Flight of the Earls by Michael K. Reynolds

twitters.
    â€œBe forgiving of our dear Clare,” chimed Fiona. “The good Father is still acquiring his spiritual disciplines.”
    This brought laughter, which cleared the discomfort of the moment, for which Clare was grateful. She and the priest joined the group alongside her brother. Sitting next to Seamus was Pierce, from whom Clare thought she caught a glare of disapproval in the flickering light.
    â€œMrs. MacBrennan,” Clare said. “Will my last memory of you be as a blatherer?”
    â€œFine then, as I would prefer you to remember me in my true light.” Fiona raised her glass to the group. “To America.”
    â€œTo America,” they all replied in a staggered chorus.
    Pierce’s father, Mac Brady, weighed in. “I’ve heard through way of reliable testimony that there are so many jobs over there for Irishmen, they’ll meet you on the docks, begging you to take wages.”
    Fiona spoke up as well. “Well, I’ve heard it said you can earn more with a day’s shovel with the Yanks than you can draggin’ plow for a whole year in our fields.”
    â€œThat’s a dear shame seeing as my boy isn’t fond of lifting shovels.” Da tossed a twig into the fire.
    Eyes shifted toward Seamus to see how he would respond, but Clare knew her brother wouldn’t give Liam the satisfaction of validating the sting in his words.
    â€œAnd I’d say, Da, this potato whiskey was worth every blister on your fingers.” Seamus emptied the glass. “If there isn’t any to be had in the Promised Land, you’ll hear tales of how young Seamus swam back home.” He turned to their father and raised his glass. “To the poteen.”
    â€œThe poteen,” was the echoed cry.
    When the toast settled, Father Quinn waved a raised arm to draw attention. “Should we share a few kindly words about those who will be leaving us? What say you, Madame O’Riley?”
    â€œWould be tradition.” The keener turned to Clare and stared in a strange manner.
    Mac put his arm around Pierce. “I will be first.” He cleared his throat and held an air until all gave him attention. “I remember this lad, my son, when he was no higher than me boots. And through the years, he got to feel me boots on a few occasions.”
    Pierce nodded in agreement.
    â€œBut he’s grown up to be a fine man, he has,” Mac said, his voice growing in intensity. “This boy loves his country. This land. And it’s only because of his deep concern for his family that he’s willing to take leave from this place.”
    Mac’s eyes glistened. “There won’t be a day, son, when your mother and I won’t wonder how you are, or where you be. This sacrifice of yours will ne’er be forgotten.”
    Pierce seemed to feed off of the sincerity of his father’s voice and was moved by the sentiment. “Thank you, Father.”
    Seamus gave him a teasing elbow. There was an empty silence as they anticipated their da would speak, but the moment filled only with the crackling of the fire. Clare didn’t look to her da. She didn’t want anyone to realize how much she craved the slightest hint of his affection.
    After a duration of unease, Father Quinn prodded further. “Does anyone else have something to share?” He tried to make eye contact with Liam, but Clare’s father continued to gaze down into the fire.
    â€œI have something.” The deep, sensuous words of the keener were unexpected. The graceful woman rose to her feet, advancing with well-practiced elegance. She carefully took off her hat and handed it to Father Quinn.
    The woman reached with both hands behind her neck and unclasped a necklace around her neck. The pendant glinted as it emerged from the keener’s bosom.
    In a ceremonious fashion, and with a wry smile on her lips, the keener bent down and, with each hand holding one of the ends of