months after marriage until the grave but steady hard work and service.
“I said it was the fate of a countrywoman in the West of Ireland.
“She said, ‘That’s just it, da. I don’t plan to be a countrywoman in the West of Ireland.’ And not long after that she left.”
“Didn’t she have any beaus among the young men?”
O’Malley answered that one. “As many young men as there were hereabouts.”
“But anybody in particular?”
O’Malley and Quirk exchanged glances. “Rory O’Connor,” said O’Malley, as though McGarr should know whom he meant. When after a few seconds of silence he realized that McGarr was waiting for an explanation, he added, “A big fellow. Wild as the west wind. Folks live out at the very tip of Nag’s Head. That’s not very far from the Cliffs—” O’Malley broke off. “You don’t suppose—”
Quirk began to stand.
O’Malley waved his hand at him so that he eased himself back into the cushion. “Couldn’t be. He left right before May did. Whole years ago.”
“And she probably followed him, too, I bet,” said her father.
“Do you have any proof of that?”
“Not a bit of it, but May wouldn’t have mentioned a word of him to me.”
O’Malley explained. “May had no favorites among the boys hereabouts but one—Rory O’Connor. And whereas he was big and handsome and likable in spite of all his foolishness, he was a wrecker if I ever met one. Raw as the place he hailed from—all emotion and strength and good looks and, some say, brains too, but not an ounce of discretion or concern for anybody but himself and—”
“May,” said her father. “May too.” He again touched his lips to the whiskey.
“But he wasn’t anxious to marry her.”
“Nor she him!” said Quirk in a rush. “They just wanted to rush off together, away from here to a place where they could live the way they wanted. When Iasked them which way that was and where the place might be, they didn’t have a clue. Just off they wanted to go together. And not married, mind you! Not so much as an engagement promise between them. May said that was the way she wanted it. That he wasn’t the sort of man a girl actually married. ‘Then what do you actually do with him,’ I asked. When she didn’t answer that, she didn’t get what she wanted. I went out to Nag’s Head and told O’Connor’s father how it was—that this was my only daughter and I wouldn’t suffer his son to ruin her, that if they would get married first I’d give them my blessing and eventually my farm too, but otherwise, his son Rory could go wherever it was he was heading alone.
“Well, Jack O’Connor was a fair man, I don’t care what else has ever been said about him.”
McGarr looked at O’Malley, who mouthed, “I.R.A.”
“And he went into the barn, where Rory was stacking bales of hay. He was in there an hour. I heard them shouting and fighting and I didn’t dare go in to see what was what, because there’s no coming between a father and son, and as big as I was then, I was no match for either one of them alone.
“When Jack staggered out of the barn, he was a mess. He said, ‘Rory’s leaving tomorrow, alone. You have my promise.’ And so he did. May never forgave me for that when she learned what had happened. And she too left the day after I admitted I had gone to see Rory’s father.”
McGarr asked, “Has O’Connor ever returned?”
“I don’t think so. His father died a few years back. The oldest son was lost at sea, and the old woman is living there alone. Whenever I’m out that way, I stop in to see her.” O’Malley got himself another drink.
“Has she ever talked about her son Rory?”
“Not a word. The way Jack dealt with him drove a wedge between husband and wife. Rory had been her favorite, you know. Her last son. She had spoiled him rotten, too. That’s why he was the way he was. He didn’t think there was anything he couldn’t or shouldn’t do. I wonder what happened
“I said it was the fate of a countrywoman in the West of Ireland.
“She said, ‘That’s just it, da. I don’t plan to be a countrywoman in the West of Ireland.’ And not long after that she left.”
“Didn’t she have any beaus among the young men?”
O’Malley answered that one. “As many young men as there were hereabouts.”
“But anybody in particular?”
O’Malley and Quirk exchanged glances. “Rory O’Connor,” said O’Malley, as though McGarr should know whom he meant. When after a few seconds of silence he realized that McGarr was waiting for an explanation, he added, “A big fellow. Wild as the west wind. Folks live out at the very tip of Nag’s Head. That’s not very far from the Cliffs—” O’Malley broke off. “You don’t suppose—”
Quirk began to stand.
O’Malley waved his hand at him so that he eased himself back into the cushion. “Couldn’t be. He left right before May did. Whole years ago.”
“And she probably followed him, too, I bet,” said her father.
“Do you have any proof of that?”
“Not a bit of it, but May wouldn’t have mentioned a word of him to me.”
O’Malley explained. “May had no favorites among the boys hereabouts but one—Rory O’Connor. And whereas he was big and handsome and likable in spite of all his foolishness, he was a wrecker if I ever met one. Raw as the place he hailed from—all emotion and strength and good looks and, some say, brains too, but not an ounce of discretion or concern for anybody but himself and—”
“May,” said her father. “May too.” He again touched his lips to the whiskey.
“But he wasn’t anxious to marry her.”
“Nor she him!” said Quirk in a rush. “They just wanted to rush off together, away from here to a place where they could live the way they wanted. When Iasked them which way that was and where the place might be, they didn’t have a clue. Just off they wanted to go together. And not married, mind you! Not so much as an engagement promise between them. May said that was the way she wanted it. That he wasn’t the sort of man a girl actually married. ‘Then what do you actually do with him,’ I asked. When she didn’t answer that, she didn’t get what she wanted. I went out to Nag’s Head and told O’Connor’s father how it was—that this was my only daughter and I wouldn’t suffer his son to ruin her, that if they would get married first I’d give them my blessing and eventually my farm too, but otherwise, his son Rory could go wherever it was he was heading alone.
“Well, Jack O’Connor was a fair man, I don’t care what else has ever been said about him.”
McGarr looked at O’Malley, who mouthed, “I.R.A.”
“And he went into the barn, where Rory was stacking bales of hay. He was in there an hour. I heard them shouting and fighting and I didn’t dare go in to see what was what, because there’s no coming between a father and son, and as big as I was then, I was no match for either one of them alone.
“When Jack staggered out of the barn, he was a mess. He said, ‘Rory’s leaving tomorrow, alone. You have my promise.’ And so he did. May never forgave me for that when she learned what had happened. And she too left the day after I admitted I had gone to see Rory’s father.”
McGarr asked, “Has O’Connor ever returned?”
“I don’t think so. His father died a few years back. The oldest son was lost at sea, and the old woman is living there alone. Whenever I’m out that way, I stop in to see her.” O’Malley got himself another drink.
“Has she ever talked about her son Rory?”
“Not a word. The way Jack dealt with him drove a wedge between husband and wife. Rory had been her favorite, you know. Her last son. She had spoiled him rotten, too. That’s why he was the way he was. He didn’t think there was anything he couldn’t or shouldn’t do. I wonder what happened
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