‘Oswald thinks she’s trying to give you a message.’
He looked at her intensely, eyes wide with honesty. ‘Ellen, she wants me to move on now. Why else would she give you the story of her death to pass to me? I already know it. I was there. I think she did it . . .’ He hesitated, bashful a moment, as if mistrusting his analysis. Then he dropped his eyes to the page. ‘He’ll realize he loves me when it is too late, and he’ll regret it for the rest of his life.’ He looked at her again. ‘I don’t want to realize that I love you when it’s too late, Ellen, and regret it for the rest of my life. If Caitlin taught me anything, she taught me that. I think she channelled her story through you because she wants us to be together.’
They stared at each other across the gulf. ‘I missed you, Conor,’ she whispered, her brown eyes glistening with tears. He needed no further encouragement. Taking her face in his hands, he pressed his lips to hers, bridging the canyon with a strong but tender kiss.
Chapter 36
‘I’ve brought some great movies down from Dublin,’ Conor says, pulling away and sinking happily into her adoring gaze. ‘Fancy coming home to watch them?’
She smiles. ‘I’d like that very much,’ she replies, taking his hand and pressing it to her damp cheek.
‘Do you want to call your aunt to let her know?’
‘Oh, I think she’s much too busy to worry about me,’ she says with a knowing grin. ‘After all, I’m not a child. I can do what I please.’
‘Does that mean I’ll wake up with you in the morning?’ His smile is wide and mischievous, just like it used to be at the height of their romance.
‘I think it does,’ she answers.
‘Then let’s not waste another minute.’ He gets up and pulls her to her feet.
‘What do you want to do with the painting?’
‘I’ll hang it somewhere else so the children always remember their mother. But in its place I’ll hang a new one. I think you’d look grand on canvas.’
She laughs off the idea as absurd. ‘No, I think you should commission someone to paint the children. That way, you’re honouring Caitlin. I couldn’t replace her and I wouldn’t want to.’
‘All right, if you insist. But if I move back in, you’ll come with me, right?’ She inhales, trying to keep up with the sudden change of direction. ‘You can plant your garden and watch things grow and you can play music with Dylan. You can choose your own study to write your lyrics in.’
‘Are you suggesting we move in together?’
‘I’m suggesting we spend the rest of our lives together.’ He kisses her temple and leaves his face pressed against her hair. ‘One thing I know for sure, the future is nothing without you, Ellen. I don’t want to be without you ever again. Will you forgive me?’
‘If you forgive me.’
He looks at her affectionately, drinking in her beauty and her sweetness like a man parched of love. ‘There is nothing to forgive.’
And I am happy. I am filled with an effervescence I have never experienced before. It is light and bubbly as if made solely of joy. It lifts me up so that I am dizzy with this new sensation. Conor is happy and I have taken pleasure in his happiness, regardless of how it will affect me. How wonderful it is to be selfless, how blissful it is to bask in the elation of others. It has transformed me from a dark and miserable creature to a bright and buoyant soul. I wish I had known during my life what I know now. But I realize at this moment that our earthly sojourn is a learning experience and that we are always evolving, always moving towards a greater love. My life taught me much, and wherever I go now, I will take that knowledge with me in the form of a clearer, more loving vibration. I’m not sure how I know, I just do.
And as I rise above the lighthouse, I see that it is no more. The waves have swept in and washed it away. The ruins lie like bones on the seabed and I am free at last to move on. The light around me grows brighter and I see a wondrous sight. I gaze in amazement at the fine angelic beings who have always been with me, guiding me as they have done from the very beginning, with persistence and patience and love. I wasn’t alone after all, I just didn’t know it.
Out of the light, I recognize Ciara. She comes and takes my hand. ‘You’ll always be with them,’ she says with the wisdom of a very old soul. ‘But it’s time now for you to come home.’
‘I’m ready,’ I reply, and I know for certain that I am. ‘What’s it like?’ I ask.
She laughs and leads me towards a greater light. ‘The same as when you left it.’
Chapter 37
‘So, what do you think?’ Daphne asked, standing back to admire the Darragh Kelly portrait of the children, which Joe and Johnny had just hung above the fireplace in the hall.
