CLONAKILTY, CO. CORK,
IRELAND
BYRONY ESTATE
LATER THAT NIGHT.
The next time Meaghan become cognizant of her surroundings, she
found herself inside a warm, dimly light room immersed in
a tub of warm water. Looking around, she saw an adjacent copper bathing
tub. She turned her head to look about what she determined
to be a bed chamber.
There was a large set of french doors, and through them she could see
the night stars scattered across the sky. The storm had finally
passed. She looked back around and saw that the room's bed had
been turned down and looked extremely inviting.
Quickly, her glance spun toward the door to the room. The handle
rattled then turned, admitting a robust woman of about fifty years
of age. She wore an apron of some sort over a black cotton dress.
"Widow's weeds," Meaghan thought as she watched the woman
enter the bed chamber.
A kerchief was tied over her graying hair, adding the finishing
touches to her outfit. The woman rushed over to Meaghan's side.
"Ohhh, yea be knowing yea self now," the woman stated, rather
than questioned. "I can see it in yea eyes. I just stepped out to
get the towel from the hearth, I was heatin' it for yea, lass."
Meaghan continued to watch the woman as she placed the
aforementioned towel on a nearby rocking chair.
"Now, My name be Mrs. Catherine O'Shea," informed the
woman," yea may call me Catherine."
Catherine bent down, reaching beyond Meaghan's view, below the
rim of the tub. She came back up with a bar of soap. "I am going to
help yea bathe lass, the storm did a wretched number on yea. It's
lucky Mr. Evan Adams found yea out there. From the way he tells it,
he near trampled yea with Fury."
Meaghan crinkled her brow in confusion.
"Fury be Mister Evan's horse," Catherine explained, getting onto
her knees," Well, anyway...he said it be lucky the lightening didn't
get ya , way out in those open fields like yea were."
Catherine lathered the soap on the cloth as she spoke. She then
grabbed hold of Meaghan's unresisting arm and started to bathe
her, a continuous monologue accompanying her actions.
"Might bit lucky." Catherine smiled up into Meaghan's face. "Tell
me lass, what be yea name?"
Meaghan opened her mouth, her lips felt like they were glued together,
but they slowly pulled apart.
"Meaghan," she croaked, her voice hoarse, then she made a
clearing noise and stated," Meaghan Marie Kineally."
"Meaghan Marie Kineally," repeated Catherine," My but that is
a lovely name. A lovely name for a lovely girl."
"No."
"No?" questioned Catherine as she got up and walked around the
other side of the tub," Whatever do yea mean lass?"
Meaghan grimaced." No....not a lovely girl...ugly."
Meaghan looked down at her body. She saw how her bones poked out
of her skin. She saw instead of arms, mere sticks. Instead of knees
sticking out of the water, she saw points. She looked down at her chest,
that lay under the now mud-shaded water, and she knew what she would
find there...nothing.
Meaghan jumped.
"Stop it now MEAGHAN MARIE KINEALLY!" ordered Catherine
O'Shea. Gone was the sweet person that had entered the room." I see
yea lookin' at yea self. How yea is now, that is not a permanent condition
young lady. Yea 're lovely."
Catherine O'Shea burned her gaze into Meaghan's eyes." Yea listen
to me, and yea listen to me good. I have seen people such as yea
before. Me own village has death visitin' it everyday. I know what
this blight that the Lord has chosen to give us has done to them."
"I look into yea eyes, those great big gray sparks of life. Yes, sparks
of life, I say! Others have gone through what yea have, some sufferin'
so bad that they plead with the Lord Almighty to let them die every
day. Yet if yea look into a person's eyes, yea can tell who are the
strong, the survivors. Yea 're lovely Meaghan Marie Kineally, because
in yea lass, I see a survivor, a fighter. Sure yea 're not now up to yea
finest moment....but the passion for life is in yea...`tis in yea soul,
yea heart. I don't even have to know yea to see it. It is in the way yea
told me yea name, yea didn't just say it, yea declared it. Yea may feel tired
now, but yea 're far from beaten. Yea 're lovely...not many people
are."
******************************************************************
FLASHBACK
EARLY AUGUST:1846
"Yea always have been the strong one. I suppose I knew yea
would be...me Meaghan, me mighty one."
******************************************************************
Meaghan stared at Catherine for a moment before tears began to slip
from her eyes. She thought that she couldn't cry any more, but here
she was. Meaghan took a deep breath and tilted her head, the tears
dampened her lashes and continued to trail over her face, falling
into the tub's water. But these were not tears of pity, but of
resolve.
"Yes, Mrs. O'Shea," said Meaghan, her voice quivering, then hardening
in her new strength, " Yea 're right."
"No."
"No?" questioned Meaghan, rubbing a hand across her cheek, removing
the remaining tears.
"No....not Mrs. O'Shea...Catherine," said Catherine grabbing
Meaghan's hand and giving it a squeeze," Catherine."
Meaghan smiled and gave a light squeeze back.
"Catherine."
Catherine released Meaghan's hand.
"Now let's get this muck out of yea hair," she said as she poured a
bucket of warm water over Meaghan's head.
****************************************
"All right, I need ya to be steppin' out the tub and into the one next
door. Come on lass, let's go," ordered Catherine as she pulled Meaghan
up. Meaghan staggered to her feet, struggling to hold herself upright. The room
temperature was cooler than the tub water and Meaghan began to
shiver.
"There, that's a girl," crooned Catherine as she helped Meaghan over
to the other tub, then lowered her into it. Meaghan dropped herself quickly
into the warm water. " We got most of de dirt off yea body and hair, now
we are going to give yea a good cleanin' with that hair. "
Catherine continued on with her ministrations. Meaghan sleepily opened
her eyes and looked up at Catherine.
"Thank yea," she said as Catherine massaged her scalp, the soap
foaming around her head," I don't know why yea 're doin' this..."
"Why," repeated Catherine, stopping for a moment to lean over
Meaghan's shoulder," Why, because Mr. Evan found yea and asked to
help yea recover. He is such the gentleman. He would never leave
someone out like that."
"Not every gentleman would do what he is doing," whispered Meaghan,
closing her eyes.
"That is true enough," replied Catherine, going back to the job of
Meaghan's hair," but Mr. Evan, he is not one of those "new" found
gentleman. He is made of older values."
Catherine finished washing her hair, and poured warm water over
Meaghan's head, rinsing the suds out.
"Now, we need to get yea out of the tub, are yea feeling strong
enough to stand for a moment," asked Catherine, concern in her
voice.
"I will try," replied Meaghan. Catherine grabbed a hold of Meaghan's
hand and helped her up.
"Lean on me back as I lift yea legs out of the tub," ordered Catherine
as she leaned over. Meaghan complied. Soon she stood on the wooden
floor, a towel wrapped around her, as she held on to Catherine.
"Wait a moment," said Catherine. She hurried over to the back of
the bedroom door.
"Here," she said as she came back quickly, holding out an overly
large robe," Let's put this on."
Catherine helped Meaghan dry off the excess water with the towel. Meaghan
then slipped into the robe. Her body was lost within the silken folds.
"Well, 'tis Mr. Evan's," explained Catherine," the best we can do
for tonight."
"Now, let's walk yea over to the bed so we can lay yea
down," said Catherine.
Meaghan wrapped her arm around Mrs. O'Shea's shoulder and
they slowly crossed the slight distance from the tubs to the bed.
Catherine sat her down gently, helping Meaghan prop herself up
against the bed pillows. Mrs. O'Shea slid Meaghan's legs underneath
the down turned covers and pulled them up to Meaghan's chest.
"There."
"Thank yea," said Meaghan, "It has been so long since
I've been in a real bed, and never one as nice as this."
"Yea 're welcome Lass," said Catherine, standing beside the
bed," I am goin' to run down to the kitchen and see about some soup
I have simmerin'. Here, drink some of this water, it's the first step to
getting' yea back to yer finest."
Catherine lifted a glass of water off the night table and held it to
Meaghan's lips. Meaghan opened her mouth and let the water slid
past her lips and down her parched throat. She hadn't even
realize how thirsty she was until then.
"Tut, tut, tut, not to much," ordered Catherine pulling the glass
away," Too much will make yea sick, yea won't be able to keep
it down."
Meaghan blinked, then nodded her head.
"Me husband, God rest his soul, was in a similar situation....being that
he hadn't any food or water for a long while. Yea see, he had fallen off
the roof of his father's old house. He was the only one living there at the
time, so no one noticed anythin' a miss. He had been there for 'bout a day,
unable to move. Then one day, I had to go up to his place, askin' him about
repairing our family's roof. I was but a wee lass then, no more than nineteen
years..., about the same as yea. Well, I found him there. He had been
knocked on the noggin, in and out of himself. So, I nursed him back to
health."
"Yea know, he was so thankful that he married me. At least, that's what
he liked to say, but the people of the village knew better. I was just being
a good charitable Catholic," Catherine laughed, remembering. "T'was
me good deed for the year. In a way, he fell for me even before he met
me. Got to like that in a man."
Meaghan smiled and Catherine smiled back. "I best get that soup for yea."
Meaghan watched the door shut as Catherine left the room. The warmth of
the covers, and the cleanness she finally felt were enough to induce her
to fall asleep, and so she did.
***************************
[FLASHBACK]
Border of BALTIMORE AND SKIBBEREEN,
CO. CORK, IRELAND
MID-AUGUST:1846
"WAIT," she cried hobbling towards Meaghan, her breath labored.
Gabriel and Meaghan had walked out of the run-down cottage, leaving
the world they knew behind. They were a few kilometers from the
house when Mary Kineally had run out of its front door, calling out for
them to stop.
Meaghan and Gabriel turned around, walking back towards their mother.
Finally they stood face to face.
Mary raised a shaking palm to Meaghan's forehead and slid it down. The
pads of her weathered fingers scraped lovingly over the valleys of Meaghan's
face. Meaghan smiled, tears falling freely upon her mother's hand.
Meaghan then took her turn, repeating her mother's actions. Her fingers
fell upon the wrinkled, dry, withered plains.
"I hold yea face in me hand and in me heart," she whispered with her mother.
Mary then repeated the motion with her son.
Then, without a word, her mother turned from her children. Meaghan
watched how her mother's once hearty shoulders shook under the
onslaught of tears.
Mary Kineally walked slowly back into the cottage, not once looking
back.
"Ma!!" her soul cried out to the retreating figure.
***************************
Meaghan awoke, looking around the dim room. She found Catherine sitting
beside her on the bed, her hand raised above Meaghan's face.
"What , what were yea doing," Meaghan demanded, leaning back into
the pillows.
"I was just stroken' yea curls off yea face lass, trying to calm yea down
in yea sleep," explained Catherine," Yea were tossin' and turnin' something
fierce. A nightmare lass?"
"No, no -- a memory," said Meaghan relaxing. "Yea just spooked
me 'tis all."
Catherine looked upon Meaghan with warm eyes, then let out a sigh.
"Here, lets try getting some food into yea now," suggested Catherine
as she lifted a bowl of the promised soup from the night table.
Meaghan pushed herself up into a sitting position, her arms trembling
from the slight use of energy. She then reached up a shaking hand,
trying to take the spoon from Catherine.
"Tut, I think not," said Catherine, pulling the bowl away from
Meaghan," Yea 're shakin' like a leaf and in no condition to be feedin'
yea self. Now, let me."
Meaghan smiled her gratitude and obediently opened her mouth.
***********************************************************************
MID-FEBRUARY:1847
Catherine became Meaghan's constant companion as well as her nurse. She
helped Meaghan gain back her energy, muscle, and fat by providing her
with ample meals. It was a new experience for Meaghan, a heavenly one.
