IV
A Match
With Waell's Crossing
Father Patrick returned to Innisfen on Saturday. Tim Darcy brought the
word about Sunday’s match on Friday. Patrick decided to hear Confessions, and
return that night. “Tell me you figured a way to move Wee Sean back to the
mainland for the day,” Brendan Kelly instructed, walking up beside the Priest
as he headed back towards the old Churchyard.
“You’re speaking to me, is it?”
Brendan swallowed. “Anyone else and you know I wouldn’t be bothered.”
“Anyone else’s wife would have figured this out long before Sunday.”
Brendan swallowed again, turning on Patrick. “Ya promised me, Patrick.”
The Priest waved one hand. “And I kept m’promise. What neither of us
planned on was herself taking the same boat back as we did on Sunday. One look
at Michelene…”
“That boy is a gift.” Brendan wiped his chin. “Would you have any idea
how badly I want children?”
“As badly as Enid would be avoiding it.”
“Did she tell you that?”
“In tears she was, telling me what a good wife she is to you, and how she
would make such a terrible mother. That even Molly O’Sullivan would do better
than she.”
“Molly O’Sullivan is not m’idea of who should mother m’children,” Brendan
turned aside. “God help me, she’s willing though.”
“A little too willing. If I didn’t see yourself in that lad’s face, I’d
question who really sired him.”
Turning sheepishly in Patrick’s direction, Brendan tucked his hands in
under the lash of his trousers. “So, Father, would you be granting me
Absolution?”
“For what sin would that be?”
“So torture me. Bless me, Father, I’ve sinned. I’ve committed adultery.
If not in the flesh, within m’heart.”
“And?”
“And? What else will you be punishing me for?”
“How about using the Lord’s name in vain?”
“Me?”
“You, Brendan. If you’re going to confess, do it properly. Himself
deserves at least that from ya.”
“All right, all right. I’ve used His name in vain. Now give me Absolution
so we can get on to figuring how to get Wee Sean across the Channel.”
*
On the strand, not far from where his boat awaited him, Father Patrick
built a fire using peat and wood taken from the dun stores. He fried eggs,
potatoes and onions. With some of the yeast and flour, he made pan biscuits to
go along with it. Patrick knew that the smell carried on the breezes wafting in
from the Bay would be enticing. Wee Sean found his way fireside first, and
helped himself to a plate full. Smith, Arthur, Corrigan and Murphy showed up
only minutes before Brendan Kelly. Wee Sean had just finished his meal before
the bunch of them had started theirs.
Father Patrick loaded a bowl with potatoes and passed it to Sprite. That
wee yellow cur showed. Father passed Wee Sean a bottle of good scotch whiskey.
As Wee Sean helped himself, Father attempted to entice the wee animal with a
pan biscuit dipped in grease from his skillet. The dog crawled on his forelegs,
quickly taking up the biscuit. “Here, Precious,” Corrigan teased. One bite, and
the dog ran, taking the rest with him.
Wee Sean chuckled, helping himself to another drink. One drink led to
another, and then another, and before long Wee Sean found himself slipping from
the rock he sat on.
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