Tirnan'Oge

by Amanda McIntyre

  “Are you there, Mr. Neill?” The lawyer’s lilt brought him back from his musings.

  “Yes sir, what can I do to help?”

  The man cleared his throat. “Well, Mr. Neill, as two weeks ago, the farm and the greater share of its belongings has been signed over to the Sisters of Saint Brigid Orphanage to be used as a summer camp for children.”

  “Wouldn’t that only apply if Mr. McNamara was…found….” Will couldn’t say the word.

  “Deceased? In some cases, that’s true. But he had me make these arrangements to give up his farm to the Orphanage the same day he altered his will. Perhaps he no longer wished to live on the farm? I’m afraid he didn’t stipulate.”

  Something jarred free inside William, something that made him smile softly. Roan knew he was leaving this earth, one way or another. The fact they hadn’t found any eveidence of his body strengthed Will’s belief that perhaps Roan was truly with Feeorin. Just the same, now was probably not the best time to offer up the suggestion that Roan had traipsed off to a faery village. “Leaving his farm to the orphanage doesn’t surprise me. That’s very much in Roan’s character. He wasn’t much for material things.”

  “Which may explain why he stipulated that after the farm was signed over, I should also make arrangements to offer you a number of items he wanted you to have.”

  “What kinds of things?” Will asked.

  “Let me see, there’s a pocket watch. He said you’d understand its value.

  “Indeed I do. It was given to him by his father.” Will remembered hearing the story of how Feeorin had found the watch, teasing young Roan with it in trade for a kiss.

  “He also listed a few boxes of books, an antique cream pitcher, a cake pan—he mentioned you’d know what to do with them—his Royal typewriter and his writing desk and chair, oh and an ottoman. He felt you had a particular fondness for it.”

  Will remembered sitting on the floor with his elbow propped on the cushion, listening to Roan tell his stories.

  “There are some baby clothes he found in the attic, he indicated these were yours.”

  “Yes, I was born there.” Will glanced up at the clock on the mantle and wondered where Penny was.

  “Mr. Neill?”

  “Yes, I’m sorry, it’s late here. My wife is at a meeting. I’m expecting her shortly.”

  “Ah good, because there is more news that will be of interest I think to both of you.”

  The front door opened and Penny offered him a warm smile from across the room. Her cheeks were flushed, testament to her fair skin. She dropped her briefcase, shrugged off her coat and came directly to him, leaning down to give him a peck on the cheek.

  “Are you sitting down, Mr. Neill?”

  Will curled his arm around Penny’s waist and tugged her to sit beside him on the arm of the chair. “Yes, go ahead. I’m listening.”

  “Mr McNamara has ordered me to deposit a portion of his bank earnings into a trust fund, with you as beneficiary. In the sum of a quarter of a million dollars. That’s converted to American currancy of course. I’ve been instructed to give you half now and put the other half in a trust.”

  Will glanced up at Penny and nodded for her to pick up the other line in the kitchen. He’d known that Roan was frugal with his money, but he had no idea how much he’d squirreled away

  “A-a trust? That’s a great deal of money, Mr. Nevins. Were there instructions with how it’s to be used?” Will held Penny’s look of curious surprise from across the room.

  “I surmise that it may have to do with what occurred today, Mr. McNamara. You see I received a call from the orphanage and they claim that someone has left a child on the back steps of the orphanage. The child, a girl, was bundled in a bed of woven fern and placed in a wooden cradle. The interesting thing is that the letters carved in the end were—”

  “W.N.?” Will answered for him.

  “Yes, that’s right Mr. Neill. That wouldn’t stand for William Neill would it?”

  “It does, Mr. Nevins. Roan made me a cradle when I was born. But I’ve no idea where it’s been all this time.”

  “There was a note that the nuns presented to me when I went to verify their finding.”

  Will stared at Penny, remembering the conversation he and Roan had that day at the pond. He swallowed. “What did the note say?”