Her once skeletal body seemed to fill out at a remarkable rate, astonishing
them both
"What is his name," asked Meaghan a few days after arriving at Byrony. She
couldn't even remember what he looked like, so her curiosity was more than
a little piqued, "the man who helped me?"
Meaghan was still confined to the bed at that point, but even with the
passing of only a few days, she had already felt immensely better than
that storm-wracked evening.
"His name," repeated Catherine," His name be Mr. Evan Adams, he's
English I believe."
"English," she gasped, sitting up straighter against the pillows,
"the English are monsters."
"Nooo, not Mr. Evan," denied Catherine," He is the finest gentleman
I have ever met or heard tale of ."
"Why, why is he helping me," asked Meaghan, confused. All she
ever heard or saw, particularly in Skibbereen, was how the English were
killing the Irish - killing them all.
She remembered the first day that Gabriel and her walked into the city.
********************************************************************
[FLASHBACK]
SKIBBEREEN, CO. CORK
IRELAND: LATE AUGUST: 1846
CITY
The stench hit them even before walking into the city. Meaghan had
thought that her village had been bad but the town was a horror her
mind could barely comprehend. It was a sight she wasn't prepared for.
The muddied streets were crowded with her fellow peasants and tenant
farmers, yet there was a difference. As she looked at the people, her
people, she was unable to take her eyes off of them. She saw, not so
much men or women, but walking skeletons. Her heart dropped within
her chest.
Each step brought to Gabriel and Meaghan a view of further devastation.
She saw the effects of not only hunger on these poor creatures but killer
diseases such as smallpox and measles that spread across their skin. She
saw children left with no energy to even run and play, a scene particularly
familiar to her.
She saw the twins, Lil'Sarah and Patrick, in all of the young one's
countenances.
She witnessed how some people's bodies rocked with the force of their
coughing, bronchitis working its deadly dance, perhaps a desired end
for some.
There were people who lay strewn in the streets- unable to move of their
own accord. All of the people there had come to the Work House doors,
hoping for some kind of relief from the famine and the contagious diseases
it lead to. They came, only to be denied entrance or help.
The Work Houses were already filled to beyond capacity, yet more and more
desperate and starving people arrived in the city of Skibbereen everyday.
It was near impossible to separate the sick from the well. Hunger ravaged
their bodies just as much as disease. Gabriel and Meaghan wove their way
through the throng, coming to the doors of the Workhouse. Thousands
crowded the small area, clamoring for a place inside the building. The only
thing that guaranteed Gabriel and Meaghan's admittance was a letter of writ
that Father Aidan had given them.
"Gabe," called out Meaghan, her tears catching in her voice. She grabbed
Gabriel's shirt. "There is so many, so many of us."
"I know it, me Meaghan," he said, tears choking his voice as well. He wrapped
his arms tightly around her as they maneuvered their way through the mass.
"Yea English , yea killin' us...there be no food. The crops are dead. We are
starvin' out here. Yea promised us. Yea promised to help us," shouted a man
in rags, yelling at the guarded doors.
******************************************************
"...All I know lass is that he wants yea to get better, that is why he is
helping yea," Catherine answered. "He asked me to continue as yea
nurse until yea are recovered. And since me Edward's death, not ta mention
Ireland's present grief....I, well... I am here. He will be back in two months
time. He doesn't want yea to leave. His gentlemanly nature will not allow it".
Meaghan fought against her knowledge of Englishman, trying to reconcile the
man who helped her - saving her from certain death- from all that she had
ever known and believed about the English. It was nearly impossible for
her, but she tried.
"Has his family been here long," asked Meaghan. She wondered to
herself why this man had decided to stay on when so many of his countrymen
had abandoned Ireland.
"Oh, no. In fact, this house has been closed down for over thirty years.
It's been maintained first by me husband, now by me son and grandson. We've
always been taken care of rather nicely for our maintenance of the
estate." informed Catherine.
She paused, looking fondly around the room. "This place, is more
like me own home than anybody else's. The O'Sheas have been here for
well over thirty years put together."
She pulled the rocking chair over to the side of the bed, then leaned in
towards Meaghan.
"Lord Byron, he owned this house before Dr. Benjamin Adams,
Mr. Evan's father. I met Lord Byron once. That was when me
and me husband were just married, in the year 1815. He had just
purchased the estate then. Course I didn't know who he was.
But his reputation soon spread throughout the area, even
despite how far away this estate was from any village. He
was a world renown poet, yea know. Never met me one of those
before. Anyway, he hired us to take care of the place while he was
away...which was all the time. Then we got a letter about a year later
telling us that there was a new owner of Byrony Estate. We'd never
met that new owner and never will.
"Yea never met him, and no one's been here?" asked Meaghan,
enraptured by Catherine's tale, "What do yea mean, 'and never
will,' did he die?".
"Nooo, never met him," she affirmed, then continued with her story.
"We got another letter, this one only about three months ago telling us
that the owner that we never laid eyes on, had up and died. And that his
son would be coming to check out the estate, 'twas part of his inheritance.
He'd been here for a little over a month. In fact he had ridden to me village
to see about some business or such. He was on his way back to Byrony
when he got trapped in that terrible storm. That was when..."
"When he found me." finished Meaghan.
"Yes, that's correct. I must say, he didn't even stay very long after
that. In fact he left the next day, asked me to look after yea. He was very
gentlemanly, not like those other English bast....well, not like those
others."
Meaghan sat there quiet, letting the information sink in.
**************************************************
MID-FEBRUARY:1847
Two weeks after her arrival, garments arrived for her.
"These just arrived by carriage today...not too long a wait. I wager
he paid them to be rather fast with his order, seeing as yea had no
clothes to yea person."
"Ah, now we can get yea out of me that robe, make
yea feel a wee bit more human I'd take it," Catherine prattled on
as she spread out the three simple, yet pretty cotton dresses for
Meaghan's view, "And here's some lovely under things to go
with them.
"My but they are nice," gasped Meaghan from the bed," the nicest
clothes I'll ever have worn."
"They are nice at that."
Catherine picked up a dress of midnight blue.
"This one will set well against that fine pitch hair of yours," said
Catherine, walking over and holding the dress up against Meaghan's
black strands. She then turned and picked up the next dress which
was a deep russet.
"And this one, this will compliment the brightness of those gray
eyes," said Catherine holding the dress up for a better view.
"The burgundy will of course, compliment the rosy flush in yea
cheeks," continued Catherine, reaching for the last dress. "My, but he
does have excellent taste."
Suddenly a thought came over Meaghan, interrupting Catherine's display.
"Catherine, has he been in here," asked Meaghan," I'm remembering. It's
like...like I've felt him."
"Yes," answered Catherine, looking at her, head cocked. "How did yea
know. He was only in the room for a short while. He removed the baths
that first night. It was right when I had left to get yea soup. I passed him
in the hall on my way back up but he said yea were sleeping."
"I must have been," began Meaghan, "I know I didn't see him, yet I
remember him being in here."
"'Tis strange," was Catherine's comment as she placed the last gown
down. "Well anyway, the dresses look like they will do yea well."
"Yea see, the night yea arrived I gave Mr. Evan yea measurements,
leaving room to spare for yea recovery. He had asked me if I would
do that for him. He was certain that yea would be staying for a while
and he was leaving to go back to London the next day," explained
Catherine.
"I don't know how I could repay him for all of this," whispered
Meaghan, cringing slightly as one method skirted across her mind.
****************************************************
"Yeah, ya feel this ," asked the officer, pressing himself against
her," I tell ya what, it's your choice. What would you prefer?"
*****************************************************
"...sure it will. Meaghan? Meaghan, where yea listenin' to me at all, lass?"
"I'm sorry Catherine , I drifted off for a spell,' said Meaghan, shuddering.
"Oh 'tis all right dear," assured Catherine," Yea look like yea 're getting
tired. Why don't I leave yea to a nice nap?"
"Thank yea," said Meaghan smiling," Yea are wonderful to me."
Catherine just slapped her hand away at the compliment.
"Tut, tis nothing, sweet bonny girl."
Meaghan watched as Catherine closed the door to the bedroom, leaving
her alone.
She then slid out of bed and walked over to the standing mirror located
in the corner of the room. She reached up and pulled her blackened hair
free from the loose braid that Catherine had set. The midnight curls fell
around her shoulders. She absently pushed a strand behind her ear, out
of her face. She saw that her body still swam inside the silk robe, despite
the weight gain but she also took note of how her skin had taken on that
rosy hue Catherine had mentioned.
Meaghan studied herself. She untied the knotted robe and let it slip
off her pale shoulders. She was still thin, but she was heavier than she
had been in a long time. She let the robe continue its fall to the floor.
She had been afraid to look at herself when she first arrived at Byrony,
afraid to really see what her whole body looked like. But now she wanted
to know how much she had healed.
She examined herself, seeing curves were there used to be none. She
ran her hands down her neck and for the first time didn't feel the corded throat
muscles. She touched her face and didn't feel the hard bone of her
cheeks. Her eyes, always wide and beautiful, rested on those rosy
cheeks, those healthy cheeks. She surveyed the rest of her body and
smiled. But her smile soon fell from her face as she remembered another
who had looked at her body...another who had *hurt* her body.....
***********************************************************************
[FLASHBACK]
SKIBBEREEN, CO. CORK
IRELAND 1847
WORK HOUSE
"You brazen little 'ussy," yelled the English Work officer, slapping
Meaghan across the face and knocking her body into the wall of his
tiny room. "I told ya what would happen if ya gave me
trouble," warned the man.
Meaghan wept, one hand clawed against the wall, the other held her
reddened face.
"I did what yea wanted," she cried, sinking down the wall and pulling
herself into a ball. She began to rock to and fro.
"Not everythin'," was the officer's reply.
He walked over to her, pulled out his pocket knife, and squatted down beside
her.
"Tell me, since you've been 'ere 'ave ya seen your brother? Gabriel, that 'es
his name isn't it? No you 'aven't. Separation of the sexes and all."
Meaghan stopped rocking, and stared at the officer.
"Gabriel, yea know something about me brother Gabriel?" she questioned,
desperation seeping into her voice.
"Oh yea Lassie, I do be knowin' indeed," informed the officer, mocking her
accent. " And I do believe he ''as been leadin' too good a life so far in 'ere."
"Impossible," spat out Meaghan, unthinking. Her whole face flushed red
with anger, "Tis nuthin' but a hell hole."
The officer hit her again, knocking her head into the brick wall.
"Ya watch it, Lassie," warned the officer, aiming his knife at her. " If it
weren't for this place your starving carcass would be cluttering the streets
of Skibereen with the rest of ya white Irish monkeys."
Meaghan shook her head, rubbing it. She glared at the officer, staring
up at his face. Her hand balled, and with a burst of energy, she jumped on
him. The bones burst in his nose from the small but sure aim of her fist. His
knife fell to the floor.
She clawed at his face, ripping his skin open with the nubs of her finger
nails, determined mania pushing her on.
"GET OFF ME YA BITCH," screamed the officer. He wrenched her
clinging body off of him, throwing her across the small room. She skid
across the metal framed bed and landed on the cold stone floor, a rough
woolen blanket tangled around her legs.
Meaghan tried to remain aware, but the blows to the head and the fury
induced hysteria were winning over.
The officer wiped an arm gently across his face. He then walked over to
her collapsed form.
"Ya'll never see Gabriel again," informed the man as he snuffed back the
blood sliding out of his nose. "He will never leave 'ere and neitha will yew."
The officer reached down and grabbed Meaghan up by the neck.
"What's this," he asked holding up a cross. It was the necklace that she
had wanted to tear off her body when she was last with Father Aidan. No
matter how much she had wanted to do it then and even now, she still could
not. She heard Smith laugh. "Not even your Catholic God can save yew."
