The Dust of 100 Dogs - A. S. King [32]
She yelled two things before she fainted completely in Mary’s arms. “Traitor! Bastard!”
Emer lived one more year in the west with her aunt and uncle. From the night she’d called Martin a “traitor bastard” she was kept in the house or in the yard, not allowed to do chores that would take her more than fifty feet from the front door. But she still saw Seanie during secret nighttime escapes. Her cousins gladly covered for her, in the knowlege that they would have more room in the bed for themselves.
Uncle Martin had arranged for her travel to France, where an important man was waiting to make her his bride. Emer listened to this plan, always knowing that things wouldn’t come to that, always knowing she would end up with Seanie somehow.
At night, they would nuzzle in their small cave, sometimes caressing each other’s damp skin, sometimes kissing for hours on end. Seanie was turning into a fine man. His hands had calluses and his muscles were more developed, although he was still skinny and underfed. Emer adored his strong arms, which were now growing a layer of manly hair and bulging with hard muscle.
She spent her days doing chores, basic English lessons that Martin still insisted on, and needlework. Her uncle hired her out to stitch other people’s clothing, and used the money she earned to save for her future journey and to buy brew for himself. He told her once that he would miss her, but he only meant he’d miss the small change she could make for his nightly mug. He’d been getting lame over the years, slowly limping more and more until he needed a splint on his right leg and a cane to get anywhere. That year, he’d stopped hitting his family. Mary secretly thanked Emer once for facing up to him, as if she’d had something to do with his change of heart. In fact, Martin stopped hitting the family simply because he could no longer win a chase or balance long enough to strike.
Emer rose on her fourteenth birthday expecting the same old nothing. She’d spoken to her mother the night before, and vowed to follow her heart and run away with Seanie. But, to her surprise, when she woke up the family was waiting for her at the table by the fire, each wishing her a happy birthday. This couldn’t be right. No one here had ever acknowledged her birthday before.
“How did you know?” she asked, still sleepy.
“How could we not know?” her cousin asked, now almost a grown man himself. “Since you arrived, Father hasn’t stopped talking about the day he could get rid of you!”
“Peter, don’t say such things! She’s only out of bed.”
“Get rid of me?”
“Now Emer, don’t go getting upset. This is what happens to all girls your age. Don’t be afraid.”
“Afraid of what?” she asked, hearing something moving outside the door of the house.
“We’ll miss you,” Mary added.
“You don’t make any sense,” Emer said, looking around the table. “What’s going on here?”
“I’ve packed your bag and put a special dress in there for you. You’ll see it when you get there. Don’t peek and ruin the surprise.”
“Get where?” The door swung wide and collided with a small trunk. Everyone in the house jumped at the sound.
“Have you her things packed?” Martin barked from the doorway.
“In the case. It’s all there.”
Emer tried to run through the back door, but Mary stopped her. “Don’t go being stupid now. You have a bright future in Paris.”
“I’m not going to Paris,” Emer began, just as her uncle entered. “I won’t leave Ireland.”
“Oh, you’ll get to Paris. I’m going to make sure of it.”
Emer looked at Mary, wide-eyed.
“He’s going with you,” Mary explained, still doubting his reasons.
Emer started to cry and ran again for the back door. Mary stopped her, but Emer pushed her to the side and ran to the well.
Seanie stood halfway between the field and the well, and by the time he saw her crying into her hands, Martin had sent his son Peter to drag Emer back to the house. She waved to him with two fingers and blew a kiss, and made a huge scene