IRISH BLUE - BOOK 4 THE CHAIR A novel by Sheila Willar Copyright 2016 Sheila Willar
ISBN 978-0-9867101-4-8
CHAPTER 1 ............................ UH OH!
It was Valentine’s Day and Erin planned to spend the evening alone, but her cousin Kelly was planning to have the most romantic night of her life. Erin felt empty, but Kelly felt as if the apartment had been sprinkled with pixie dust.
Kelly had been looking forward to Valentine’s Day for weeks. She was on top of the world with excitement about her date with Matthew. He was taking her to their favourite restaurant and she was wearing her new sequinned dress. She was sure that he was going to propose. He had been so secretive and nervous over the last several weeks and she had heard that he had already talked with her father.
“There he is now!” squealed Kelly as a cab pulled up outside. A flash of light shimmered down her dress as she beamed a smile towards Erin that was so bright and warm that Erin couldn’t help but smile back. “See you later!” she sang, as her shoes tapped their way swiftly down the flight of hollow wooden stairs to meet her prince.
Erin leaned against the door and sighed heavily. Valentine’s Day had always been a wash out. Her mother told her that Valentine’s Day had nothing to offer but foolishness. She had warned her girls not to fall victim to the kind of silliness that would empty them of their senses and their hard earned cash.
Erin had gotten used to temporary happiness and despite her naturally cheerful disposition, her upbringing had just about emptied her of expecting good things to happen. She learned that when something wonderful came her way, it would eventually break, be stolen or have to be given back, as if the good that landed on her had done so by mistake. A sense of permanence and belonging had alluded her for such a long time, that on this Valentine’s Night in particular she felt the ache of an accumulative emptiness.
Despite the challenge of helping Father Michael find the seventh chapel, it was loneliness that threatened to undo her, and despite the return of her long absent father, Erin still felt no sense of surety. Her father’s secretary had sent her a cheque book and a letter stating that a large sum of money had been deposited in a bank account in her name, but Erin had only been able to spend a few dollars of it to buy text books, fearing that whatever she used would have to be paid back. It never once occurred to her that she could afford just about anything she wanted, so she lived on a meagre student loan that grew more burdensome with time.
Erin paced as she tried to think of a way to deal with the disappointment of the evening. Ever since Kelly had changed her focus from “Matthew the boyfriend” to “Matthew the husband” and started making wedding plans, Erin had been affronted almost daily with the widening gap between their lives. The constant reminder that she was getting older and that other people were moving on, had developed in her the very uncomfortable feeling of “being left behind”.
“Food!” was the most obvious choice to redeem the evening. She decided to fill it with something sweet or salty or both. Within a few minutes she was out the door and inside the small entryway of the corner pub, where she ordered enough food for two. She tried to give the young man behind the counter the impression that she was going to take it home to share with someone special. After she ordered she stepped aside to let couples pass from the barren take-out section into the main room, where they sat at a small intimate tables and leaned in to whisper over flickering candle light.
As Erin waited in the outer bounds of the pub she counted things; the number of bare muddy tiles on the cold entry-way floor, the beads of molten lead on the stained-glass windows, and the spikes of thistle etched on the frosted glass that separated her from the table that was next to the doorway. It was there, while bracing herself against the chill, that she overheard the students at the table discuss plans to raid one of the Dean’s offices at the university.
“Idiots!” thought Erin. Raiding a Dean’s office was the Holy Grail of campus pranks but it was also a ticket to serious trouble. If they were caught trespassing they could be charged or expelled. She turned on her heels and scanned the kitchen for signs of her order. Smoke and steam rose from the fryers like great plumes from industrial stacks but there were no take-out boxes being filled.
“Join us,” was the invitation from a quiet voice.
Erin was startled and turned to see a handsome young man with a steady grin. He pointed to the table that was behind the frosted glass.
“No!” blurted out Erin without thinking. She was used to saying a firm “NO!” to strangers regardless of their request.
The young man introduced himself as “Finn” and flashed a smile that could almost rival Kelly’s for warmth and lightheartedness, though it did have a hint of mischievousness in the corner that should have kept her at bay. His presence was so inviting and her emptiness so deep, that she felt herself giving in to the ‘Devil may care’ attitude that grips lonely hearts.
“Not in a million years,” she heard herself say out loud.
“I would wait a million years for you,” he answered plainly.
Erin was startled. “Look, you are getting yourself into a heap of trouble and I want no part of it.”
“Ah. But what fun trouble it would be. We’re only after Professor McColly’s chair. We’re going to swap it with the Head of Women’s Studies’ Chair. You know how much he love’s “Women’s Studies”.
Erin had to admit that it sounded very wry, her type of fun, but she shuddered at the thought of such abandon.
“You could be our look-out, nothing terribly dangerous,” he suggested.
Then the others joined him, three young men and a girl who said they had to hurry because they heard that the Dean had just left the campus.