He turned her body around to face the small window.
"Yew see that moon?" questioned the officer, his putrid breath fanning
her face. "That is the last time yew are *eva* goin'ta see it."
Meaghan's eyes rounded as she felt the officer begin to squeeze her
windpipe. Her thin body began to flail against him. He just laughed in her
face, staring into her wide eyes, her mouth open and speechless.
Suddenly the door to the room burst open.
"Smith, we h'erd a commotion, what is goin on...,"began one of the other
officers entering the room. He then froze. " Smith release 'er. Now!"
Meaghan's eyes began to roll back, she was suddenly aware of the
pressure being released from her throat. She collapsed to the floor
again as she tried to draw in deep breaths . Her heart raced loudly against
her rib cage. She had barely heard the other officer come in, she just
concentrated on breathing once more.
"This Irish 'ore attacked me when I came in to my room ," informed Smith,
wiping again at his bloated face. Meaghan continued to gasp for air through
her bruised windpipe. The content of the conversation began to filter
through.
"No," was the soft cry from Meaghan's lips.
"She just went crazy," continued Smith," She's not safe ta 'ave 'round."
"Is that right," questioned the other officer, narrowing his eyes at
Smith, "Why don't you go now, I will 'andle 'er."
"Yes Sir," said Smith. He bent down to retrieve his knife and as he bent
over, he whispered to Meaghan, "Gabriel's as good as DEAD."
He stood back up, facing her still cringing form.
Her body may have cringed, yet she faced him head-on. She held him
trapped for a moment in her violent gray eyes. She knew her hatred for Smith
had to be shaper than his retrieved blade. She did not think, all she knew at
that moment was the pure desire to kill, but she would have to settle with
tearing into him with her eyes.
"Smith?"
"Yes Sir," he responded turning around and heading out of the room.
Meaghan let her eyes close. She began to rock again. The other
officer closed the door and approached her.
"Now, I am not gonna 'ert ya Lass," said the other officer, "My name is
Robert."
Meaghan opened her eyes at his introduction.
"Work Officer Roberts?" she questioned, her voice raspy.
"No, just Robert, it 'es my first name," he answered, sitting down on the bed.
Meaghan stared at him, betraying no emotion other than fear.
"Now, I can only 'magine what 'as 'appened 'ere,"began Robert releasing a
heavy sigh," and in my 'maginings it 's Smith that 'olds the blame."
Meaghan said nothing, just stared at him intently.
"I, unfortunately can do nothing about this," informed Robert, running a
hand through the top of his shagged hair," He's protected by a power
that is greater than mine. Ya will have ta leave. It is the only way you will
be safe and Smith will save face."
Meaghan continued to stare at Robert, knowing already what he would
say. She was powerless, poor Irish. Her voice meant nothing, nothing to
the English. She was happy to be alive, she would settle for that.
"....and I am sorry..." said Robert, Meaghan refocused on what he was saying.
"Me brother," asked Meaghan interrupting him.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Robert asked confused.
" Me brother Gabriel, can I see him before I leave," she questioned, her
voice soft but strong.
"Oh, well," began Robert. She saw his gaze dart around the room,
struggling for an answer," Um...well...as you are well aware, you are
sep-rated from 'im, the men and women....I well, I will see what I can
do. Meanwhile I'll give you some time to get yourself together. No one
will come in here while yew compose ya self. I'll be back in a bit ta
escort ya out."
Meaghan pulled the woolen blanket over her shoulders, hugging it against
herself.
"I need to be seeing me brother before I go, I must see him," she stated
in a flat, sure voice.
"Yes, of course you do."
"If you would excuse me, I will go see about arranging it," said Robert
getting off the bed and leaving the room.
Meaghan took off the blanket and looked down at the ripped remains
of her blouse and dress...they were no more than tattered shreds. She
had nothing else, nothing except a mended thin-layered cloak that Smith
had ripped off her when she had first struggled to get away from him.
She grabbed it off the floor and quickly wrapped it around her, pulling
the hood over her tangled black hair. She then sat on the bed and
waited. Her body ached from the abuse he had leveled upon her slight
frame. She inspected her arm that had hit the wall first. It was scratched
and bruised. She quickly gave up inventorying the pains and scratches
that spread over her body... there was just too many to count.
Twenty minutes later the room filled with four guards. Robert was
noticeably absent among them. "Come on Missay," ordered one of
the men, grabbing her up under her arms," Time ta be leavin'."
Meaghan pulled against his hold.
"No wait, me brother, I have to see me brother!!" she screamed,
trying to break out of the room and past the guards. Four sets of hands
grabbed onto her, pulling her back, holding her in place.
"You are out of 'ere now," said the same guard.
They made a wall around her and pushed her out of the room,
down the long hallway, past a gated off adjacent hall that was the
men's quarters. She pushed against the guards, but they were
immovable. She screamed.
"Gabe! Gabriel Kineally! GABRIEL KINEALLY!! GABRIELLLL!!!!"
A hand clamped over her mouth as the small group continued down
the hall and to the front of the building. From a distance she heard a
voice call back.
"Meaghan! Meaghan! Meg..." Then, abruptly it stopped. Meaghan
sagged to the ground, her knees giving out on her. They began to drag
her to the door, her knees scraping against the unleveled pavement.
The doors opened to their approach. They lifted her up as they walked
through, and with a heave, they threw her out of the building. She rolled
over and over from the momentum of the toss. She got up, her cloak
flying behind her as she ran back up to the door, and began pounding on
it, all the while screaming. She could feel countless eyes watch her, but
watch only, for they could do nothing to help her and as she turned her
head franticly looking, hoping for help... she saw the greedy need in their
eyes to take her place within the walls.
"Gabriel! Gaaabrielllllll!!!! Gabrieeeeellllll!!! "
She pounded on the door, her fist bruising against the wood, yet still
she persisted.
A small window opened in the door and out stood the muzzle of a rifle. A
muffled voice could be heard behind it.
"Step away from ta door. Step 'way Now!"
Then the rifle gave off a shot. Meaghan jumped back...her shoulders
shaking with sobs.
"Back!"
Another shot sounded off, this one close to Meaghan's feet. She fell
back more. Screaming her anguish in the dead of the night, she turned
away from the door and stumbled, going into the deep darkness, leaving
the city behind her.
**********************************************************************
"Gabriel," she whispered, her heart leadened. She had no doubt that
what Smith had threatened would be done, probably was already
done. She shook herself.
Meaghan turned from the mirror and picked up her clothes that lay
draped over the back of the rocking chair.
There was nothing that she could do. He was gone.
She pulled on her underthings and then slide the burgundy dress over
her head The material fell over her body. It was still slightly big, but
Catherine had planned well. At the rate she was recovering, it would fit
properly in no time.
Live.
What she had to do now was live, and live she would.
*******************************************************************
As the weeks passed, Meaghan continued to recover. She still marveled
at the speed with which her body healed, as did Catherine... and she
would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she was thankful. So, she
didn't question the recovery so much as she accepted it, wholeheartedly.
Now, her body showed no signs of the hunger that had previously
devastated it. Her stamina, well it had certainly increased way beyond
the collapsing form from her first night at Byrony. She truly was the
healthiest that she'd ever been.
Meaghan was not the only one to recover, Byrony's landscape also
healed. The winter storms that had ravaged the estate, gave way to
a better clime. The harsh winter was now but a faded memory as
warm springtime air suffused the grounds, turning them into a familiar
emerald green. Meaghan spent most of her days outside of the house,
wandering and exploring the lush, vast lands of the estate. She loved
Byrony. It was a place she never dreamed could exist in the real
world. Places such as Byrony were reserved for the grounds of Heaven,
or so she used to believe.
Catherine would, on occasion, join Meaghan on her walks. She always
seemed to know when Meaghan needed solitude or when she needed
company. Meaghan cherished her for that. One day, on one of their
many shared walks, Meaghan remarked upon the impressive visage of
Byrony. It had reminded Meaghan of an abbey that was near her village
in Skibereen and so she said as much.
"Oh, well, I am not surprised at that," informed Catherine as they
strolled along the grounds, "this estate used to be an abbey. When the
English came in, they confiscated the grounds and built additions onto
it... that is what the wings are. Many of the Brothers lost their lands and
their roles in Ireland's faith," Catherine said, anger lacing her words. She
continued. "The gardens be virtually the same as when they lived here,
or so I am told. They were tended meticulously by the monks, and I am
glad that us O'Sheas have continued the tradition of preservin' them. These
grounds were and are a holy, blessed place indeed - not even the English
could spoil that.
END OF APRIL 1847
The lake, which bordered the back of the estate, became Meaghan's
favorite spot. She loved standing upon the little footbridge that
expanded across its flowing waters. The edge of the lake was
surrounded by large oak trees on either side and the sun had
a habit of pushing it's way through the newly sprouted oak
leaves, dappling the water with light. Meaghan felt that
she could stay there forever. She couldn't conceive of ever leaving this
place, but there were many things she had never conceived of,
things... things that happened anyway.
It was a cool mid-afternoon day in April when Meaghan and Catherine
came to the lake together. Usually Meaghan went to the lake
alone - It was the one place that she liked to go to think, to not
think... to just be, but she didn't mind the company, not today.
Meaghan stood leaning over the railing of the footbridge, looking out
upon the waters as Catherine stood beside her. "Tis really beautiful
here," Meaghan claimed as she watched the lazy waves pass under
the bridge. The constant flow of the waters always seemed to pacify
Meaghan. She would get lost in the glimmering waves, the sunlight
catching one, passing another, it entranced her. The clean brisk air
blended with the scent of the surrounding wild flowers. She breathed
it in, letting it caress her soul. She loved how the ivy twined its way
around the wooden rails and beams of the bridge, covering it in a
lush greenery. The lake definitely left her with a feeling of
calm, particularly when she had trouble attaining it. Unfortunately,
she found herself at the lake more often than not.
Byrony... it was a shadow of a dream she used to have when
she was little, a place her mother spoke of called TIR NA nóG. Her
mother would tell her about adventures in a fairy place where no one
ever grew old and where everyone there was safe, happy, and
loved. Mary Kineally would always speak of the beauty that was
found everywhere one went in TIR NA nóG. It was a story that all mothers
told their children, but Meaghan had believed that her mother had actually
been there. The way she described it to her had Meaghan and her siblings
seeing it in their dreams. Meaghan knew that was why she loved Byrony so
much... in so many ways, it was her dream land realized.
Meaghan stood up straighter as a breeze touched her skin and pulled
at her hair. She turned toward Catherine. "Doesn't it be the most beautiful,
peaceful place in all of Ireland?" Meaghan questioned as she closed
her eyes and breathed in the atmosphere, listening to the stirrings
of awakened birds and tittering insects.
"Yea, that, it be... God's beauty for sure." Catherine answered.
Meaghan stiffened, she grabbed at her neck for the chained cross
that was no longer there. She'd had that necklace all her life. Father
Aidan told her that he'd found her with it and now it was lost. She knew
that she had it in the Work House... she vividly remembered Smith pawing
it, but that was all he had done. Almost everything between being
forced to leave the work house and landing in the safety of Byrony was
a void of memories she had no wish to unearth - but it didn't really matter
to her anyway. She did not believe in what that cross represented, for she
did not, she could not, believe in God - not anymore.
"What is it Meaghan?" Catherine asked laying a hand on Meaghan's
arm. She remained silent. "Yea can tell me yea know, what be the
matter lass?"
Meaghan finally looked at her. She opened her mouth but no words
came out. How could she possibly tell this God-fearing woman about
her lost faith. She did not want to hurt her friend, for well Meaghan knew
that most of what Catherine had left was her faith.
