[Raging Quiet and all the characters in the original novel are the property of the author, Sherryl Jordan. I am not profiting from the use of these characters or this story.]
Marnie stood up in the cart as they crested the hill, marveling at the town of Killacurreen laid out before them. Raven, holding the reins, was concentrating on the road ahead, but she shook his arm and pointed to the town below. Neither of them had seen anything like it. A huge jumble of houses crowded along the coast, and beyond that lay the ocean, shining and unimaginably vast. As they slowly approached, they could see a great number of people darting here and there, the whole town alive with movement like an anthill.
Our new home, Marnie said. Raven looked at her doubtfully.
It was not hard to find the church, even among the maze of streets with the houses all jammed together. The steeple rose high above even the tallest house, in the center of town. The church faced onto a wide green. Once inside, a servant directed them to Father Seamus, in the rectory. The priest, a kindly-looking man with white hair and a wrinkled face greeted them warmly before Marnie even introduced herself, and upon hearing how far they had come, insisted on bringing out food before they even began to discuss their business.
As they finished their meal, Father Seamus read Father Brannan's letter, which Marnie had given him. He read slowly, first with concern, then with a smile.
"This is quite a tale, but I think I had best hear it from your own lips."
Marnie began to talk, but was soon interrupted by Raven pounding angrily on the table. She tried to gesture for him to be patient, but he would not be put off. When she turned away from him to face Father Seamus, he pulled her back around to him.
No! No more flap-flap with the mouth. Talk to me too! His hands punched the air insistently.
Father Seamus watched this exchange with lively interest, and Marnie looked at him apologetically. "I'm sorry. Raven, my…husband…he can't hear or speak. I talk to him with hand signs, but he gets so angry when I leave him out of the conversation."
But rather than ignoring or pulling away from the increasingly agitated Raven, to her great surprise, Father Seamus turned to him with a look of great concern.
"Well then, we must speak to him in the language he can understand. Please, by all means, use your gestures, and I would be greatly obliged if you showed me their meaning." For a moment, silence fell over all three, as they sat staring at each other. Marnie was at a loss. Even Father Brannan had not been so understanding.
Father Seamus broke the silence again. "It occurs to me that we have not yet even been introduced properly." He looked directly at Raven. "My name is Father Seamus," he said slowly, while patting his chest with his palm.
The change in Raven was immediate: like the clouds before the sun his face cleared and he smiled. He patted his own chest then made the mark of a large letter R against it.
"That's how he says his name," Marnie explained. "This is me," she added, making an M on her own chest.
"How very clever!" Father Seamus explained. "But how am I to indicate my name?" Again he watched with keen interested as the two dark heads turned towards each other and their hands flew quickly and precisely.
He wants us to think of a hand-word for his name, Marnie explained. "Father Seamus, Father Seamus," she whispered to herself, but could think of nothing.
Raven imitated the shape of her mouth, but no sounds came out. He made the sign of a cross on his chest.
No, she said, that's for Father Brannan, back in the village. Two priests, same name, we will get confused. No, it must be a different name.
Raven looked Father Seamus over consideringly. Over his cassock, so similar to Father Brannan's, he wore a large cross on a silver chain, as a sign of office. Raven traced the shape with his thumb and forefinger, holding them in the shape of a V and drawing down from his collarbone to his chest. He pointed at the cross then made the sign again and looked inquiringly at Marnie.
"Yes!" she cried. Clever. She repeated the sign. "Father Seamus, this will be your name." And she showed him the shaking-hands sign: pleased to meet you.
Father Seamus beamed as he repeated both signs. "Excellent! Well now that we are acquainted, I would like to hear your story."
At his encouragement, Marnie began to speak and sign at the same time, but she found it very slow going, trying to keep both of them in sight and to think of enough signs for all the words. It was painful, too, to relate the whole story of how Raven had been mistreated in the village, and of her short, unhappy marriage to Isake Isherwood, and how his younger brother Pierce came to persecute her for her inheritance after Isake died. And of how Pierce turned the villagers against her.
"I taught Raven to use hand-words," she explained, "But the villagers didn't like me taking care of him and Pierce wanted the house, so he told everyone it was witchcraft, and then…" her voice faltered, and she paused, rubbing her burned palm. It was still stiff, and it made her signs slow and awkward.
Father Seamus looked pained. "The trial," he murmured, and she nodded.
"Please," she said. "We just want to live in peace here, but I'm afraid the story will follow us and the same thing will happen again. Please don't tell anyone how the villagers treated Raven, or what they did to me." She looked at him imploringly, still rubbing her palm.
Father Seamus smiled at both of them. "Of course not."
Later that night, as they were preparing to go to sleep in the tiny cell Father Seamus had provided for them, before Marnie could blow out the candle, Raven caught her hands in his, and stroked her burned palm gently. She gave him with a questioning look.
Because of me? he asked. The people in the village burn your hand because of hand-words?
Marnie felt her stomach sink. She tried to turn away, but he pulled her back.
Tell me! Why don't you tell me things? I tell you everything.
She sighed. I didn't want you to be sad for me. Yes, Pierce told a lie and said the hand-words were bad, they would… they would make bad things happen… the villagers were frightened, so they tried to hurt me, but Father Brennan stopped them.
