Keenan and the wee ones are up in the pastures today. Come home with me. You can help with my baking, and we can talk some more.”
Darcy opened her mouth to protest and Teila said, “There is no excuse. I have even prepared Liam's supper for you," and she handed Darcy the basket she carried. "Throw that in your stew pot, and he'll never know the difference."
Darcy laughed. The offer sounded tempting, but she hesitated by the door of the cottage. She had been away from home so much lately, and she felt guilty. "You’re right, Teila. He shouldn't expect more. After all, I'm not his wife."
They giggled and Darcy disappeared inside the cottage to put the stew into her pot. She brought up the fire to warm it and grabbed a shawl. Thunder rumbled and they pulled their shawls on their heads walking briskly to the Mullin home. All evening the storm came in great waves off the ocean, but the Mullin cottage was warm and cozy as the two women baked bread and shared news.
Keenan and the children returned to find the house filled with the aroma of breads and puddings being prepared. It felt good to be part of a family, thought Darcy. Teila and Darcy were as close as sisters, and for years they had shared almost everything. Teila knew there was a side to Darcy that she would never understand, but she accepted it and asked nothing more from Darcy than what she could give.
"Well, if it isn't Miss McBride!" bellowed Keenan, as he hung up his jacket. "It's been far too quiet lately. We need some giggling and silly prattle from you two."
"Oh, go on with you and wash your hands," ordered Teila.
Keenan winked at Darcy as the children ran to hug her. They were fresh, rosy-cheeked little ones ranging in age from two to ten. Never experiencing a famine, they were strong, healthy and filled with life. Teila's husband, Keenan also appeared in robust good health. His energy and vitality were reflected in his good-nature. Even though his rumpled brown hair and pug nose made him look like a troll, his booming voice and generous nature endeared him to all. He was perpetually smoking a pipe, and the sweet smell of tobacco surrounded him.
He was grateful to Darcy because she made Teila happy, and he sat contentedly smoking his pipe while they discussed village news and prepared his supper. Keenan eased back in his chair and took a long draw, watching Darcy. She was different from Teila or any of the other women in town, and although he couldn't identify what was so extraordinary about her, the distinction became more apparent each year. He had known Darcy all his life, and she had never quite fit in with the others. Many of Kilkerry's young men found her mystery alluring, but Keenan was merely amused by it.
After dinner Rowena, their ten-year-old daughter, played a tune on her tin whistle as Keenan carried the children to bed. Darcy clapped enthusiastically when the child was done then made her farewells for the night. She hugged Teila and said, "I didn't realize how much I missed you."
"May God go with you, my girl,” Teila replied. “Now, quickly run between the raindrops!"
When Darcy arrived home, the front door was open, swinging back and forth in the wind. She hesitated a moment then entered the dark room and lit a candle. Nothing seemed disturbed, a few embers remained in the fireplace, but when she bent down to resurrect the fire; she saw the charred remains of Father Etienne's copy of Don Quixote . She groaned and pulled it gingerly from the coals.
Suddenly, the door crashed open, and there stood Liam, his large frame weaving back and forth in the shadows. He stumbled into the room and leaned heavily on the table, glaring at her. His greasy hair was plastered to his head, and his breath smelled of stale alcohol.
She stood up holding the charred book in her hand and said, "Are you responsible for this blasphemy? Don't you ever burn a book!"
Darcy opened her mouth to protest and Teila said, “There is no excuse. I have even prepared Liam's supper for you," and she handed Darcy the basket she carried. "Throw that in your stew pot, and he'll never know the difference."
Darcy laughed. The offer sounded tempting, but she hesitated by the door of the cottage. She had been away from home so much lately, and she felt guilty. "You’re right, Teila. He shouldn't expect more. After all, I'm not his wife."
They giggled and Darcy disappeared inside the cottage to put the stew into her pot. She brought up the fire to warm it and grabbed a shawl. Thunder rumbled and they pulled their shawls on their heads walking briskly to the Mullin home. All evening the storm came in great waves off the ocean, but the Mullin cottage was warm and cozy as the two women baked bread and shared news.
Keenan and the children returned to find the house filled with the aroma of breads and puddings being prepared. It felt good to be part of a family, thought Darcy. Teila and Darcy were as close as sisters, and for years they had shared almost everything. Teila knew there was a side to Darcy that she would never understand, but she accepted it and asked nothing more from Darcy than what she could give.
"Well, if it isn't Miss McBride!" bellowed Keenan, as he hung up his jacket. "It's been far too quiet lately. We need some giggling and silly prattle from you two."
"Oh, go on with you and wash your hands," ordered Teila.
Keenan winked at Darcy as the children ran to hug her. They were fresh, rosy-cheeked little ones ranging in age from two to ten. Never experiencing a famine, they were strong, healthy and filled with life. Teila's husband, Keenan also appeared in robust good health. His energy and vitality were reflected in his good-nature. Even though his rumpled brown hair and pug nose made him look like a troll, his booming voice and generous nature endeared him to all. He was perpetually smoking a pipe, and the sweet smell of tobacco surrounded him.
He was grateful to Darcy because she made Teila happy, and he sat contentedly smoking his pipe while they discussed village news and prepared his supper. Keenan eased back in his chair and took a long draw, watching Darcy. She was different from Teila or any of the other women in town, and although he couldn't identify what was so extraordinary about her, the distinction became more apparent each year. He had known Darcy all his life, and she had never quite fit in with the others. Many of Kilkerry's young men found her mystery alluring, but Keenan was merely amused by it.
After dinner Rowena, their ten-year-old daughter, played a tune on her tin whistle as Keenan carried the children to bed. Darcy clapped enthusiastically when the child was done then made her farewells for the night. She hugged Teila and said, "I didn't realize how much I missed you."
"May God go with you, my girl,” Teila replied. “Now, quickly run between the raindrops!"
When Darcy arrived home, the front door was open, swinging back and forth in the wind. She hesitated a moment then entered the dark room and lit a candle. Nothing seemed disturbed, a few embers remained in the fireplace, but when she bent down to resurrect the fire; she saw the charred remains of Father Etienne's copy of Don Quixote . She groaned and pulled it gingerly from the coals.
Suddenly, the door crashed open, and there stood Liam, his large frame weaving back and forth in the shadows. He stumbled into the room and leaned heavily on the table, glaring at her. His greasy hair was plastered to his head, and his breath smelled of stale alcohol.
She stood up holding the charred book in her hand and said, "Are you responsible for this blasphemy? Don't you ever burn a book!"
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