Through their many conversations, Meaghan knew that Catherine felt
the loss of her husband severely. She could hear the loneliness in her words
except when she spoke of her faith in God. Yes, she had her son and
grandson, both she knew Catherine loved dearly. Yet, they were not the
ones with Catherine when she knelt beside her bed at night, praying, her
rosary clenched in her hands. Meaghan had seen her do that practice often
enough, but she was never a part of it... could never be a part of it.
"Tis nothing," Meaghan whispered patting Catherine's hand. She turned
to pull away but Catherine held her still.
"Don't be tellin' me tis nothin'," Catherine said, stepping closer to
Meaghan. "Yea think I don't know, don't yea?"
"Know, be knowing what?" Meaghan asked fear grabbing at her
heart. What did she know? Did she know that Meaghan had been to
Hell and back, no, how could she possibly? Catherine interrupted her
thoughts.
"Everytime, everytime I mention the Lord's name, yea freeze, or yea
turn away, or yea shudder," Catherine said, looking up into Meaghan's
trapped eyes. "Do yea think I don't see it. I may be old but I am
not blind."
Catherine gently directed Meaghan over to a bench.
Meaghan watched as Catherine took a deep breath. She saw compassion
fill her friend's wizened eyes as she spoke once more. "Yea have been
here for almost two months. In that time, I feel as if I have gotten to know
yea rather well. Yea've become special to me... more a daughter than
me own daughter-in-law had ever been... but we won't be gettin' into that."
Catherine gave Meaghan a wry smile, then continued. "In that time yea've
healed, at least, on the outside. But I know in yea heart there are so many
cracks that have not mended. I've seen the nightmares that play with yea
mind as yea sleep. I have never asked yea what caused yea to be in those
fields, alone, those many weeks ago. I have never asked yea, until now."
Meaghan felt like she was suffocating. She hadn't expected, hadn't thought,
she'd shown any feelings relating to the events before being brought to
Byrony. She tried not to think or deal with the past, no matter how much
the past seemed to want to deal with her.
"Tell me lass," Catherine encouraged, squeezing Meaghan's fingers," Yea
must talk about it. I can see it eating yea up inside. Yea can't be going
through life like that, not anymore."
Meaghan gasped out, staring at the cloth of her dress," I can't."
Catherine answered her sharply. "Yea can, Meaghan Marie Kineally."
Meaghan head shot up and she looked at Catherine, staring... she did
not see her, not really. She saw another woman. She saw her mother.
Her features seemed to mingle with that of Catherine's... smiling,
beckoning - telling her that it was okay to say it, to release the anguish
that she constantly wrestled to hold down, deep inside herself.
Meaghan closed her eyes tightly, her heart burning in her chest, a lump
rose in her throat. Finally, she cried. She let her shoulders sag and her
head lean forward onto Catherine's chest. She didn't speak, not at first. It
was like a storm ripped through her, escaping out of her eyes and dampening
Catherine's dress. She felt Catherine's arms wrap around her, rubbing
her back in soothing circles. She sat there with Catherine for a long time,
just letting the tears break free. She heard Catherine softly singing. She
couldn't make out the words but the rocking motion and the rhythm of her
voice helped soothe Meaghan more than watching waves pass below a bridge
or the mixing scent of wild flowers.
Meaghan sat up, pulling out of Catherine's embrace. She rubbed a hand
over the back of her neck. It ached some from the awkward position
she had cried in, but she couldn't have moved if her life depended on it.
"Tell me, unburden yea self," Catherine whispered, " Some times it be
alright to have someone help shoulder the load." Meaghan saw tears
glittering in the elder woman's eyes. She felt like Catherine wrapped her
in a cocoon of warmth were nothing bad could touch her, not even the
pain of her memories. Maybe Catherine was right. She sighed and
then began her tale.
She told her everything, everything she could remember and everything
she didn't want to remember. She looked down at the hand that Catherine
clasped. She felt that as long as she had Catherine there to anchor her, to
hold her, then she could tell it and tell it she did. Catherine now knew of
Meaghan's family, of the starvation that had hit Skibereen and its outskirts... hit it
hard. She told her of the rumors she had heard, that Skibereen suffered the worse
wrath of the famine and from what she saw and experienced... she believed
that to be very true. Meaghan told Catherine of her mother, her brothers, the
twins and of Gabriel. All of them dead now. All.
She told Catherine how she had gotten word at the Work House that her
village had been hit with a deadly bout of smallpox. It had taken everyone
there. No one had survived it. It was a ghost town of huts and cottages. The
smell of the deceased rivaled that of Skibereen or so said one of the new
work laborers who had been admitted to the work house. The woman
told of how she had to pass through the village on her way there.
"It was a wonder that I had not been infected too," she would say as they
worked in the fields, building a road that led to nowhere.
They were all gone. She didn't tell Gabriel, she couldn't. She hadn't seen
him in days. The men were building a second bridge over "Loch Sheldahl".
Meaghan and the other women lifted bricks and placed them neatly on the
ground, but at times the Work Officers would find flaw with their work
when there was none to be found. Yet still, they would make the women
re-lay sections. It was a way to extend the work when there was no work
left to be done. They would not just give food to Meaghan and the rest of
the people... the officers would make the "lazy" Irish *work* for it.
It had been another order to re-lay yet another perfectly formed piece of
road when Meaghan's temper took over.
"There be nothing wrong with this here bit of road, " Meaghan
yelled to the Work Officer who sat astride his gelding. The setting
sun stretched the Englishman's shadow, making him look imposing and
more evil to the wearied workers. "It be freezin' out here. Our hands are
numbed. Jesus, are whole body be numbed... yea can't be expectin' us
to go on here, not now.. not this late."
"Are you speaking to me Irish" the Work Officer growled from his perch.
One of the young women grabbed her, pulling her back and away from
the officer. "Neigh, Work Officer Smith, she not be speaking to yea." the
woman answered, turning Meaghan from the Officer and staring a warning
into her eyes as she squeezed Meaghan's arm. Meaghan struggled to break
the hold, but the woman's hand was like a band of steel clamped around
her skin.
"Stop it now," the woman savagely whispered. "Yea'll not be getting' us,
or yea self, anything by arguing with them. It will come to naught but
bad. Do yea hear me lass?"
"I can't be takin' this no longer," Meaghan seethed under her breath to
the woman.
"Let her answer me, girl" the man yelled over to them. The woman
stared fiercely into Meaghan's eyes.
Meaghan finally broke free of the woman's grip. How she wanted to
scream, kick, yell... demand but, she knew the woman was right. Speaking
up guaranteed nothing but more severe actions.
"T'was nothing, Sir." Meaghan answered, biting the inside of her cheek.
She could taste her bitter blood in her mouth. She bent over and picked
up a cold brick placing it aside as the rest of the silent, still woman reanimated
themselves and began to help remove the finely laid bricks.
"It was later that night that I was called out of the woman's quarters by
another officer," Meaghan told Catherine, her voice hollow. "He lead me
down a hallway and into a room. It had a bed, cabinet and small window,
whereas we were lucky if there were enough beds, which there rarely was.
The only time there seemed to be a spare was when someone died of
starvation, disease or heartache. Then, and only then, seemed to be the
only time a bed was free. The room I was lead into, despite the furnishin,
was still as dirty as everywhere else. The major difference bein' that the
smell of the dead did not seem to fill the air... as much, for there were
mass graves dug within the work house. The officer left me there to
wait, for what, I had not a clue."
Meaghan grasped Catherine's hand tighter as she continued. " I didn't
have to wait that long. Work Officer Smith, the man I had spoken out
to, entered the room. I knew... I knew I would not be leavin' that room
without a mark... and I was right."
Meaghan went on to relate what had happened and how she had been
thrown out of the work house. How she had lost more than her virtue, more
than her soul - she had lost Gabriel, the only person she had left in the world.
"I do not believe in God... not anymore. So when yea see me freeze, turn
away or shudder - it be because that name reminds me of all that I have
lost... all that was torn from me. If there be a God, how? How could he
be so cruel?"
Catherine pulled her into a tight, almost suffocating embrace. Meaghan felt
her stroke her hair as she whispered into her ear." I had no idea what yea've
been through. No idea... no idea..."
Catherine repeated it over and over again as she stroked Meaghan. She
felt Catherine's tears against her dry cheek. Meaghan had told the story
without crying. She was all cried out, the tears were there but they were
locked inside as she related what had happened to her. Catherine sat
back and wiped at her face. She then reached out and rubbed
Meaghan's cheek tenderly.
"Yea have been through so much," Catherine began, placing her hand
back in her lap. "When I saw yea that first night, me heart went out to
yea. I honestly didn't know how yea could still be alive, lookin' as yea
did. I remember sayin' to yea that yea were a survivor... How small that
seems to me now. Yea are so much more than that word, so much more."
Meaghan sat there looking at Catherine. She hadn't wanted to tell her,
she really didn't. In telling it, Meaghan felt no different but she could see
that Catherine did. She saw a shaken woman before her now and that
was her fault. She watched as Catherine tried to digest all that Meaghan
had told her.
"I can't tell yea," Catherine began then paused. Meaghan watched as
Catherine worked within herself for the answer, for the words that she
wanted to convey. Suddenly Catherine seemed to grow before her
eyes. Perhaps Meaghan had underestimated this woman after all. Perhaps
she could only imagine how she would feel if it were her hearing the
story... but that wasn't right either. "I can't be tellin' yea how to feel about
livin', dyin', country or even God. I won't burden yea with over used sayings
or little prayers of hope. I won't. I will be sayin' this though, yea are alive,
yea are young and yea are still loved. I love yea Meaghan and whether yea
believe it be God or just a man who brought yea here, away from a past
full of so much pain... well that be yea choice. I chose to be believin'
that God has brought yea to Byrony. Maybe 'tis hard for yea to believe
that, but it isn't for me."
"And I will tell yea somethin' I have never told anyone." Meaghan sat there,
listening intently as Catherine spoke. " Ever since me Edward died, I have
been alone. There is me son and grandson... but they have each other.
They live with each other and depend on each other. I have been alone,
so alone. Edward has been gone for over three years and I have felt his
absence everyday. Then yea came and I had someone who needed me
more than a ghost did. Yea was so vulnerable, so lost. I think I let Edward
go one day and I didn't even realize it. It had just happened. I'd kept him
with me, tight to my chest for so long but yea. Yea helped me in ways
that yea could never know, and I don't know if I could actually describe
in words all that yea presence and yea have meant to me."
"Oh Catherine," whispered Meaghan. Her heart stretched toward the
woman. " I have valued yea beyond words too. Yea made me move
when I felt I couldn't possibly take another step. Yea pushed me further
when I thought that there was no place further to go... like today. I told me
self that tellin' yea what happened didn't change how I felt. But maybe it
did, if only to feel freer than I have in a long time. The conversations we
have had, the *time* we've shared, even my failed attempts at baking with
yea, " Meaghan laughed. " ... they have all benefited me more than I had
realized. Yea are me friend, but more than that, yea are me family and that
is something I thought that I would never have again."
Meaghan felt Catherine squeeze her hand and Meaghan squeezed back. Catherine
stood up and turned to Meaghan. "I think we had better be headin' back to
the house.. There is dinner to be made after all and maybe we can give it
another go with this baking."
Meaghan stood too. Together they walked through the back gardens
as they made their way to the rear entrance of Byrony. Meaghan paused,
letting Catherine walk ahead some. She looked at the beauty of the grounds
around her.
"Yes, this be the most beautiful place in all of Ireland." Meaghan said
softly, then followed Catherine into the house.
