Redemption - Leon Uris [10]
Liam could tell the instant he saw Mildred that something terrible had happened.
“Rory!”
“No, he’s all right,” Mildred assured. “In fact he’s been mumbling to me about the curse of his temper. He feels badly about being such a nark.”
He damned well should! Too bloody right! Liam thought. That latest little piss-up cost me three hundred fucking quid. Three hundred quid! You could buy half of County Donegal with that!
“Good,” Liam said, “the other kids?”
“They’re fine. Everyone is waiting in the parlor.”
They were gathered about the fireplace as the squire was wont to do for a prayer and chat before supper. Rory’s head hung low as he poked the fire.
Well, someone caught him a good one in the chops, Liam observed. I hope to hell it hurts down to his pisser.
Liam became aware of the silence. Then he saw it on the table. A cable envelope. What the hell! We get cables, lots of them. Ballyutogue Station in New Zealand must have gotten twenty cables last year. He lifted it. It bore a black star, indicating a death.
“We’ve been waiting for you to open it,” Mildred said.
OUR BELOVED BROTHER CONOR IS DEAD STOP HE WAS KILLED LEADING A RAIDING PARTY WHICH DESTROYED AN ULSTER VOLUNTEER ARMY ARSENAL AT LETTERSHAMBO CASTLE STOP WE ARE NEGOTIATING WITH THE BRITISH FOR THE RETURN OF HIS REMAINS STOP A LETTER OF DETAIL FOLLOWS STOP GOD REST HIS SOUL AND GOD BE WITH YOU IN YOUR MOMENT OF GRIEF STOP DARY LARKIN
4
Liam afforded himself a quick glance at their distraught faces then left the wreckage for Millie to contend with.
Rory stopped his father on the stairs. “Da,” he croaked.
What the hell, Liam thought, you loved Conor more than you loved me. “I need to be alone, boy,” he said.
As he pushed open the bedroom door, Liam could hear the family weeping in the parlor, which was suddenly punctuated by a door slam, Rory’s signature that he was going flat tack to get drunk.
Mildred made heavy-footed haste up the stairs to the bedroom where Liam was packing his kit. He was all Liam now, containing his grief. He reckoned he would head again to the high meadow for whatever delayed reaction might come. In went a bottle of poteen, a vile moonshine. He creaked the springs of the bed as he worked on a pair of hobnail boots.
“I need to be alone.”
“There are others here with needs as well,” she snapped.
“I’m no good at this, Millie. You’ll have to do it for me.”
“Let me come.”
“No.”
“At least have a word with Rory.”
“Shyte, he’s probably halfway down to the junction already. Damned kid can hold more booze than my old man could.”
“Rory didn’t leave,” Millie persisted. “He’s in the barn. He’s weeping.”
Rory weeping? Rory seldom cried, except in a rage. Sure, he’d be weeping now. Conor was all to him. For ten years Rory has been trying to walk in Conor’s footsteps. Just what Ireland needs, another fucking Larkin martyr. “Rory has never needed my comfort,” Liam said.
“Liam. This house is shattered! Touch him! Just touch him and tell him we’ll get through it together.”
“I’m no good at this, Millie.”
“One word of kindness could have saved a lot of tears.”
“I…ugh…I’ll try.”
Liam entered the barn gingerly and turned up the lantern, mesmerized by the sobs coming from the far end. The flicker showed Rory on a hay bale, face in hands. Liam opened a stall, led his mare out and saddled her, as Rory watched in torment.
I know that look, Liam thought. I must have looked that grief-torn myself. Well, nothing can ever hurt me like that again. Nae, not even this news. So, what is it I’m supposed to say? he wondered. The damned fool corked it with no help from us. Daddy always said he’d end up from a hanging tree, one way or another. Fuck Ireland!
Liam cleared his throat. The two stared like startled deer caught in torchlight. Liam cleared his throat once more. Yes, Squire, he thought, you’re just like your daddy. Old Tomas would not have