‘Always keep your valuables on your person,’ said Hugh. ‘That’s my motto.’
From the dining room they made their way to the bench he had spotted in the afternoon. From somewhere along the lake came the faintest keening of a violin. Or perhaps it was the sough of wind in the trees.
‘So lovely,’ she said, gazing around. ‘It stuns me, I have no words for it. And look!-the dear old beeches.’
There was an affecting lull in the light, as if the day resisted the settling dusk. A butterfly was at the buddleia.
He took her crutches and propped them against the back of the bench, and they sat for a time, musing, looking toward the silvered lough.
‘Pete O’Malley has a crush on Moira,’ she said.
‘What?’
‘Pete. Moira-the book/poker/travel club organizer.’
‘How do you know?’
‘I just know.’
‘Is he married?’
‘Separated. Maureen said he wanted to take Moira buzzer fishing.’
‘What’s that?’
‘It’s a kind of fishing you do at night.’
‘I think he’d be rushing things.’
They laughed. ‘You’re a regular evening gazette, Kav’na.’
‘You love me,’ she said, amazed and certain.
It was like her to say such things, completely out of the blue. ‘I’ve always loved you,’ he said. ‘From the time I was born.’
‘How did you manage that?’
‘I think I came into the world seeking something not absolutely tied to this earthly realm. Your open mind, your curiosity, your reverence promised that and drew me in.’ He put his arm around her, felt the cool of her flesh against his.
‘My mother had it, you have it,’ he said. ‘She took red dirt and made gardens that people came from miles around to see. No earth-moving equipment, just a wheelbarrow and shovel. No money, just hard work, ingenuity, and passion. All the time, everywhere you go, you know how to make something out of what most people see as nothing. You’ve made something out of me.’
‘No, sweetheart, you were quite the finished product.’
‘Never. I was an overworked, underfeeling man growing old alone. I thank you for teaching me not to fear intimacy; for making me do this thing we call marriage.’
‘I made you do it?’
‘I quit, but you didn’t. Of course, I was praying you wouldn’t, but I fully expected you to.’
He put his hand under her chin and lifted her face to his and kissed her. ‘Happy birthday, glimmering girl. Sorry it’s been such a hassle.’
‘It isn’t such a hassle, really. It’s just life-quirky and scary and lovely and immense. The beauty to be seen from our window can’t be diminished by the dark soul that crawled out of it last night. I wouldn’t have it any other way; I wouldn’t have you any other way. You let me be the woman I am. No one has ever let me be that before. And another thing…’
‘Say on.’ The scent of wisteria…
‘You listen. Really listening to someone is a very tender and generous gift. Sometimes I’m frightened by what we have together.’
‘Don’t be frightened. There’s so much in the world to frighten us-let’s leave that one thing alone.’
The clouds above the lake were disappearing in the fading light; the air quickened with the scent of something fresh, electric.
‘Tomorrow morning’s rain,’ he said. ‘Announcing itself.’
They went in then, through the dining room illumined by the light over the painting, and through the library where Pete O’Malley snored in his wing chair and Pud slept off the narcotic of today’s big game. There had been no sign tonight of Seamus and William at their checkers.
It took a while for her to navigate the stairs in her inventive way, a way that seemed to him a kind of liturgical act of trust and humility.
With each of the stair steps, he recited a line from the Compline:
Before the ending of the day…
Creator of the world we pray…
That thou with wonted love wouldst keep…
Thy watch around us while we sleep…
O let no evil dreams be near…
Or phantoms of the night appear…
At the top of the stairs, he helped her up and gave her the crutches.
‘Keep me as the apple of Your eye,’ he said, concluding the old prayer.
Her breath came fast. ‘Hide me under the shadow of Thy wings.’
Their bed had been turned down, a lamp glowed in the corner. As he closed the door, he was glad to hear the sound of the club coming in with much laughter and talking.
Eleven
3 November 1861
Earth hard as Iron
Men framing
One wants a Name for this mighty effort-it is ever gnawing at me to find the pleasing name-Inistiorc perhaps-Irish for Island of the Boar.
When Keegan came to us we rowed to the Island & found a wild Sow and her sucklings-where the Boar had gone, we couldn’t know, perhaps to a table hereabout-Keegan wanted a suckling for his own board, but I couldn’t stomach the killing of it-he didn’t disguise the sour look he had for me nor his disdain for the fact that once dressed & properly cooked I would agreeably eat the innocent Creature.
The People along the water are calling it Cathair Mohr or Big Fort-Caitlin declares it a good name, easily disguised in English as Catharmore-we must not appear to think too highly of ourselves with a ‘Big Fort.’
Clar House, meaning Plain House-that will do it for Balfour no doubt-but tis disagreeable in the extreme on the page & on the Tongue. We consider Cluainaigh or Cloonee, for it is mostly pasture land. Then there is Caiseal Mor, or large stone fort, which anglicizes to Cashelmore. I am fond of Tullagh Mor or Tullachmore, for great hill-but perhaps after all, Catharmore, letting the People be the judge-a pesky business to tag the work of one’s heart & hands.
As wether permits, we labor on the large building sited near the Lough in a grove of ancient Beeches. Six bay two-storey Limestone on the rectangular plan with projecting end bays to the East elevation-hipped slate Roofs, clay ridge tiles, mitred hips, roughly-dressed stone Voussoirs to arches, stone sills, square-headed door openings to North and South, square-headed central threshing room & Loft.
Keegan has made a fine temporary stall for Adam off the Surgery which confers a secondary benefit-though but a mite of equine heat escapes through the wallboards, it is welcomed by all-Caitlin wished our good mount to be blanketed at night with one of Uncle’s Turkey rugs but Keegan ascribes to the Country way of warming a horse from the inside which he accomplishes with a daily feed in Winter of heat-producing corn-Adam is the sleekest Steed in these Wild Regions.
Tis a most humble satisfaction to be the source of economic improvement to families of this Region. Near twenty men take home wages from Cathair Mohr & many learning trades to which they would not otherwise be exposed.
We pray toward the completion of the house by Spring & thank God Who is the one true Source of all our Blessings.
After praying the Morning Office at five-thirty, he had opened the window to the patter of rain among beech leaves, then sat with the journal, reading pages at random.
20 November
A virulent Maladie has lately run amok though the Countryside, especially infecting the young-we can find nothing like it in the many journals on these shelves.
Twill run its course, says old Rose McFee when we despair of our helplessness-Rose is believed to be of great Age, perhaps beyond the century mark-she has but snags in her head, alarmingly revealed in a roguish Grin used to frighten unruly Children.
Balfour noses about overmuch, walking among the men, playing the Cock, suggesting improved ways to do the work at hand-he also sends a steady stream of servants from his household presenting every offense from Bunion & Sty to Gout & Goiter, all to be treated gratis-we often see angry welts & bruises on the skin but they decline to comment. If anything should aile the family we are called to come at once & minister as best we can in a small, foul Compartment without windows or good light. We have twice rid his stout wife of Hemoroids using the homeliest of methods-a procedure requiring the Hemoroids to be opened externally with the subsequent application of a poultice of boiled Onion-this was not learned in Philadelphia but from my dear Mother, a natural Physician who swore by it-I have not seen it fail. As for Balfour-the old Proverb, He who marries for money earns it, reminds us that he who receives Land without charge pays for it-til the Lord comes with His trumpets.