A Turning of the Tide (Book 3--An Irish Family Saga) by Jean Reinhardt

Author:Jean Reinhardt
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: historical fiction, historical 1800s, historical family saga, irish historical romance, historical victorian romance, irish historical fiction
Publisher: Jean Reinhardt

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

Mary smiled as the sound of a baby’s laughter filled the house. She was preparing a rare meal of cooked chicken and the children were stuck indoors on account of a heavy rain that had been falling since early morning. Breege was bouncing her little niece upon her lap, while Jamie tickled her with a feather from one of the hens.

“I’m the one making her laugh, not you,” said Jamie.

“No you’re not. She always does this when I bounce her on my knee. Take that dirty feather away from her face. Ma, tell Jamie to stop pestering Eliza,” Breege appealed to her mother.

“Stop what you’re doing, the pair of ye, or she’ll bring her breakfast up,” said Mary.

James looked at the rain beating against the window and sighed, resigning himself to the fact it was down for the day. There would be no fishing that night, with a wind that was gathering strength.

Mary sensed his uneasiness at being trapped in the house and asked if he could repair a loosened leg on the chair by the fireplace. She had been making a list in her head of all the jobs that needed doing before their visitor arrived the following month.

“I cannot believe that Brigid Kiernan is coming to see us, after all this time. Can you, James? Read me the letter again.”

“You must know it by heart, Mary, you’ve had me read it so often,” James looked at his wife and laughed. “There’s no need to give me that begging face. I’ll read it again.”

The children gathered around the table to hear, once more, the news from America. To them, the letter had heralded the arrival of sweets and strange knick-knacks that usually accompanied a visitor from across the Atlantic. To their parents it was a more sobering affair. Their old friend was coming to grieve for her son.

“Poor woman, I cannot imagine what she must be feeling on that voyage over, and travelling unaccompanied at that,” Mary said when James had finished reading. “Surely herself and Michael can put their differences aside. They need to be together at a time like this.”

James glanced at the children, who had turned their attention back to the baby. He leaned in close to his wife as she hovered over the chicken.

“Mary, you know full well the reason they cannot do that. This is not something we should discuss in front of the children,” James whispered.

“I know, and I promise not to bring it up whilst Brigid is here – unless she speaks of it first, of course,” Mary replied in a hushed voice, drawing even closer to James.

“Do the two of ye have a secret ye can’t share with us?” their son asked.

“We were just saying a wee prayer over the poor old hen before she goes into the pot,” said Mary.

“She was a good layer and will be sorely missed,” added James. “Promise me ye won’t let your mammy put me in the pot when I get too old to mend walls or go out in a boat.

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