Jan Karon - In the Company of Others

‘There’s a view of history for you.’

She slapped her arm. ‘I see how Liam has taken to you, just like your parishioners in Mitford-even people who weren’t your parishioners. You attract that sort of thing like I attract midges. You never seem to mind.’

‘Maybe it’s some assurance to me that I exist, or have meaning-who knows? It’s always been that way.’

‘You’re like both father and priest to Liam, Anna says. That’s a lot to put on someone.’

‘Like you’re breath and life to me. That’s a lot to put on you.’

‘But I don’t mind it. Not ever. Besides, you try so hard to keep that need hidden. You seem afraid it will take something from me. But it doesn’t take anything away-it gives me something.

‘That’s what you do for people. It’s a wonderful gift, but it drains you. You see someone in need and take the plunge-that’s what God does, of course. But when you told Liam the police could jolly well come to you, I think you hit a home run.’

‘A first,’ he said, wry.

A young woman with an infant in her arms appeared on the narrow road, trailed by a border collie. The collie stopped, eyed them, barked. The woman lifted the tiny arm of the baby in a wagging salute to the couple at the chestnut tree, who waved back. He watched the trio disappear around a bend, praying for them as he had often done for the odd stranger or passerby, and even, on occasion, for the crew and passengers of a plane droning overhead. It was a private and instinctive thing, having little, or perhaps nothing to do with being a priest.

‘I love Ireland,’ she said.

‘You haven’t seen much of it.’

‘But I feel much of it, somehow. What if every day had a title, rather like the title of a poem-Psalm of Life or The Wild Swans at Coole, like that?’

‘Ah. So, what would today be titled?’

‘You go first.’

‘Free at Last.’

‘Perfect!’ she said. ‘You win.’

The mild zephyr that shook the blue flowers trifled with her hair. ‘I’m supposed to be painting Ben Bulben.’

‘Never mind. Legions have already done it, I’m sure. Getting down to brass tacks-shall I have Liam drive me to Sligo and rent a decent car?’

‘The world is full of decent cars,’ she said. ‘Let’s rattle around, we’ll remember it all’-she looked toward the Vauxhall-‘more vividly.’

‘Speaking of which, I just remembered…’

‘Tell me.’

‘We didn’t go to the country on my motor scooter.’

‘When?’

‘When we were courting-the time the bull chased me and we ate the raspberry tart.’

‘Who said we went on your motor scooter?’

‘I was thinking about it a few minutes ago, about you clinging on behind me, and it seemed so real. What I remembered was my fantasy about us going on the motor scooter. We went in the car.’

‘I would never have gone on that motor scooter.’

‘Right,’ he said. ‘By the way, when I asked you about seeing Balfour’s place, how did you know what happened to it? You asked Anna?’

‘I skipped ahead to the end of the journal. Just for a peek.’ She slapped at a midge. ‘But I’ve decided to read it in proper order, roughly in sync with you.’

‘Do we want to keep reading it?’

‘We do,’ she said.

‘What if it was an inside job?’

‘Balfour’s place?’

He stood up, stretched. ‘The painting.’

‘I wasn’t going to talk about that anymore. But, yes, what if…’ She sat up. ‘I mean, why was Jack Slade at the fair when Bella was there, and why did he stab the fellow for talking out of turn to her? What business is she of his?’

‘Good question. The Garda probably asked that, too. Speaking of-what is it, anyway? Garda with an a at the end or Gardai with an i at the end?’

‘Beats me,’ she said. ‘I’ve seen it with two i’s at the end.’

‘Anyhow, let’s up and away, Kav’na. Tempus fugit.’ He checked his pant pockets, discovered the Connemara Black with its jagged barb-not a good thing to tote around in a pocket.

He helped her from the blanket; she looked curiously sober. ‘Are we nuts to stay?’

‘We’re a little nuts even if we don’t stay,’ he said. ‘So what’s the difference?’

‘Do we really want to visit a graveyard today?’

‘Probably not today. Besides, you already know the epitaph.’

‘Cast a cold eye,’ she said, collecting the picnic leavings and stowing them in the hamper.

The party was over-the caffeine had caught up with him.

He had fallen asleep around midnight, trekked to the bathroom at three, and woke himself snoring at four. Awake at his usual hour of five, he wrestled briefly with the notion of getting up and unpacking their book carton, then slept again and dreamed. He watched his hands break the whole-grain loaf-look on the heart by sorrow broken, look on the tears by sinners shed-smelled the sour yeast as crumbs scattered onto the fair linen. The dream wheeled to the stone arch of Sewanee’s Heaven’s Gate and the sight of an old school chum-he threw up his hand-but no, it was Dooley, his mortal flesh radiant in a patch of light. Dooley at Sewanee!-so he hadn’t gone down to Georgia with all those peaches and incinerating summers. A great happiness came to him, he called Dooley’s name and woke himself.

He wondered if he’d disturbed Cynthia, but no, Rip Van Winkle was having at it.

Disgusted with the whole affair, he threw off the covers and made himself useful-splashed his face, shot the insulin, prayed the Morning Office by the floor lamp Maureen installed, then took the leather-bound journal in his lap and opened it to the placement of his bookmark. A cumbersome piece of work, this, not for casual reading at the beach.

The bulb blazed like the headlight of an eighteen-wheeler; he could see the weave of the linen in the yellowed pages.

14 June 1862

Have returned from Dublin to find matters here in utter ruin.

Unable to write these last days for the sick shame & rage I suffer at the upheaval in both home & worksite. C exhorts me to allow the fury to subside before I act-I cannot believe it will ever subside.

In my absence Balfour came to our Cabin & sought to have his way with A. Keegan was fishing & C had been at the garden-she said she felt some dull heaviness on her heart & hurried to the Cabin where she found A weeping & backed into the chimney corner fearing for her life. Balfour drunken & demonic-threatened A with worse if she cried out-C brandished the poker at him, not watching her words & drove him off the place. A heavy blade to us all. At the Mass Rock again pleading God’s wisdom in how this unforgivable act should be avenged. I confess savoring the notion of putting him down with a single shot to his heart in which is housed a roiling nest of vile intentions. Have sent by Keegan an urgent letter of appeal to Father Dominic seeking prayer & counsel.

I remember my mother saying There’s nothing so bad it couldn’t be worse & thus Danny Moore has disobeyed my warning & betrayed our trust in his character. While I was away he told a stone mason of the higher wage he receives & the men went to pieces about it. Danny beaten & brutally kicked-theres one for yr bloody stump, they said-the worksite sundered by petty thefts.

A sullen & bellicose group now working away with no one confessing the blame. Keegan had broken up the violence toward Danny & suffered a crack which dislocated his jaw-though re-located it troubles him yet We have given the boot to two perpetrators-Keegan & I anxious for what unemployed men might do in retribution, even our own Irishmen in such a case. Have sent Danny off the job until further notice, not wishing to rush to judgment in a matter which concerns the wellbeing of seven people. His mother in complete agreement & as stricken by his action as by the loss of wages to their household. I take the matter as a grievous lesson for future dealings.