She could see anger and outrage settle into his face, so she continued quickly, Please, it's all over now. Past. Think about it no more. We live here, where people are more kind. We have gold, and Father Seamus will help us build a new house. We will live there together and be happy. Happy always together.
Marnie looked about her with dissatisfaction. The nervous, unsettled feeling that had slowly been growing over the past few days now seemed to grip her at all times, and made her long for their simple life in Torcurra.
With some reservation, she had told Father Seamus about the ring that was her inheritance from her former husband. To her vast relief, the priest promised to keep it secret, and to sell the jewels in it piece by piece. Even more obliging, he had helped them to find a new home. Knowing Raven would feel nervous in the middle of the crowded town, she had decided to buy a plot of land at the end of a winding track leading into the hills, and to have a new house built there.
Eager to leave the cramped quarters in the rectory, they had moved into the new house as soon as the roof was finished, but before the work on the interior had been completed. The new house was very grand indeed, with a warm wood floor rather than flagstones, and a large enclosed fireplace right in the middle with a real chimney, rather than a simple hole in the roof. On one side of the chimney was the large common room with a proper dining table and a settle, and on the other side was a closed-off kitchen with an ample hearth and a small warming box built right into the chimney. At first she had been delighted.
But along with the house, Father Seamus had insisted they take on servants as befit their new wealth, and had provided them with two of his elderly and unattached parishioners. Katriona, who did the cooking and cleaning, was a hard, taciturn woman with a thin face like a hatchet. She would only speak to Marnie, and her thin face grew if possible even more disagreeable when she saw Raven signing. Raven, quick to read her expressions, taken an instant dislike to her, and the two were constantly at odds, to Marnie's distress.
The manservant, Rufus, had once been a sailor on one of the big merchant ships that docked in Killacurreen, but as he grew old he had gradually become hard of hearing. Father Seamus had presented this fact to Marnie as if it were a piece of great good luck, which made her decidedly uncomfortable. Did he really think that Raven would feel some fellowship with the old man? she wondered in exasperation. It seemed far from likely. Rufus could understand her if she shouted very loudly, but seemed if anything even more disinclined than Katriona to learn hand-words, or even to commune with any other person. He spent most of his time in the spacious yard, preparing the barn for the animals that they would soon purchase, and chopping firewood, for although it was early spring, the weather was still very cold. Marnie felt oppressed by these two additions to her household. It was hard enough to be constantly translating and explaining for Raven. She was secretly glad that Rufus seemed to shun human contact.
In addition to these unwelcoming companions, the house was full all day long with the noise and bustle of the carpenters who were completing the upstairs and the interior walls. In order to finish more quickly, they were also sleeping in the house. Although she and Raven had a splendid new bed with proper hangings, Marnie was disinclined to passion when there were so many strangers sleeping on the floor directly beside her, and she turned away Raven's amorous advances, much to his displeasure. She was also obliged to provide meals for all the workmen, which kept her and Katriona busy in the half-finished kitchen from morning to night. Although the noise of the workmen's hammers did not bother him, Raven seemed unhappy and nervous around so many strangers, and was spending most of his time out of the house. She did not ask where he went every day.
The neighbors who had sold them the land were indeed as kind and generous as Father Seamus had promised. The master, Donal, worked as a joiner in a shed behind the house, and had seemed very glad of the extra income from the sale of the unused half of his land. His wife Fhiona had seemed even more glad at the prospect of having new neighbors so close at hand. The new house had been set beside the old, and a low fence divided the two yards in the back, high enough to keep the livestock from wandering but low enough to visit over. Right in the middle of the fence was a well, further ensuring congress between the two households.
"We shall be the best of friends!" Fhiona had exclaimed upon meeting Marnie, and had clasped her hands warmly. Marnie instantly took a liking to her, with her round ruddy cheeks, easy smile and reddish curls escaping her kerchief. But they had had little enough time for visiting, for just two days after the new neighbors took up residence, Fhiona had been brought to bed with the birth of her first child, and Marnie had not seen her since.
Donal had assured her that all was well, the babe was a girl, then he had gone to work in the shed. He had very kindly provided them with the new furniture in the house, free of charge, and Marnie felt intensely guilty that this extra work had displaced his paying trade, so she was not eager to speak at length with him either. For his part, Donal did not seem like one to engage in idle chatter. He was tall and spare, with a serious eye, seemingly interested only in his work.
Things came to a head one beautiful day in early summer. Marnie was inspecting the kitchen garden, while Raven lolled in the sunshine on the grass beside her. She had thought it too early for the peas to be ripe, but the warm weather had hastened them along, and she pulled pod after fat pod until her hands were full. Carefully transferring the peas to her apron, she shook Raven's shoulder and with one hand gestured for him to bring her a bowl from the house. He stood with a grunt and she went back to her picking.
A few moments later she heard a crash, followed by the sound of Katriona's voice shouting imprecations and the unmistakable inchoate bellowing of an enraged Raven.
Peas flying from her hands, she rushed into the kitchen to find the bowl broken on the floor and Katriona and Raven both in a red-faced passion. As she entered they both turned to her, but she put up her hand for Raven to wait while she demanded of Katriona, "What is the meaning of this?"
