An Irish Girl by Marilyn Hering

Author:Marilyn Hering [Hering, Marilyn]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781532016936
Publisher: iUniverse
Published: 2017-02-07T05:00:00+00:00

Epilogue

The potato crop that year was wonderful. Men, women, and children held gatherings of dancing, singing, and performing the Irish jig.

There is no sorrow like the memory of love and the knowledge that it is gone forever; however, John McGuire, bereft of heart and soul, having lost weight, now thinner and haggard, after a month of inability to do anything, finally teamed up with GuyMcCullough, and became a handyman. The two of them traveled through Ireland doing odd jobs for there was much to be done due to the famine. They helped out the farmers, especially the widows who had been left behind, mending fences and barns, rebuilding stone on some of the cottages, repairing thatch roofs that leaked, birthing piglets, lambs, colts, and any other odd jobs that needed to be done. They mostly slept in the barns of the people they worked for or, if they were lucky, the extra bed in the spare room of a cottage.

Whenever they were in the area of Monagham they always stopped to see Father Boyle. He never told John that Tara was carrying his child for there is so much pain and agony a man can endure. Then they always visited Tara’s grave. Each time they came, whether the budding of spring, the blossoming of flowers in summer, the myriad of colors of autumn leaves or the frost of winter, there was always a bouquet of fresh red roses upon it. They wondered who would be who placed them there so faithfully. Usually when they visited the cemetery no one else was there. Except for today. They observed a tall, handsome man walking down the path towards the exit. He wore black high boots, navy blue pants, and a red coat embellished with gold braid and an insignia that noted he was a lieutenant. His face was a mask of sorrow. But, of course, he could not be the one who placed the roses there. He was British.

They kneeled down and said their prayers for Tara at her grave and lingered a time. John kissed her gravestone. Then they both rose, crossed themselves, and moved on…

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