Buried Troubles by Marian McMahon Stanley

Author:Marian McMahon Stanley [Stanley, Marian McMahon]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781735039329
Publisher: Concord River Press
Published: 2020-07-27T22:00:00+00:00

Maurice Ignatius O’Toole or Mossie the Yank of Clifden by way of Adams Corner in Dorchester, Massachusetts pulled up beside the Burke cottage the next morning. He drove an ancient, battered Renault panel van with a TACSA sign on the top, Mossie’s Livery Service sign on the side and a maroon and white flag for the Gaelic Athletic Association Galway hurling team on a side window. Rosaria recognized the mysterious car that had twice driven by the Burke cottage when she’d first arrived.

From the living room she could see a big rumpled man heave himself out of the van with surprising agility given his size. He reached one meaty hand down to tousle Fergus’s head and threw his head back to give a laugh as big as himself as the dog danced around him, thrilled with this new company. My watchdog, sighed Rosaria. Hopeless.

Mossie raised his head to look at the sea, now a deep blue gray with white-caps under an overcast sky. He paused a moment, breathing in deeply before he turned and headed for the kitchen door.

He filled the doorframe as Rosaria opened the wooden door. “You must be Mossie.”

“At your service, Miss O’Reilly.” He removed his cap and smiled.

Rosaria had made the tea. She poured them both a cup and, over the tea and yesterday’s scones from Cullen’s, she broached the subject of Mossie’s cruising past the Burke cottage twice on the day she moved in. “You know, you had me scared half to death—a big man like you riding by the house twice. What were you thinking?”

Mossie’s face was flush with embarrassment even as he tried to explain himself. “Forgive me, Miss O’Reilly. I wasn’t thinking. I was only curious, you know, about who might be renting Burkie’s cottage for a few weeks. I meant no harm.”

The big man looked as if he wanted to drop through the floor. Rosaria knew what she was doing when she stared at him for a few moments before she showed mercy by moving on to other subjects. They talked about Boston and changes since Mossie was last there.

Rosaria learned that Mossie’s mother had returned to Galway from Dorchester with her boy after she’d been left a young widow. Mossie was only five when he returned and soon had no trace of an American accent, but all his life, he’d been called the “Yank”.

“They always had a time with it, you know. Even if your parents are from here and you’re just a little kid,” he explained. “But that’s okay. They’re just having fun and I don’t mind. The name stuck, though, didn’t it?”

They talked about new development plans in Clifden, about how long it took Ireland to recover from the banking crisis. There seemed to be no end of interesting topics to discuss with her new driver. She could see that it would be a pleasure to ride the roads with this chatty and intelligent man. An unexpected added benefit.

As the conversation wound down, Mossie put his hands on both knees.

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