IRELAND
BYRONY ESTATE
LATER THAT NIGHT.
The next time Meaghan become cognizant of her surroundings, she
found herself inside a warm, dimly light room immersed in
a tub of warm water. Looking around, she saw an adjacent copper bathing
tub. She turned her head to look about what she determined
to be a bed chamber.
There was a large set of french doors, and through them she could see
the night stars scattered across the sky. The storm had finally
passed. She looked back around and saw that the room's bed had
been turned down and looked extremely inviting.
Quickly, her glance spun toward the door to the room. The handle
rattled then turned, admitting a robust woman of about fifty years
of age. She wore an apron of some sort over a black cotton dress.
"Widow's weeds," Meaghan thought as she watched the woman
enter the bed chamber.
A kerchief was tied over her graying hair, adding the finishing
touches to her outfit. The woman rushed over to Meaghan's side.
"Ohhh, yea be knowing yea self now," the woman stated, rather
than questioned. "I can see it in yea eyes. I just stepped out to
get the towel from the hearth, I was heatin' it for yea, lass."
Meaghan continued to watch the woman as she placed the
aforementioned towel on a nearby rocking chair.
"Now, My name be Mrs. Catherine O'Shea," informed the
woman," yea may call me Catherine."
Catherine bent down, reaching beyond Meaghan's view, below the
rim of the tub. She came back up with a bar of soap. "I am going to
help yea bathe lass, the storm did a wretched number on yea. It's
lucky Mr. Evan Adams found yea out there. From the way he tells it,
he near trampled yea with Fury."
Meaghan crinkled her brow in confusion.
"Fury be Mister Evan's horse," Catherine explained, getting onto
her knees," Well, anyway...he said it be lucky the lightening didn't
get ya , way out in those open fields like yea were."
Catherine lathered the soap on the cloth as she spoke. She then
grabbed hold of Meaghan's unresisting arm and started to bathe
her, a continuous monologue accompanying her actions.
"Might bit lucky." Catherine smiled up into Meaghan's face. "Tell
me lass, what be yea name?"
Meaghan opened her mouth, her lips felt like they were glued together,
but they slowly pulled apart.
"Meaghan," she croaked, her voice hoarse, then she made a
clearing noise and stated," Meaghan Marie Kineally."
"Meaghan Marie Kineally," repeated Catherine," My but that is
a lovely name. A lovely name for a lovely girl."
"No."
"No?" questioned Catherine as she got up and walked around the
other side of the tub," Whatever do yea mean lass?"
Meaghan grimaced." No....not a lovely girl...ugly."
Meaghan looked down at her body. She saw how her bones poked out
of her skin. She saw instead of arms, mere sticks. Instead of knees
sticking out of the water, she saw points. She looked down at her chest,
that lay under the now mud-shaded water, and she knew what she would
find there...nothing.
Meaghan jumped.
"Stop it now MEAGHAN MARIE KINEALLY!" ordered Catherine
O'Shea. Gone was the sweet person that had entered the room." I see
yea lookin' at yea self. How yea is now, that is not a permanent condition
young lady. Yea 're lovely."
Catherine O'Shea burned her gaze into Meaghan's eyes." Yea listen
to me, and yea listen to me good. I have seen people such as yea
before. Me own village has death visitin' it everyday. I know what
this blight that the Lord has chosen to give us has done to them."
"I look into yea eyes, those great big gray sparks of life. Yes, sparks
of life, I say! Others have gone through what yea have, some sufferin'
so bad that they plead with the Lord Almighty to let them die every
day. Yet if yea look into a person's eyes, yea can tell who are the
strong, the survivors. Yea 're lovely Meaghan Marie Kineally, because
in yea lass, I see a survivor, a fighter. Sure yea 're not now up to yea
finest moment....but the passion for life is in yea...`tis in yea soul,
yea heart. I don't even have to know yea to see it. It is in the way yea
told me yea name, yea didn't just say it, yea declared it. Yea may feel tired
now, but yea 're far from beaten. Yea 're lovely...not many people
are."
******************************************************************
FLASHBACK
EARLY AUGUST:1846
"Yea always have been the strong one. I suppose I knew yea
would be...me Meaghan, me mighty one."
******************************************************************
Meaghan stared at Catherine for a moment before tears began to slip
from her eyes. She thought that she couldn't cry any more, but here
she was. Meaghan took a deep breath and tilted her head, the tears
dampened her lashes and continued to trail over her face, falling
into the tub's water. But these were not tears of pity, but of
resolve.
"Yes, Mrs. O'Shea," said Meaghan, her voice quivering, then hardening
in her new strength, " Yea 're right."
"No."
"No?" questioned Meaghan, rubbing a hand across her cheek, removing
the remaining tears.
"No....not Mrs. O'Shea...Catherine," said Catherine grabbing
Meaghan's hand and giving it a squeeze," Catherine."
Meaghan smiled and gave a light squeeze back.
"Catherine."
Catherine released Meaghan's hand.
"Now let's get this muck out of yea hair," she said as she poured a
bucket of warm water over Meaghan's head.
****************************************
"All right, I need ya to be steppin' out the tub and into the one next
door. Come on lass, let's go," ordered Catherine as she pulled Meaghan
up. Meaghan staggered to her feet, struggling to hold herself upright. The room
temperature was cooler than the tub water and Meaghan began to
shiver.
"There, that's a girl," crooned Catherine as she helped Meaghan over
to the other tub, then lowered her into it. Meaghan dropped herself quickly
into the warm water. " We got most of de dirt off yea body and hair, now
we are going to give yea a good cleanin' with that hair. "
Catherine continued on with her ministrations. Meaghan sleepily opened
her eyes and looked up at Catherine.
"Thank yea," she said as Catherine massaged her scalp, the soap
foaming around her head," I don't know why yea 're doin' this..."
"Why," repeated Catherine, stopping for a moment to lean over
Meaghan's shoulder," Why, because Mr. Evan found yea and asked to
help yea recover. He is such the gentleman. He would never leave
someone out like that."
"Not every gentleman would do what he is doing," whispered Meaghan,
closing her eyes.
"That is true enough," replied Catherine, going back to the job of
Meaghan's hair," but Mr. Evan, he is not one of those "new" found
gentleman. He is made of older values."
Catherine finished washing her hair, and poured warm water over
Meaghan's head, rinsing the suds out.
"Now, we need to get yea out of the tub, are yea feeling strong
enough to stand for a moment," asked Catherine, concern in her
voice.
"I will try," replied Meaghan. Catherine grabbed a hold of Meaghan's
hand and helped her up.
"Lean on me back as I lift yea legs out of the tub," ordered Catherine
as she leaned over. Meaghan complied. Soon she stood on the wooden
floor, a towel wrapped around her, as she held on to Catherine.
"Wait a moment," said Catherine. She hurried over to the back of
the bedroom door.
"Here," she said as she came back quickly, holding out an overly
large robe," Let's put this on."
Catherine helped Meaghan dry off the excess water with the towel. Meaghan
then slipped into the robe. Her body was lost within the silken folds.
"Well, 'tis Mr. Evan's," explained Catherine," the best we can do
for tonight."
"Now, let's walk yea over to the bed so we can lay yea
down," said Catherine.
Meaghan wrapped her arm around Mrs. O'Shea's shoulder and
they slowly crossed the slight distance from the tubs to the bed.
Catherine sat her down gently, helping Meaghan prop herself up
against the bed pillows. Mrs. O'Shea slid Meaghan's legs underneath
the down turned covers and pulled them up to Meaghan's chest.
"There."
"Thank yea," said Meaghan, "It has been so long since
I've been in a real bed, and never one as nice as this."
"Yea 're welcome Lass," said Catherine, standing beside the
bed," I am goin' to run down to the kitchen and see about some soup
I have simmerin'. Here, drink some of this water, it's the first step to
getting' yea back to yer finest."
Catherine lifted a glass of water off the night table and held it to
Meaghan's lips. Meaghan opened her mouth and let the water slid
past her lips and down her parched throat. She hadn't even
realize how thirsty she was until then.
"Tut, tut, tut, not to much," ordered Catherine pulling the glass
away," Too much will make yea sick, yea won't be able to keep
it down."
Meaghan blinked, then nodded her head.
"Me husband, God rest his soul, was in a similar situation....being that
he hadn't any food or water for a long while. Yea see, he had fallen off
the roof of his father's old house. He was the only one living there at the
time, so no one noticed anythin' a miss. He had been there for 'bout a day,
unable to move. Then one day, I had to go up to his place, askin' him about
repairing our family's roof. I was but a wee lass then, no more than nineteen
years..., about the same as yea. Well, I found him there. He had been
knocked on the noggin, in and out of himself. So, I nursed him back to
health."
"Yea know, he was so thankful that he married me. At least, that's what
he liked to say, but the people of the village knew better. I was just being
a good charitable Catholic," Catherine laughed, remembering. "T'was
me good deed for the year. In a way, he fell for me even before he met
me. Got to like that in a man."
Meaghan smiled and Catherine smiled back. "I best get that soup for yea."
Meaghan watched the door shut as Catherine left the room. The warmth of
the covers, and the cleanness she finally felt were enough to induce her
to fall asleep, and so she did.
***************************
[FLASHBACK]
Border of BALTIMORE AND SKIBBEREEN,
CO. CORK, IRELAND
MID-AUGUST:1846
"WAIT," she cried hobbling towards Meaghan, her breath labored.
Gabriel and Meaghan had walked out of the run-down cottage, leaving
the world they knew behind. They were a few kilometers from the
house when Mary Kineally had run out of its front door, calling out for
them to stop.
Meaghan and Gabriel turned around, walking back towards their mother.
Finally they stood face to face.
Mary raised a shaking palm to Meaghan's forehead and slid it down. The
pads of her weathered fingers scraped lovingly over the valleys of Meaghan's
face. Meaghan smiled, tears falling freely upon her mother's hand.
Meaghan then took her turn, repeating her mother's actions. Her fingers
fell upon the wrinkled, dry, withered plains.
"I hold yea face in me hand and in me heart," she whispered with her mother.
Mary then repeated the motion with her son.
Then, without a word, her mother turned from her children. Meaghan
watched how her mother's once hearty shoulders shook under the
onslaught of tears.
Mary Kineally walked slowly back into the cottage, not once looking
back.
"Ma!!" her soul cried out to the retreating figure.
***************************
Meaghan awoke, looking around the dim room. She found Catherine sitting
beside her on the bed, her hand raised above Meaghan's face.
"What , what were yea doing," Meaghan demanded, leaning back into
the pillows.
"I was just stroken' yea curls off yea face lass, trying to calm yea down
in yea sleep," explained Catherine," Yea were tossin' and turnin' something
fierce. A nightmare lass?"
"No, no -- a memory," said Meaghan relaxing. "Yea just spooked
me 'tis all."
Catherine looked upon Meaghan with warm eyes, then let out a sigh.
"Here, lets try getting some food into yea now," suggested Catherine
as she lifted a bowl of the promised soup from the night table.
Meaghan pushed herself up into a sitting position, her arms trembling
from the slight use of energy. She then reached up a shaking hand,
trying to take the spoon from Catherine.
"Tut, I think not," said Catherine, pulling the bowl away from
Meaghan," Yea 're shakin' like a leaf and in no condition to be feedin'
yea self. Now, let me."
Meaghan smiled her gratitude and obediently opened her mouth.
***********************************************************************
MID-FEBRUARY:1847
Catherine became Meaghan's constant companion as well as her nurse. She
helped Meaghan gain back her energy, muscle, and fat by providing her
with ample meals. It was a new experience for Meaghan, a heavenly one.