‘It’s grand,’ said Conor, putting his arm around Ellen. ‘It’s a very good likeness, isn’t it?’
‘He’s captured Ida’s dreaminess beautifully,’ Ellen replied.
‘What does Magnum think?’ Ida asked.
‘He’s wagging his tail so he must like it,’ Finbar replied. Magnum was lying in front of the fire, weary after a long walk over the hills.
‘It’s a beautiful painting,’ said Johnny, putting his hands on his hips. ‘He’s a fine painter, is Mr Kelly.’
Daphne smiled in agreement. ‘Oh, he’s very gifted. I’d love to paint like that, but I’m not good at people. I’m quite good at sketching dogs, though.’
‘I know some birds who look like dogs: you could paint one of them if you like?’ Joe quipped.
‘Why don’t you find yourself a nice bird?’ Conor retorted. ‘Preferably one who doesn’t look like a dog!’
Joe shook his head and grinned raffishly. ‘While there are flocks in the sky, why settle for one?’
‘You will in the end, Joe,’ said his father wisely. ‘Everyone does in the end.’
‘Have you hung the picture of Caitlin in the children’s sitting room?’ Ellen asked.
‘Not yet,’ Johnny replied. ‘Come on, Joe. Let’s finish up here. I’m ready for my tea. You going to come for a pint?’ he asked Conor and Ellen.
‘Not tonight. We’ve got a film to watch,’ Conor replied, and smiled at Ellen. She frowned up at him quizzically.
‘All right, fair play to you,’ said Johnny.
‘Can you give Dylan a message for me?’ Ellen asked. ‘Tell him I’ve written a happy song for a change.’
‘Will you sing it for us in the pub?’ Joe asked. ‘I’m a bit bored of the old Irish ballads.’
‘We might be persuaded,’ said Ellen. ‘As long as you don’t make fun of us.’
‘Now, why would I go and do a silly thing like that?’
‘Because you’re an eejit, Joe,’ interjected his father, playfully. ‘Come on, now. Let’s finish up and go to the pub.’ The two of them wandered off down the corridor.
‘So, what’s our movie?’ Ellen asked when Daphne and the children had gone upstairs.
‘The Age of Innocence. I promised you we’d watch it together but we never did.’
‘With everything that’s gone on, I totally forgot about it.’
‘Well, tonight is our night.’
She grinned and added huskily, ‘Every night is our night, Conor.’
He laughed. ‘You know how to make a man feel good.’
‘It feels good to be here,’ she said seriously. ‘I feel we both belong here now. Well, I feel I belong. Of course you always belonged.’
‘No, with Caitlin, it never felt like home. It feels like home now.’ He pulled her into his arms. ‘You’ve made me a very happy man. I was a fool to . . .’
She placed a finger on his lips to silence him. ‘No, don’t say that. Let’s not relive the past. The present is what’s important, and the years ahead.’
He kissed her temple, then her cheekbone, tracing his nose down her cheek until his lips found hers. ‘I love you more than yesterday,’ he whispered.
‘And I love you less than tomorrow,’ she replied, closing her eyes and wrapping h
er arms tightly around him.
A little later, Ellen sat on Finbar’s bed and read the children a story. It was called ‘Stone Soup’, about three Chinese monks who teach hostile neighbours in a mountain village a lesson in sharing through the simple task of making soup with a stone. She had brought it especially for the children and every time she read it, she thought of the Trawtons and the Byrnes and how they might come together one day over good food and wine.
‘Ellen, do you think Mam is looking down on us from heaven?’ Ida asked, as Ellen tucked her up in bed.
Ellen gazed into the child’s enquiring eyes and smiled softly. ‘Darling, I know she is.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I don’t know, I just do.’ She put a hand on her heart. ‘Sometimes we feel things here which we can’t explain. We just know things but we don’t know how we know them. I’m certain that she is with you all the time, Ida. With you and Finbar and Daddy, too. I think we take our love with us when we die.’
Ida smiled, satisfied. ‘Night, Ellen.’
Ellen kissed her forehead. ‘Night, Ida.’