“Come with us!” encouraged Finn.
“Valentine’s Special #2!” called the man from behind the counter as he held up Erin’s order to go.
Erin grabbed the bag of food with one hand and Finn’s outstretched hand with the other.
……………………………………………
Kelly beamed as she took her seat and smoothed the flat of her hands over the brilliant white table cloth. Matthew sat across from her and looked none too well. He was polite and attentive and had clearly thought things through. He had already asked the waiter to bring them their favourite drinks and foods without them having to order.
“Kelly,” swallowed Matthew.
“Yes,” beamed Kelly.
“I. I have to tell you something,” he stammered.
“Yes,” grinned Kelly enthusiastically. Her mind was a string of “Yes! Yes! Yes’s!”
“I am transferring to Law. That is, I have already transferred to Law,” he said with an inflection in his voice, as if it was a question.
“Yes,” replied Kelly slowly.
“I’ve started already,” he explained.
“That’s nice. A bit unusual, but nice. I thought Law was difficult to get in to, from what I’ve heard. Won’t you have missed some classes already?” Kelly was hurt that she did not know about the change but she tried to hide her feelings.
“Well. The truth is that your father put in a good word for me and I was able to get in right away.”
“My father?”
“I met with him a few weeks ago. I asked him for your hand in marriage.”
Kelly drew a sudden deep breath and let it out slowly between her barely parted lips.
“I want you to marry me Kelly. I want you to be my wife. The problem is however, that after this semester I have to transfer to London to finish my degree. It will only take a few years and then we can be married.”
Kelly said nothing, but a slow stream of steam began to leak from the pressure that had built up behind her ears.
“You could come with me. You aren’t really interested in studies anyway. We could live together in London until I finish. You would enjoy the shopping,” offered Matthew, hoping that the word “shopping” would appease her.
Kelly could feel the muscles tighten in her neck. The two men in her life that she loved the most were idiots. It was true that she didn’t take studying very seriously, but she poured her heart and soul into her designs. Fashion was life itself, and even though she knew it was all fluff to most of the world, including Matthew, she was drawn to it as bees to honey. She had a passion for form and texture and she was as good at it as anyone else, and had been told so by several designers. The fact that Matthew had passed it off as “shopping” was a tactless insult.
Kelly’s father disapproved of Matthew, even though they were ironically alike. Her father had a different “it” girl on his arm every few months and Matthew wanted her to follow him to London to become a lapel pin on his coat.
“I can see that you are hurt,” spoke Matthew slowly, “ but I am hurting too. I have a lot of catching up to do in class and the pressure to perform is enormous. I’ve asked you to marry me. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
Kelly’s face turned a bright red and the governor that normally kept the steam from popping her head right off, had released the pressure all at once. The anticipation of the most romantic evening of her life, juxtaposed against Matthew’s stark insensitivity, woke her up from her romantic fantasy. The sudden change in the direction of the wind had filled her sails with anger. She stood up and grabbed her purse.
“Have you gone stark raving mad? Are you nuts? You can marry my father and his money. You can marry your precious Law degree, but you won’t be marrying me!” With that she turned and vanished into the street and into a cab that took her straight home.
Immediately she phoned her father and left a message. “Hello Father, it’s me, Kelly. Congratulations. You’re right as usual. Matthew is not “the one” for me. But I am getting married. It turns out that the cab driver is free! Say Hello to Dad George. Kelly held her phone up close to the cab driver so that he could be heard.
A roguish voice beamed from the background, “Hello Dad.”
“You’ll like him,” assured Kelly before she ended the call.
……………………………………………
Father Michael was the kind of priest who was steady and easy going. He balanced the straight and narrow of the church with the practicalities of everyday life and he followed an inner “knowing” that connected him to God in a way that few people have ever experienced. However, a life-long passion for architecture had led his nose down a road that had unearthed one too many secrets. While the information was not new to the bureaucratic elite of the church, the bringing of it to the surface was, and it had created all sorts of problems.
Michael had circumnavigated Ireland in search of seven chapels that had been built from “Thee Irish Blue Stone”, a priceless sedimentary rock that was thought to have been present in the Garden of Eden, and to have the distinct trait of recording the Voice of God. He had been successful in finding all seven chapels and he had returned to Kinkerry for a much needed rest. However, the notion of an Irish priest acting without authority had gained the ire of his superiors. Combined with the revelation that Bishop O’Flannan, the Bishop of County Kinkerry, was his biological father, Michael was about to be placed on a very fast train to the back of nowhere.
Father Michael was busy preparing for Valentine’s Day and its usual stream of broken hearts and hearts desperate to be married, so it was no surprise when there was a knock at the front door of his apartment.
“Father Michael I presume,” stated a little round priest with a hunch back and a crooked nose that curved towards the floor. There was no eye contact.
“Yes?” answered Michael in surprise, as the stout priest pushed his way into the apartment.
