Redemption - Leon Uris [86]
“I want to know more about Ireland…about Ballyutogue…”
“It’s a sore point with your da. He knew a thousand tons of misery there.”
“It’s not his misery,” Rory said abruptly. “It’s his fear of me knowing. The same fear he has of books. There’s a St. Patrick’s Day celebration every year and quite a time…except Daddy takes a deep breath in the morning and holds it all day. He hates it.”
“He’s your father, I’m only your uncle.”
“You defied your da,” Rory pressed.
It was so damned apparent that Liam was trying to make his son live in a vacuum, cut off physically and now spiritually from Ireland.
“What about me!” Rory cried suddenly.
“I’ll tell you about you,” Conor answered. “You have the world by the balls on a downhill pull, Rory. You rove because you’re in pain. You need not bash your skull in to learn that the world is a filthy place. Your daddy has struggled for the things you were born into. This farm is a full-fledged station and will be a giant sheep station in a few years. So, what’s the purpose of glinking yourself only to find out that New Zealand is one of God’s perfect creations.”
“The reason I don’t like it up on the crown of the hill where my daddy goes is because I can see the ocean from there. The water is an evil jailer.”
“Or the safest moat in the world, Rory. The wise ones figure that out before they have to suffer for it.”
“The wise ones…or the dull ones?” the boy answered. “Too much peace here seems to drive a lot of people to religion and drink.”
“It’s so strange, lad. You leave Ireland hating to go but forced to go. Here, you leave for no good reason at all, except misplaced curiosity.”
“That’s not true. Your books tell me why there is something more than we can find here.”
“Oh, you’ll go, Rory, because you must. But always keep your eye on this place and thank your parents who gave it to you.”
“Maybe I would if my daddy loved me.”
Conor’s throat went dry. There would be no side-slipping this lad. Conor/Rory…Rory/Conor and poor dear Liam confused about who was who and why. Maybe I shouldn’t have come here, Conor thought. But why not? I did for my brother what I could. I righted my wrongs to him. Five years at sea brought me to a desperation of loneliness. Am I not entitled to my brother’s hand? Yet, has my coming here set off another cycle of Larkin madness?
“Of course your daddy loves you,” Conor finally said. “It’s just that he doesn’t have a way with words.”
“He has a way with them, all right, when they’re meant to bite,” Rory answered.
“He does love you, but things move slowly inside him. It is you who must give him time to work it out.”
“I was just about born a bastard,” Rory snapped.
“Well, that sort of thing happens all the time. It’s normal and natural. After all, they sat you down and told you about it. That’s love.”
“They never told me. It was shit on my head in the schoolyard one day.”
Oh Liam! You dumb son of a bitch, Conor thought. Letting your lad suffer the pains of the unwanted. Conor’s arm went around Rory’s shoulders and the boy rested his head on his uncle’s chest. Rory never felt so protected, so cared for, so invincible as now.
“You’re but eleven, but you are wiser in many regards than your parents. It is you who must continue to be the understanding and patient one.”
“I try, Uncle Conor. I keep it stuffed until the fits overtake me, and when they do, it is beyond my will to stop myself. Then, I have to break things apart. It keeps happening over and over, and it will until I break loose of them here.”
“What is it you’re sporting for, boy?”
“Ireland.”
“But Jaysus, Rory…”
“Uncle Conor, this farm is Ireland, from morning to night. It carries an Irish name. The proprietor is Irish. These acres were misplaced in New Zealand. Every hour you and me have not talked about Ireland, Ireland was