammering to convey.

  “Someone who can help me raise the baby?”

  “Yes, that.” Roan shrugged, but refused to look directly at her just yet.

  “Someone to take care of me, be a warm body to lie next to each night? A trusted companion, perhaps?”

  Roan’s gaze drifted up, meeting her steady gaze. He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. “Uh, yes, I venture to say that would be part of it, yes.” He wasn’t at all sure where this was leading, or for that matter, if it would be better to let things drop right now. He felt a stab of betrayal, as though he was skating close to defiling the relationship she’d had with William. With the shoe placed on the proverbial “other” foot, he was less comfortable with the idea that Meghan might have developed real feelings for him.

  She rose from the table and came to his side. “Look at me, Roan.”

  He swallowed and turned to face her. She was indeed a lovely woman, made more so with her current state. Her dark hair cascaded free over her shoulders in beautiful think waves, and her green eyes sparkled with a zest for life that was so like what he wanted for himself. Her smile, the same he’d come to know intimately over the past couple of months, she shared with him now.

  Meghan cradled his face in her soft hands and held his gaze as she lowered her mouth to his.

  The kiss was gentle, tentative in its exploration, tender as a spring morning. And Roan wished for a spark to appear, a sign to show him that this crazy idea of his might be plausible.

  However, there was no spark, not like when he kissed Feeorin.

  Her lips tasted of the sweet lamb stew and scents that were unique to Meghan alone. She was a special woman, carrying a very special child. But her kiss didn’t evoke the hunger of desire that a man should have for a woman he loves.

  “You are a generous and kind man, Roan McNamara, and a handsome one. William was lucky to call you his friend.”

  She straightened and regarded him a moment before she returned to her seat.

  “Still a woman can tell a man’s desire by his kiss, and my dear friend, your heart is already taken. Of that I have no doubt.”

  She resumed eating her meal as though nothing had happened. Roan stared down at his bowl for a moment dealing with her words. Panic, quiet though it was, edged its way into Roan’s mind. Fear made his mouth dry. What if he never had either a human love or the love of his Feeorin? Was he destined then to live his life completely alone?

  “In time, Meghan, I’m certain I could feel for you as William did. I am or can be a very passionate man.”

  She offered him a smile filled with warmth that eased his heart some.

  “I don’t question your passion or your affection for me. That is most clear, my friend. I do believe that you would make a cherished companion. And no doubt an exquisite lover, not to mention a responsible and loving husband and father.”

  His cheeks warmed at her expressions of praise, yet he was even more confused. “Then you do see where I am going with this?”

  “Of course, and I am grateful again for your kindness.”

  “I’m not trying to be kind, Meghan, I’m trying to tell you that I’ve grown in affection towards you.”

  Her laugh was light, filled with joy, and he thought how wonderful it would be to hear that laughter in this quiet house for the rest of his days.

  “Roan, don’t you see? I would only be a substitute. Even if I were to allow myself the luxury and undoubted pleasure of staying here, of perhaps becoming your wife, it would only be a shell of what a marriage should be.”

  “I have a strong will, Meghan. When I set my mind to a task, I’m proud to say I accomplish my objective.”

  Her expression softened with her smile. “That much is true, I’ve seen it firsthand. Your tenacity is just this side of bull-headed and stubborn, in fact. And that’s what surprises me most about this conversation.”

  “Why should it surprise you? Surely you sense how I care for you?” Deep down, he knew she was right, but his human reason fought the idea of continuing to live this life in solitude with the prospect that he might never see Feeorin again. Why couldn’t he have the best of both worlds? Meghan supported his work, she’d helped him in documentation and research. Yet his stubborn nature, the very one she spoke of, pushed mentally against the door that seemed to be closing on him.

  “Of course, I do, and I’ll forever be grateful—”

  “Grateful,” he snorted in defense.

  “I will not be your substitute, Roan. It’s clear to me, even if it’s not entirely clear to you, that you’re in love. However, it’s not with me. This much I know from working beside you these past weeks.”

  She shrugged. “Whether your experiences are real or imagined, they are as much a part of you as your belief in the existence of the legends you write about.”

