7GAMMGAMMGAMMGAMMGAMMGAMMGAMMGAMMGAMMGAMMGAMMGAMMGAMMGAMM7
Aiden could have claimed he was taking the scenic route down to County Cork, but then again—all roads in Ireland are a scenic route. He headed the touring motor coach south towards Wexford. Cara turned in the front passenger seat and crooked her arm about the armrest. "Wexford is the ancestral home to President Kennedy's family. God rest his soul. His great-grandfather hailed from the village of Dunganstown, County Wexford. His great-grandmother's side mostly came from Limerick, more to the west of here."
"He died going on close to 10 years now," Martha reminisced sadly. "Still feels like yesterday."
"It does," Carolyn agreed. "November 22, 1963. Jonathan had just been born." She looked back on her son's napping form in the rear seat, his head wobbling with the motion of the van as he slept. From Wexford, Aiden steered east towards New Ross and then south again to Waterford. "Now I know what is made in Waterford—beautiful cut crystal glass."
Aiden looked in the rearview mirror at his passengers. "Care to stop in at the factory, Mrs. Gregg? They give tours and of course they have a large showroom with pieces for sale. Most carry a hefty price tag, so be warned."
"What say, love?" Daniel wondered.
"No, it's best we go on to Cork," Carolyn declined with just a touch of regret. She didn't want to poke a stick in a hornet's nest but she remembered her Captain's ire when he gave her an inventory of all the valuables Claymore and other "thieves"—as he put it—had removed from Gull Cottage after his accidental demise. A Waterford crystal punch bowl set being amongst the hijacked items. She patted Daniel's knee, "Next trip."
Cara turned around to speak again. "You'll find Waterford crystal for purchase in many, many shops across Ireland. People buy it and have it shipped back home many times. You'll be sure to find a piece you like before you jet back to Maine." she assured Mr. & Mrs. Gregg. The Kiely Gaelic Tours van then veered southeast heading for Cork, Ireland's second largest city. Just beyond Cork City about 20 miles further northwest was the small hamlet of Ballyrossclare—the ancestral home of Daniel Elias Alexander Gregg, born in April 1829, but of late-a living, breathing 40-year-old man still in the prime of his life in 1972.
Daniel himself was mostly stunned to silence as he viewed the once familiar streets and buildings of Cork. Last year he had spent considerable time in Dublin as he went about the difficult earthly legal process of re-inventing himself as his own descendant. This was necessary to regain custody of the bearer bonds which had accrued considerable value over the century they had been locked away for safe keeping in a perpetual family vault at the Allied Irish Bank of Dublin. He had no time for sentimental journeys. He desperately wanted to establish a legitimate back story and modern identity and return to his beloved Schooner Bay family. He knew changes would have come to Ballyrossclare as well, but he hoped the village hadn't lost all its charm and dignity. He had slim hopes his family's "teachín" or cottage still stood, most likely the victim of a progress as Ballyrossclare morphed over time into a bedroom community for Cork City workers.
Finally, the group's long day's drive ended when Aiden pulled up to the old majestic Imperial Hotel, first built in 1819. Aiden unloaded the luggage as Daniel and Carolyn went in to register for the family's five reserved rooms during their stay in the south of Ireland. The hotel's bell men helped to transfer the Gregg-Muir party's luggage to their 3rd floor rooms. Carolyn and Daniel's room was adjacent to the kids' room and joined by a connecting door. These rooms were on the small and antiquated side, but the hotel was historic and elegant. The family wasn't planning on spending most of their time in their hotel rooms but out and about the greater Cork City area. The Kiely's had recommended getting tickets to watch a hurling match sanctioned by the Gaelic Athletic Association. It was an ancient Irish sport which combined the athleticism and toughness required of American hockey, football, soccer and lacrosse players all rolled into one. Cara; her love of history evident, suggested spending a day at Cobh and visiting the Dunbrody "starving" or "coffin" ship museum which told the story of the many Irish who fled the Great Potato Famine by sailing away to a new life in America. Candy and Jonathan's interest was spurred when Cara pointed out the harbor at Cobh was the last time the famous Titanic was seen or photographed before heading out across the Atlantic and its date with disaster. Both remembered studying about the shipwreck in school and had recently watched a National Geographic program on television about the famous ill-fated ship. Daniel, too, watched with great interest and remembered his own many hazardous crossings and the treachery of icebergs at night. Finally, no visit to Ireland was complete without making a side trip to Blarney and standing in line to climb the steps to kiss the famous "Blarney Stone"—to be granted the Irish gift of gab. Daniel included additional plans to take Carolyn to visit Cork's English market and even the famous Jameson Midleton whiskey distillery. But most importantly he would share Ballyrossclare with her. Even if his boyhood home was no more, St. Edward's Church and graveyard would welcome its very special prodigal son home. Carolyn had already told him she wanted to lay flowers on the graves of Charles and Margaret Gregg and Daniel's "best bloke"—Michael. The Captain also wanted to share a bit more of his early life-although disguised as an Irish history lesson—of digging peat at a bog. Aiden knew of a farm in the area that allowed visitors to experience Irish farm life by hand-milking cows, shearing sheep, riding a draft horse in a field bordered by stone walls or thick brambled hedgerows and helping to dig and collect dried peat "bricks" which would be burned to heat the farmhouse when the winter temperatures fell. The kids were very enthusiastic about the prospect a milking a cow and feeding chickens because they both loved animals of all kinds; be they in a zoo, aquarium or barnyard.