“The car is waiting to take you to Dublin. You had best be on your way,” he announced.
“Pardon me?” asked Michael still trying to be polite.
“I am here to relieve you,” said the glob of black as it hunted for the kitchen and a bite to eat.
“Excuse me?” asked Michael insolently.
The impish little man finally looked up at Michael and peered directly into his eyes. “Son. They are waiting for you this night in Dublin. There’s much explaining to do. You can’t unearth Irish Blue and expect nothing to happen, now can you?”
Michael thought how ironic that on the night that the world was supposed to celebrate “love”, he would become separated from his, the cathedral and the church family in County Kinkerry. It would be his last day with his beloved. He could hear the car running just outside the door.
He was asked to pack his bags and not to delay. He was told not to contact the people in the parish because the new priest would handle all the questions on the following day. He was told that he had been RE-assigned and that the cathedral in Kinkerry was no longer his concern. He was informed that he would be taken to Dublin that evening and would receive further instructions in the coming days.
Michael tried to hide the shock and disappointment on his face but he knew as surely as he knew anything, that once his superiors found out that he had initiated the “awakening”, then his time as a priest in Ireland would come to an end.
Michael was not looking forward to being grilled with questions. His nerves were still raw from his encounter with the Irish Blue stones. He had seen and heard things that troubled his soul. He was jittery and irritable and felt that he had only one choice. He decided to jump ship, to go AWOL.
Michael packed lightly, as he was told to do, but instead of taking the limousine, he slipped out the back door and jumped into his own car and fled the scene. He felt like a convict escaping prison, which was emotionally jarring, because what he wanted more than anything, was to travel in the opposite direction, and to lock himself inside the reassuring presence of the great stone cathedral that had been his home for the past two decades.
Kinkerry, the church, the people, the land, the sea, were all a part of his soul, where he had been born and raised, and where he could see himself in no other role, than as its protector, its priest. Michael felt as if he was abandoning his one true love. He headed straight for Dublin, not to meet with his elders, but to become lost in the city. If he was to become an outcast, he would do it on his own terms.
Michael’s mind raced with wild thoughts of remorse, guilt and shame. How would Kinkerry respond to his absence? No one would understand that he didn’t want to go, but that he had been forced to leave. He pictured old Mrs. Pardy, going on ninety, all dressed in her Sunday best, white lace gloves and all, waiting for him in the morning to take her to her doctor’s appointment, only be jilted and confused when he didn’t show up. He imagined the giant fuss that Liddie and Sandy Gillam would stir when he was a ‘no show’ for the christening of their baby, and his heart sank when he thought about the grief that would happen if the new priest was a real jaw-breaker during confession. He thought about turning around and taking a stand against his ‘firing’, but he knew that once the church had made up its mind, it was like a giant ocean going ship that could not be stopped on a dime. If there was anything that he could do, it would not be fast enough to prevent the sledge-hammer of a wedge that had been driven between him and his home.
Michael knew that going rogue was nearly a criminal act in the priesthood. He had always seen himself as a part of a community of priests. Ever since he was a kid, no one had to convince him that there was a God. He had always conversed with God so freely that he was sure that God talked to everyone else the same way. He had made a life-long commitment, a swearing of vows, a promise to stay true to the end; an end that seemed all too messy and all too near. His most immediate concern however, was that his superiors might call the Garda to return him to the church.
Michael drove to Dublin as if in a dream. He couldn’t feel his death grip on the wheel, nor his lead foot on the gas peddle. His eyes blurred the lights that passed by into one long steady stream of noise. He drove as if he were in a submarine that was racing to the surface for a gulp of air. He eft Kinkerry in a din of confusion, and had arrived in the city without any relief. He needed a place of sanctuary that was not associated with the “church”, and so before the clock struck twelve he found his way to Erin’s apartment. He hoped that his niece would give him refuge for the night, at least until he could decide what to do next.
Michael buzzed the doorbell to call upstairs.
“Go away!” yelled Kelly through the intercom.
Michael checked to see if he had rung the wrong apartment, and then tried again.
“Leave me alone!” insisted Kelly.
“It’s Father Michael. Is Erin home?” asked Michael.
Kelly was mortified. She thought that Father Michael was Matthew who had come to apologize.
“Sorry Father! Please come up,” answered Kelly sheepishly.
Michael’s shoes thumped heavily as he lumbered up the hollow boards of the cavernous stairs.
“You’re just in time Father. You can marry me and George,” announced Kelly as she swung the door open.
George sat in the corner and his eyes widened. Up until now he had thought that the whole thing was a lark, especially since Kelly had paid him handsomely to sit there and be quiet.
“Is Erin home?” asked Michael.
“No,” replied Kelly, “and I am getting really worried about her. She didn’t leave a note or anything and she usually tells me if she is going to be out late. Perhaps we should call the Garda and report her missing.”