Leon Uris by Redemption

Ireland, Tomas’s arms were most readily open to embrace Conor. Liam had to annoy the hell out of Tomas to get even pale recognition.
    Liam believed the angels had smiled on him when Conor went to work at Mr. Lambe’s forge as an apprentice farrier and blacksmith. Now Liam alone could go up to the fields every day with his daddy, digging lazy beds, pulling rocks, planting, slaning turf, harvesting alongside.
    From the age of nine he worked without complaint in fair or dirty weather until he was knackered, waiting only for that grand moment when Tomas would lay a hand on his shoulder and say, “There’s a good lad, now.” No boyworked for his reward more earnestly. “There’s a good lad,” and maybe even a rumple of the hair.
    But his daddy’s gesture of recognition was soon submerged by the love he showed for Conor. Each day he and his daddy would trudge down from the fields, and at the village crossroads Conor would be waiting in his blacksmith leathers. Conor would run up to Tomas, who would swoop him up in his arms and ride him home on his shoulder.
    His older sister, Brigid, and Dary, the baby, were not in the struggle for Tomas’s affection. As the sole daughter, Brigid belonged to her mother, who made her girl religious and acutely aware of sins of the flesh. Thus, Brigid was able to control those amorous moments with her sweetheart, Myles McCracken. Poor Myles had to bumble around, never being able to court Brigid properly because he was born with the gravest curse, no land to inherit. Finola was more than up to the task of keeping Brigid half daft with fear until Myles was forced from Ballyutogue to find work in Derry.
    Whatever affection Brigid and Finola might have shown Liam was gone with the winds after Dary was born. The two women smothered Dary, fierce-like. Ma had the wee wane kneeling and making the sign before he could even walk properly, preening him for the priesthood from the day she popped him.
    Tomas had one obsession and that was to keep Conor in Ballyutogue to inherit the Larkin acres as well as own the forge. Tomas raged against Conor’s equal obsession to read and dream of the world beyond Ballyutogue.
    Their grandda Kilty, a Fenian hero, enchanted young Conor with the fires of Irish republicanism.
    Conor wanted to go and Liam wanted nothing else but to stay and inherit the farm, but Liam was in no one’s plans. He was just an extra bowl at the table.
    The Larkin house was divided in long-established Irish tradition. Conor alone loved everyone and fought everyone.He stood up for Brigid and Myles McCracken. He challenged Finola in making Dary a priest. And oh, the deep love between Conor and Tomas was as fierce as their never-ending warfare.
    Aware of Liam’s awkwardness and shortcomings, Conor became his brother’s keeper, teaching him the ways of girls, playing football, drinking like a man, protecting him from unfair treatment by Finola and Tomas. Conor taught him how to use his fists. And Liam was awed how Conor stood up to everyone and more awed by his brilliance as a scholar.
    “Oh, how I hated myself because I wasn’t you,” the Squire mumbled aloud.
    All the early stuff with Rory were merely skirmishes. It broke into warfare the day that Conor left New Zealand and Rory began walking in his uncle’s footsteps.

8
    Rory awakened to instant remembrance. As he connected the threads of events, his groan filled the room. The light was gray. He hated dead light.
    “There’s a lad,” Georgia whispered.
    “Georgia. Thanks to God.”
    He sat up on sheets wet from sweat and torn from clawing. It was difficult to hold his head straight, so he let it fall into his hands like a heavy boulder. “I never knew any kind of pain like this.”
    “It’s called a broken heart, Rory.”
    She sat beside him and pulled his head down onto her lap with the stern gentleness of a nurse.
    “What’s going to happen to me? I don’t know how much I can take.”
    “It’s near impossible to die of