All their plans were discussed as they enjoyed a fabulous spread served on a three-tiered tower of assorted pastries, fancy cakes, delectable biscuits and finger sandwiches arranged on intricate laced-paper. Martha Grant marveled at the spread of baker's delights. "Oh my, oh my! Wonderful! This is a treat! Just look at these creations! Puts my cherry-pie baking to shame, I'll confess to that right here and now!" she declared as she eagerly helped herself to almond petit four cookies to accompany her cup of Barry's tea with the recommended two sugars and milk.
"Nonsense, Martha. You are an excellent baker and all-around great cook!" Carolyn testified.
"Yuh, huh!" Jonathan agreed shaking his head emphatically in agreement with his mother. Crumbs rested on his chin from the chocolate éclair he was munching on happily. Carolyn motioned wordlessly with her finger and the youngster understood her meaning. He removed the linen napkin from his lap and wiped his mouth. "You are the best cook there is!" he clarified his praise.
"Thank you, Jonathan." Martha appreciated the boy's loyalty. "I'm glad you think so—but this spread makes me think I should check out a baker's culinary course at the community college—I might pick up a recipe or two to win me another blue ribbon at the county fair. I can't keep entering the same old, same old."
Daniel shook his head fondly as he lowered his teacup and replaced it on the matching saucer. "Highly dangerous idea, dear Martha—my waistline would match my appetite for these delightful morsels if you made them a home." He reached and took another lemon shortbread from the upper tier of the tray. "I think a brisk walk before dinner is in order to work off some of these treats. Perhaps a good stretch of the legs around Fota Island or perhaps tour Barryscourt Castle, young Mr. Kiely?"
Aiden nodded in agreement. "Perfect places to get some exercise or clear the head after our long drive. They're just across town, so they are. Two tugs on a leprechaun's beard and we're there." He winked at Jonathan and Candy.
"Do leprechaun live in castles?" Jonathan wondered.
Carolyn shared a look over her teacup with her husband. They had not shared their close encounters with the forest folk at Glendalough with anyone. Daniel still had half a shortbread biscuit on his plate. She reached over and helped herself to it and left the leprechaun question to Captain Gregg as she nibbled daintily. "No lad," Daniel explained. "Leprechauns shy away from places with a lot of humans. They tend to harbor their ships in out of the way ports in the wilderness regions of Ireland where they have a better chance of keeping their gold hidden from pesky looky-loos."
Jonathan shared a disappointed look with his sister. Aiden noticed the boy's expression. "Now, don't you worry, young Master Muir. I'm sure before you leave Ireland's shores the wee folk will find a way to reward you for your good deed."
"It's not that," Jonathan semi-pouted. "I just really want to see a leprechaun, that's all."
Martha was ready to go. She pushed back from the table. "We'll not see anything here but busboys clearing away tables if we sit here much longer."
