Read Online IRISH FIRE by Jeanette Baker - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Jeanette Baker
Tags: Fiction
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piped up.
The priest extended his hand. As a good lad should. Im Father Duran. You must be Ben.
Ben took the proffered hand and shook it thoroughly. Why are you wearing a skirt?
Ben! Annie hissed.
Michael Duran laughed. Im a priest, lad. Dont they wear cassocks in America?
There arent any priests in America, replied the boy solemnly.
Father Duran looked startled.
Brigid stepped in. These are my grandchildren, Annie and Ben Claiborne. Theyre not Catholic. She squeezed Bens shoulder reassuringly. Children, this is Father Duran. Hes the pastor at Saint Patricks Church.
Where is that? asked Annie.
Father Duran turned toward her. Im pleased to meet you, Annie. Saint Patricks is on the other end of High Street. Maybe your Gran can bring you to Mass this Sunday.
Shell need to ask my mother.
Of course, said the priest smoothly. Invite her as well.
Annie did not look convinced. Weve never been to a church.
Father Duran sighed. No, I suppose not. Apparently, Caitlin hasnt changed.
Shes changed, said Brigid. She had not moved from her place at the door. Is there somethin you particularly wanted, Father? Weve a good amount of work t finish before we open.
The priest hesitated, his glance moving from Annies face to Bens. Dont let me keep you, he said before stepping out through the exit.
Closing the door firmly behind the priest, Brigid stood, hands on her hips, surveying the room. Annie, rinse the glasses in the sink. When youre finished theres a towel in that drawer near the cash register. Wipe them dry and put them in the cupboard. She rested her hand on Bens head. Come with me, young man. Ill show you where t collect the wood. She looked back over her shoulder at Annie. If you need anythin, ask your mum. She should be awake by now. It isnt good for her t sleep away the day.
By the mutinous set of her lips, Brigid understood that no power on earth would make Annie wake Caitlin. She hid a smile. The girl had spirit, just like her mother.
Brigid led Ben through the back door and down the dark entry to a lot in back of the pub. Fog was thick over the land, shrouding the buildings in a blanket of smoke-gray mist. With the confidence of a blood hound, Brigid walked through the wet to the pile of firewood that lay in a disorganized pile on the ground. Brigid pointed to a random stack. A few of those will do. Pick up as many as you can carry and Ill show you where t put them.
Ben swallowed and approached the wood as if it were alive. Tentatively, he stooped and heaved a large log into his arms. Staggering under the load, he faced his grandmother.
Brigid nodded. It might take awhile, but youll manage. Follow me. She led the way back through the entry into the pub and pointed to the range with its red fire and black lead dust. Set it there.
How many shall I bring? asked Ben hopefully.
Ten or twelve should do it. Theres rain on the wind, but its June after all. I cant be providin heat for the entire village. Theres turf t add if were short on wood. Hurry now, lad. Weve dallied long enough.
Obediently, Ben ran back out the door. Brigid watched him with a fond smile on her lips. That one was a joy. Pity she never had any sons.
Annie had finished up the glasses, found the broom, and was sweeping the floor when Brigid walked back into the main room. I see you found everythin all right.
The girl nodded and continued to sweep, keeping her eyes on the floor. Caitlin would have said something. Brigid held back a snort. Caitlin would never have picked up a broom in the first place.
An amused voice broke through her thoughts. I see you have them working already.
Brigid turned toward her daughter and caught her breath. Had she changed so much or was it familiarity that had hidden what was so obvious now that she hadnt seen her daughter in years? Caitlin, with her elegant clothing, her tousled hair, her creamy skin, and those eyes, slanted and dark as a druid priestess, looked nothing like Sean Keneally. In fact, she looked like no
The priest extended his hand. As a good lad should. Im Father Duran. You must be Ben.
Ben took the proffered hand and shook it thoroughly. Why are you wearing a skirt?
Ben! Annie hissed.
Michael Duran laughed. Im a priest, lad. Dont they wear cassocks in America?
There arent any priests in America, replied the boy solemnly.
Father Duran looked startled.
Brigid stepped in. These are my grandchildren, Annie and Ben Claiborne. Theyre not Catholic. She squeezed Bens shoulder reassuringly. Children, this is Father Duran. Hes the pastor at Saint Patricks Church.
Where is that? asked Annie.
Father Duran turned toward her. Im pleased to meet you, Annie. Saint Patricks is on the other end of High Street. Maybe your Gran can bring you to Mass this Sunday.
Shell need to ask my mother.
Of course, said the priest smoothly. Invite her as well.
Annie did not look convinced. Weve never been to a church.
Father Duran sighed. No, I suppose not. Apparently, Caitlin hasnt changed.
Shes changed, said Brigid. She had not moved from her place at the door. Is there somethin you particularly wanted, Father? Weve a good amount of work t finish before we open.
The priest hesitated, his glance moving from Annies face to Bens. Dont let me keep you, he said before stepping out through the exit.
Closing the door firmly behind the priest, Brigid stood, hands on her hips, surveying the room. Annie, rinse the glasses in the sink. When youre finished theres a towel in that drawer near the cash register. Wipe them dry and put them in the cupboard. She rested her hand on Bens head. Come with me, young man. Ill show you where t collect the wood. She looked back over her shoulder at Annie. If you need anythin, ask your mum. She should be awake by now. It isnt good for her t sleep away the day.
By the mutinous set of her lips, Brigid understood that no power on earth would make Annie wake Caitlin. She hid a smile. The girl had spirit, just like her mother.
Brigid led Ben through the back door and down the dark entry to a lot in back of the pub. Fog was thick over the land, shrouding the buildings in a blanket of smoke-gray mist. With the confidence of a blood hound, Brigid walked through the wet to the pile of firewood that lay in a disorganized pile on the ground. Brigid pointed to a random stack. A few of those will do. Pick up as many as you can carry and Ill show you where t put them.
Ben swallowed and approached the wood as if it were alive. Tentatively, he stooped and heaved a large log into his arms. Staggering under the load, he faced his grandmother.
Brigid nodded. It might take awhile, but youll manage. Follow me. She led the way back through the entry into the pub and pointed to the range with its red fire and black lead dust. Set it there.
How many shall I bring? asked Ben hopefully.
Ten or twelve should do it. Theres rain on the wind, but its June after all. I cant be providin heat for the entire village. Theres turf t add if were short on wood. Hurry now, lad. Weve dallied long enough.
Obediently, Ben ran back out the door. Brigid watched him with a fond smile on her lips. That one was a joy. Pity she never had any sons.
Annie had finished up the glasses, found the broom, and was sweeping the floor when Brigid walked back into the main room. I see you found everythin all right.
The girl nodded and continued to sweep, keeping her eyes on the floor. Caitlin would have said something. Brigid held back a snort. Caitlin would never have picked up a broom in the first place.
An amused voice broke through her thoughts. I see you have them working already.
Brigid turned toward her daughter and caught her breath. Had she changed so much or was it familiarity that had hidden what was so obvious now that she hadnt seen her daughter in years? Caitlin, with her elegant clothing, her tousled hair, her creamy skin, and those eyes, slanted and dark as a druid priestess, looked nothing like Sean Keneally. In fact, she looked like no
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