Susan Kiernan-Lewis - Free Falling

“No one saw this gobshite eat my tea?” Finn said, raising his voice. The fear in their faces pleased him.

“I seen ’im, Mack,” one man said.

“Okay, Brandon. Thank you. Finally. Someone who tells me the truth.” Finn of course knew it was a lie.

Finn jerked the rope off the now openly weeping boy and pushed him toward the group. “I can be merciful, Billy,” he said loudly, and tossed the rope into the fire. “Remember that. And don’t eat me tea no more.”

Billy wiped his tearstained face with both hands and nodded. He mumbled a thank-you.

As Finn turned to leave the group, he stopped abruptly in front of the man with the puppy and scooped the dog up in his arms. Startled, the man jumped to his feet.

“Oy, Mack…” he said, looking nervously at his dog in Finn’s arms.

Without looking away, Finn deftly wrung the puppy’s neck and tossed it back to the gypsy. “Did you say something, Gerry?”

All the men jumped up.

“Remember, lads,” Finn shouted. He was looking at their stunned faces. He grinned and mimicked Brandon’s pointing gesture when he had fingered Billy. “I can be un forgiving, too.”

He put his hand on the shoulder of the man now holding the dead dog. “No money for luxuries, me boyo,” Finn said almost kindly, then turned on his heel and left.

Sarah, David and John left Seamus and Dierdre’s in early evening while there was still plenty of light left but even so, Sarah could see that John was tired and sagging a bit in his saddle. She watched his pony step knowingly in the deepening shadows of the trail back to the house and she was grateful for the animal’s steady temperament. Dierdre had given them two dozen fresh hen’s eggs and two jars of berry jam. David stashed them in his saddlebags as if they were the finest caviar. The visit had done all of them much good. Dierdre told Sarah where to find items in the cottage she didn’t even know she needed, and she reminded her to make sure the goats were locked in at night to protect them from roving dog packs. David had promised to come back in a few days and help Seamus mend a fence around the hen house.

The hospitality had given Sarah a warm feeling of connection that salved their isolation and homesickness. It surprised Sarah that someone she had nothing in common with could make her feel so connected and safe. She was too tired tonight to figure out how that could be but was grateful for her new friend. Her exhaustion and her pleasure at the evening, combined with a full stomach, also made the ride a peaceful one without anxiety.

The small bottle of Sancerre that Dierdre had brought out at the end of the meal had gone a long way to soothing Sarah’s jangled nerves about the horses. She was now taking pleasure in the ride, enjoying the feel of the evening air on her skin and the sight of the dear nodding head of the boy who rode beside her. She and David spoke little on the ride home. They were both enjoying their own thoughts as they processed the day’s events.

When they got to the house, David pulled John out of the saddle and handed him to Sarah. He took the pony’s reins.

“Wait here while I put these two to bed then I’ll come back for big Dan there.”

“Are you sure?” As pleasant as the ride had been, Sarah was tired enough to be very grateful to have David untack and feed the horses. David walked the two horses to the barn, and she stood with her horse and John at the front porch steps. Suddenly, she froze. John, sensing the change in her, shook his sleepiness away.

“What is it?” he whispered.

Sarah caught her breath and pulled him away from the front steps.

“The front door’s open,” she said.

They had taken the electronics, the new lanterns and all the food in the cubbards. The lock on the front door was broken and the interior of the cottage was messy but not trashed. After minimizing the robbery as much as she could to her son, Sarah put him to bed. Then she and David sat on the porch sharing a bottle of wine the thieves had not found.

“We were lucky,” David said. “They took mostly the useless stuff,” he said.

“Our cell phones?” Sarah said. “Our television, the iPad?”

“But they left the Gor-Tex jackets,” David pointed out. “And the axe and the knives.”

“I hope they choke on the food.”

“They were probably hungry if that’s any consolation.”

“The food they took was food stolen out of your son’s mouth.”

“Maybe they have a son to feed, too.”

“Okay, fine, David. Whatever. It’s not a good thing, though, you know? We’re not safe here.”

“They waited ‘til we left…”

“And what about when they or people like them get really desperate and don’t wait for us to leave first? This…this crisis is not going to bring out the best in people, David.” She finished her wine and looked out across the pasture. There was no moon and the fields were black.

“They didn’t find the wine,” David said with a smile. He pulled her close to him and kissed her. “We’ll sort it out. We’ll find a work-around.”

Sarah sighed. The pleasure of the day was long gone.

The next morning, David was up early hammering on the house’s exterior. Sarah assumed it had something to do with better fortifying them. But as she had nothing to add in the way of advice along those lines, she turned her attention to the kitchen and the task of making bread. Dierdre had given her a small yeast starter and while sour dough bread had been her least favorite kind back in the States, she was looking forward to eating it from now on if she could actually produce a loaf.

John had been playing outside. He came in the front door. “Mom, Dad says the goats have to live with the horses from now on. Is there anything to eat? I’m starving.”

“You just ate breakfast.” Sarah felt a kernel of anxiety in the pit of her stomach. It was so easy to take care of him back home. She could just pop a toaster streudel in the oven and pour a glass of milk from the fridge. Now, the simple matter of providing him with healthy snacks—or even making sure he didn’t go hungry—was an exhausting and often impossible proposition.

“I’m hungry. I’m helping Dad and it makes me hungry.”

“I’m making bread,” Sarah said as she picked up the jar of starter and peered at it.

“When will that be ready?”

“Not for awhile,” she admitted. “Here.” She pulled out one of the jars of jam they had gotten from Dierdre. “Have a spoonful of this.”

“Without bread?”

“If you wait a minute, I’ll make you a fried egg,” she said.

That seemed to satisfy him so she set about lighting the gas stove and putting two of the precious eggs in an iron skillet.

John watched her. “You’re doing it without butter?” he said.

“I didn’t know you knew so much about cooking. I’m going to watch it carefully. Don’t worry, it’ll be fine.” She was not at all sure about that but she didn’t have any choice. They had no butter.

David came into the kitchen and dropped a heavy hammer onto the dining table.

“How’s that trap coming, son?”

Sarah frowned. “Trap?”

“Oh, yeah,” John said. “I made a rabbit trap.”

“To catch as in for eating?” Sarah tried to keep the note of incredulity out of her voice.

“Well, not for pets, eh, sport?” David tossled his son’s hair. “Lunch?” he said, hopefully to Sarah.

“You just had breakfast,” Sarah said with exasperation.

“Of a sort,” he said. “Two spoons of jam and tea without sugar or milk. Pretty crappy breakfast.”

Sarah added two more eggs to the skillet and felt her own stomach growl. Feeling like she was throwing gemstones down a well, she added a third for herself. “We only have seven eggs left,” she said. “We need to be really mindful of our rations.”