And with that announcement the group headed off on another adventure. It was less than a half hour later when Aiden pulled the touring coach into the parking area outside of the impressive Barryscourt Castle, a regal standard bearer of Irish designed tower houses. The castle building featuring the main living areas was three stories high with three imposing watch turrets two stories above the main house. The Gregg-Muir clan was in luck as they piled out of the Kiely's van and headed towards the main entrance to the castle. They were greeted by one of Barryscourt's docents by the name of Seamus. The grizzled older man had a full head of white hair and a kind, if wrinkled face from years working under the sun maintaining the property's impressive fruit orchard and herb garden. "Come all youse in. We've a spot for your clan on our last tour of the day if you've a mind to join us. Normally one must pre-book for to come inside, but the luck of the Irish is with youse today. Your lot will fill up the tour all nice and proper, so it will. Now don't be shy with what questions you might have and mind the steps. They can be a might wonky if you're not paying close mind. More than one body has taken a nasty tumble. Come on in, if you please."
The 16th century-built castle had been refurbished with the furniture, table settings and kitchen paraphernalia which would have been in use for the original Barry Family inhabitants. Seamus had welcomed questions, but Carolyn was slightly mortified when her curious daughter wanted to know how did castle folks go to the bathroom before there were modern toilets? Carolyn's hand went to her brow as she tried to shield her face and her embarrassed grimace. Candy caught her mother's reaction to her innocent question. "He said we could ask questions, mommy." She furrowed her brow in consternation.
"No lassie. It's a quite common question," Seamus was unperturbed by the young girl's curiosity. "I get asked that on many of my tours. While the kitchen had some water available to the servants by way of roof troughs leading to a rainwater cistern—there was no such a thing as a flush toilet like us modern folk do have. What they did have in the southwest tower was a wooden seat and a hole. Castle folk did their natural business and it all went down to the cesspit below and in the tower walls itself. In winter you braved the cold in the middle of the night but in summer the menfolk had to mind their bits and bobs when they sat—black widow spiders under the board."
All the men and boys cringed in unison. Seamus chuckled and smiled. "Aye, that's the common reaction to me answering that particular question." All continued to go well on the tour until Seamus led them to the dungeon. "This here is what you would call a drop-down dungeon. It's a black hole of a cellar with no light to speak of down there. Many a prisoner went right mad after being kept down there a spell, 'tis true enough."
Daniel leaned close and whispered in his wife's ear, "and two sorry chaps never left."
Carolyn looked up to him again with wide eyes. "It's haunted?" she mouthed silently.
He answered her question with an affirmative nod, placed his arm about her shoulders and again leaned down to whisper in her ear as Seamus continued explaining about the dungeon's uses. "Best keep the children close. The two buggers down there deserved their punishment, don't let Candy and Jonathan wander out of sight."
Carolyn looked alarmed, "You're scaring me."
"Just be on your guard—especially if we go up any more stairs. These cellar rats take their revenge on the living by giving shoves to unsuspecting tourists, so they take a painful tumble. Best keep an eye on our Martha, as well."
A middle-aged Italian woman on the tour asked how long prisoners stayed locked up in the dungeon and how they would be released from their underground cell—if ever. Seamus explained there was a ladder for that purpose—especially when workers had to retrieve the dead bodies of prisoners and how rations of food and water would be lowered via baskets and ropes. Seamus then began leading the group up into the Great Hall. As the tour guests followed the castle guide, Daniel whispered again to Carolyn. "You go on, mind the children."
"What are you going to do?" She didn't try to hide the fear from her voice. The only ghost she had personally known she had fallen in love with—she had no experience with evil entities.
"Stand my ground and protect my family," he replied in steely determination. "Now go on. I'll join you in a moment." He urged her forward. Carolyn reached out and took hold of Jonathan and Candy's hands as she cautiously climbed the stairs to the ground-level Great Hall. When all were assembled, Seamus regaled the tour members with stories of the long-ago feasts and festive gatherings once held in the Great Hall. Carolyn was relieved when she saw Daniel come up the steps leading from the castle's lower level. He merely nodded and smiled as he came over to the group. "All's well," he whispered and gave a gentle rub to her lower back.
"Are we done with the ghosts of Barryscourt Castle?" she hoped.
Daniel smiled and gave his earlobe his characteristic thoughtful tug. "Not quite, my dear. But she won't hurt anyone," he surreptitiously used his index finger to point upwards to the great oak beamed rafters.
"She?"