Her once skeletal body seemed to fill out at a remarkable rate, astonishing
them both
"What is his name," asked Meaghan a few days after arriving at Byrony. She
couldn't even remember what he looked like, so her curiosity was more than
a little piqued, "the man who helped me?"
Meaghan was still confined to the bed at that point, but even with the
passing of only a few days, she had already felt immensely better than
that storm-wracked evening.
"His name," repeated Catherine," His name be Mr. Evan Adams, he's
English I believe."
"English," she gasped, sitting up straighter against the pillows,
"the English are monsters."
"Nooo, not Mr. Evan," denied Catherine," He is the finest gentleman
I have ever met or heard tale of ."
"Why, why is he helping me," asked Meaghan, confused. All she
ever heard or saw, particularly in Skibbereen, was how the English were
killing the Irish - killing them all.
She remembered the first day that Gabriel and her walked into the city.
********************************************************************
[FLASHBACK]
SKIBBEREEN, CO. CORK
IRELAND: LATE AUGUST: 1846
CITY
The stench hit them even before walking into the city. Meaghan had
thought that her village had been bad but the town was a horror her
mind could barely comprehend. It was a sight she wasn't prepared for.
The muddied streets were crowded with her fellow peasants and tenant
farmers, yet there was a difference. As she looked at the people, her
people, she was unable to take her eyes off of them. She saw, not so
much men or women, but walking skeletons. Her heart dropped within
her chest.
Each step brought to Gabriel and Meaghan a view of further devastation.
She saw the effects of not only hunger on these poor creatures but killer
diseases such as smallpox and measles that spread across their skin. She
saw children left with no energy to even run and play, a scene particularly
familiar to her.
She saw the twins, Lil'Sarah and Patrick, in all of the young one's
countenances.
She witnessed how some people's bodies rocked with the force of their
coughing, bronchitis working its deadly dance, perhaps a desired end
for some.
There were people who lay strewn in the streets- unable to move of their
own accord. All of the people there had come to the Work House doors,
hoping for some kind of relief from the famine and the contagious diseases
it lead to. They came, only to be denied entrance or help.
The Work Houses were already filled to beyond capacity, yet more and more
desperate and starving people arrived in the city of Skibbereen everyday.
It was near impossible to separate the sick from the well. Hunger ravaged
their bodies just as much as disease. Gabriel and Meaghan wove their way
through the throng, coming to the doors of the Workhouse. Thousands
crowded the small area, clamoring for a place inside the building. The only
thing that guaranteed Gabriel and Meaghan's admittance was a letter of writ
that Father Aidan had given them.
"Gabe," called out Meaghan, her tears catching in her voice. She grabbed
Gabriel's shirt. "There is so many, so many of us."
"I know it, me Meaghan," he said, tears choking his voice as well. He wrapped
his arms tightly around her as they maneuvered their way through the mass.
"Yea English , yea killin' us...there be no food. The crops are dead. We are
starvin' out here. Yea promised us. Yea promised to help us," shouted a man
in rags, yelling at the guarded doors.
******************************************************
"...All I know lass is that he wants yea to get better, that is why he is
helping yea," Catherine answered. "He asked me to continue as yea
nurse until yea are recovered. And since me Edward's death, not ta mention
Ireland's present grief....I, well... I am here. He will be back in two months
time. He doesn't want yea to leave. His gentlemanly nature will not allow it".
Meaghan fought against her knowledge of Englishman, trying to reconcile the
man who helped her - saving her from certain death- from all that she had
ever known and believed about the English. It was nearly impossible for
her, but she tried.
"Has his family been here long," asked Meaghan. She wondered to
herself why this man had decided to stay on when so many of his countrymen
had abandoned Ireland.
"Oh, no. In fact, this house has been closed down for over thirty years.
It's been maintained first by me husband, now by me son and grandson. We've
always been taken care of rather nicely for our maintenance of the
estate." informed Catherine.
She paused, looking fondly around the room. "This place, is more
like me own home than anybody else's. The O'Sheas have been here for
well over thirty years put together."
She pulled the rocking chair over to the side of the bed, then leaned in
towards Meaghan.
"Lord Byron, he owned this house before Dr. Benjamin Adams,
Mr. Evan's father. I met Lord Byron once. That was when me
and me husband were just married, in the year 1815. He had just
purchased the estate then. Course I didn't know who he was.
But his reputation soon spread throughout the area, even
despite how far away this estate was from any village. He
was a world renown poet, yea know. Never met me one of those
before. Anyway, he hired us to take care of the place while he was
away...which was all the time. Then we got a letter about a year later
telling us that there was a new owner of Byrony Estate. We'd never
met that new owner and never will.
"Yea never met him, and no one's been here?" asked Meaghan,
enraptured by Catherine's tale, "What do yea mean, 'and never
will,' did he die?".
"Nooo, never met him," she affirmed, then continued with her story.
"We got another letter, this one only about three months ago telling us
that the owner that we never laid eyes on, had up and died. And that his
son would be coming to check out the estate, 'twas part of his inheritance.
He'd been here for a little over a month. In fact he had ridden to me village
to see about some business or such. He was on his way back to Byrony
when he got trapped in that terrible storm. That was when..."
"When he found me." finished Meaghan.
"Yes, that's correct. I must say, he didn't even stay very long after
that. In fact he left the next day, asked me to look after yea. He was very
gentlemanly, not like those other English bast....well, not like those
others."
Meaghan sat there quiet, letting the information sink in.
**************************************************
MID-FEBRUARY:1847
Two weeks after her arrival, garments arrived for her.
"These just arrived by carriage today...not too long a wait. I wager
he paid them to be rather fast with his order, seeing as yea had no
clothes to yea person."
"Ah, now we can get yea out of me that robe, make
yea feel a wee bit more human I'd take it," Catherine prattled on
as she spread out the three simple, yet pretty cotton dresses for
Meaghan's view, "And here's some lovely under things to go
with them.
"My but they are nice," gasped Meaghan from the bed," the nicest
clothes I'll ever have worn."
"They are nice at that."
Catherine picked up a dress of midnight blue.
"This one will set well against that fine pitch hair of yours," said
Catherine, walking over and holding the dress up against Meaghan's
black strands. She then turned and picked up the next dress which
was a deep russet.
"And this one, this will compliment the brightness of those gray
eyes," said Catherine holding the dress up for a better view.
"The burgundy will of course, compliment the rosy flush in yea
cheeks," continued Catherine, reaching for the last dress. "My, but he
does have excellent taste."
Suddenly a thought came over Meaghan, interrupting Catherine's display.
"Catherine, has he been in here," asked Meaghan," I'm remembering. It's
like...like I've felt him."
"Yes," answered Catherine, looking at her, head cocked. "How did yea
know. He was only in the room for a short while. He removed the baths
that first night. It was right when I had left to get yea soup. I passed him
in the hall on my way back up but he said yea were sleeping."
"I must have been," began Meaghan, "I know I didn't see him, yet I
remember him being in here."
"'Tis strange," was Catherine's comment as she placed the last gown
down. "Well anyway, the dresses look like they will do yea well."
"Yea see, the night yea arrived I gave Mr. Evan yea measurements,
leaving room to spare for yea recovery. He had asked me if I would
do that for him. He was certain that yea would be staying for a while
and he was leaving to go back to London the next day," explained
Catherine.
"I don't know how I could repay him for all of this," whispered
Meaghan, cringing slightly as one method skirted across her mind.
****************************************************
"Yeah, ya feel this ," asked the officer, pressing himself against
her," I tell ya what, it's your choice. What would you prefer?"
*****************************************************
"...sure it will. Meaghan? Meaghan, where yea listenin' to me at all, lass?"
"I'm sorry Catherine , I drifted off for a spell,' said Meaghan, shuddering.
"Oh 'tis all right dear," assured Catherine," Yea look like yea 're getting
tired. Why don't I leave yea to a nice nap?"
"Thank yea," said Meaghan smiling," Yea are wonderful to me."
Catherine just slapped her hand away at the compliment.
"Tut, tis nothing, sweet bonny girl."
Meaghan watched as Catherine closed the door to the bedroom, leaving
her alone.
She then slid out of bed and walked over to the standing mirror located
in the corner of the room. She reached up and pulled her blackened hair
free from the loose braid that Catherine had set. The midnight curls fell
around her shoulders. She absently pushed a strand behind her ear, out
of her face. She saw that her body still swam inside the silk robe, despite
the weight gain but she also took note of how her skin had taken on that
rosy hue Catherine had mentioned.
Meaghan studied herself. She untied the knotted robe and let it slip
off her pale shoulders. She was still thin, but she was heavier than she
had been in a long time. She let the robe continue its fall to the floor.
She had been afraid to look at herself when she first arrived at Byrony,
afraid to really see what her whole body looked like. But now she wanted
to know how much she had healed.
She examined herself, seeing curves were there used to be none. She
ran her hands down her neck and for the first time didn't feel the corded throat
muscles. She touched her face and didn't feel the hard bone of her
cheeks. Her eyes, always wide and beautiful, rested on those rosy
cheeks, those healthy cheeks. She surveyed the rest of her body and
smiled. But her smile soon fell from her face as she remembered another
who had looked at her body...another who had *hurt* her body.....
***********************************************************************
[FLASHBACK]
SKIBBEREEN, CO. CORK
IRELAND 1847
WORK HOUSE
"You brazen little 'ussy," yelled the English Work officer, slapping
Meaghan across the face and knocking her body into the wall of his
tiny room. "I told ya what would happen if ya gave me
trouble," warned the man.
Meaghan wept, one hand clawed against the wall, the other held her
reddened face.
"I did what yea wanted," she cried, sinking down the wall and pulling
herself into a ball. She began to rock to and fro.
"Not everythin'," was the officer's reply.
He walked over to her, pulled out his pocket knife, and squatted down beside
her.
"Tell me, since you've been 'ere 'ave ya seen your brother? Gabriel, that 'es
his name isn't it? No you 'aven't. Separation of the sexes and all."
Meaghan stopped rocking, and stared at the officer.
"Gabriel, yea know something about me brother Gabriel?" she questioned,
desperation seeping into her voice.
"Oh yea Lassie, I do be knowin' indeed," informed the officer, mocking her
accent. " And I do believe he ''as been leadin' too good a life so far in 'ere."
"Impossible," spat out Meaghan, unthinking. Her whole face flushed red
with anger, "Tis nuthin' but a hell hole."
The officer hit her again, knocking her head into the brick wall.
"Ya watch it, Lassie," warned the officer, aiming his knife at her. " If it
weren't for this place your starving carcass would be cluttering the streets
of Skibereen with the rest of ya white Irish monkeys."
Meaghan shook her head, rubbing it. She glared at the officer, staring
up at his face. Her hand balled, and with a burst of energy, she jumped on
him. The bones burst in his nose from the small but sure aim of her fist. His
knife fell to the floor.
She clawed at his face, ripping his skin open with the nubs of her finger
nails, determined mania pushing her on.
"GET OFF ME YA BITCH," screamed the officer. He wrenched her
clinging body off of him, throwing her across the small room. She skid
across the metal framed bed and landed on the cold stone floor, a rough
woolen blanket tangled around her legs.
Meaghan tried to remain aware, but the blows to the head and the fury
induced hysteria were winning over.
The officer wiped an arm gently across his face. He then walked over to
her collapsed form.
"Ya'll never see Gabriel again," informed the man as he snuffed back the
blood sliding out of his nose. "He will never leave 'ere and neitha will yew."
The officer reached down and grabbed Meaghan up by the neck.
"What's this," he asked holding up a cross. It was the necklace that she
had wanted to tear off her body when she was last with Father Aidan. No
matter how much she had wanted to do it then and even now, she still could
not. She heard Smith laugh. "Not even your Catholic God can save yew."