"He rushed in here and snatched away the best bowl, the sly sneaking devil, but I was too quick for him, oh yes!" She seemed prepared to continue, but Marnie cut her off and turned to Raven.
What happened?
I get the bowl, you asked me to get, he signed angrily. She took from my hands, we pull, pull, back and forth, then it fell on the floor. I get for you, she is angry, Katriona is stupid, stupid.
As he made the signs, suddenly, before Marnie realized what was happening, Katriona lunged forward and boxed him smartly on the ears, shrieking "Devil! Devil!"
He let out a wail. For a moment Marnie was afraid Raven would attack Katriona and she would not be able to stop him, but instead he turned to her with a look of shock and hurt that pierced her to the heart. Then in an instant he had slipped out the front door, slamming it loudly behind him.
Marnie rounded on Katriona. "You insolent hussy!" she had never used such language with someone older than herself, but she was too enraged to notice. "How dare you strike your master!"
"Master, pah, he is dumb sneaking creature!" Marnie stared at her in wide-eyed shock. "He has the devil in him! I saw him try to put a hex on me, but I was too quick for him, haha!"
"Whatever do you mean? I have told you, this is how we talk." Marnie was still in a rage, but she felt uneasy at the turn this was taking.
"You saw it too," said Katriona triumphantly. "He made the sign of the devil's horns at me." She crossed herself hastily at the memory.
"What, you mean this?" Marnie asked, as she put her two index fingers up against her forehead. "You foolish old woman! That's the name we gave to you, Katriona, Kat, cat, it's just the word for cat. And I sent him here to bring me a bowl in the garden, which you would have known if you would learn the signs." She bent down to pick up the pieces of the broken bowl.
Katriona drew back in disgust. "I'll do no such thing. It's uncanny and uncivilized. Imagine, calling me a cat. What sort of mummery is that?"
Suddenly Marnie felt the thread of her patience snap. She was tired, tired of being the only one who knew the signs, of translating everything, being the sole link between Raven and the rest of the world. Why were they all so stubborn? She flung a shard of the bowl at the floor. "You WILL learn the signs!"
"I will not!" Katriona's hard eyes glinted flatly.
"Then you will be gone from here this minute! I'll not have a servant here who does not respect her master!"
Katriona looked at her in disbelief.
"Do you still defy me?" Marnie shouted. "Hag! Be gone at once! Let me never see your face here again!" So saying, she strode to the corner of the common room, picked up the small box that held Katriona's things, and heaved it out the front door as hard as she could. Katriona followed after. She paused long enough to pick up her box and shriek, "And who in their right mind would stay in such a household? You may both go to the devil!" And with that she set off on the road back to Killacurreen.
Marnie realized to her consternation that Fhiona was sitting in front of her house with a spindle and the baby in a cradle at her feet. From the wide-eyed look on her friendly face it was clear she had not missed their exchange.
Marnie ducked her head. "I beg your pardon." She turned to go back in the house, but Fhiona called her back.
"Mistress, wait!" She pushed over, making room on the bench. "I see you are in some distress, pray sit by me and be comforted. Nay, nay, do not say no! Are we not neighbors and friends?"
Marnie sank down beside her and to her shame dissolved into hiccupping tears as the short tale burst forth.
Fhiona put a comforting arm around her. "Hush now, do not fret, you were in the right of it. That woman is a hard, grasping old shrew, I thought so since ever I clapped eyes on her. The only shame is that you did not send her off sooner."
Marnie shook her head. "It's Raven I'm worried about. She struck him and now he's run off. Oh, what if he doesn't come back?"
"Over such a silly trifle? I'm sure he's only gone off to cool his anger. He'll be back by and by. I've seen the potty looks he give you, surely he could not bear to stay away more than a few hours."
Marnie began to sob harder. "You don't understand! In Torcurra they beat him all the time. Before I made up the hand-words, they thought he was mad and whipped him because he couldn't speak or understand what was said to him."
Fhiona looked at her in surprise. "You made up the hand-words yourself?"
"Well, yes," Marnie replied, wiping her eyes. "What did you suppose?"
"I didn't suppose anything. I honestly never thought of it." Fhiona stroked her arm in sympathy. "But my goodness, you have chosen a hard path."
Marnie hung her head. "I didn't want anyone here to know. In Torcurra he was only ever the mad boy, but I hoped that here we could start a new life together, and people would not call him mad or simple. And when I made up the hand-words, they said it was witchcraft." She had not meant to say any of it, but once the words started to tumble out she found she could not stop herself. "And now it will be the same here, all because of that horrid woman! She said he is possessed by the Devil, and now here too they will come with their trials and accusations." She broke into a fresh paroxysm of sobbing.
Fhiona glanced at Marnie's burned hand, but did not comment on it. "Hush, now hush! Look, you woke the baby." She removed her arm from Marnie and lifted the squalling baby to her knee. "Never you fret about that. She is just one bitter old hag, and Killacurreen is a big place! I have heard of these trials in the country but there has never been one here, mark my words. The people here are far too occupied with trade to listen to such idle talk. And if Father Seamus says that you are God's servant, the people will heed him."