"Lady Catherine. She's harmless, she seems to enjoy Barryscourt's visitors. She's up there smiling and waving at you, dear. Give her a wave," he encouraged cheerfully.
"Really?"
"Well love, we are visitors in her house. We mustn't be rude." He added a tsk, tsk for emphasis.
"No that would be impolite," Mrs. Gregg agreed and gave a tiny self-conscious wave to the ceiling corner he had indicated. "It's a shame you weren't as friendly whenever I had friends and family drop by Gull Cottage. You were a grouch—to say the least."
"Ah yes, but I am a sweetheart now—thanks to the Muir family's intervention in my afterlife. I've never a harsh word for any guest—save for the uninvited or Claymore. Wouldn't you agree?"
Carolyn shook her head and tried to stifle her disagreeing laughter. She did love her sea captain so. "I'll agree you are my sweetheart." She again waved to the unseen ghost of Lady Catherine and headed for the exit with the rest of the group as the castle tour ended.
Candy and Jonathan Muir's next two days were spent learning more about Ireland's history and culture. At the hurling match they learned how a hurley and sliotar were used in tandem to score a goal. They wrapped their hands around on a Holstein dairy cow's udder and squirted milk into a pail and snacked on the artisan cheese made from the milk of the Cork cow herds. The brother and sister giggled in delight when pygmy goats licked rolled oats from their hands and then begged Carolyn and Daniel for a pet goat when they got home to Schooner Bay. They also could imagine the suffering of the Irish people forced to flee their homeland during the time of the potato famine as they sailed away on the coffin ships never to return to the land they once loved. This new day had them headed to the very famous Irish town of Blarney to kiss the famous Blarney stone, a traditional activity of tourists to the Emerald Isle.
Daniel and Carolyn Gregg once again stole away from their parental responsibilities and boarded a bus to spend the day in the very special community of Ballyrossclare. Daniel ducked his head as he stepped off the Bus Éireann coach and then held out his hand to Carolyn as she followed behind him down the steps. The Captain felt an unknown emotion as he gazed around the small village he had once called his own. It was an amalgamation of fondness and sadness, memories good and bad-all at once painful and soothing to his soul. Carolyn looked up at him as she slid her arm about his waist in a side embrace. "What are you thinking at this moment?"
He didn't answer her immediately, sentiments a whirlwind inside of him. Finally, he found the words he sought. "I never dreamed I would be home here with you." His own arm wrapped about her slim shoulders as they stood together near the village square. His blue eyes glistened with the beginning of tears and he cleared his throat to steady his emotions. "Let's take a stroll, love. Shall we?"
Carolyn laced her fingers through his as he took her hand. "I'd follow you anywhere, Captain Gregg."
They walked along the town's High Street, Daniel taking in all the changes which had come to Ballyrossclare over his century and more away, but also noting the familiar. The stone bridge over the River Lee where he and the other lads had dared each other to jump from, the old pub now ivy-covered from top to bottom and venerable old St. Edward's Church still beckoned worshippers for Sunday mass. Ballyrossclare had grown into a thriving community having a chemist's shop, a greengrocer, petrol station with a mechanic on duty and a clothing store boasting "fine apparel for the entire family." Daniel led Carolyn down several streets past modest homes with tiny front yards but all having huge, overflowing flower boxes hanging at every windowsill. He came to a stop when he found the signpost for Reilly Street. "This was our lane," he said quietly. He took a deep breath, shared a smile with Carolyn and gripped her hand tighter. His disappointment was soon evident after they had walked fifty yards down the street protected from the sun by shading oak trees. In her mind, Carolyn Gregg pictured a thatched-roof cottage with whitewashed walls and the front door painted a cheery bright color of red, blue or green. Instead, Daniel's eyes rested on a modern two story with bedroom dorm windows up on the top floor and a semi-detached one car garage connected to the main house with a breezeway. There was no white picket fence that needed painting but a chain-linked barrier surrounding the lot with a polite sign "Be mindful. Dog on premises."
"I'm sorry," Carolyn offered sincerely.
"Ah, dearest. It was folly for me to think the old homestead would still be standing."
"No, it wasn't," she said. "Gull Cottage is over 100 years old. It is still standing…I hope," she added to lighten his disappointment. "You have more confidence in Ed Peavey Construction than I do."
