Jan Karon - In the Company of Others

‘Sorry. Against the rules.’

‘I’ll be no trouble a’tall; she’ll never know I’m about.’ William leaned forward. ‘I’ll sit in th’ portico. If she knows I’m about, ’t will be because ye told her.’

‘And if she asks me, I’ll have to tell the truth. She’ll have both our heads.’

‘I’ll sit on th’ front steps, so.’

Right up there with the midges.

‘Can’t do it, William.’

More laughter from the dining room. ‘Having a bit of fun, the Sweeneys.’

‘Aye. Sweeneys like their bit of fun,’ said William, looking glum.

‘It might be a while,’ he said to Cynthia. A while for the Sweeneys to uproot and go to their slumber, for the kitchen to settle down and hear what Bella had to say. He felt the urgent pull to Catharmore. ‘Half an hour,’ he said. ‘Would that be okay?’

She knew what was on his mind. ‘Take your time. I’ll just have a chin-wag with William.’

‘I’ll tell ye about th’ bloody Black an’ Tan that came along our road when I was in th’ cradle, how my grandfather did his bit for Ireland.’ William drew out his handkerchief, gave a honk. ‘An’ where are ye off to, Rev’rend?’

‘Mesopotamia,’ said Cynthia.

Fletcher met him in the hall. ‘She’s completely done in. Dr. Feeney left a few minutes ago.’

‘Won’t stay long. Just wanted to be here. How are the wrists healing?’

‘Th’ splint can come off soon, we’ll be doing OT, get those joints movin’. We think th’ break is fine, she’ll need th’ cast at least another four weeks. ’Tis th’ hematoma that’s th’ worst of it; my heart’s breakin’ for her, Rev’rend.’

‘Make that two of us.’

The lamp burning in the corner, Cuch looking up as he came in, the air close. He sat, elbows on knees, head in hand.

‘Is it you?’ she whispered.

‘It is.’

A long silence; minutes must have passed. He thought she may be sleeping, then she turned her head and looked at him.

‘I lost the peace. You said that would happen if we wander.’

The Enemy ever prowling to and fro. ‘It was fear that pulled you away-Paddy, and all that happened today,’ he said.

‘What will we do? How will we all go on without each other, the way things were?’

‘The way things were didn’t work.’

‘Yes, but they were familiar. At Cathair Mohr, we care for each other after our own fashion.’

‘I understand.’

‘Do you really understand, Reverend, or is that what you were trained to say?’

‘It’s how my own family cared for each other. I do understand.’

He couldn’t tell her what Bella hadn’t yet confessed to Liam and Anna, that wasn’t his precinct. What if they learned Paddy had hired Slade to do it? Anything could happen.

‘Let’s work on the fear,’ he said, ‘on running back to his peace.’

‘Work on leavin’ off the drink, work on being courageous, work on defeating the pain. Work, work, work, Reverend, and now I must work to reclaim what I thought had been given for all time.’

‘Faith is radical and often difficult. It’s the narrow footpath, not the broad wagon road. Have you asked him to draw you back and take the fear away?’

‘He should be good enough to do it without being asked. He’s God, after all.’

‘Here we go, then. Hold on to your hat.’

He touched her forehead, prayed for her-for the fear to be released, for peace to flow in.

In the long silence, her even breathing. ‘What shall I do without you?’

‘You’ll do just fine without me. You have the one who’s always available-for peace, mercy, grace, forgiveness-you name it. And of course there’s Fletcher as long as she’s needed, and Seamus and Liam and Anna and Tad and Feeney…’

‘Anna, perhaps, but not Liam. I was unfair to her, but I’ve been especially unfair to Liam. How does one know, Reverend, what a mother is supposed to be if one has had no mothering? I suppose mothering comes from a place of deep feeling, but after the fire, that place was locked away.’

‘Ask Liam to forgive you.’

‘Paddy,’ she said, her thoughts elsewhere. ‘I tried to help him-with everything-but in all the wrong ways, I see.’

‘Ask Paddy to forgive you.’

She gave him a fierce look. ‘If I do all you say, Reverend, I shall be a hundred years old before I catch up.’

He laughed. Then laughed some more.

She smiled a little. ‘Bloody Protestant,’ she said.

The Sweeneys were still at it, but they’d spilled out to the garden, into an August night lit by fireflies and the glowing tips of cigarettes. Voices murmuring now, with the occasional bursts of laughter, little explosions of some long-held happiness or hope.

They sat in the dining room and had a decaf, watched a light moving on the lake. The kitchen was cleaning up.

‘Can you make it?’ he asked. ‘It’s been a long day.’

‘Weeks were crammed into this day. But yes, I can make it if you can.’

High-five with his deacon.

‘I hate that they took our journal,’ she said.

It did seem their own; no one else had been interested. ‘But we left off at a good place, I think.’

‘The lad improved, their marriage spared, Balfour off his back.’

‘The pony,’ he said. ‘Don’t forget the pony.’

She laughed. ‘Shall we drive by Balfour’s place tomorrow? Anna says it’s on our way home.’

‘Let’s do it.’

She looked toward the kitchen door. ‘Bella will be in a state. To have to work all evening with that on her heart…’

The kitchen door swinging open, and Bella coming to them, grave. ‘Are you doing… you know, what you should be doing?’

Cynthia embraced Bella. ‘Not at this precise moment, but yes, ever since you told me. God is with you and it will be good; it’s going to be good.’

‘If th’ Sweeneys ever leave,’ said Bella.

The Sweeneys’ guests were indeed leaving. They crowded into the lodge, saying their good nights to Liam and Anna and tossing fags into the fire and slapping each other on the back and speaking a bit of Irish into the bargain. The scent of wine and cologne mingled on the air, then out the door they went, crunching into the car park, as the remaining Sweeneys hied themselves to bed.

‘’t was a hard evening,’ said Bella. ‘Everyone is all-in, even Mamó, who never gets all-in.’ She was trembling.

He had never seen such trembling as had been roused at Broughadoon and Catharmore-his own included.

‘You’re brave,’ said Cynthia. ‘Your family will be, also.’

‘I’m tryin’ to be brave like Liam’s oul’ mum.’

There! he thought with sudden pleasure. There’s one for Evelyn Conor. And definitely one for Bella Flaherty.

He slept hard and woke fresh, as if he’d journeyed in himself to an unknown spring of curative power, and drunk of it through the night.

They lolled in bed. ‘When do you think we should go home?’ he asked. ‘We’ll need to allow a little time for Emma to get the tickets hammered out.’

‘When we see what Corrigan thinks of all this, I suppose. I can’t dwell on the thought of Bella getting a sentence. I cannot imagine it, I will not.’

He dressed and went down for her coffee and took it up, then went down again to drink his in the garden and pick up the fag ends, make himself useful. He checked his watch. They needed to get going by ten, Anna said.

Liam came out in jeans, a cotton shirt, barefoot. There was the smile, almost.

He rolled out the corny proverb with the kernel of truth in it: ‘The oul’ silver lining.’

‘Righto,’ said Liam. And there was the full smile he hadn’t seen in a coon’s age.

‘Bella was brave to tell us. She dodged a bullet with Slade, he would have mucked her life up for good.’