Marnie sighed. "I hope you are right."
Fhiona smiled at her. "That's my girl! Do not be fretting over what may come, but think now on the task at hand. You need a new maid right quick to help you with that fine new house."
Marnie put out a finger and the baby, now quieted, grasped it firmly. "Yes, a new maid who will learn the hand-words. This is our household, Raven's and mine, and all who are in it must learn our language."
"I have the very thing!" Fhiona exclaimed. "My cousin Elly lives over on the other side of town. She's just come fifteen, and now that the younger ones have grown up her mother was just saying if she won't marry, it's high time she earned her own keep. I will send over to her directly and she can start tomorrow. Oh but she is a clever little thing, I will explain it all to her and you will all get on famously. The master will be glad when he comes home."
If he comes home, Marnie thought gloomily, her stomach twisting as she recalled the look of betrayal and pain she had seen in his eyes.
Elly appeared on her doorstep the next morning. She was as Fhiona had promised, a clever, obliging girl, small and sturdy, with the same reddish brown curls and a cheerful, open face, with a dimple in her right cheek when she smiled. She exclaimed happily over the big new house, and immediately set to work shoveling the cold ashes and sweeping the hearth, chattering the whole time.
"Fhiona told me about the master," she said. Then noticing Marnie's apprehensive expression, she added quickly, "Now never you mind! What's a bit of deafness? Nothing at all, and Fhiona says he is the kindest creature, and handsome too!"
"She said that?"
"Why yes, and if she said so, it must be true. Is he about?"
Marnie looked away. He had not come home at all that night. "No, he's…out."
Elly added quickly, "Oh but you must teach me these hand-words, I dearly want to learn! Imagine speaking without using your mouth! What a lark!"
And in spite of her anxiety, Marnie's spirits lifted just a bit as she began the slow process of teaching Elly all the words she had invented. The girl was a quick study, and treated it all as a great game, which surprised Marnie. She had made up the words out of necessity, yet it had always been a source of worry for her: worry that she never had enough words for all they needed to say, and worry at the anger and fear they seemed to provoke in others. And while Father Brannan had called her a saint, she had never before taught the words to someone who thought of it as fun. Her heart felt lighter, and for the first time she began to feel like the mistress of her own home.
Her delight was short-lived, however, as the day passed without any sign of Raven. As the day stretched into a week, she became more and more uneasy, and found herself obliged to explain the whole story to Elly, who looked very shocked and even cried a bit with her.
"How monstrous!" she cried. "But where could he be? Could you not send Rufus out to look for him?"
"No, Rufus keeps to himself." And indeed, he had taken to spending nearly all his time in the barn with the animals, or hoeing the turnips in the garden. "I promised Raven he may always have his freedom, like before. He will come back when he is ready." If he comes back, she added to herself, for the hundredth time.
By the sixth day the weather had turned stormy. Marnie listened to the rain pattering on the roof and tried to reassure herself by recalling how many rainy days Raven had spent out of doors in Torcurra. As the day went on the clouds gathered more thickly and the rain increased, until they were obliged to light candles to lighten the gloom. Perhaps she should send for Father Seamus to help search for him. But just as the night was truly settling, Marnie heard a wet thump against the front door. As she opened it, Raven tumbled into the house and lay half sprawled upon the floor.
She flung her arms around him, exclaiming out loud, overcome by mingled distress and relief. He looked almost as he had in Torcurra a year ago: his clothes were dirty and torn, his hands and face smudged with dirt, and leaves and twigs caught in his hair. The hollows in his cheeks and around his eyes had returned.
Where did you go? I was worried! Raven did not reply, but only looked at her listlessly, then turned away. Marnie shifted around him, moving into his line of sight. I'm sorry! I'm sorry! Katriona is bad, bad. I sent her away. She no time come here again, I promise!
Raven sighed. Hungry, was all he replied.
Fortunately dinner was nearly ready, and Elly dashed about setting the table while Marnie led the reluctant Raven to a spot on the bench closest to the fire. He ate slowly but in great quantity. Has he had nothing at all since he left? Marnie wondered
As they ate, she attempted to introduce Elly, using the new name-sign they had made up. I'm Elly, she said, holding her knuckle to her cheek and twisting it to indicate the dimple. Hello. Friend. You, me, friend. She was excited to try her new words, but Raven hardly seemed to notice her.
See Elly sign good, Marnie tried to encourage her. She learn good, talk to you. New rule, everyone in this house learn hand-words, hand-talk all the time. Raven only grunted and she was not sure he had been paying attention. His face, usually so open and expressive, was shuttered and still.
After they had eaten, she sent Rufus to fetch water in great quantities from the well, and set Elly to heating it on the stove, then pulled the tub in front of the fire and filled it with hot water. Seeing what they were about, Raven abruptly stood up from the table, shucked off all his clothes, and stepped in. Marnie glanced at Elly, worried the girl might be taken aback at seeing her new master naked, but to Marnie's relief she never turned a hair.