He appreciated her efforts at levity, but his smile was bittersweet. "Alas, nothing to see here, my darling. Are you hungry? Let's carry on to the pub and have some lunch, shall we? I think we'll save visiting the church until afterwards. Does that suit you?"
"Um-hmm," she replied. After a few steps she realized he wasn't beside her. She turned around to see Daniel standing under a giant old oak tree, his hand resting on it as if taking its pulse. "Coming?" she asked.
His smile brightened. "I think this is the tree my father planted right after I was born." He stared up and his eyes squinted where the sun's rays chased past the leaves and branches. "I'm sure it 'tis."
Carolyn's smile reflected his. "In that case," she reached inside her cardigan's pocket and pulled out her small camera. "Stand there in front of your tree. Let's get a picture for a keepsake." She snapped a photo of him striking a proud pose and then scooped up a small handful of acorns from the ground. He tilted his head and looked at her curiously. She read his expression. "We'll take these home to Gull Cottage," she explained. "You never know. Maybe we'll have a baby and his or her father can plant an oak tree in the yard to celebrate the birth of our child."
"That's a lovely thought, my dear." He pulled her close and whispered in her ear. "I love you."
"I know," she murmured against chest. "Forever and always?"
"Forever and always," he told her tenderly and laid a gentle kiss on the top of her head.
They made their way back to Ballyrossclare's cluster of shops. As they passed one yard, Carolyn couldn't help but admire the homeowner's green thumb as their garden was a glorious riot of colors of various blooming flowers; irises, daisies and daffodils galore. "Do you think they'd sell me some flowers to make bouquets?" she wondered aloud. "I'd liked to leave them on the graves if I could."
"Only one way to find out," Captain Gregg decided. He opened the wooden gate and escorted Carolyn to the front door tucked inside the tidy front porch—potted English ivy's and miniature roses greeting visitors in cheery hand-painted pots decorated with whimsical smiling shamrocks. Daniel rang the bell and then knocked at the door. An elderly woman came to the door to look Daniel up and down sternly but relaxed when she saw Carolyn greet her with a smile. Daniel addressed the lady of the house in Irish, "Lá maith agat."
"Good day, to you and yours, as well. How can I help ye?"
Daniel stepped aside and gestured to his wife to explain. Carolyn asked about the possibility of buying some flowers from the yard to make remembrances bouquets to leave on some graves at St. Edward's. Daniel began to pull out his wallet, but the old lady's gnarled, arthritic hand reached out to clutch his arm and shake her head to stop him. "Níl gá le hairgead." She refused the offer of Irish pounds. "Take whatever suits your fancy, you are welcomed to them, achara. I've plenty to spare, so I have." She was seemingly delighted her blooms were being admired and destined for an ave and prayer to the souls at the church. She shuffled inside on a quest to find some ribbon or twine to bind up the flowers for Mrs. Gregg. Carolyn suggested Daniel go on to the pub and get their lunch order in, she would stay behind a short while to select some flowers and show proper respect and courtesy to Mrs. Doran for her generosity.
Carolyn hovered near Mrs. Doran has she toddled about her tidy flower beds, she kept a steadying hand on the elderly lady's elbow to prevent a slip and fall. Mrs. Doran was pleased for the unexpected company and kept snipping off blooming flowers one by one with her shears, determined to create a triumvirate of bonny bouquets for the souls of the dearly departed at St. Edward's. Carolyn spotted a rusting watering can sitting placidly and unused in one corner of the garden. It had the fading image painted on it of a silver and golden-winged fairy. Carolyn had to ask the old Irishwoman, "Tell me, Mrs. Doran…do you believe in the faeries?"
Mrs. Doran gently threaded several Sweet William blossoms into the bunch of flowers Carolyn was assembling into a memorial spray of delicate colors. Her pale blue eyes shone from her wrinkled face, years of living and wisdom emanating from her being. "No dear…but they are here."1
Daniel had left his wife to the flower arrangements and strode on through Ballyrossclare and entered MacNeill's. The building had only been slightly modernized since he last entered as a young man. Electricity, refrigeration units and a neon Guinness sign aglow behind the bar let visitors know it was 1972 but the well-worn sagging floorboards reminded patrons they were walking on history. Daniel's eyes adjusted to the darkness in the low-ceiling room and nodded his head in greeting to the bartender and to a small group of locals perched at the far end of the ancient bar at what Daniel rightly assumed was their customary afternoon haunt. "Good day to this house," he said by way of a traditional greeting. They looked up in recognition of the stranger in their midst—looking mildly disappointed to Captain Gregg's observation. Daniel remained at the far end of the bar and inquired about the mid-day kitchen choices, ordered for Carolyn and himself and then exchanged a word with the barkeep. "Why the glum faces with that lot?"
