2

*

Bridey clapped her hands and cried out her joy. “Brendan, will you look at them? That’s my lass, my Deirdre!” She turned on her brother. “Ya do remember, Brendan I held her the day we had her Baptized.” Brendan passed his hat from one hand to the other and back again. He shuffled his feet. He glanced up, taking notice of the crowd swelling in his direction. Then he placed his hat on his head and walked off towards the well.

*

Connor and Deirdre Corrigan turned to face their families and friends. Connor took her tiny hand in his huge paw, caressed it gently and lifted it to his lips. Then he led her into the crowd. The women of both Villages were providing the celebration meal, and Connor was hungry. Happy, but hungry. Hands reached out to him, friends embraced him and her, and made them pause for quick kisses. The crowd pressed in from all sides, each person smiling, laughing, and offering his or her love.

*

Bridey O'Brennigan took a young looking Mrs. Keenan by the elbow and strolled along with her. Mary Murphy, Maureen Darcy, Esther Corrigan and others fussed over cooking pots and peat fires. Bridey nodded at Maureen who used her apron to shoe away cooking smoke. “She has a belly on her already. After so many bairnes, I suppose it’s no surprise.”

Mrs. Keenan stopped. “Maureen is in the family way again?”

“Ya didn’t know?”

“You did?”

Mrs. Keenan stepped closer to the women. “A pity, ‘tis,” Maude Smith commented to the others. “You’d think she’d be with him just to avoid the embarrassment.”

Mrs. Keenan turned in Bridey’s direction, surprise and anger etching lines across her brow.

“I think if that were me,” Mary Murphy assured, “I’d get him while he was asleep. He wouldn’t have the tools to touch Molly O’Sullivan or any other woman neither. M’bed or nothing.”

“Going to Confession yesterday after them, and I hear Father Patrick yelling at her ‘tis her fault.”

Maureen passed a pot of potatoes to Esther Corrigan. “She’s a queer one, anyway.” She paused to wipe the dampness from her brow with her apron. “Whether she’s embarrassed or not, she should have been at the wake and funeral, and she should have come here today. The lad’s not going away because she’s in hiding.”

“Who are they talking about?” Mrs. Keenan demanded.

“Enid,” Bridey replied. She moved off to join another group of women.

“Enid? Kelly?” Mrs. Keenan followed Bridey, now tugging at the redhead’s elbow. Bridey paused, coming about again. Mrs. Keenan stood there horror stricken. That then melted into sight, understanding and acceptance. Then she shook her head. “Do you think they’ll remember their gossiping when making Confession next?” She stepped in beside Bridey, and moved off with her.

“I’d look for Brendan again,” Bridey commented after a moment, “But I’m sure I saw him and Patrick off by themselves. I’d hate to be interrupting.”

“Tell the truth, Bridget. You’d hate to be finding out Brendan’s other secrets.”

“And you’re thinking I haven’t learned enough when I watched him at his worst with Molly O’Sullivan and Lady Talbot?”

*

Patrick asked about his breakfast, and Brendan commented about the rain of late and how well his crops were doing. Patrick paused at the same stone fence where he had left his basket earlier. “You think we can begin again?” he asked.

“For what purpose? So you can lose your temper again?” Brendan turned on him, squinting down at him.

“Oh, is it that you’re going to lose your temper now? Go ahead, dance about and wave your arms,” Patrick ordered, mimicking him. “Like you always do. Then tell me about m’temper.”

“All I wanted was Absolution.” Brendan pointed at himself. “There’s nothing in this world you can tell me I haven’t told myself at this point. I didn’t think m’oldest and closest friend would turn his back on me in m’time of need.”

“Like you turned your back on your wife and son?”

“And why didn’t you order m’wife here, like ya ordered me?”

“I have. And I ordered her into your bed besides. She hadn’t paid attention to me before, why should she now?” Patrick pointed to himself as he said it.

Brendan began his dance, bouncing about on the balls of his feet, pointing at himself, at Patrick, at Killelea. “All I wanted was Absolution. All I asked for. According to the Scriptures, you’re a servant of man, but no, not you. You’re thinking you’re God, Himself, damning me and everyone else you don’t approve of…”

“You’re right. M’mistake here is trying to act the Confessor to the likes of you.”

“And that means what, Patrick? Friendship be damned? Never mind friendship or brotherhood. And never mind every bloody thing we shared together..”

“Swear at me, will ya? Every time ya get your dander up, you start with your swearing…”

Link to The High Price of Football