He turned her body around to face the small window.
"Yew see that moon?" questioned the officer, his putrid breath fanning
her face. "That is the last time yew are *eva* goin'ta see it."
Meaghan's eyes rounded as she felt the officer begin to squeeze her
windpipe. Her thin body began to flail against him. He just laughed in her
face, staring into her wide eyes, her mouth open and speechless.
Suddenly the door to the room burst open.
"Smith, we h'erd a commotion, what is goin on...,"began one of the other
officers entering the room. He then froze. " Smith release 'er. Now!"
Meaghan's eyes began to roll back, she was suddenly aware of the
pressure being released from her throat. She collapsed to the floor
again as she tried to draw in deep breaths . Her heart raced loudly against
her rib cage. She had barely heard the other officer come in, she just
concentrated on breathing once more.
"This Irish 'ore attacked me when I came in to my room ," informed Smith,
wiping again at his bloated face. Meaghan continued to gasp for air through
her bruised windpipe. The content of the conversation began to filter
through.
"No," was the soft cry from Meaghan's lips.
"She just went crazy," continued Smith," She's not safe ta 'ave 'round."
"Is that right," questioned the other officer, narrowing his eyes at
Smith, "Why don't you go now, I will 'andle 'er."
"Yes Sir," said Smith. He bent down to retrieve his knife and as he bent
over, he whispered to Meaghan, "Gabriel's as good as DEAD."
He stood back up, facing her still cringing form.
Her body may have cringed, yet she faced him head-on. She held him
trapped for a moment in her violent gray eyes. She knew her hatred for Smith
had to be shaper than his retrieved blade. She did not think, all she knew at
that moment was the pure desire to kill, but she would have to settle with
tearing into him with her eyes.
"Smith?"
"Yes Sir," he responded turning around and heading out of the room.
Meaghan let her eyes close. She began to rock again. The other
officer closed the door and approached her.
"Now, I am not gonna 'ert ya Lass," said the other officer, "My name is
Robert."
Meaghan opened her eyes at his introduction.
"Work Officer Roberts?" she questioned, her voice raspy.
"No, just Robert, it 'es my first name," he answered, sitting down on the bed.
Meaghan stared at him, betraying no emotion other than fear.
"Now, I can only 'magine what 'as 'appened 'ere,"began Robert releasing a
heavy sigh," and in my 'maginings it 's Smith that 'olds the blame."
Meaghan said nothing, just stared at him intently.
"I, unfortunately can do nothing about this," informed Robert, running a
hand through the top of his shagged hair," He's protected by a power
that is greater than mine. Ya will have ta leave. It is the only way you will
be safe and Smith will save face."
Meaghan continued to stare at Robert, knowing already what he would
say. She was powerless, poor Irish. Her voice meant nothing, nothing to
the English. She was happy to be alive, she would settle for that.
"....and I am sorry..." said Robert, Meaghan refocused on what he was saying.
"Me brother," asked Meaghan interrupting him.
"I'm sorry, what was that?" Robert asked confused.
" Me brother Gabriel, can I see him before I leave," she questioned, her
voice soft but strong.
"Oh, well," began Robert. She saw his gaze dart around the room,
struggling for an answer," Um...well...as you are well aware, you are
sep-rated from 'im, the men and women....I well, I will see what I can
do. Meanwhile I'll give you some time to get yourself together. No one
will come in here while yew compose ya self. I'll be back in a bit ta
escort ya out."
Meaghan pulled the woolen blanket over her shoulders, hugging it against
herself.
"I need to be seeing me brother before I go, I must see him," she stated
in a flat, sure voice.
"Yes, of course you do."
"If you would excuse me, I will go see about arranging it," said Robert
getting off the bed and leaving the room.
Meaghan took off the blanket and looked down at the ripped remains
of her blouse and dress...they were no more than tattered shreds. She
had nothing else, nothing except a mended thin-layered cloak that Smith
had ripped off her when she had first struggled to get away from him.
She grabbed it off the floor and quickly wrapped it around her, pulling
the hood over her tangled black hair. She then sat on the bed and
waited. Her body ached from the abuse he had leveled upon her slight
frame. She inspected her arm that had hit the wall first. It was scratched
and bruised. She quickly gave up inventorying the pains and scratches
that spread over her body... there was just too many to count.
Twenty minutes later the room filled with four guards. Robert was
noticeably absent among them. "Come on Missay," ordered one of
the men, grabbing her up under her arms," Time ta be leavin'."
Meaghan pulled against his hold.
"No wait, me brother, I have to see me brother!!" she screamed,
trying to break out of the room and past the guards. Four sets of hands
grabbed onto her, pulling her back, holding her in place.
"You are out of 'ere now," said the same guard.
They made a wall around her and pushed her out of the room,
down the long hallway, past a gated off adjacent hall that was the
men's quarters. She pushed against the guards, but they were
immovable. She screamed.
"Gabe! Gabriel Kineally! GABRIEL KINEALLY!! GABRIELLLL!!!!"
A hand clamped over her mouth as the small group continued down
the hall and to the front of the building. From a distance she heard a
voice call back.
"Meaghan! Meaghan! Meg..." Then, abruptly it stopped. Meaghan
sagged to the ground, her knees giving out on her. They began to drag
her to the door, her knees scraping against the unleveled pavement.
The doors opened to their approach. They lifted her up as they walked
through, and with a heave, they threw her out of the building. She rolled
over and over from the momentum of the toss. She got up, her cloak
flying behind her as she ran back up to the door, and began pounding on
it, all the while screaming. She could feel countless eyes watch her, but
watch only, for they could do nothing to help her and as she turned her
head franticly looking, hoping for help... she saw the greedy need in their
eyes to take her place within the walls.
"Gabriel! Gaaabrielllllll!!!! Gabrieeeeellllll!!! "
She pounded on the door, her fist bruising against the wood, yet still
she persisted.
A small window opened in the door and out stood the muzzle of a rifle. A
muffled voice could be heard behind it.
"Step away from ta door. Step 'way Now!"
Then the rifle gave off a shot. Meaghan jumped back...her shoulders
shaking with sobs.
"Back!"
Another shot sounded off, this one close to Meaghan's feet. She fell
back more. Screaming her anguish in the dead of the night, she turned
away from the door and stumbled, going into the deep darkness, leaving
the city behind her.
**********************************************************************
"Gabriel," she whispered, her heart leadened. She had no doubt that
what Smith had threatened would be done, probably was already
done. She shook herself.
Meaghan turned from the mirror and picked up her clothes that lay
draped over the back of the rocking chair.
There was nothing that she could do. He was gone.
She pulled on her underthings and then slide the burgundy dress over
her head The material fell over her body. It was still slightly big, but
Catherine had planned well. At the rate she was recovering, it would fit
properly in no time.
Live.
What she had to do now was live, and live she would.
*******************************************************************
As the weeks passed, Meaghan continued to recover. She still marveled
at the speed with which her body healed, as did Catherine... and she
would be lying to herself if she didn't admit that she was thankful. So, she
didn't question the recovery so much as she accepted it, wholeheartedly.
Now, her body showed no signs of the hunger that had previously
devastated it. Her stamina, well it had certainly increased way beyond
the collapsing form from her first night at Byrony. She truly was the
healthiest that she'd ever been.
Meaghan was not the only one to recover, Byrony's landscape also
healed. The winter storms that had ravaged the estate, gave way to
a better clime. The harsh winter was now but a faded memory as
warm springtime air suffused the grounds, turning them into a familiar
emerald green. Meaghan spent most of her days outside of the house,
wandering and exploring the lush, vast lands of the estate. She loved
Byrony. It was a place she never dreamed could exist in the real
world. Places such as Byrony were reserved for the grounds of Heaven,
or so she used to believe.
Catherine would, on occasion, join Meaghan on her walks. She always
seemed to know when Meaghan needed solitude or when she needed
company. Meaghan cherished her for that. One day, on one of their
many shared walks, Meaghan remarked upon the impressive visage of
Byrony. It had reminded Meaghan of an abbey that was near her village
in Skibereen and so she said as much.
"Oh, well, I am not surprised at that," informed Catherine as they
strolled along the grounds, "this estate used to be an abbey. When the
English came in, they confiscated the grounds and built additions onto
it... that is what the wings are. Many of the Brothers lost their lands and
their roles in Ireland's faith," Catherine said, anger lacing her words. She
continued. "The gardens be virtually the same as when they lived here,
or so I am told. They were tended meticulously by the monks, and I am
glad that us O'Sheas have continued the tradition of preservin' them. These
grounds were and are a holy, blessed place indeed - not even the English
could spoil that.
END OF APRIL 1847
The lake, which bordered the back of the estate, became Meaghan's
favorite spot. She loved standing upon the little footbridge that
expanded across its flowing waters. The edge of the lake was
surrounded by large oak trees on either side and the sun had
a habit of pushing it's way through the newly sprouted oak
leaves, dappling the water with light. Meaghan felt that
she could stay there forever. She couldn't conceive of ever leaving this
place, but there were many things she had never conceived of,
things... things that happened anyway.
It was a cool mid-afternoon day in April when Meaghan and Catherine
came to the lake together. Usually Meaghan went to the lake
alone - It was the one place that she liked to go to think, to not
think... to just be, but she didn't mind the company, not today.
Meaghan stood leaning over the railing of the footbridge, looking out
upon the waters as Catherine stood beside her. "Tis really beautiful
here," Meaghan claimed as she watched the lazy waves pass under
the bridge. The constant flow of the waters always seemed to pacify
Meaghan. She would get lost in the glimmering waves, the sunlight
catching one, passing another, it entranced her. The clean brisk air
blended with the scent of the surrounding wild flowers. She breathed
it in, letting it caress her soul. She loved how the ivy twined its way
around the wooden rails and beams of the bridge, covering it in a
lush greenery. The lake definitely left her with a feeling of
calm, particularly when she had trouble attaining it. Unfortunately,
she found herself at the lake more often than not.
Byrony... it was a shadow of a dream she used to have when
she was little, a place her mother spoke of called TIR NA nóG. Her
mother would tell her about adventures in a fairy place where no one
ever grew old and where everyone there was safe, happy, and
loved. Mary Kineally would always speak of the beauty that was
found everywhere one went in TIR NA nóG. It was a story that all mothers
told their children, but Meaghan had believed that her mother had actually
been there. The way she described it to her had Meaghan and her siblings
seeing it in their dreams. Meaghan knew that was why she loved Byrony so
much... in so many ways, it was her dream land realized.
Meaghan stood up straighter as a breeze touched her skin and pulled
at her hair. She turned toward Catherine. "Doesn't it be the most beautiful,
peaceful place in all of Ireland?" Meaghan questioned as she closed
her eyes and breathed in the atmosphere, listening to the stirrings
of awakened birds and tittering insects.
"Yea, that, it be... God's beauty for sure." Catherine answered.
Meaghan stiffened, she grabbed at her neck for the chained cross
that was no longer there. She'd had that necklace all her life. Father
Aidan told her that he'd found her with it and now it was lost. She knew
that she had it in the Work House... she vividly remembered Smith pawing
it, but that was all he had done. Almost everything between being
forced to leave the work house and landing in the safety of Byrony was
a void of memories she had no wish to unearth - but it didn't really matter
to her anyway. She did not believe in what that cross represented, for she
did not, she could not, believe in God - not anymore.
"What is it Meaghan?" Catherine asked laying a hand on Meaghan's
arm. She remained silent. "Yea can tell me yea know, what be the
matter lass?"
Meaghan finally looked at her. She opened her mouth but no words
came out. How could she possibly tell this God-fearing woman about
her lost faith. She did not want to hurt her friend, for well Meaghan knew
that most of what Catherine had left was her faith.