"Oh, pay them no mind, sir. It's just their usual foolishness. They like to serenade the first female who crosses the threshold each day. The losers then draw straws as to who gets the next round. It might be bad for my business but I'm almost glad when no ladies stop by for a drop. Those sad sorts can't carry a tune in a bucket if you ask me."
"What does the winner get?" Daniel was amused as he remembered doing the same with some fellow seamen in various ports of call.
"If the lady has a mind to play along, the winner is supposed to receive a kiss. Ballyrossclare womenfolk most all know what these here geezers are about—and ignore them and get on with their socializing. I've managed this here pub for ten years and I can't recall a single instance where a lass gave away a wee kiss to these boyos warbling away in vain." The man shook his head and laughed at the absurdity of it all and began to pull Daniel his pint of stout.
Daniel's mischievous side bubbled up inside of him. He sauntered down to the end of the bar towards the gathering of older men, offered his hand in greeting to each and then announced grandly, "My shout on the next round, if I may? God bless all in this house." His generosity was warmly accepted by his new friends as he settled himself on a bar stool and waited for his wife to arrive and lunch to be prepared. He didn't have long to wait as the door open, sunshine flooded into the dark-paneled tavern and Carolyn smiled when she spotted him, three bundles of Mrs. Doran's posies in her arms. Her arrival was greeted with a friendly chorus of "How's about ye, miss?", the tipping of their caps and raising of their glasses to acknowledge her presence in their favorite establishment. Daniel moved in behind the quartet and raised a finger to his lips and winked to let her know a conspiracy was at hand.
She wasn't quite prepared as one by one the men of the village approached her in playful exuberance, each belting out a traditional Irish ballad of varying sentimentality; singing in questionable musical keys and half-forgotten lyrics but all earnest in their attempt at impressing the pretty woman who had unexpectantly joined their congregation of soloists. Carolyn thanked and complimented each gentleman but refused judgement on their vocal talents until all had done their best. Finally, Daniel took his turn and his rich, creamy baritone sent shivers down her spine as he sang to her "The violets were scenting the woods—Carolyn, displaying their charm to the bee, when I first said I loved only you, Carolyn, and you said you loved only me."
"That's not 'ow it goes," one of the locals grumbled. "The lass' name is Nora in the song!"
Daniel Gregg continued his serenade and kept edging closer to Carolyn where she had seated herself, her flowers next to her on a table. At the last chorus he had taken her left hand in his, raised it to his lips and kissed the wedding ring he had placed on her finger on Christmas Day—all the while looking with intense devotion into her shimmering eyes of green. His bright blue eyes had been the first thing to take her breath away when they had first met. His eyes still told her what no mere words could communicate.
Now the men at the bar exploded in complaints at Daniel's taking of liberties with their lady visitor. "Hey now! None of that! Touching is strictly 'agin the rules! You'll have the Garda in here after us for molesting the customers!" they bellowed in protest.
Carolyn laughed gaily, delighting at the looks on the MacNeill's regulars' faces. Finally, she decided the teasing should stop. "Sorry, gentlemen. Captain Gregg here is not playing by the rules. Daniel and I are married." She wiggled her wedding ring at them.
Groans and guffaws filled the pub along with good-natured calls of "Fair play to you!" and "Dance with them that brought ye!" and one chagrined, "Aren't we buck eejits?" They did take a quick vote and decided unanimously that Daniel should be penalized for his chicanery by buying them a second round.