  “But I haven’t seen Feeroin in years,” Roan pleaded as he stood and faced from her. He didn’t want her to see the loneliness in his eyes. He braced his hands on the counter and stared out into the darkening twilight purple sky. He sensed Meg beside him, even before her hand covered his.

  “I’m not willing to share you with the memory that holds you still. And I wouldn’t expect you to do any less for me.”

  He turned to look at her then, taking in her kind and gentle face. She’d been a warm, friendly companion, a sweet reminder of all he missed, of all that he might never have in this lifetime.”

  “Of course, you’re right. Come here.” He pulled her into his embrace, her rotund belly pressing to his stomach. “It was selfish of me to even think of asking you to see me as you once did William.”

  “No, Roan.” She leaned back and looked up at him. “You haven’t got a selfish bone in your body. It’s me who is selfish, because I cannot give you what you desire.”

  “And you think you know what that is?” He drew her close, resting his chin on the top of her head. The scent of her hair quieted his frustration to a degree.

  “You want both worlds. You fear that you might miss love in this life and yet your heart has already experienced a love deeper that most of us ever find. Whatever happened to you out there, that love has sustained you, driven you to do your writing. I cannot compete, nor would I want to distract you with the responsibility of a wife and child, from such a dedicated love.”

  She made sense and her explanation defined his innermost feelings with great clarity. “You and I are quite the pair, aren’t we Meghan?”

  “True enough.” She looked up at him with a bright smile that lit up her face. “And you’re quite the good kisser, Roan McNamara. Makes me think if I weren’t waddling around with this bundle I might be tempted to parlay you into a tumble”

  She laughed and leaned into his embrace. The baby kicked and he felt it against his stomach. Roan held her at arm’s length, his brow raised. “It would seem the wee one doesn’t quite agree with his mother’s wicked thoughts.”

  “Ah now, it’s no more than a kick reminding us both of our place in this world.”

  Roan sobered as he realized his objective in this world, thanks in part to Meghan’s insight. What would happen after the child was born? If he had any say at all, he’d make sure that he was never very far away to see they were well taken care of.

  ***

  The child arrived one spring evening, just as the purple streaks of sunset stretched th
eir sinewy fingers across the horizon.

  He placed the warm crumb cake and small pitcher of cream on the ground near the backdoor steps. As he straightened, his gaze caught the dark silhouettes of trees acting sentinel around the pond. A cry of new life peeled through the silent countryside and he smiled. A wisp of melancholy blew across his heart as he imagined what it might have been like to have children. If he’d made other choices in his life, would he and Feeorin have had children?

  “Congratulations, William,” he whispered to the darkening sky.

  Later that evening after the midwife had gone, leaving a set of instructions with Roan, he sat on the edge of Meg’s bed, in awe of the miracle she held wrapped and secure in her arms.

  “He’s quite a good looking chap, Meg. William would be proud.” Tears pricked at the back of Roan’s eyes and he turned away, under pretext of handing Meghan the cup of tea he’d brought up for her.

  He’d put her in the master bedroom. It was suited to her, with its pale yellow floral roses, faded now with time.

  “His name is William Roan Jr., after the two men in this world I have loved the most.” Meghan smiled up at him as the young babe slept in her arms. “Would you like to hold him?”

  Roan was moved to tears, not for the generosity though it humbled and gladdened him immeasurably, but for his loss. For living without the one person he loved more than life itself—Feeorin. “It’s a lovely name, of course.” Roan placed the cup on the nightstand and wiped his hands on his pantlegs. He accepted the child into his arms and cradled him close to his chest. He held the infant like a glass doll and walked to the window overlooking the backyard. Just beyond the roof, stood the old oak tree that he and William had climbed as children. Its branches stretched far into the sky, standing straight and tall in its timeless majesty. “Your father used to climb this tree, William. Perhaps one day you will learn to climb it and dream your dreams, just as your father and I did.”

  He glanced over his shoulder at Meghan’s soft features. She smiled as she wiped her cheek.

  “There now, Roan McNamara. Don’t go filling your godson’s head with flights of fancy. He’ll need an education as well.”