III
Where
Hangovers Might Lead
Father Patrick planned to return that night to Killelea, but not without
Molly O’Sullivan. He watched and greeted most as others gathered about the
strand just below the storehouse. Helen O’Hare rolled her husband up like baker
working in his dough, and with well practiced muscles, deposited Donald’s
drunken arse into the first boat.
Mrs. Keenan complained again about the condition of the whole of them
from the docks. And she wasn’t happy about the football match and the fact that
Patrick participated. She approached Helen O’Hare, but then visibly
reconsidered. Helen drew up to her full height, and placed her hands on her
hips. “And would it be that you’re not in favor of an innocent football match,
Mrs. Keenan?“ The old woman turned to the boat and climbed in.
O'Hare’s boyos stumbled downhill then, and crawled in beside Donald
O‘Hare. Wee Sean kissed his wife goodbye, hugged each of his bairnes, and then
warned his Deirdre about Connor Corrigan’s intentions. When Connor arrived and
crawled in next to Deirdre, Sean nearly crawled between them.
Patrick wished them good night, and helped push them away from shore. He
waited, and he watched, and herself did not arrive as he had hoped. The last of
those returning to the mainland hinted that they would like to be off. Father
Patrick took in the darkening skies about him, the reds, pinks and yellows of
the sun setting on the other side of the harbor, and the outline of the
lighthouse on top the rock just across the bay. “I’ll be back,” he assured the
others. “If you could be waiting for a few moments longer.”
He took the walkway up towards the Churchyard, and turned off in the
direction of the dun. If at this moment he could guess where he’d find herself,
it would be either in the shadows of the dun, or it would be no further than
the nearest homestead.
Father Patrick’s second guess proved out. In between stone fences
surrounding the home of his closest friend, he found what he didn’t want to
see. A peat fire glowed just enough to pick out the silhouettes of Molly
O’Sullivan and Brendan Kelly. Brendan sat upright, his back against the closest
fence. She sat on his lap, her arms about his neck and her legs to either side
of him. His hands pushed her skirt up behind her as he caressed her backend.
They kissed.
Patrick leaned over the fence. “I knew I’d be finding you here,” he
began.
“Awe, Christ,” Brendan whined, pushing back against the fence. “You
couldn’t be having the decency to take your anger out on someone else this
evening?”
The words struck out at Patrick like an ax on wood. “Awe, Christ? ‘Tisn’t
bad enough you’ll be committing adultery here, but you’ll be using His name in
vain as well? And tell me where Michelene is. Is the bairne off by himself, or
are you planning to do your worst in front of him?”
“He’s asleep,” Molly broke in. “What manner of mother would I be that I’d
be allowing him to see this?”
“What manner of mother are you that you’d be giving birth out of
wedlock?” Father Patrick shot. “No, you come back to Killelea with me now.”
“Or what, Patrick?” Brendan Kelly demanded. “You’re going to be casting
our souls into hell, will you? Damn us next Sunday during the Homily?”
The Priest circled the fence and entered by a gate opposite the couple.
“You want to commit adultery, you do as you please. If you don’t mind, I’ll
watch.” He planted himself on the ground across from the couple and crossed his
arms.
Brendan curled up, while raising his fists and growling out his
frustration. Molly pulled herself up, her skirts dropping about her calves as
she did. “Michelene, wake up. We’re going back to Killelea with the bloody
Priest….”
*
Bridey’s eyes grew to twice their normal size as Brendan circled about, clutching his fists and swearing at
the Priest. She turned full force on Liam. “You’re surprised?” he asked. He was.
“Surprised? You could have told me I had a nephew. I mean I thought that
bairne looked familiar.”
“That’s it? You’re surprised about the lad?”
She hunched up, crossing skinny arms before her. “I’m surprised by his
choices. First Enid, a dead fish, and now her?”
What was more fun? Bridey’s surprise or the argument raging between the
Priest and his best boyo, the prancing fool? Bridey was right. Molly O’Sullivan
didn’t set much easier on his gut than Enid did.
*
Patrick picked the child from the protection of the old dog’s body.
Sprite licked the lad’s cheek, receiving a groan in response. Then Patrick
carried Michelene back to the boat. Molly O’Sullivan followed, but not
willingly. To Patrick’s everlasting disappointment, Enid joined the group
awaiting his return. Two men, neither sober, helped the women to seats in the
boat. Patrick passed Michelene to his mother once she sat, and then helped to
push the craft from the shore. As soon as he seated himself, she dumped the
child back into his lap. His body shielded the boy from the lighthouse’s now
stronger beam. It momentarily highlighted the faces of the others sharing the
boat. Molly O’Sullivan pouted, and glared at Enid Kelly. Enid examined the
child, but then turned to watch their approach into Killelea.
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