the Yellow House (2010) by Falvey Patricia

Author:Falvey, Patricia [Patricia, Falvey,]
Format: epub
Publisher: Center Street
Published: 2011-01-14T19:17:44.562000+00:00

Truce

1920-1921

15

Loneliness lay upon me heavy as a stone. I sat at night stirring the fire, lost in my thoughts. I worried that I was turning out like Ma. Soon I'd be staring out in the distance with no recognition of anybody or anything.

It was Aoife who preserved my sanity. At almost a year old, she was already walking and babbling a blue streak of half-formed words. She needed her own way in everything and stood, tiny hands on her hips, crying out her demands. Her face might have belonged to James, but her personality was all mine. I recognized myself in her stubbornness, the way she planted herself in front of me and would not move until she got what she wanted. There was no ignoring Aoife.

Maybe it took losing everything for me finally to embrace my daughter. Up until now I had always carried a deep, shameful resentment toward the child. She represented to me the death of my past and the birth of my future. Now I realized that with my dream in shambles, Aoife, my little warrior, was here to force me to keep living. She would not let me give up either on my dream or on my future because she was part of it, not separate from it. In Aoife, James had unknowingly given me a gift more powerful than he could ever have imagined.

Billy Craig came often, a foolish smile on his big face. He brought sweets for Aoife and fancy cakes for me. He would sit on the floor and play with Aoife, who was delighted with his attention. When she fussed he soothed her with tender notes from his tin whistle. As I watched them, I envied their innocence.

Fergus came at times, on his way home from work. He would sit drinking tea, his dark eyes blazing brighter than the flames in the hearth. Over and over, he apologized to me for what James had done, each time his anger growing more intense. I tried to play things down in front of him; I was afraid his anger would boil over and he would kill James.

Terrence came as well. He brought me news of my mother, even though it was always the same: She was in good health, but no, her mind was not back yet. I did not go as often to see Ma anymore. Once, when I brought Aoife to see her, she had turned her face to the wall and begun to weep. She upset the child--and me.

Terrence was more than willing to talk about Ma, but I had to drag information out of him about Frank. P.J. was a better source of news.

"Ah, he's the quare fellow all right," P.J. said, drawing slowly on his pipe. "Nobody can tell what side of the fight he's on, but he's profiting from it just the same. He's been seen parading through Newry in the best of finery, carrying a big walking stick like he owns the town."

"If you're saying he's smuggling over the border," Terrence said fiercely, "I'm sure you've got it all wrong.

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