Raven settled into the steaming bath with a strangled sigh and allowed the two girls to wash him. As Elly went to scrub his back, she at last lost her composure at the sight of the scars there. They had long since healed, but the white raised lines crisscrossing his back bespoke the cruelty he had endured in Torcurra.
"Oh the shame of it!" Elly cried. Marnie nodded grimly but said nothing.
As soon as the bath was over and he had changed into dry clothes, Raven curled up on the hearth like a cat and fell into a deep sleep. Marnie covered him with a blanket, then began to prepare for bed herself.
"Will he be all right?" Elly whispered.
Marnie gave a short laugh, and replied in a normal voice, "There's no need to whisper, if he can't hear even the loudest clap of thunder, he certainly won't hear you. And there's no need to go sneaking about like a mouse, either. I'm sorry you met him in such a state, but once he wakes, he'll feel more himself." I hope, she added silently, casting a worried look at his sleeping form. "He is still half wild, and it's no good trying to change him, he must come and go as he sees fit. He will sleep here on the hearth tonight, for once he goes to sleep there's no shifting him."
The next morning Marnie awoke to the sounds of Raven banging and scraping the furniture downstairs. She hurried down, but found to her relief that the light had come back to his face, although he still seemed a bit bewildered and wary of her.
She went to embrace him, but he pulled back after a moment.
Where did you go? she asked. Why so long? I was worried all times.
He looked down, his clear eyes hidden by dark lashes. I walked long long way down the road, away from Killacurreen, into hills, live with rabbits like before.
But why? she asked, feeling the tears start in her eyes, and dreading the answer.
This is not my home, he answered, and she felt the knot of dread in her stomach twisting, growing. Strange people live here, I don't like it. I liked our old house in Torcurra, just you and me, only you, no other people.
Marnie replied, But we can't go back there, you know that. The house burned down, the people don't like us. Here, people are kind, I promise. The workmen are gone, they do not come back. Katriona is gone, I sent her away. This is your house, I want you to live here with me.
He looked stubborn, and still hurt. No, not my house. Just you and me, no other people.
Just then Elly came bustling cheerfully from the kitchen and saluted both of them.
Good morning, she said to Raven, her signs slow but vigorous. Sleep good? Hungry?
Raven stared at her in surprise, then turned to Marnie. Who?
You don't remember last night? Marnie asked, a bit of her usual teasing coming back. She is Elly, Elly. She demonstrated the name-sign they had devised, indicating Elly's dimple, until Raven repeated it back to her. She is our new maid. Katriona is a bad woman. I sent her away, she no time come back here. Gone.
Raven gave her a suspicious look. Gone?
Marnie nodded emphatically. Yes. You ran out the door, then right away I picked up her things and threw them out the door. She ran after, ran down road, gone. As she explained, Marnie demonstrated what she had done, as if it were happening again in front of them. Elly suppressed a laugh at the sight of Marnie heaving the box out the door, but Raven did not alter the stubborn set of his jaw.
Why she here? I want only you, no other people.
Marnie silently thanked god that Elly still was not quick enough with the signs to catch what he was saying. This is a big house, bigger than the old one, she explained. We can't take care ourselves, need help. Elly will work for us now, always. She is good, good. She repeated the sign slowly, to make sure Elly understood her as well.
Still smiling, Elly repeated her short speech from the night before: You, me, friend.
Raven stared back at her. She knows hand-words? How?
Marnie answered, I taught her. Now everyone who lives with us uses hand-words. I decide, hand-words all the time, everyone talks to you. Fhiona and Donal, I teach them too. See? Good friends, we all happy together. Yes?
He seemed reluctant to answer, but Elly asked again, Hungry? Want breakfast? Porridge? Still he hesitated, and Elly, trying to be encouraging, again signed, porridge, then added, Delicious! in such a hugely exaggerated way, rubbing her belly and smacking her lips, that he smiled and nodded almost in spite of himself.
As Marnie followed Elly into the kitched to fetch their breakfast, she gave her hand a quick squeeze.
"I thank god for sending you here."
Elly grinned at her. "Think nothing of it! That man of yours is a rare one, but so handsome! You must be happy to have him back. Come now, why so gloomy?"
Marnie sighed. "I am afraid this settled life with me does not suit him."
Elly swung the pot out from the fire, then turned to face her with wide eyes. "You're worried he does not love you any more? Truly? You know that cannot be. I just met him and even I can see that cannot be so."
Marnie shrugged listlessly. "He said this is not his home."
Elly looked thoughtful as she ladled the steaming porridge into the bowls. "Has he ever had a home, the poor creature? Just think, as a little child, always taken and beaten and never knowing the reason. Then the same thing happens again, by a servant in his own house, no less! Little wonder he says it's not his home." She looked up to see Marnie looking stricken, with tears running down her cheeks.
"I promised him he would be safe, now I have lost his trust."
Elly quickly fetched her a cloth. "Do not blame yourself, Mistress! All will be right, only give him time. Now let us show him a cheery face, all will be well."
As Elly had said, for a time Raven did not run off again, and gradually seemed settle into the household routine, but Marnie still felt all was far from well. True, life with Elly was easier than it had been with Katriona. Marnie was relieved to see her smiling countenance every day, such a welcome change from the dour old woman. But the greatest change was in her willingness to use signs with Raven. She learned quickly, and when they ran out of words, she was quick to think of a new one. Mealtimes, which before had been a sources of tension and anxiety for Marnie, caught between two languages, now were pleasant and friendly as all three chatted easily with their hands.
