Susan Kiernan-Lewis - Free Falling

“The Americans?” David continued. “We’re renting the cottage.” He turned to Sarah and said, “Maybe he doesn’t speak English?”

“Might only speak Irish,” Sarah said. She smiled at the man who only narrowed his eyes at her. His fingers tightened on his dog’s collar.

“I think we’re freaking him out, David. Let’s leave.”

“I thought the Irish were on our side,” John said, as they all turned their horses and started back towards the main road.

Just then, an old woman came out into the yard. “Hello,” she called to them. “Are you the Americans next door?”

The riders halted and looked back at her.

“Yes, that would be us,” David said.

“Oh, come in, come in,” she said. “You’re all very welcome. And this your little lad, is it? What a handsome boy! Come in all of you.” She thumped the old man on the arm. “Have you gone totally daft, man? They’re the Americans . And you just standing there like some kind of ejeet .”

They steered their horses back to the cottage. The woman wore a long woolen skirt and looked like she’d stepped out of the last century. She wiped her hands on a dishtowel tucked into her waistband. “Oh, it’s good they’re getting some exercise,” she said, patting Dan on the neck. “Sure, it’s one good bit of luck in all this that you’re not useless around horses.” She laughed loudly and winked at John. “Come in, come in,” she repeated. “Seamus will take the horses.” She touched the older man on the shoulder and spoke abruptly to him in Gaelic.

Sarah dismounted and handed the reins to Seamus. “I’m Sarah Woodson,” she said, “and this is my husband David and our son John.”

The older woman stuck her hand out and they shook.

“I’m Dierdre McClenny,” she said, “and this is Seamus whom I guess you already met.”

“I’m so glad to meet you,” Sarah said.

“John and I will help with the horses,” David said as he dismounted and shook the old woman’s hand.

The woman ushered Sarah into her cottage, a miserable looking hovel from the outside, but surprisingly warm and cozy on the inside. Sarah could smell bread baking.

“Sit, sit,” the woman said, motioning to a chair belonging to an old metal dinette set. “I’ll just put the kettle on.”

Sarah sank into the seat, realizing that her knees were weak but whether from the ride or the situation in general, she couldn’t be sure.

“Mrs. McClenny, do you know what’s happened? I mean, do you have any information?”

“Oh, please call me Dierdre. About the war, you mean?” Dierdre set out three chipped mugs and opened the small refrigerator for a carton of milk. Sarah noticed the interior light was out.

Sarah stuttered. “We’re at…it’s a war?” She had to steady herself with her hands against the table.

“May as well be, my dear,” Dierdre said. “We were afraid you wouldn’t be able to get out and about. Most Americans aren’t interested in riding. Wouldn’t know one end from the other.”

“Do you and Seamus get out?” Sarah looked around the room. It was simple and poor but tidy and clean. “Do you have a car?”

“A car?” Dierdre laughed. “Not for ages now. We have a gig, you see.” She moved to the stove to get the kettle. She poured the hot water into an old brown teapot on the kitchen counter. “Seamus and I will be fine. In fact, no different, really.” She brought the teapot to the table. “We’ve got eggs, preserved fruit and jam and I always put away what I grow over the summer. We’ll be fine, please God.”

She poured the tea into two of the mugs. “What about yourself? Have you been able to get word back to your people in America?”

Sarah shook her head and felt tears welling up. “No way to reach them,” she said. She could hear David and John talking outside the cottage. John was laughing.

Dierdre nodded and dropped sugar and milk into Sarah’s tea without asking. She handed the mug to Sarah.

“Well, we’ll all hear when we’re meant to,” she said. “Meanwhile, there’s us getting on and getting by.”

The tea was hot and good and it helped. Sarah felt better after just a few sips.

“I’m not sure how we’ll survive out here,” she said.

Dierdre frowned. “Surely, you’re joking?” she said. “You have a child. You’ll do what you have to.”

“Yes, but if you don’t know what it is you have to do, how can you do it?” Sarah knew she sounded weak and whiny. She imagined that—if Dierdre knew their lives in Florida—she would look very rich and spoiled compared to her simple Irish country life.

“Well, you’ll learn, my dear,” the older woman said kindly. “You’ll take it one day at a time and you’ll learn.” She leaned over and patted Sarah’s hand. “And you have neighbors,” she said. “We’ll help each other. You’ve met the Kennedys?”

Sarah drained her tea mug. “Not yet,” she said. “We thought you might be them.”

Dierdre laughed. “Now you’ll not wanting to be insulting me before we’ve had a chance to get to know each other.” She laughed at her own joke and Sarah laughed too. It felt like years since she had laughed.

“Hey, what’s so funny, guys?” David said as he poked his head in the cottage. “I don’t want to track mud into your kitchen, Dierdre.”

Dierdre stood up and ushered David and John into the house. “Don’t be silly, now. The very idea! And with Himself tracking in every manner of dirt all day long. Your tea’s right here.” She went to fetch another mug.

“Where’s Seamus?” Sarah asked David.

“He’s with the horses,” John said. “Mom, you can’t understand a word he says.”

Dierdre returned and poured two more mugs of tea. She laughed.

“He’s a bit of an odd duck, as they say, is our Seamus,” she said, adding milk and sugar to the tea. She handed David and John their tea mugs. “Sit, sit,” she said, motioning to the dinette chairs tucked under the table. “Are you heading somewhere today or just visiting the neighbors?”

David sat down next to Sarah and gave her arm a squeeze.

“Well,” he said, “we were just exploring, really, any place we can get to and back before dark.”

“If I can talk you into staying, we’d be proud to share our tea with you. It’s not much, but it’s a nice plump chicken and will stretch to five if one of you holds back.” She winked at John and he grinned back.

Sarah was inclined to say no in order to save the old couple’s dinner for them, but the eagerness in John’s face combined with her own yearning for company changed her mind.

“If you’re sure it’s no trouble,” she said. “That’d be wonderful. Fresh meat would be a welcome and the company even more so. Thank you.”

Dierdre’s beaming smile confirmed to Sarah that her reply was the right one, and not just for John’s sake.

“Stop acting the maggot,” Finn snarled, ratcheting the rope tighter around the younger man’s wrist. “We’re having a little chat, ya gobshites, so put down your jars.” He strutted to the center of the group gathered around a small cook fire and dragged the younger man behind him. Eight other men sat or stood around the small fire smoking and drinking beer. They looked apprehensive at their leader’s entrance.

“Anybody see young Billy, here, eat me tea while I was to town?” Finn gave the rope a jerk and could almost feel the poor sod trembling at the other end. The men around the campfire were unshaven and their clothes virtually rags. One seated man had a squirming puppy in his lap. All of them either shook their heads or mumbled negative responses.

Finn knew the boy hadn’t eaten his dinner. The boy—his name was Billy—was a teenager and clearly scared out of his mind. Finn thought Billy might be a cousin although he wasn’t sure and didn’t care. The little rotter was blubbering now.