Jan Karon - In the Company of Others

‘Always the silver lining, as you say-I think I nailed it. But-we met only eight or ten cars on the highway and nothing in the lane, so no great challenge.’

Liam managed a smile. ‘’t is what’s in th’ lane that makes th’ Irish driver. Have another go, anytime. William behaved himself?’

‘We made a short visit to Jack Kennedy. Hope that was all right.’

‘Aye, William will be talkin’ about it for days.’

‘I’ll need to use your mobile to call New Jersey.’ He checked his watch. Still a bit early. ‘Will pay for the call, of course. Can’t seem to find my cell phone.’ For all he knew, it had gone the way of O’Malley’s pullover.

‘I’ll call th’ Garda. Let me know when you’re after usin’ my mobile, and thanks for being buggered into the bridge game. Feeney’s without mercy when it comes to scaring up a fourth. I’ll drive you up a half-hour early tomorrow, if you don’t mind. Seamus is after givin’ you a tour of the place.’

‘Perhaps my wife could come along, just for the tour?’

‘Ah.’ Liam closed his eyes a moment. ‘My mother doesn’t care for attractive women, and your wife is a very attractive woman. If we could wait ’til another day-when Mother’s havin’ her drop-down, as she calls it, I’m sure we can work something out. God’s truth, my mother’s a terror.’

Liam fidgeted, uneasy.

‘And Rev’rend… if you could possibly wear a tie tomorrow…’

‘I would normally wear a collar.’

‘Ah, God help us, she likes th’ Protestant cleric to wear th’ tie.’

‘Not this Protestant cleric.’ He said it mildly enough, he thought.

Buying time, he browsed a recent Independent, then rang Walter. Hurtling through midtown Manhattan in a cab at seven A.M., his cousin expressed dismay over the peevish star this trip had come under; he and Katherine were nonetheless looking forward to connecting at Broughadoon and reworking the schedule; and love to Cynthia who would be in their prayers, God bless ‘er.

He hailed Maureen as he came along the stair hall. ‘How did our patient get on while we were out?’

‘Bella was after givin’ her a hand, but she went up th’ way she came down, except in reverse! She’s a dote, she is, an’ no wonder, with a drop of th’ Irish in ’er. I’ve just done a good cleanin’ on th’ side she goes up an’ down, to keep th’ dust off her skirts. How was your drivin’ lesson?’

‘We made it in one piece.’

‘I hear Jack Kennedy stood you a glass.’

‘He did.’

‘Did Liam tell you we’ve a big surprise for th’ guests tomorrow evenin’? Cynthia says she’s up to it, if th’ rev’rend is.’

‘Consider it done, then.’

She was sleeping, curled like a cat beneath the comforter, the armoire door open, the window closed. He undressed and crawled in beside her and was out like a light.

He woke when he heard her cry out in her sleep, and rolled over and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s all right,’ he said.

She turned to him; he was alarmed by the look on her face.

‘The man…’ She covered her face with her hands.

‘It’s all right, it’s okay. It won’t happen again. Would you like to get out of here? Just say the word. We can take a hotel in Sligo.’

‘It was only a dream, I’ll be fine.’ She shivered a little.

‘You always say that when something goes wrong.’

‘And, of course, I’m always fine.’ She sat up and rubbed her eyes and squinted at his watch. ‘I’m hungry as a bear, and it’s time for you to eat something, too. Did you take the raisins with you?’

‘I did not.’

‘Did you smash into anything?’

‘I did. Tore off the driver’s-side mirror. But I think I got the hang of it.’ He told her about the bike rider he’d seen on the highway, which made her mildly anxious, then reported his phone call to Walter. Her relief was as palpable as his own.

‘I asked the operator for charges,’ he said. ‘Sixty bucks.’

She wasn’t currently into finances. ‘I missed you,’ she said.

‘You did?’ He was a sucker for being missed.

‘I was stuck with Bella as my caregiver.’

‘Tell me everything and I’ll bring our lunch up.’

‘The little wretch. Needs a swift kick in the pants.’

‘On the order of what you used to give Dooley.’

‘Yes, and of course it worked; they beg for it, I think. Needless to say, she’s starving for love-and since I’ve nothing better to do, I’ve decided to give it to her, though she’ll put up a terrific fight.’

‘You’re amazing.’

‘She’s very bright. I asked why she chose the butterfly tattoo, what it means to her. She opened up a little, then, but only a little. The butterfly, she said, has a very short life span. I took that to signify her teenage angst, which can definitely have a suicidal edge.

‘She’s partial to the monarch, which flies from Canada to Mexico, covering two thousand miles in two months-isn’t that amazing?-but only when conditions are perfect and against the most terrible odds. So maybe she’s thinking to fly the coop when the timing is right, and the further away, the better.’

‘How do you know these things?’

‘Very simple. I was a teenager. She did something I wouldn’t have expected. She recited two verses from Frost, from his poem My Butterfly. She seemed to… grow softer, somehow, when she spoke the lines.

‘There’s a collection of Frost poems in the library, so I wrote down the verses.’

She took her sketchbook from the bedside table, and read aloud.

‘It seemed God let thee flutter from his gentle clasp / Then fearful he had let thee win / Too far beyond him to be gathered in / Snatched thee, o’er eager, with un-gentle grasp.

‘And so in the poem, the season ends and the flowers die, and the butterfly, too, and she quoted this:

‘Then when I was distraught / And could not speak / Sidelong, full on my cheek / What should that reckless zephyr fling / But the wild touch of thy dye-dusty wing.’

The sound of a power saw keening beyond the window.

‘Such a sorrowing in her,’ she said.

He saw the sorrowing reflected in Cynthia’s face. If there was ever one to say, I feel your pain, and mean it, it was his wife. ‘Lunch!’ he said in what she called his pulpit voice.

‘Yes. Well. Any sort of sandwich on soda bread with a bit of fruit and tea, and I’ll be your slave.’

‘You’ll forget that heedless remark, but I’ll remember it.’

He pulled on a pair of jeans, a shirt, tennis shoes. ‘Back in a flash,’ he said. ‘And by the way…’ He flipped the light switch at the door-on, off, on, off.

‘Hooray!’ she said.

‘The hot bath you’ve been dreaming of.’

He knocked on the kitchen door. Bella opened it, but said nothing. Lunch wasn’t usually served at Broughadoon, but Anna had made special arrangements for the Kavanaghs.

‘If we could get a couple of sandwiches? Anything on soda bread, with fruit and tea.’

She stared, cool.

‘Thank you,’ he said.

She closed the door. Robert Frost or no, it would take more than a swift kick to get that job done.

He sat at the table and looked out to the view, noted the faint scent of insect repellent, and remembered hearing that all fishing lodges smell that way, especially in August when the midges are out.

Tonight he would finish the letter-find an envelope large enough for the drawing to be mailed flat, take a wild guess at the weight, put stamps on the whole business, and sayonara. No wonder the postcard was such a popular item when traveling.

Bella entered the dining room with the tray. ‘Shall I take it up, then?’

‘Many thanks, but no, I’ll take it.’ He was pleased to return her attempt at being civil. ‘Mrs. Kav’na loves your soda bread.’