Rufus still preferred the company of the chickens and goats, and their one horse, but little by little, almost imperceptibly, they began to see more of him. One night he joined them for supper, although Marnie did not remark on it, for fear of shaming him, but only quickly laid another place for him. After this he made it a habit to join them. Then, not long after, as Elly brought him his trencher, he rubbed his hand over his heart: Thank you. Marnie nearly fell off the bench in surprise, but Elly, unfazed, solemnly signed back to him, You're welcome.
As they were washing up afterwards, Marnie remarked, "When did Rufus begin to use hand-words? I was never so surprised in my life!"
Elly shrugged. "I see Raven in the barn with him all the time, them waving and wriggling their hands together, and why not?"
"Rufus was ever so standoffish, I thought he disliked all human company. But if he is beginning to take us, I am very glad of it. And I am pleased that Raven has become friends with him as well as you. Perhaps now he will feel that this is his home," Marnie replied.
But Raven still seemed distant and wary of her. He no longer followed her about all day, as he had before, sticking close to her side. She saw him at breakfast and supper, but otherwise he left her to the housework and disappeared the rest of the day. But even more distressing to her, he no longer slept in the bed with her, but on the floor beside the bed. She knew Elly and Rufus could observe this, sharing the upper floor for sleeping quarters as they all did, and it shamed her to think her husband would refuse her bed, but she did not speak of it and neither did they. She had taken Elly's words to heart: he needed time, and she would not try to hurry him.
In the meantime, it was the height of summer, and she was busy from morning to night with household chores, drying herbs and pickling vegetables, brewing the small beer, making cheese and butter, and doing all she could to prepare for winter, for even though they had money now, there would be little enough food to buy in town in the winter if they did not make provisions for themselves.
At church one Sunday in late summer, just as mass was ending, Father Seamus pulled Marnie aside to tell her a message had come from Father Brannan. A boy had come from her childhood home in Fernleigh to Torcurra with a message that her father had fallen ill. It was believed the end was near, and her family had sent for her.
As Father Seamus delivered the news in kind but secretive manner, Raven, who had trailed after, tugged with increasing insistence at her sleeve, demanding with signs and angry grunts that she interpret for him. As Father Seamus finished his hushed speech, Marnie staggered back, her face stricken and white. Raven left off his insisting and instead put his arm around her waist and led her out from the church, half carrying her.
"Take care of her, then," said Father Seamus to their backs as they left, but his words went unheeded.
On the walk home, Marnie gradually explained, with slow, halting signs, still looking stunned. By the time they returned home, it was decided that she would return to Fernleigh in the cart, and Raven would go with her. She had tried to convince him to stay home, but soon gave up, realizing it was hopeless.
By early afternoon they had left in the cart, with a few hastily assembled bundles of food and blankets thrown in the back, for the journey would take them three days at least, and there would be no inns or hostels along the way. Raven insisted on driving, and as they rattled past the rolling hills, Marnie gazed at the endless unfurling of fields, with the hay neatly racked. She could see many reapers hard at work in the distance, with the gleaners following after them, but the lands near to the road had all been cleared already, so they rolled along in solitude, unobserved. Although it was late in the season, the sun shone brightly and gloriously hot, turning the fields to gold, and the small birds sang out the last of summer. In spite of her anxiety for her father, she found it beautiful, and soothing.
Late in the afternoon, as the fields gave way to orchards, Raven suddenly plucked at her sleeve, then gestured to the low hills beside the road. Holding the reins between his knees so he could sign with his hands, he said, That is where I stayed.
What? Startled out of her reverie, at first Marnie did not catch his meaning.
When I went away, ran far faaaar, he gestured expansively, I stayed here, slept in a hollow, took food from the orchard.
Marnie's mouth made a little o of surprise, but she did not reply, so he continued.
Big feelings. Big angry. Big big sad. Before, in Torcurra, before you came and gave me words, when I was sad, angry, I went to the hills, stayed outside alone. I danced under the moon, all alone, many days, then not sad anymore. But now, I feel sad when I am away from you. I waited many days, but every day more big sad. I don't like the bad woman (he would not use her name-sign again) but I don't want to be away from you.
Marnie felt the tears start in her eyes. I'm sorry, she signed back at last. I'm sorry the bad woman was in our house. It was wrong.
He shook his head and made a sweeping, clearing gesture. Gone now. Never mind.
I'm sorry, she said again. I'm glad you came back. I was worried every day, waiting for you. I don't want to be away from you either.
He gave her a tiny smile, for what felt to her like the first time in months, his face clearing like the sun peeping out between the clouds.
I'm sorry you don't like the new house, she said. And then, after a pause, the question she had feared to ask all this time: Do you want to go somewhere else? Live in a different place?
He looked stunned, as if the idea had never occurred to him. No! He shook his head emphatically. Husband! Wife! He signed, gesturing at the two of them, picking up her hand and pointing forcefully at the ring on her finger. Together!