The retired Navy man did as he was ordered, grinned and nodded in amusement while extracting a five-pound note from his billfold and handed it to the barkeep. By then a member of the kitchen staff came out of the batwing doors with a tray filled with sandwiches, sliced fruit and chips for the couple. They had their lunch in peace and then waved goodbye to the men and were wished safe travels. Now, with flowers in hand they walked the short distance to St. Edwards Catholic Church and entered the wrought iron gates to the adjoining cemetery. It took a minute or two before Daniel gained his bearings. He led Carolyn inside the old graveyard and walked slowly and deliberately to a far corner and then knelt beside one weathered and moss-covered grave marker. "Here is Michael," he said simply. He produced a handkerchief from his pocket and carefully wiped away grime and moss from the marble stone.
Michael Boyne 1829- 1848
"You would have made a fine father, Michael," Daniel whispered. "Perhaps you can watch over me and mine now and give me a hand when better angels are needed? I've never forgotten you, friend. Rest in peace." He patted the stone and placed one of the bundles of freshly cut flowers on the grave. He then stood and looked down at his wife. "My parents are waiting," he smiled sadly, accepted one of the bouquets from Carolyn and held out his hand to her. Carolyn clutched it tightly in hers as she walked beside him. He looked up at the church's impressive spire and the beautiful stained-glass window set in the church's southern wall. "Mum loved the stained glass of this church, especially this one with Christ and the sacred heart. Dad chose this plot so he could look upon her favorite window when he sat beside her grave. He glanced at Carolyn and then back down at the headstone. "Mum, Dad—this is my Carolyn." She looked down and read the names.
Margaret Sinclair Gregg 1806-1831 Charles Nelson Gregg 1802-1846
"They both were so young," Carolyn spoke quietly as Daniel knelt and laid the twin flower bundles under their names. He again took the handkerchief and scrubbed away some debris, so the names and dates were more easily read. "Tell me about them, Daniel." She requested as he stood, and she placed a supporting hand on his arm.
He took a deep breath to steady himself and rubbed his large hands together, almost as if in prayer. "Mum was a local girl until she went to Dublin to find work as a seamstress. My dad was an American born Yankee seaman—born near Boothbay Harbor in Maine—not too far as the seagull flies from where I bought the land in Schooner Bay, actually. He was in port and met my mother at a ceili. He told me it was love at first sight—stuff of fairytales," he smiled at the memory. "Dad jumped ship the very next day and stayed in Ireland to be close to his Maggie. Eventually, he got work as a carpenter's apprentice, they married and moved back to Ballyrossclare. He built the cottage I would be born in—and planted that oak—please don't lose those acorns, love."
"I won't," she promised.
He took a deep breath and continued. "My mother died when I was very, very young. I was about two years old."
"What happened?" Carolyn's voice was barely above a whisper in the silence of the church yard.
He shook his head sadly. "She was pregnant with a second child—something went wrong," his voice trailed off. He paused and then continued. "My father carried on, but he never remarried. He said a man only got one true love in his life and no woman would take his Maggie's place." Daniel's arm slipped around Carolyn's waist. "I would feel the same if I ever lost you, my darling. Childbirth can be a blessing or a curse—if anything ever happened to you—"
"Sssh, sweetheart." Carolyn interrupted his train of thought. "Nothing is going to happen to me if we do conceive a child together. Medicine and hospitals have come a long way since your mother's time. I didn't have any complications when I had Candy and Jonathan, I want you to know that." She stroked his back soothingly as she tried to stem his unease.
"Aye, you're right, love…don't mind me," he tried to return her reassurance. "Things were already tough for us as far as Dad finding steady work, then the great famine hit…he went without so he could put a morsel or two in my mouth. He took sick and passed quickly—he wouldn't let me fetch the doctor, even if we could have paid the bill. He wanted to be with his Maggie, so he left."
Carolyn held back tears. "I never knew Daniel. You were so young—you don't even have any memories of her, do you?" He merely shook his head slightly in response. "She must have been wonderful—your father loved her so very much."
"Aye."
Another thought came to Carolyn Gregg, one she often contemplated but never had given voice to. Now she did ask timidly. "Daniel…when you…when you were on the Other Side…did you see…were there family and friends…did you reunite with your parents and Michael Boyne?"
"Alas, I cannot answer your question."
"You're not allowed? They—whoever they are won't allow it?"
Daniel stroked her cheek lovingly in response. "Just as memories were altered and blocked for the children and Martha and the others when I returned to this life—my own memories of Heaven and what lies beyond this mortal life are blocked to me while I inhabit this realm. I am human once again. I cannot answer your questions because I do not know. That's because I am not meant to know. That's the best explanation I can give you."
