1

*

Jeremiah Corrigan tried to shake Rory Murphy awake to no avail. No matter. Wee Sean was nowhere in sight, and Brendan Kelly snored as loud as his dog did. Either would be lying on their backs with their paws in the air. Jeremiah left them all behind, seeking somewhere where goats hid and snoring didn’t clash like thunder.

Here and there he wandered, with his head throbbing, his belly rumbling, and his joints aching, he looked for that goat. He squinted against the bright sun, checking the Town of Fenton, by the harbor on the Dunside or uphill by the Old Churchyard. Vaguely he wonder if the bugger fell off the Backside, or if he had even imagined loading it in the boat the night last. May the Lord Himself help Jerry, but he could not remember the landing.

Back towards the Frontside, he checked the harbor again. Glancing outward against the sun, he covered his eyes to block out the glare of the water. And what a site he saw. Wee Sean rowing himself about the Dunside of the Island and into shore. He watched with wonder as the small man hopped into the water to pull the craft up the strand, and even stepped that way to help.

“You think this is funny, don’t ya?” Wee Sean demanded as Jeremiah Corrigan took control of the bow. “Take the little man, throw him in a boat and let him drift about. Can ya be thinking of anything funnier than that?”

Corrigan studied the little man over the gun rail as Wee Sean pushed from behind. “And I’m suppose to be laughing now?”

“Now or later. What difference does it make? I’m floating around like a cork in a bottle and you’re sitting here laughing your arse off.”

Corrigan turned away momentarily. “Excuse me, little man, but I’m more interested in finding a goat.”

“Here, Precious,” Wee Sean mocked.

“Is that suppose to make me laugh?”

“Do what you’d like, you horse’s arse.” Wee Sean Darcy hurried off, leaving Jerry standing in knee deep salt water. Wee Sean turned back at him. “If I were you I’d warn that horse of yours away from m’Deirdre. I’ll not be planning weddings or bairnes with the likes of him.”

“You’re having a problem with m’son?” Corrigan cried in surprise. “Your daughter should be so lucky to have his attentions.”

“M’problem isn’t with him. M’problem is that his father is a horse’s arse.” Wee Sean hurried off, leaving Corrigan still holding onto the front end of the boat. Temptation told him to let it float away. But then again maybe he vaguely remembered doing that once already. Common sense told him he’d need the boat to row into Killelea and order his son to use a little more common sense in his choosings. At least let him choose someone with a father who didn’t lose his head over a wee bit of water.

But then Connor saved him the trouble. Moments later the lad hopped out of a second boat and began to ease it into shore. “I didn’t expect you this morning,” Jeremiah told him as he caught up the bow of this boat as well. “What are you needing from me?”

“You, no,” the boy smiled, pushing on the back of the boat. “Deirdre’s father.”

Jeremiah Corrigan froze in mid push. Surprised, Connor took the stern into the gut. “Deirdre Darcy’s father?”

“Of course Deirdre Darcy’s father. I wanted to give him those chickens I won on the football match.”

“Since when does the man come up with a dowry.”

“What dowry?”

“Do ya think a dowry might change his ugly nature?”

“You’re fighting with him, are ya?”

“Me? He’s the one accusing me of setting him adrift.”

“Ya set him adrift?”

“Me, no. Did you?”

“Awe, Dad, please,” Connor cried turning about in the water. “Ya can’t be setting him adrift now. M’whole life ahead of me, you couldn’t at least wait until I had her married and bedded down?”

“Bedded down? Ya think I want to be sharing m’grandchildren with that man?”

“And ya think I want to look at the woman of m’dreams and think each time about how m’own father set her’s adrift in a broken down rowboat?”

“Well, I don’t think it’ll matter much. According to her father, he doesn’t want m’horse of a son dirtying up his daughter. No wedding, no bairnes, no nothing, Connor. If ya think you’re ready to be starting a family, I think you should be looking in another direction. According to Wee Sean Darcy, your father is a horse’s arse. Now go ahead and marry the girl and I’ll disown ya.”

*

“You know,” Reggie began, “If I didn’t think you were enjoying yourself so much, I’d suggest we take time to think of a solution to this.”

O'Brennigan didn’t respond. He had wrapped himself up in the same expression he wore the evening before while they awaited the rowboat from Killelea. Those burns began to reappear, and the skin on his nose began to flake. Mrs. O'Brennigan turned away. “Actually, Major, m’husband is scheming. What you’re missing here is plain old fashioned pigheadedness.”

“I’m sorry?”

“Pigheadedness. Stubbornness. Wee Sean is the second most stubborn individual in all of Erin.” She wrapped her arms about her frail form. “Deirdre Darcy is sweetness pure and simple. And if anyone is deserving of such a sweet child, ‘tis Connor Corrigan. He’s a good lad.”

“Is that right?”

“Yep,” O'Brennigan responded, pulling himself back together, “Only his father’s stubborn streak is deeper and uglier than Wee Sean’s. Hmp. Jeremiah Corrigan is a horse’s arse.”

Link to Connor's Lament