But do you want to live in a different house? She asked again. He shook his head. Then do you think it's your house now?
He nodded slowly. Everyone talks to me, uses hand-words, I like it.
Of course, she replied. You are the master of the house. They must use hand-words, show respect to you.
Raven's smile widened, and, sitting up straighter, he gave the horse a tap with the reins, making it jog forward suddenly. He crowed with delight. Yes! I, the master! You, the mistress! He laughed loudly, in his peculiar, muffled voice. Marnie felt the clenched knot in her stomach relax, and she leaned back in the cart, letting the last rays of warm sun wash over her.
That night, they made their bed in the back of the cart, just off the road in an apple orchard, with the horse unhitched and tethered to a tree. And there, under the full moon, they made love for the second time.
The next day the weather was as glorious as the first, and they joked and teased as they rolled along, as they had in the past. Marnie felt as if the past few months had been nothing but a bad dream that was now over, and she could almost forget the grave purpose of their journey. But on the third day, as they passed the familiar fields at the far edge of the Isherwood estate, they both grew silent and pensive, recalling the scene that had taken place a year ago, when Marnie vowed never to return.
Your mother, angry? Raven asked.
Marnie shrugged. I don't know.
She doesn't like me, he said.
What! No! You're wrong, she was angry at me, not you, Marnie signed quickly. She was angry because you lived in the house with me before we were married. She thinks man, woman in the same house, not married, very bad. Wrong. But now we are married, she will not be angry any more.
But Raven shook his head. No, I'm not stupid, I see things. You think I don't understand, but I see how people look at me. She doesn't like me because I'm deaf.
No! Marnie protested, but could not go on, because she had been thinking the same thing, only it broke her heart to have the words from him.
We will not stay long, was all she could say.
The message from Father Brannan had only said that her father was taken ill, and Marnie was anxious to arrive as soon as possible in hopes of seeing him one last time, but she discovered on their arrival that he had died even before they had left Killacurreen. And not only that, but her mother and eleven brothers and sisters had been turned out of the house directly to make room for the new overseer. She would not even have known where they went, but as they were pulling into the little lane in Fernleigh, she had seen her youngest sister, Aine, only four years old, playing in the street with some of her cousins, and had called out to them. Marnie feared for a moment that the children would not recognize her, but they all exclaimed in delight to see her again. Her joy at seeing them was short-lived, however, as Aine led them to her uncle's house, where her mother was staying, and she heard the news.
Marnie sat at the table in her uncle's house, white-faced and stricken. With many reassurances, Raven had gone around back to feed and groom the horse, as Rufus had taught him. Dedra had embraced Marnie but was clearly not pleased to see her accompanied by Raven, and even less pleased to hear they were wed. Marnie showed her mother the ring, which she had transferred now to her left hand. Her mother glanced at it, then grasped Marnie's hand and turned it over.
"Heavens child! What happened to your hand?" she demanded.
Marnie snatched her hand away and buried it defensively in her skirts. "Nothing. I grasped the kettle when it was hot and forgot to use a cloth." Dedra's mouth narrowed but if she doubted Marnie's story, she did not say anything further.
Marnie was anxious to hear more of her father, but there was little to tell, seemingly. He had seemed to be recovering, then suddenly fell into another fit, like the first. For a day he lingered in a deep sleep, and that was when her brother Barnabas had left for Torcurra to fetch her, but by the next morning he had died, and Barnabas returned with news that she had left Torcurra, so they were not expecting to see her. The moment the wake was over and Michael was buried, Dedra was compelled to vacate the house. The move across the lane could only be temporary, however. The uncle was Michael's brother, no kin of hers, and he had made it clear he would only suffer the tenancy of Dedra and the children until other accommodations could be found.
"But what will you do?" Marnie asked.
Dedra sighed and placed a weary hand to her brow. "Nathy is already working at the manor house every day. Sheilah is to marry Dugal, and they can take some of the younger ones."
"But what of you?" Marnie pressed.
"My sister Isla says I may live with her in the cottage at the edge of the forest but it is so tiny, I can't take all the children with me. They must be fostered out."
At that moment, Raven returned with the supplies they had brought with them, a large sack of flour, another of dried fish, apples from their tree, some late turnips and cabbage. She had intended to give these as gifts, and now she was doubly glad, hoping that the food would sweeten her uncle's temper at finding yet two more uninvited guests. She had wanted to give her mother money, but there was no place in Fernleigh to spend it, and even more importantly, she did not want to attract attention in the village, for word would certainly get back to Pierce Isherwood that she had found the ring. In fact she was anxious that her presence in Fernleigh not be revealed to him if she could help it.
In that she was somewhat relieved to find that not many people were about. It was the height of the harvest, and everyone was in the fields, and many, including Nathy and her uncle, would be sleeping in the fields, so as the get the hay mown in time. Sheilah and three of her younger sisters were all working up at the manor. Only Dedra and the younger ones were left in the house.
But though Marnie had hoped to conceal the matter of the ring, immediately on receiving the stores, Dedra pressed her on where and how she was living so well, with a husband (glancing derisively at Raven) who could not work. Marnie found herself blurting out about the found ring, and moving to Killacurreen. For once as she talked, Raven did not pester her to translate, but she knew he saw the disapproving look on her mother's face.