Just as she was leaving, Finbar called for her. She turned. ‘What do you think she’d think of you living here with us?’ he asked. It was a bold question and one that Ellen had been expecting for some time.
‘I think she’s happy that I’m looking after you, and wherever she is, she’s looking after you too, only you can’t see her.’
‘Do you think she likes you?’
‘I hope so. What do you think she thinks of me?’ He didn’t reply, but lay in bed thinking deeply.
‘I think she likes you,’ said Ida without hesitation.
Finbar remained silent beneath the covers. He was considering her question very carefully, trying to remember his mother. Then he rolled over and pulled his fluffy toy rabbit into his arms. ‘I think she thinks you’re all right,’ he added and closed his eyes.
Ellen laughed. ‘All right is good enough for me. Good night, Finbar. Night-night, Ida.’
The following afternoon, while Conor was on a conference call with Los Angeles, Ellen took Magnum for a walk. It was bitterly cold. The wind was laced with ice and snow lay thick and hard on the ground. Ellen loved the romance of the snow and the way it twinkled in the sunshine, although today the sun was snug beneath a duvet of cloud. She gazed about her at the bleak landscape and the grey sea and found a haunting beauty in its desolation.
She climbed the hills, warming up beneath her sheepskin coat, watching her breath mist on the frosty air. Magnum loped on ahead, following a trail of scent in the snow. Soon she reached the little chapel where Caitlin was buried. The church looked lost and lonely on the hill, as if it was staring out to sea, hopelessly searching the horizon for someone who was never coming home.
As she opened the wooden gate she saw to her left a grey figure hunched over Caitlin’s grave. She looked closer and saw that he was replacing the dead rose with a fresh one.
‘Ronan?’ she called out. The man turned. To her surprise it wasn’t Ronan beneath the brown hat, but Johnny. ‘Johnny, what are you doing here?’
He stood up stiffly. ‘I loved her, Ellen.’ He shrugged and thrust his hands into his pockets.
‘You too?’
He frowned. ‘Oh, Ronan didn’t love her. She broke him in two. He can barely hear her name mentioned without grimacing.’
‘You know about Ronan and Caitlin?’
‘Of course I do. I saw it all going on and I knew right from the start that it was going to end badly. Though I couldn’t have predicted that it would end like it did.’
‘You knew Ronan was on the island that night?’ He nodded. ‘How?’
‘Dylan saw him rowing back to shore, but I found him sobbing on the road on my way home from Peg’s. He told me everything. Poor lad, he was in a terrible state.’
‘And you still love her?’
He looked at her steadily. ‘I love her in spite of her faults, Ellen. She wasn’t in her right mind. She was fragile and lost.’ He turned his eyes to the sea. ‘But now she’s gone and the lighthouse is gone. Nothing left of either of them.’
‘Does anyone else know about Ronan besides you and Dylan?’
‘No, and I have no intention of telling anyone.’ He glanced at her warily. ‘And this will remain between us, all right?’
‘Of course.’
‘I just loved her from afar, Ellen.’ He dropped his eyes to the grave. ‘I know she’s not in there. She’s in heaven with the Lord, but I like to remember her.’ He grinned sadly. ‘I’m a ridiculous old romantic. That’s all there is to it.’
‘You’re not ridiculous, Johnny. I think it’s a lovely thing that you come here and remember her. I think this little place has got great charm. I mean, Dylan used to come here to compose love songs and I came here when Conor and I broke up; it made me feel better. Of course, the chapel was built by a sailor for his dead wife. It was built on love and it seems to have nurtured love in one way or another ever since.’
‘You have a writer’s imagination,’ Johnny chuckled, scratching his beard.
‘But it’s true. The more I learn of life the more I realize that love is the only important thing in it.’
Johnny linked his arm through hers and they set off down the hill, followed by Magnum. ‘You and Conor are right for each other,’ he said. ‘Like they say, the pot has rolled over and found its lid.’
‘I’m very happy,’ Ellen replied.
‘He’s a good man. Though if he gives you any trouble you know who to call.’
‘I most certainly do.’
