Read Online The Pig Comes to Dinner by Joseph Caldwell - Free Book Online Page B

If I did I’d have to tell you. And how could I do that? Mad, you’d say I was. And— my worst fear of all—you could be right. How could I say anything would make you think you’re married to a madman?”
    â€œAre we both gone off with our heads, then?”
    â€œIf so, at least we’re together.” He guffawed. Kitty, too, allowed herself a small bit of laughter, but it was more than mildly nervous.
    â€œThe old tales tell they were innocent,” he said, “and knew nothing of the gunpowder. So if they’re here, is the gunpowder here as well?”
    â€œIt’s something let’s hope never to know.”
    â€œAnd no one sees them but us? Or does everyone see them and not say, for the same fear as ours—that they’d be branded as gone off?”
    â€œTaddy and Brid—I told you, they were at our wedding feast. I saw them. And probably you did, too. But Maude McCloskey didn’t. I described them, what they wore, how handsome they were. It disturbed her, that much I know, and nothing disturbs Maude McCloskey. There was something she wanted to say, but she couldn’t say it. And Maude never shuts up. If she didn’t see them, no one sees them. Except us.”
    â€œBut why … ?”
    â€œWhen you have the answer to that one, will you let me know?”
    â€œAnd you the same: you’ll tell me, won’t you?”
    Kitty’s eyes softened as she looked at her husband. “I’m a woman with no secrets left. Since I’ve told you what I’ve told you now, I’ll tell you anything.” She paused and raised her right eyebrow. “Unless, of course, I decide not to.”
    â€œGood. Then I needn’t feel bad if I do the same.”
    â€œYou wouldn’t. Hold back, I mean.”
    Kieran shrugged, got up from the stool, and reverently put the harp back where he’d found it. Before he had withdrawn his hands completely, still bending, he looked up at Kitty and said, “Are they always with us whether we see them or not?”
    Kitty, who’d been running her right hand over the frame of the loom, gave a quick glance to her right, then to her left, then looked down at her hand. “I—I don’t know. I never considered it.”
    â€œCould they be here now? In this room!” He made a particular effort not to look around.
    â€œNo. I don’t think so.”
    â€œBut you aren’t sure.”
    â€œI’m not sure of anything anymore.”
    â€œMay I ask a delicate question?”
    â€œAsk it and I’ll tell you if you can or not.”
    â€œWhen you and I—when we’re together—just the two of us—are they—do they—in our room at night and in the morning?”
    Kitty pulled her shoulders, her head, and part of her upper torso a full foot back as if withdrawing from the subject itself. “I hadn’t thought of that.”
    â€œWell, think about it now.”
    â€œBut surely they wouldn’t—I mean, why would they— there—at a time like that! No. Of course they’re not there!”
    â€œYou’re sure.”
    â€œIt’s a terrible thing to think.”
    â€œYes. Terrible.”
    â€œShouldn’t we just ignore—”
    â€œMaybe you can. But can I?”
    â€œBut why would the two of them be spying on us? They’re not here for that. Are they?”
    â€œThen why are they here?”
    Kitty sat down at the loom, unable to answer. With her foot, she worked the treadle up and down. She said nothing. She looked only at her hand on the breast beam, the treadle sending it back and forth. Finally she spoke, but continued the motion. Her speech was hesitant, as if she were giving voice to confusing thoughts as they came to her from some distant region within herself. “They have their being elsewhere. In eternity. Love is theirs. But joy and peace are yet to come. Some part of themselves separates