Late in the afternoon, before they lost the daylight, Marnie and Raven walked together through the deserted village to the chapel to place flowers on her father's grave. Seeing the fresh-dug earth with the little wooden cross, dying flowers strewn about, Marnie at last broke down and cried, huge, heaving sobs, while Raven held her tightly.
After a time, as her sobbing gradually subsided, he asked her, You sad because your father dead?
No, she shook her head. He was very sick, long long time, not happy. Now, no more pain. I am sad I didn't see him again, didn't tell him about you, didn't tell him about our beautiful house.
Why? Raven asked.
Because he was sad, worried, when I married Isake. I wanted to tell him that now I am happy. If I am happy, maybe he will be happy too. Raven did not reply, but only stroked her hair and gazed at her with sad eyes.
That night, when her aunt and some of the children returned from the manor house, there was no room in any of the beds, so they slept in the cart again, behind the house. Marnie wished her uncle were not so hard-hearted, but it was true his house was too small for so many; indeed she wondered what they did when everyone was there.
She wanted to take them all to live in Killacurreen in the new house, but Dedra would not hear of it. Fernleigh was her home, and she was not leaving. And who else would help Sheilah when the child was born? Marnie suppressed a smile, and only said she hoped she and Dugal were wed soon.
Marnie was sad that to think of the family broken up, all her brothers and sisters going to different homes, not able to grow up as she did surrounded by family.
To this, Dedra only sighed.
"It must happen sooner or later, in any case. And you, child, have chosen your own path, and your life is in Killacurreen now."
That, Marnie realized, was as close to her mother's blessing as she would ever get. Dedra still seemed unsettled by Raven, the noises he made, and their odd method of talking. Secretly, with a pang of guilt, Marnie was glad her mother was not willing to come to Killacurreen.
But it was decided that Marnie would take two of the younger children, meaning two fewer to foster in Fernleigh, and two more who could at least grow up with kin, and not in the house of a stranger. And Marnie would be glad of the extra help around the house. Aine was still too young to leave her mother, so she alone would go live in the cottage with Dedra, to be a comfort to her in her old age. Marnie took the next youngest, Peadar, who was eight, and Mairhe, who was six. Any distress they might have felt at leaving their mother and brothers and sisters seemed to be equally balanced with the excitement of going with their idolized eldest sister, and the prospect of a thrilling ride in a cart with a horse, a new experience for both of them.
Marnie took them aside and tried to explain seriously their new lives, although she was not sure how much they listened. "Now you must mind me and Raven just as you minded Mama and Papa." Even as she said it, she realized they might not even remember a time when Michael had been himself, but before she began to cry again, she went on quickly, "And you understand that Raven can't hear you, right?" They nodded solemnly. "So you must never shout at him, and always remember he can't hear you speak with your mouth. I will teach you all the hand-words and you must always speak to him with your hands." Again she was not sure how much they really understood, but they seemed eager to learn the mysterious gestures they had seen her use.
They set off early the next morning, for Marnie was still keen that Pierce not find her, and for the sake of the children she thought a brief farewell would be best. She embraced her mother, but few words passed between them, and then they waved until the cart turned out of the lane, and that was that. Marnie did not say it, but she knew this time, she would never return to Fernleigh, would never see her mother or Nathy or Sheilah or any of the rest again.
Although they were still grieving the loss of their father, the ride home was made more pleasant and cheerful by the presence of the two children. They exclaimed in delight over everything they saw, and hardly seemed to notice the hardships of the road. Right away Marnie fell to teaching them the hand-words, and they learned very quickly, faster even than Elly. By the second day they were chatting with Raven directly. Marnie took a turn driving, and Raven rode in the back of the cart with the children as they excitedly told him tales of their antics. Every few moments they would tug at Marnie's sleeve and ask her, "What is the word for kitten? What is the word for grass?" and she would show them, half turning in the seat and holding the reins between her knees. Then they would repeat it several times to themselves, and turn back to Raven to continue the story.
As they entered Killacurreen, however, the children grew quiet, their eyes wide in amazement, as Marnie and Raven had done at first, at the sight of all the people and houses all crowded so close together and bustling with activity. They also seemed awed at the sight of the new house, so much bigger, more spacious, and cleaner than the house they had left behind. Elly made much over them, and they took to her immediately. They seemed bit more shy of Rufus, but when Marnie prompted them to greet him and introduce themselves using their hands, he smiled at them kindly.
That evening at supper, there were six seated at the table, and Marnie reflected on how large her household suddenly seemed. She had loved the little cottage in Torcurra and the long nights alone with only Raven as occasional company, but the cheerful commotion of a full house pleased her even more. And best of all, everyone used signs. Elly and the children talked with their voices but used their hands as well, and Raven and even Rufus were drawn into the conversation. Only Marnie hung back, watching Raven talk with them so easily, his face alight with amusement as Peadar, with many false starts, attempted to tell a joke. When at last he got to the end, the entire table convulsed with laughter, Raven's loud gulping laugh joining with the rest of them, and Marnie felt her heart would burst with happiness.