|
Post by Kathy on Dec 29, 2007 0:43:49 GMT -5
"As if I could've turned out as anythin' else, what with only me n' Mam to look after Da n' all the boys at home." *She laughed, shoving him back in the shoulder gently.* "I'm surprised ye n' Jamie didn't turn out more girlish than ye did."
|
|
|
Post by Michael on Dec 29, 2007 0:47:08 GMT -5
*He pretended to look hurt.*
"Kathleen Kelly, are you accusin' of me being girlish?" *They entered his rooms, which were spartan but comfortable. He scraped up a match and fired up the stove, which began to warm the room.*
|
|
|
Post by Kathy on Dec 29, 2007 0:48:56 GMT -5
"Ye'r too pretty to be a man just yet," *she said cheekily, bending to warm her hands by the glow of the stove.*
|
|
|
Post by Michael on Dec 29, 2007 0:50:39 GMT -5
*He chuckled.*
"An' am I supposed to take that as an insult or a slight?" *He said, pulling up a bench. He knew better than to make any comment about a girl's looks.*
|
|
|
Post by Kathy on Dec 29, 2007 0:53:59 GMT -5
"Well ye have grown very tall, I'll admit." *She sat down beside him and looked at him sideways.* "Aaaand more freckled than I recall. You work outdoors more, now, I suppose."
*She grabbed his chin and twisted his head first this way, then that, inspecting his face closely.*
"And either you have the knack of giving yourself the closest of shaves or you haven't managed to grow a beard yet."
|
|
|
Post by Michael on Dec 29, 2007 0:56:16 GMT -5
*He rolled his eyes good-naturedly.*
"Can't win with you, can I, Kath?"
|
|
|
Post by Kathy on Dec 29, 2007 0:58:53 GMT -5
"Ye never were able to," *she teased.* "Not even at hurling."
|
|
|
Post by Michael on Dec 29, 2007 0:59:59 GMT -5
*He rolled his eyes.*
"So what've you been up to since I last saw you? When was that... what were we, eleven when you moved away?"
|
|
|
Post by Kathy on Dec 29, 2007 1:14:53 GMT -5
"If you were eleven, I was ten. ...So, seven years."
*She fiddled with the knotted fringe on her shawl, winding it around her fingers, rough and red from the water she worked in day after day.*
"I stayed at the farm, helping...then last year Da took ill again and the doctor said he mustn't exert himself or he'll turn worse. Ye can imagine how it hurt Da to think of spendin' his days at home, sittin' still. Mam says most days he sits by the fire and whittles away at blocks of firewood. He was always a deft hand with a knife...but there's hardly anyone that wants to buy such things--mostly ships and dolls and horses. An' Da's such a soft heart he just gives them out to the children in the village for not a penny."
*Her gaze grew distant and unfocused as she dipped into the past, into memories of those dear to her who were so far away.*
"An' Ciaran went to find work in London in a factory, an' Aiden an' Donovan, the twins--you remember them? Rascals. --they joined the Navy...on the same ship, of course. Liam took work on an estate in the north, in the stables--you and him were of one mind when it came to horses.
Rory and Neill stayed to run the farm between them, but it's hard for them...an' Mam wishes Neill could finish his schooling, but there's rarely any time or money to spare for his lessons. He gets on as best he can, but he's a good boy and never complains. Rory took up with some jackeen's sister...but I think she's leadin' him on, Mam says...looks down her nose at Ror in public but has no objection to sneaking behind the woodshed with him of a spring evenin'."
*Her face was dark, and she gave a helpless sigh.*
"Mam says Ciaran could have come home for Christmas, but he didn't--said he could make more money if he worked through...but last time he came home he still reeked of whiskey..."
*Tears gathered in her eyes.*
"We used to be so happy...and now everyone's worried...about Da' an' the boys at sea and Ciaran's love o' the drink an' Neill's finishin' school an' now our Ror's carryin' on with some slut from Dublin who'll never think he's good enough for her..."
*She turned her face against his shoulder.*
"Oh, Mikey, what's happened to us? What's happened to my family?" *she sobbed.*
|
|
|
Post by Michael on Dec 29, 2007 1:21:43 GMT -5
*He wrapped his strong arms around her.*
"Shh, Kath, it'll be alright... everyone goes through rough patches, Irish more than most." *He tucked her head beneath his chin comfortingly.*
|
|
|
Post by Kathy on Dec 29, 2007 1:25:58 GMT -5
"B-but I can't even be near them...I can't even try to help...or smack some good sense into Ciaran and Rory, at least," *she said in a tone with the vicious edge of those who hurt so badly for love's sake. As she was able to cry on a friendly shoulder for the first time in a year, she poured out all her grief as Michael held her warm and safe. It was just like having one of her brothers with her. Only really not.*
|
|
|
Post by Michael on Dec 29, 2007 1:31:05 GMT -5
*More like the cousin who you wish you weren't related to.*
"That's right, a stór. Just let it out." *When her tears seemed to slow, he wrapped a blanket around her shoulders. He paid no mind to the fact that this was the kind of endearment that a young man normally reserved for his sweetheart.*
|
|
|
Post by Kathy on Dec 29, 2007 1:33:42 GMT -5
Kris doesn't care. Why should we?
*Kathy didn't notice the particular endearment either--she was just grateful to hear the comfort of Gaelic words in her ears once more. She sniffled several times, trying to regain her composure. Her nose was bright red and her eyes watery, her cheeks streaked and blotched pink from crying.*
"Thank ye, Michael..." *she whispered.*
|
|
|
Post by Michael on Dec 29, 2007 1:37:28 GMT -5
"Tá failte romhat, muirnín." *He said softly, wiping away some tears with the pad of his thumb.*
|
|
|
Post by Kathy on Dec 29, 2007 1:44:03 GMT -5
*She smiled, hesitantly. Kathy was never one to dwell on sadness--what good could worrying so much do?*
"And what mischief have you been up to, ye rogue?" *she asked goodnaturedly, fishing a threadbare but clean handkerchief out of her pocket and blowing her nose.* "Have a wife n' child tucked away somewhere yourself, now?"
|
|