IRISH BLUE 2 THE SONG OF THE STONES A novel by Sheila Willar Copyright 2016 Sheila Willar ISBN 978-0-9867101-4-8 You are living stones, being built up into a spiritual house … 1 Peter 2:5
CHAPTER 3 ............................ PATRICK
Patrick and his team drove into Kinkerry just after midnight and checked into Milley’s Inn By The Sea. News of his return spread like lightening as people were awakened from their sleep by the mysterious return of one of their own. Early the next morning many of the curious turned up at the inn to watch the visitors eat breakfast, and there was a lot of speculation about what their sudden appearance meant for the town. Soon the inn was packed with people and thanks to Patrick, business doubled in sales that day.
Milly herself helped serve the guests and tried to glean as much information as she could about their visit, however no matter how hard she tried, they didn't reveal anything about why they were there. She even tried to determine if Patrick was single or not but couldn’t get a clear answer.
“How’s the family?” she asked.
“Fine,” replied Patrick with a smile.
Milley made several excuses to approach their table so that she could listen in, refilling their coffee and water over and over again, but it was to no avail.
“Fancy clothes and fancy talk,” whispered Milly as she served the other patrons.
Next door at Jenny’s Pub, it also filled to the brim as a constant stream of traffic gathered to speculate about Patrick and his entourage. Some said that he had come to work for the new owners of the quarry, while others argued that it wasn’t even Patrick because he had died long ago.
When Patrick’s mother was a teen, a Murphy, she had given him up to the Morgans to be raised, and they had treated him like a hire rather than a son. He didn’t have the opportunities that the rest of the Morgan family did and he wasn’t expected to achieve much in life. He lacked schooling, love, and encouragement and generally supported himself. After he left town, most people forgot about him, especially after he and Kerry had separated.
Patrick was a double curiosity. He had grown up poor, and as far as anyone was concerned, he still was, so they were perplexed when he arrived with a group of people who acknowledged him as their boss.
Partrick was glad to see Kinkerry once again, but was concerned that many of the residents would not be so pleased to know that their children had been given scholarships by ‘poor’ Patrick Morgan, the ‘help’. It was one thing to accept money from Father Michael and Mrs. McCallum’s estate, but they might not be so welcomed to accept money from a self-made billionaire who had seemingly abandoned his home and family.
After breakfast, Patrick left his team at the Inn and went to the cathedral to pick up his brother-in-law, Father Michael for their trip to Dublin.
“Patrick,” shouted Michael as they embraced.
“It’s so good to see you.”
“You too.”
“Let’s talk in my office.”
Michael motioned for Patrick to follow him to the back of the sanctuary and once they were inside the small cloister, Michael checked the hallway to make sure that none else was present, and then closed the door firmly.
“We’ve got to keep this thing under wraps,” warned Michael.
“Just you and I,” assured Patrick as they began to review the letter from the government.
They analyzed the information and decided who would say what to the auditors. They wanted to keep the conversation and the details to a minimum. However, as they made their plans, old Leasy Patterson, the wiry caretaker of the cathedral, listened in from behind a secret cubby that was at the back of the choir loft.
Old Leasy had made a home away from home, where he helped himself to a century old cache of communion wine that had been stored there years ago. He rested on a comfortable but dusty pile of cushions and drank slowly, as he was accustomed to doing, and listened quite dispassionately to the conversation in Father Michael’s office.
Leasy settled in and was about to pull anchor and sail off aboard another dream, when he realized that he did not recognize the voice of the man who was with Father Michael. Something pricked his barely conscious mind when he heard the name “Patrick” and he immediately wondered if it was the same Patrick who Father Michael talked to often on the phone. Leasy sat upright and blinked hard to stay conscious. He didn’t want to miss a word.
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Kerry was flustered by the news that Patrick had arrived in town. The last time she spoke to him she said she never wanted to see him again. It had been more than twenty years since he had gone away for good, and most of her family had learned not to speak about him in front of her. The thought of Patrick walking the streets of Kinkerry made her anxious. The thought of him troubled her so much that she could barely concentrate and sat frozen to the chair in her kitchen. She made several attempts to stand up but the strength had completely gone from her legs, and her cold cup of tea sat untouched on the wrinkled plastic tablecloth.
Her head pounded from the rise in blood pressure and she drifted in thought until her daughter called out.
“For God’s sake. Mother!” cried Kiera. “Where've you been? I've been calling for ages. You had me scared half to death!”
Behind Kiera, came Maeve, Bonny and Liam, Kerry’s other children, and a host of grand-children who pushed and shoved their way to see how she was doing.
“Are you going to be sad for long, Gram?” asked little Meagan, who didn’t like to see anyone out of sorts.
“Shush now. Leave Gram alone,” warned Maeve to her youngest daughter.
“But what about the man who’s making her sad?” asked Meagan, who was not one to be left out of things. “Is he my Grampy?”
Kerry looked at little Meagan with her ringlets and curls that had come directly from Patrick Murphy’s side of the family, and for the first time, she realized that Patrick’s return was not all about her. Her children and grandchildren had a right to see him, even if she had no intentions of it at all.
“We’ve come to give you support,” confirmed Bonny boldly. “You shall not have to go alone.”
Kerry could hear ‘it’ in their voices. Even though ‘it’ was faint, and they wanted to show their support, ‘it’ was the voice of eagerness and excitement about their father’s return. They were happy that he had come home and they wanted him to meet his grandchildren. They were putting on a brave face for her, and trying to show their solidarity, but it was clear that they couldn’t wait to see him.