‘You’re not an island, Ellen. You’re a Byrne.’
She laughed. ‘And a Murphy.’
Johnny nodded. ‘You can’t do better than that combination. Fancy a quick drink to warm up?’
‘Sure. I can see the alluring glow of the Pot of Gold from here. It’s whispering to me.’ She laughed and leaned into him affectionately.
‘You see, you are all Byrne and Murphy.’ He frowned a moment then grinned at her broadly. ‘No one appreciates that more than Dylan.’
‘Dear Dylan,’ she said fondly. ‘Do you think he’ll ever make an honest woman of Martha?’
‘Dylan will never settle down. Not now. He’s been too many years on his own.’
‘Doesn’t Martha long to get married?’
‘I’d say she’s past caring about marriage. She knows her man. She knows there’s no taming him and I bet she’s content with that.’ He sniffed in the cold air. ‘I wouldn’t want to live with Dylan if I was a woman. It’s living apart that keeps them together.’
‘I think you’re probably right.’
‘Shall we go and find him?’
‘I don’t think we have to look too far, do you?’ They both laughed.
‘Not at this time of day,’ said Johnny.
Magnum squeezed into the well of the passenger seat of Johnny’s truck and the three of them made their way slowly around the icy lanes into town. The sun was setting behind the hills, saturating the snowy landscape with a soft pink hue. A spray of small birds took to the skies, silhouetted against the diminishing light like bullets, and to the left the capricious sea stretched out to the horizon. Beneath the waves, the lighthouse lay in eternal sleep. Silent, still and at peace.
They parked the car and wandered around to the Pot of Gold. Magnum followed dutifully behind. ‘I’ll call Conor and tell him to come and join us,’ said Ellen, as Johnny opened the door. Yellow light spilled onto the pavement and the animated sound of voices wafted out into the damp air. Dylan’s face lit up when he saw Ellen. He waved at her and she weaved through the crowd to join him. Tables were full of Byrnes, and in the far corner, Oswald and Peg were sitting with Ronan and an attractive young woman Ellen had never seen before. ‘What’ll you have?’ Dylan asked. ‘Your usual?’
‘My usual,’ she replied with a satisfied smile. The word ‘usual’ had a cosy ring to it; the same ring as ‘belonging’ and ‘home’.
The morning of the wedding could not have been more beautiful. Spring breathed her warm breath onto the yellow and purple flowers that opened to attract the butterflies and bees playing about the heather. The sun shone warmly from a cloudless sky and greedy gulls circled the long tables piled high with the wedding feast in the castle gardens. A white-and-yellow tent had been put up on the front lawn, which Johnny and Joe had mown as immaculately as a cricket pitch, and the drive was an avenue of red tulips, yellow daffodils and sweet-smelling daphne odora. At the end, where the burr oaks gave way to the castle, the once forbidding stone walls looked radiant and welcoming in the cheerful morning light. The windows had been thrown wide open and pigeons cooed from the turrets as they watched the busy goings-on below. The shadow of sorrow had long gone, dispelled by the brilliance of love that now shone into every corner.
Ellen ran excitedly from the kitchens to the hall to the gardens in her curlers and dressing gown, checking that everything was as it should be on this very important day. The caterers were busy in the kitchen, cooking for the two hundred guests, and the florist, who had flown over from Dublin especially, had finished adorning the tent and was now decorating the donkey with yellow roses. Ronan had fashioned a little cart out of oak for the children to sit in, but whether the donkey would ever pull it was a question not even Peg was able to answer. It would all depend upon his mood on the day. He stood dozily, munching on the carrot the florist had given him, swishing his tail every now and then to brush away the odd fly. Ellen sighed with pleasure at the sight of such splendour and her eyes grew moist with happiness. To think that only a year ago she had believed she had lost Conor and Connemara for ever. She inhaled deeply, and silently thanked the God who had brought her this far and allowed her this much contentment. Dare she believe that He had given with both hands this time? She looked at her watch. It wouldn’t be long before the guests started arriving and she had to be ready. Hastily she hurried back up the stairs, jumping two at a time.
Secrets of the Lighthouse Page 38
