Trisha Telep: The Mammoth Book of Irish Romance

Fists bunched tight, Tom leaped from his seat. «I’ve met the girl I want to marry. A girl from Tubbercurry. Can the matchmaker try for her?»

The bald head wagged from side to side. «You wanted to leave Ireland a minute ago. Now you want a girl from Tubber. I’m thinking it’s good I’m here to guide you, Tomás Og.» Brendan sighed without making a sound. «Who is she?»

Grateful for the kindness that had seeped into his father’s tone, Tom reclaimed his seat and explained about Dolly, omitting her thoughts on emigrating. If the old man knew she was thinking of leaving, he’d never approve the marriage.

He rejected Dolly anyway. «No father would give a girl like that to a no-account farm.»

«I can always bring in more gold, Da.»

«Perhaps, but after I’m gone, you won’t be off selling tea. You’ll be here all the time, and so would she.» Brendan stood easily. «Even if her father agreed, a girl who’s been to London would never be happy tending chickens and vegetables. She’s seen too much of the world. Like you, Tomás Og. Get her and your lofty ideas out of your head.»

It sounded so logical, put like that. The old fella was right. Yet as Tom watched his father lift the ladder from the corner, the memory of Dolly’s kisses sparked an indelible yearning in him. He slipped his hand in his jacket pocket and fingered the pearl ring. The light of his heart flickered and dimmed.

His father had obviously dismissed him. The old man set the ladder against the wall by the hearth and snatched the bag of gold from the table. Moving as his age allowed, he climbed the rungs to the rafters, to the secret cache he’d cut from the biggest beam. Tired and heartsick, Tom sought his bed in the loft.

Over the next week, he cut enough turf for the winter and went to work thatching. He’d just finished Charlie McGowan’s roof when the letter from Dolly came. A lad on a bicycle rode past McGowan’s vegetable garden late in the afternoon. He stopped by the piles of old thatch and said Miss Keenan had instructed him to give the note to Tom O’Byrne or no one. Watching the boy ride off, Tom strolled to the well as calmly as he could with his knees quaking and his heart skipping beats. He’d nearly despaired of hearing from her again.

Drinking a cup of water gave him a moment to muster his courage. He opened the envelope and stared at the elegant script until the words made sense to his befuddled mind.

Dearest Tom,

My father has sold me off to a man his own age. I want nothing to do with him. I have enough gold to book us both passage to Boston. The train leaves Ballymote for Queenstown tomorrow morning at nine. I’ll wait for you under the clock.

Ever yours,

Dolly

Short, sweet and dangerous as hell. Could he do it?

What of their parents? Was leaving them selfish? Tom didn’t think so. Dan could look after their father, and Dolly’s brother could take care of her old ones. The matchmaker would find a girl for Dan. Dan would have the farm, and his son after him, God help him. Kate would marry Séamus Hunt and have a new family to terrorize. They’d all be fine.

Tom had little to pack, no more than an extra pair of trousers and a few spare shirts and socks. He wished he didn’t have to sneak off, but he’d never have his father’s blessing, not now. Maybe never.

So be it. The hospitals in Boston would welcome Dolly’s nursing skills, and Tom would find plenty of work, more than enough to send money home.

Yet he needed money now. He wasn’t about to let Dolly support him.

He’d earned every coin of gold in the rafters. He had as much right to it as Kate. He wouldn’t take it all, just enough for his train ticket and passage, and some respectable clothes and lodging when he reached America. Once he found work, he’d pay it back. He’d say so in the note he’d leave his father.

Giddy with joy and pricked by guilt, he hurried home. His father and Dan were out somewhere, mending a fence, he recalled. They’d had to walk, as Kate had taken the wagon to town for groceries. Feeling like a boy stealing apples from an orchard, he set the ladder against the wall and climbed to the rafters. He counted out twenty pounds, no more. Kate would have plenty for her dowry.

Moving carefully about the loft to keep from waking his brother, Tom gathered his belongings. Just before dawn, he bid Dan a silent farewell and stole downstairs.

In the light of the banked turf fire, Tom kissed his mother’s picture and whispered goodbye. Sure she was smiling, he ventured into the starless gloom, finding his way by the light of his heart.

They’d miss him at breakfast. They’d read his note and know what he’d done, but they’d be too late to stop him. By nine o’clock he and Dolly would be on the train to Queenstown.

At ten to nine he jogged into Ballymote station, wrinkling his nose at the fug of tobacco, stale whiskey and acrid coal smoke. He saw the big round clock right away. Dolly waited beneath the black Roman numerals, dressed in the same clothes she’d worn when they’d met at Tobernalt. A satchel similar to his rested by her feet.

«Dolly!»

Her head jerked towards him. Her brilliant smile offered hope of a blessed new life. Oblivious to the people around them, he dropped his bag beside hers and kissed her.

Her lips trembled before she spoke. «Tom. You came.»

«Did you think I wouldn’t?»

The welling tears in her eyes suggested she’d had doubts, yet she clasped his hands and smiled. «I knew you’d come, Tom. I bought you a train ticket.» She drew two tickets from her pocket to prove it.

He took them from her, and the train whistle blew. «Thank you, darlin’. We’ll settle it later. Let’s get aboard now.»

Halfway up the steps, he turned to see Ballymote one last time — just as his father stormed into the station. Kate hurtled along beside him, her hair a frightful tangle, her face contorted in venomous fury. They must have come in the wagon and raced the poor horse half to death.

Tom swallowed hard. «Hurry, Dolly. Get inside.»

Dolly’s eyebrows arched in question, but she obeyed. They hurried through several coaches until they reached an empty carriage near the end of the train. Tom stowed their bags on an overhead rack. He and Dolly plopped on to seats facing each other. He pulled out his pocket watch. Five minutes to nine. Not enough time for his father and sister to search the train.

But it was. Kate’s shrill shouts spewed from the adjacent car. She was coming quickly towards them, screeching Tom’s name, imploring her father to call the guards and have her thieving brother arrested.

Dolly plainly understood the significance of the shrieks. «Oh, Tom! What will we do?»

Throttling Kate came to mind. She’d cause a scene and demand the dowry she thought he’d stolen. He could plead with his father, but the old man would surely side with Kate. He just might call the guards if Tom refused to come home, and they’d take him away in handcuffs.

All hope drained from his heart. Dolly must go without him. Sure he’d never see her again, he reached into his pocket to return her ring to her.

The ring was gone. His fingers encircled the golden bean.

Hurry, Tomás O’Byrne.

Stunned, he slipped the bean into his mouth. Dolly’s jaw dropped in disbelief, and he knew he’d disappeared. He seized her hand just as Kate blew through the door.

«He’s not here either. I’m telling you, Da. Call the guards! The miserable scut has stolen my dowry!»

Brendan marched in behind her. «Silence, girl! I’ll not call the guards on my own son.» The train whistle blew a second time. The old man brushed a tear from his cheek. «We have to leave the train, Kate. If this is what your brother wants, good luck to him.»