Through their many conversations, Meaghan knew that Catherine felt
the loss of her husband severely. She could hear the loneliness in her words
except when she spoke of her faith in God. Yes, she had her son and
grandson, both she knew Catherine loved dearly. Yet, they were not the
ones with Catherine when she knelt beside her bed at night, praying, her
rosary clenched in her hands. Meaghan had seen her do that practice often
enough, but she was never a part of it... could never be a part of it.
"Tis nothing," Meaghan whispered patting Catherine's hand. She turned
to pull away but Catherine held her still.
"Don't be tellin' me tis nothin'," Catherine said, stepping closer to
Meaghan. "Yea think I don't know, don't yea?"
"Know, be knowing what?" Meaghan asked fear grabbing at her
heart. What did she know? Did she know that Meaghan had been to
Hell and back, no, how could she possibly? Catherine interrupted her
thoughts.
"Everytime, everytime I mention the Lord's name, yea freeze, or yea
turn away, or yea shudder," Catherine said, looking up into Meaghan's
trapped eyes. "Do yea think I don't see it. I may be old but I am
not blind."
Catherine gently directed Meaghan over to a bench.
Meaghan watched as Catherine took a deep breath. She saw compassion
fill her friend's wizened eyes as she spoke once more. "Yea have been
here for almost two months. In that time, I feel as if I have gotten to know
yea rather well. Yea've become special to me... more a daughter than
me own daughter-in-law had ever been... but we won't be gettin' into that."
Catherine gave Meaghan a wry smile, then continued. "In that time yea've
healed, at least, on the outside. But I know in yea heart there are so many
cracks that have not mended. I've seen the nightmares that play with yea
mind as yea sleep. I have never asked yea what caused yea to be in those
fields, alone, those many weeks ago. I have never asked yea, until now."
Meaghan felt like she was suffocating. She hadn't expected, hadn't thought,
she'd shown any feelings relating to the events before being brought to
Byrony. She tried not to think or deal with the past, no matter how much
the past seemed to want to deal with her.
"Tell me lass," Catherine encouraged, squeezing Meaghan's fingers," Yea
must talk about it. I can see it eating yea up inside. Yea can't be going
through life like that, not anymore."
Meaghan gasped out, staring at the cloth of her dress," I can't."
Catherine answered her sharply. "Yea can, Meaghan Marie Kineally."
Meaghan head shot up and she looked at Catherine, staring... she did
not see her, not really. She saw another woman. She saw her mother.
Her features seemed to mingle with that of Catherine's... smiling,
beckoning - telling her that it was okay to say it, to release the anguish
that she constantly wrestled to hold down, deep inside herself.
Meaghan closed her eyes tightly, her heart burning in her chest, a lump
rose in her throat. Finally, she cried. She let her shoulders sag and her
head lean forward onto Catherine's chest. She didn't speak, not at first. It
was like a storm ripped through her, escaping out of her eyes and dampening
Catherine's dress. She felt Catherine's arms wrap around her, rubbing
her back in soothing circles. She sat there with Catherine for a long time,
just letting the tears break free. She heard Catherine softly singing. She
couldn't make out the words but the rocking motion and the rhythm of her
voice helped soothe Meaghan more than watching waves pass below a bridge
or the mixing scent of wild flowers.
Meaghan sat up, pulling out of Catherine's embrace. She rubbed a hand
over the back of her neck. It ached some from the awkward position
she had cried in, but she couldn't have moved if her life depended on it.
"Tell me, unburden yea self," Catherine whispered, " Some times it be
alright to have someone help shoulder the load." Meaghan saw tears
glittering in the elder woman's eyes. She felt like Catherine wrapped her
in a cocoon of warmth were nothing bad could touch her, not even the
pain of her memories. Maybe Catherine was right. She sighed and
then began her tale.
She told her everything, everything she could remember and everything
she didn't want to remember. She looked down at the hand that Catherine
clasped. She felt that as long as she had Catherine there to anchor her, to
hold her, then she could tell it and tell it she did. Catherine now knew of
Meaghan's family, of the starvation that had hit Skibereen and its outskirts... hit it
hard. She told her of the rumors she had heard, that Skibereen suffered the worse
wrath of the famine and from what she saw and experienced... she believed
that to be very true. Meaghan told Catherine of her mother, her brothers, the
twins and of Gabriel. All of them dead now. All.
She told Catherine how she had gotten word at the Work House that her
village had been hit with a deadly bout of smallpox. It had taken everyone
there. No one had survived it. It was a ghost town of huts and cottages. The
smell of the deceased rivaled that of Skibereen or so said one of the new
work laborers who had been admitted to the work house. The woman
told of how she had to pass through the village on her way there.
"It was a wonder that I had not been infected too," she would say as they
worked in the fields, building a road that led to nowhere.
They were all gone. She didn't tell Gabriel, she couldn't. She hadn't seen
him in days. The men were building a second bridge over "Loch Sheldahl".
Meaghan and the other women lifted bricks and placed them neatly on the
ground, but at times the Work Officers would find flaw with their work
when there was none to be found. Yet still, they would make the women
re-lay sections. It was a way to extend the work when there was no work
left to be done. They would not just give food to Meaghan and the rest of
the people... the officers would make the "lazy" Irish *work* for it.
It had been another order to re-lay yet another perfectly formed piece of
road when Meaghan's temper took over.
"There be nothing wrong with this here bit of road, " Meaghan
yelled to the Work Officer who sat astride his gelding. The setting
sun stretched the Englishman's shadow, making him look imposing and
more evil to the wearied workers. "It be freezin' out here. Our hands are
numbed. Jesus, are whole body be numbed... yea can't be expectin' us
to go on here, not now.. not this late."
"Are you speaking to me Irish" the Work Officer growled from his perch.
One of the young women grabbed her, pulling her back and away from
the officer. "Neigh, Work Officer Smith, she not be speaking to yea." the
woman answered, turning Meaghan from the Officer and staring a warning
into her eyes as she squeezed Meaghan's arm. Meaghan struggled to break
the hold, but the woman's hand was like a band of steel clamped around
her skin.
"Stop it now," the woman savagely whispered. "Yea'll not be getting' us,
or yea self, anything by arguing with them. It will come to naught but
bad. Do yea hear me lass?"
"I can't be takin' this no longer," Meaghan seethed under her breath to
the woman.
"Let her answer me, girl" the man yelled over to them. The woman
stared fiercely into Meaghan's eyes.
Meaghan finally broke free of the woman's grip. How she wanted to
scream, kick, yell... demand but, she knew the woman was right. Speaking
up guaranteed nothing but more severe actions.
"T'was nothing, Sir." Meaghan answered, biting the inside of her cheek.
She could taste her bitter blood in her mouth. She bent over and picked
up a cold brick placing it aside as the rest of the silent, still woman reanimated
themselves and began to help remove the finely laid bricks.
"It was later that night that I was called out of the woman's quarters by
another officer," Meaghan told Catherine, her voice hollow. "He lead me
down a hallway and into a room. It had a bed, cabinet and small window,
whereas we were lucky if there were enough beds, which there rarely was.
The only time there seemed to be a spare was when someone died of
starvation, disease or heartache. Then, and only then, seemed to be the
only time a bed was free. The room I was lead into, despite the furnishin,
was still as dirty as everywhere else. The major difference bein' that the
smell of the dead did not seem to fill the air... as much, for there were
mass graves dug within the work house. The officer left me there to
wait, for what, I had not a clue."
Meaghan grasped Catherine's hand tighter as she continued. " I didn't
have to wait that long. Work Officer Smith, the man I had spoken out
to, entered the room. I knew... I knew I would not be leavin' that room
without a mark... and I was right."
Meaghan went on to relate what had happened and how she had been
thrown out of the work house. How she had lost more than her virtue, more
than her soul - she had lost Gabriel, the only person she had left in the world.
"I do not believe in God... not anymore. So when yea see me freeze, turn
away or shudder - it be because that name reminds me of all that I have
lost... all that was torn from me. If there be a God, how? How could he
be so cruel?"
Catherine pulled her into a tight, almost suffocating embrace. Meaghan felt
her stroke her hair as she whispered into her ear." I had no idea what yea've
been through. No idea... no idea..."
Catherine repeated it over and over again as she stroked Meaghan. She
felt Catherine's tears against her dry cheek. Meaghan had told the story
without crying. She was all cried out, the tears were there but they were
locked inside as she related what had happened to her. Catherine sat
back and wiped at her face. She then reached out and rubbed
Meaghan's cheek tenderly.
"Yea have been through so much," Catherine began, placing her hand
back in her lap. "When I saw yea that first night, me heart went out to
yea. I honestly didn't know how yea could still be alive, lookin' as yea
did. I remember sayin' to yea that yea were a survivor... How small that
seems to me now. Yea are so much more than that word, so much more."
Meaghan sat there looking at Catherine. She hadn't wanted to tell her,
she really didn't. In telling it, Meaghan felt no different but she could see
that Catherine did. She saw a shaken woman before her now and that
was her fault. She watched as Catherine tried to digest all that Meaghan
had told her.
"I can't tell yea," Catherine began then paused. Meaghan watched as
Catherine worked within herself for the answer, for the words that she
wanted to convey. Suddenly Catherine seemed to grow before her
eyes. Perhaps Meaghan had underestimated this woman after all. Perhaps
she could only imagine how she would feel if it were her hearing the
story... but that wasn't right either. "I can't be tellin' yea how to feel about
livin', dyin', country or even God. I won't burden yea with over used sayings
or little prayers of hope. I won't. I will be sayin' this though, yea are alive,
yea are young and yea are still loved. I love yea Meaghan and whether yea
believe it be God or just a man who brought yea here, away from a past
full of so much pain... well that be yea choice. I chose to be believin'
that God has brought yea to Byrony. Maybe 'tis hard for yea to believe
that, but it isn't for me."
"And I will tell yea somethin' I have never told anyone." Meaghan sat there,
listening intently as Catherine spoke. " Ever since me Edward died, I have
been alone. There is me son and grandson... but they have each other.
They live with each other and depend on each other. I have been alone,
so alone. Edward has been gone for over three years and I have felt his
absence everyday. Then yea came and I had someone who needed me
more than a ghost did. Yea was so vulnerable, so lost. I think I let Edward
go one day and I didn't even realize it. It had just happened. I'd kept him
with me, tight to my chest for so long but yea. Yea helped me in ways
that yea could never know, and I don't know if I could actually describe
in words all that yea presence and yea have meant to me."
"Oh Catherine," whispered Meaghan. Her heart stretched toward the
woman. " I have valued yea beyond words too. Yea made me move
when I felt I couldn't possibly take another step. Yea pushed me further
when I thought that there was no place further to go... like today. I told me
self that tellin' yea what happened didn't change how I felt. But maybe it
did, if only to feel freer than I have in a long time. The conversations we
have had, the *time* we've shared, even my failed attempts at baking with
yea, " Meaghan laughed. " ... they have all benefited me more than I had
realized. Yea are me friend, but more than that, yea are me family and that
is something I thought that I would never have again."
Meaghan felt Catherine squeeze her hand and Meaghan squeezed back. Catherine
stood up and turned to Meaghan. "I think we had better be headin' back to
the house.. There is dinner to be made after all and maybe we can give it
another go with this baking."
Meaghan stood too. Together they walked through the back gardens
as they made their way to the rear entrance of Byrony. Meaghan paused,
letting Catherine walk ahead some. She looked at the beauty of the grounds
around her.
"Yes, this be the most beautiful place in all of Ireland." Meaghan said
softly, then followed Catherine into the house.