"Alright, I think I understand," she accepted his explanation.
Daniel looked at his wristwatch. "There's one more place near the village I want to show you. We must mind the time. When is the return bus back to Cork?"
"4 o'clock."
"We should shove off, then." He turned and stood over his parents' graves and said a hushed prayer. Carolyn waited a moment in silence until he lifted his head and then stepped close to the grave marker. She knelt and gently kissed their head stone reverently.
"Don't worry, I'll take care of your Daniel. Watch over our family. We'll say our hellos in Heaven one day. Until then, God Bless." Hand in hand they exited through the wrought-iron gate from which they entered the holy grounds, pulling it closed behind them until it latched firmly.
Daniel now led Carolyn around the back of the church, down a sloping hill towards a crumbling stone wall made up entirely of carefully placed rocks of various sizes and shapes. On the other side of the three-foot wall she could hear the gurgling of a stream hidden somewhere beyond a grove of trees. The Captain then began to dismantle the stone barricade, rock by rock.
"Daniel, what are you doing? Somebody went to a lot of trouble to build this wall," she admonished him.
"This is the way it's done, love. No need for fancy gates. We'll re-stack the stones on our way out." He took her hand and helped her step over the lowered pile of rocks. "Now come along." He led her into what was once a flourishing apple orchard, now neglected for years. He looked about him again in disappointment. "Such a shame. Michael and I would often sneak out of Mass, come down here and snack on a ripe MacIntosh when they were in season."
"That's why you brought me here? To show me where you stole apples?"
"Ah well, love…that's not the only thing we did here," he told her in amused embarrassment and stepped closer to her, his hands clasping around her upper arms.
"Oh? Dear Captain...what other activities happened in this orchard?" Her perfect eyebrow arched in bemused accusation.
"It's easier to demonstrate." He pulled her closer then and lowered his lips to hers. Their kiss deepened in intensity as her hands found the soft curls at the base of his neck, Daniel reacted by holding her in a tighter embrace. His heart quickened a beat to match her racing pulse. Carolyn sighed happily and rested her head on his chest listening to his heart beating under her ear. She still thrilled to the sound, he was truly alive in every sense of the word—and hers. Suddenly a song came to her lips and she softly sang against him, "don't sit under the apple tree with anyone else but me…"
"BLAST!"he suddenly swore. She lowered her arms and stared up at him in surprise.
"What's wrong?" Before he had time to answer her, he felt another solid blow to the back of his head. His hand went up reflexively in defense as he whirled around to give chase to his attacker. "Daniel!"
His hand was in a fist as he charged headlong into the knotty twist of the dead cluster of fruit trees. After a few moments he staggered back to her, still rubbing the back of his head. He stopped when he saw the shocked expression on her face. She was holding out her hands, in each she held a perfectly firm and ripe red apple, each now which a slight indentation and bruise starting to form. Then she pointed, "Look."
Captain Gregg looked to his right to see a burlap bag hanging from a branch some six feet or more from the ground. On the sack there was a parchment note attached. He jumped up and snatched the offering from the apple tree. He read the note aloud: "Do na páisti, Go raibh maith agat." His eyes met hers. "It's apparently a thank you gift for the children."
"Our children?"
He looked the note over again, saw nothing more but then took the apples from her hand. Each apple had been marked with a blade of a sharp knife. One had a "C" carved into the red skin and the other a "J". He smiled gently. "Aye, I believe so."
Carolyn began to untie the burlap sack and look inside but Daniel reached out immediately to stop her. "Belay that love. The wee folk have entrusted us to deliver their message and gift, leave the opening to Jonathan and Candy."
She nodded in understanding and tucked the little burlap purse into her sweater pocket. "What about these?" She held up an apple.
Daniel grinned, and took a big bite from the fruit. "Waste not, want not." He chewed happily and swallowed. "It'll soon be time for our ride back to Cork City. We'd best set sail, Admiral." He offered his arm to her.
Carolyn began snacking on the remaining apple. The apple was crisp, tart and delicious. "Aye, aye Captain Gregg." She laced her arm through his as they made their way back up the hill, stopping only to repair the stone wall.
1 Attributed to a story told by poet W.B Yeats