  “I am a gift to be given to parents who already carry the magic of believing inside them. To William and Penny Neill. Raise me in the traditions, and tell me the stories, so that they will be carried from generation to generation.”

  Tears streamed down Will’s face. Penny covered her mouth, her eyes brimming with unshed tears.

  “I trust you can enlighten me, Mr. Neill, with what this means?”

  “It means I’m a father.” He laughed. As he stood, Penny dropped the phone and ran into his embrace.

  ***

  “Daddy? Daddy?” Meghan Neill tugged on her father’s sweater. “Say the words to start the magic.”

  “What would that be, punkin?” Will teased, knowing very well the words but wanting to see if she did.

  “You know the ones.”

  “Can you remember them?” he asked.

  She rubbed her eyes. “I’m tired, Daddy. Miss Pingston made me the playground captain today.”

  Will rested his cheek on the top of her head. “That must have been a very big job.”

  “It was.” She followed with a yawn. “There were two boys who were fighting. Miss Pingston thought that Andrew tied Timmy’s shoelaces together and made him fall.”

  “That sounds terrible. Did you see it happen?”

  “Uh huh.” Her eyes drifted shut and for a moment, Will thought she was asleep.

  “Meggie?” he whispered.

  “What, Daddy?” she replied softly.

  “Meg, is something wrong?”

  “No. Will you tell me the story of the man who fell in love with the faery lady?”

  “Are you sure, Meg? There are lots of stories I could read to you.”

  “I like that one.” She snuggled in close, drawing her lamb beneath her chin.

  “Okay, punkin. Once upon a time… ” he began.

  “Not that way, Daddy. You know how.”

  “What if I forgot?”

  “You can’t forget. You told me the words are inside of you, just like your heart is.” She opened her eyes and glanced up at him with a look that implied she wouldn’t relent.

  “In Gaelic then?” he teased.

  “Yes, I think it sounds pretty, like a song.”

  “Ok, then, you say it with me, punkin.” Will smiled at her, laying the book aside as they recited the ancient words together.

  “’Uair amhain ar am”

  She finished with a smile.

  Will continued. “There was a boy who lived in the most beautiful country in the world.”

  “And he married a faery princess!” She came to life with a sudden quick bounce.

  “Be patient, Meg. That doesn’t happen right away, not until the end of the story.” He tugged at her dark braid, barely the length of his hand. Penny braided it for her each night before bed. “One day as he and his friend William were skipping stones—”

  “William was my grandfather, wasn’t he?”

  “That’s right, honey.”

  “That means he was your daddy. But he died. Were you sad when he died, Daddy?”

  Unsure where her little mind was traveling at the moment, Will answered the odd questions as best he could. “I wasn’t born when he died, punkin. But your grandma and her friend, Mr. McNamara, they told me about him. I would have liked to have met him.”

  “Me, too,” she spoke wistfully. “Some of the kids at school have grandmas and grandpas that pick them up after school. Did grandpa believe in faeries?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think he thought about it much.”

  “But you believe in them, don’t you?”

  Something in her voice took him by surprise. As
if her question wasn’t as random as it sounded. “I do, Meg.”

  “Have you ever seen a faery, Daddy?”

  “Well, no, I haven’t had the good fortune, but that doesn’t mean they don’t exist.”

  She was quiet. “I suppose.”

  The silence of a heartbeat went by.

  “Did the man and the faery lady love each other like you and Mommy love each other?”

  Will’s brows rose in surprise. There were times he found the little girl’s questions oddly mature for her age. He smiled down at the top of her head. “Yes, they were good friends, punkin. I like to think they loved each other. Now are you going to let me finish before your mother comes in and tells us it’s bedtime?”

  She glanced up at him with a teasing grin on her face. “Did you know that Miss Pingston once told me that I was an impish little faery?” Her little body jumped with emphasis on her last word.