“It’s settled then,” said Kerry as she braced her hands on the table to stand up. “I have to get to work. They shall make a true mess of it without me,” she assured them. “You go along and find your father. The grandchildren will be pleased to meet him,” she added with a slight curl of her lip.
The girls and Liam looked at each other. They knew that they could not press her any further. They dearly wanted a reconciliation, but they realized from the iciness in her voice, that she didn’t want to talk about it anymore.
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Matthew Murphy Sr., better known as ‘Old Man Murphy’, had lived a long and prosperous life, and thanked God Almighty for it every day. However, he also had his fair share of regrets, and one of the greatest was the fact that he had allowed his grandson to be given away to the Morgans. His wife Neasa had thought it best for their teenage daughter to give up her child, but the decision had torn a strip out of his heart and caused significant pain for years.
Once the exchange had been done, young Patrick Murphy had become known as young Patrick Morgan, and no one looked back, that is, except for Matthew. He had watched the boy grow into a man, and dearly wished that he could just once, have been the grandfather that Patrick should have known.
When Matthew heard that Patrick had returned to Kinkerry, he jumped out of his easy rocker that sat by the big window that overlooked the ocean. Even though Neasa had passed on two years earlier, and he had promised her that he would ‘leave well enough alone’, he grabbed his overcoat and scarf, and headed for the cathedral. He planned to take the path along the edge of the cliffs and the hills; the path that skirted the town and the busy eyes that knew he was Patrick’s grandfather.
He could hardly believe that he might have another chance to make things right with the lad. He planned to ask Father Michael to negotiate the introductions and to help him ask for forgiveness.
Matthew pulled his collar tight around his neck to guard against the cold Atlantic wind, as his pant legs brushed against the tall grasses that edged the narrow path. He made his way over one hill and another until he reached the tiny orchard that nestled up to the back of the cathedral. He pushed open the worn iron gate and entered the walkway that meandered through the stunted trees that for centuries had born cherries and tiny sour apples.
Matthew made the sign of the cross over his heart and touched his lips with his fingers as he passed the graveyard where his Neasa had been put to rest. He had just turned the corner toward the steps of the cathedral when he was nearly knocked over by Leasy, who had all the appearances of trying to escape from something.
“Mind where you’re going,” cautioned Matthew, as he startled the hunched back man.
Leasy, who had been drinking communion wine for the entire morning, was barely able to stand up straight or think clearly. He had just spent the last hour secretly listening in on a conversation between Father Michael and Patrick, and could hardly believe all that he had learned. He hadn’t been one to revel in betraying the confidences that he had often been privy to in the cathedral, but in this case, he wasn’t so sure if he should keep a tight lip.
Leasy didn’t know which was the better secret of the lot. He hardly knew which one, if any, that he should tell the town's people first. Should he say that the priest of Kinkerry had been lying to the parish for years about where all the church money had come from? Should he say that the priest was being investigated by the Bureau of Taxes? Should he tell them that Patrick Morgan, the farmhand, had become Patrick Murphy the billionaire? Or, should he tell them that Patrick had paid for most of their children to go to college? Either way, Leasy thought that he had better head off to the pub, just for a quick stop, in order to help make up his mind about the whole matter.
“Go on!” cautioned Matthew, as he waved away the smell of alcohol left behind on Leasy’s trail.
Leasy stopped and turned to acknowledge him, and lifted his hand to point to the cathedral. He mumbled something but his words were incoherent.
Matthew had always felt sorry for a man who was chained to the drink and thought that Father Michael had been either extremely naive or extremely generous, to set up Leasy and his sons as the caretakers of the cathedral. Perhaps Michael thought that the proximity to the confessional booth would do them all some good.
“Is Father Michael in?” asked Matthew.
Again, Leasy raised his hand and waved his index finger back and forth. He tried to form words, but nothing came out.
“What are you trying to say, man?” asked Matthew.
Leasy tried hard to regain his composure, and with great effort, he stood tall and pointed to the road on the far side of town. Matthew looked in the distance, and because he still had the eyes of an eagle, he could just make out the priest’s car, as it sped away up the winding hill that led out of town and out of Kinkerry.
“Patrick. Gone with Michael,” stammered Leasy uneasily.
Matthew didn’t answer and turned to walk away.
“Patrick. Taxes. No one knows,” added Leasy.
Matthew did not like the sound of that. People did not respond well to the word ‘taxes’. Even if it was innocent, there would be many who would think otherwise.
Matthew’s heart sank at the thought of his grandson being in trouble with the law, and he was more than aware that idle tongues, especially drunk ones, could make things worse. He felt obliged to do something good for Patrick, so he gently placed his arm on Leasy’s shoulder and asked him if he would like to go back to his place for a hot drink.
Leasy agreed and was thrilled to have an audience, especially such a nice one. Most of the people at the pub laughed at him and mocked his tall tales, so he was warmed by the thought of having the ear of such a generous man as Matthew.
The two unlikely cohorts trekked back over the narrow path that skirted the edge of town, to share a cup of hot tea and warm scones. As Leasy sobered up, Matthew became alarmed but kept a poker face, as he listened to the amazing story of his long lost grandson.
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Kerry told her kids that she would bury herself in her work at the shop, but she also knew that as long as Patrick remained in Kinkerry, she would eventually run into him. Therefore, after they left her house, she packed a few belongings into a small suitcase, the one that Father Michael had bought for her, and called a taxi.
She also called the travel bureau and booked a flight to New York City. She left a note on her kitchen table that read: Kiera, I’m away on business and will be back in a few days. I’ll call later. Love, Mom