  He smiled at his beautiful daughter, so full of life and mysterious questions. She’d brought so much joy to their lives. He wondered now and again, at times like these mostly, if Roan had known when he placed her on the steps of the orphanage the immense joy she would bring them. He knew there was the possibility that he’d never have the chance to thank Roan. Somehow, Will felt his godfather knew. That perhaps he wasn’t as far away as it seemed and somehow had his eye on them even now.

  “Perhaps you are.” He tweaked her nose, producing a fit of giggles.

  “Okay, I’m ready now for my bedtime story.”

  “The legend says that to kiss a Sighoge faery can cause a man to go mad with love for the faery. And it says that this faery never grows old because she lives in a magical place called Tirna ‘Oge, which means—”

  “She’ll never get old like you.”

  Will cast a side-glance at his impish daughter. “It means, ‘the land of perpetual youth’. The faery told the young man in later years that he had the gift of second-sight and that’s why he could see her.”

  She stared at her toy lamb as if pondering something deep. “Is that when he kissed her?”

  Her questions, as always, kept him on his toes. He was still getting used to that as a parent. “Not quite, punkin.”

  “I don’t think it was nice for people to call him crazy just because he said he saw a faery.”

  Will hugged her. “There are some people who have a hard time believing what they can’t see or explain.” He waited a moment. “But that didn’t stop the man from loving the beautiful faery he called—”

  “Feeorin,” she finished with a bounce. There was great pride in her tone that warmed Will’s heart.

  He smiled as he touched her button nose. “That’s right. Feeorin.”

  “Just like my middle name.” Her brilliant smile lit up her cherub face.

  “Exactly the same,” Will replied. He gazed down at her and realized that in another year or so she would be old enough to understand how she came to be their daughter.

  ***

  Will and Penny had flown to Ireland less than two days after speaking on the phone to Mr. Nevins. They traveled out to the farm with him and met with the nuns of the orphanage. They gave Will the note, stating that perhaps he could make better sense of it.”

  “To my dear Penny and Will, care well for our little Meg. Teach her the old stories, so she can carry on the traditions of our country. Be well and don’t worry about me.

  “R.M. P.S. Please remember the pitcher. It’s in the cupboard of the mudroom”.

  “You have any idea where he might be? Where we might reach him?”

  Four sets of eyes—Penny, the lawyer, and two nuns—rested on Will. “I can’t say, but Mr. McNamara, as you know, had a very strong belief in faeries.” Will treaded carefully, not wanting to strike a note of insanity with the very people who could allow him and Penny to keep Meg or take her away from them.

  He cleared his throat. Being in business had taught him to choose his words carefully. “Perhaps, Mr. McNamara has chosen to live out his days where he feels he’s most comfortable. Where his heart finds its home. Clearly, he’s unharmed, wherever he is. And until his return, we have a duty to care for this child as he has specified.” He glanced at Penny. Her expression softened as she understood the gift they’d been entrusted with.

  Penny reached into the cradle and picked up the baby, wrapped secure in one of Will’s old flannel baby blankets. The girl child looked in silent wonder at the both of them, her blue eyes large and luminous, seemed to hold great wisdom.

  Penny snuggled her close, taking to motherhood with a natural grace and charm. In silence, Will thanked Roan for this selfless moment as he watched the uncertainty on the nuns’ faces fade into smiles.

  The lawyer shook his head. “It’s the strangest damn thing I’ve ever been involved in. But it appears that everything is in order. We can complete the papers back at my office.” He glanced at the nuns. “Unless there’s anything else we should know?”

  “Only the items Mr. McNamara mentioned. We took the liberty of gathering them for you when Mr. Nevins was here earlier.” One of the nuns scurried past to the mudroom, her vestments rustling over the old stone floor.

  “If you don’t mind, I’d like to take one last look around before I go. If that’s all right?” Will glanced from the lawyer to the remaining nun.

  “Feel free, Mr. Neill. We can help with the desk if you like.”

  “If it’s all the same to you, I’d like to leave it where it is,” Will replied. “At least for now.”

  “That’s very kind of you, Mr. Neill. We’ll take good care of it,” the nun said with a smile.

  Will took his time, meandering through the house, collecting remnants of his memories as a child and of the days he and Penny stayed here. He remembered the conversation about children that he and Roan had and grappled with the idea that somehow, in his mid sixties, Roan could have sired a baby. Moreover, was Feeorin her mother? These were questions that Will hoped one day to have answered, but for now, he would care for the child as if she were his own.

  Will’s gaze scanned the small living room, where the couch and chair still sat nestled in front of the fireplace. To one side, facing the window with a view of the western sky, sat Roan’s old writing desk. It had been cleared of Roan’s personal belongings, ready he suspected for shipping. He’d take the contents home with him and keep them for Meg. But the desk, facing the giant oak tree and the view of the sunsets, Will felt strongly belonged right here, where Roan had sat and penned his legendary tales.

  Staring out at the tree, he remembered Roan talking about how he and Will’s dad would climb its branches and sit there telling each other their dreams.

  In the blink of an eye, Will swore he saw a flash of light swirl amid the leaves. He turned to find Penny holding little Meghan in her arms.

  “Mr. Nevins is waiting in the car.”

  “Okay, I’m coming.”

  “Will you miss it very much?” Penny asked quietly, coming to his shoulder and gazing out at the rich green pasture.

  “Parts of it, but my home is wherever you and little Meg are. Maybe someday we’ll come back for a visit, when Meg is older.”

  “That would be nice.” She smiled. “Would you like to hold your new daughter?”

  Will swallowed hard and held out his arms to accept the tiny bundle. He brought her close, tucking her near his face. A tear fell on her rose petal cheek and she opened her eyes.

  “Hello Meg,” he whispered.

  Her miniature mouth, no bigger than a flower bud, quirked at one corner with a smile.

  ***

  Meg hopped down from her Daddy’s lap and picked up the old pocket watch she kept on her bedside table. “The man who wrote these stories, he was the man who loved the faery, wasn’t he?”

  “Yes, he was,” her father replied.

  “And he was your friend too, right Daddy?”

  “Yes, punkin. He was a very kind and gracious man.”

  Her father ruffled her hair. “N
ow let’s go see if your mother has that crumb cake ready, shall we?”

  She took his hand and followed him down the hall, the lace of her nightgown brushing along the tops of her feet, tickling her toes.

  “Here’s the pitcher.” Her mother handed it to her, her stomach swollen with what they told her was a baby brother.

  “Have you ever seen a faery, Mama?” Meg asked, careful to hold the old pitcher brought clear from Ireland close to her body. She followed her father and mother out into the warm, autumn night and looked up at the spray of brilliant stars tossed in the sky overhead.

  “I’ve never seen one, Meg, but that doesn’t mean they aren’t real. You can believe without seeing.”

  Meg placed the pitcher of cream by the small cake, still warm from the oven. It was a nightly ritual for the three of them and one of these days, there would be four of them to share this family tradition. As big sister, she would teach him the stories their Daddy had taught her. A star shot across the dark sky and Meg gasped, grabbing her father’s trouser leg.

  “Make a wish, Daddy.”

  He picked her up and held her secure in his arms.

  “I have my wish, punkin, you make one.”

  Safe in his embrace, she closed her eyes. He’d taught her to dream, to believe in what you can’t see, and not to be afraid of the unknown. She scrunched up her face, focusing on the deepest desire of her little heart and made her silent wish.

  “Did you make your wish, Meggie?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you want to whisper it in my ear?” her father asked, leaning close.

  He smelled like her Daddy, strong and sure, cool, like an autumn morning. “Daddy,” she reprimanded, “you can’t tell your wish or it won’t come true.”

  He smiled and hugged her. “Okay punkin’, fair enough. Now, it’s bedtime.”

  She hugged his neck, casting a glance to the diamond studded sky above. Her eye caught the faintest flicker of light in the darkness of the backyard. Probably a firefly.