There’s a beautiful sense of wonder written all over Evelyn’s face as she descends the jet and takes in the beauty of the Gifford Family Ranch. This Ranch has been in our family for generations, an offset from the farms back in Ireland, and it’s the one place in the world where I know it’s safe to be me.
Being back here after so long comes with a few unexpected weights. I need to see Ma, but I’m not ready to face her. The pain that I’m sure to see in her eyes will make it all the harder to keep a lid on my own.
So instead, I choose to focus on Evelyn. She holds my hand tightly as we walk from the airfield and she declines the offer to take a cart and drive to the Ranch house. Instead, she wants to walk in the crisp air and take in everything around her, so I stay by her side. We walk past fields of freshly planted crops, although I can’t tell her what they are as it’s been too long since I was part of the farming side of things. The next few fields have some cows and horses that make Evelyn’s eyes go so wide it’s a wonder they don’t pop out of her head, and she gets the giggles when a cow comes charging down the field to greet us at the fence.
Her shyness in reaching out to pet the animal’s muzzle is just as cute as her delight at finally reaching to scratch the cow’s nose. Today is a lot of firsts for her. By the time we reach the ranch house, the sun has turned the entire world a warm, burnt orange and Dale has already delivered our suitcases up to the rooms. My mother is nowhere in sight, though, so as much as I’d like to collapse into bed, I know I have to greet her.
Evelyn stays by my side, staring in awe all around her as we head to the nearest barn. This late in the evening, there’s only one place I can think Ma will be and her telltale sharp tones dart through the air as soon as I haul open the door.
“Wesker! Get off your sister! Don’t think I won’t exclude you to the other coop, you little rat!”
A flurry of squawks answers her, followed by the sound of scattered seed hitting the ground. Suddenly, my palm is clammy and my calm heart turns up a notch. We cross the straw-covered floor, and Evelyn’s hand tightens in mine, then we turn past the last wall and my mother comes into view.
She’s dressed in jeans and a checkered shirt, with her crimson hair scooped into a bundle atop her head. Numerous chickens dart about at her feet and she occasionally uses her boot to push back some of the more rowdy girls. A basket sits under one arm, and she gathers a handful of seed from it, then scatters it down to the noisy chickens.
“Greedy fuckers, the lot of ye’,” she grumbles.
“Hey, Ma.”
She freezes, then turns so abruptly that a wave of seed is ejected from the basket. The chickens go crazy for the extra food while my mother stares at me with open shock on her face. She blinks, and her eyes shine.
“Oh, Cormac,” she snaps. “You’re so late I thought you weren’t coming!”
“Sorry, Ma.”
She dumps the basket aside, then charges toward me at an impressive speed for someone so short. As soon as she reaches me, she grabs me by the collar and drags me down into a hug so tight it’s a wonder I’m able to breathe. “Come here, you big lug,” she mutters, and emotion clogs her voice. “About time you came home.”
“Sorry it took me so long,” I reply. “You know how it is.” For a second, I’m twelve years old again, burying in my mother’s hair after a rough day at school or hiding in her arms after a nightmare. No matter how old I get or how dark the world is, she remains a pillar in my life. I circle my arms around her and cuddle her tightly, and for a long moment there’s nothing but the stuffed clucks of fat hens and the occasional creak of the barn.
“Alright, let me look at you.” She pushes me back and brushes her hands down my shirt, looking me over with a sharp eye. “You eating right? Drinking enough?”
“Aye, Ma.”
“Don’t Aye me if you’re bullshittin’.”
“I ain’t.”
“Good.” Satisfied, she turns to Evelyn who resembles a deer in headlights. “And who is this?”
“Ma, this is Evelyn. Evie, this is my Ma, Clodagh.”
“It’s nice to meet you, Mrs. Clodagh,” Evelyn says in her politest voice. She holds out her hand to shake, and then her eyebrows fly up to her hairline when Ma swats her hand away and pulls her in for a hug.
“We don’t do that shite here,” she says with a hearty chuckle. “An’ call me Ma. It’s lovely to meet you! Thought I’d be dead and buried before Cormac brought a girl home.”
The urge to correct her rises, but when Evelyn merely blushes and ducks her head, I choose not to. The circumstances are odd, to say the least, but considering Evelyn my girl, even for a little while, is nice.
“It’s lovely to meet you too.” Evelyn laughs softly, and her cheeks are crimson by the time the hug is over. She seems stunned at being greeted with such warmth, and I’m briefly reminded of her phone call with her own mother.
“Look at you. When was the last time you had a decent meal, hmm?” Ma asks, looking Evelyn over.
“She was stabbed,” I remind Ma. “So be careful.”
“I’m always careful,” Ma snaps, nudging Evelyn with a wink. “Don’t worry, chick, there’s not a soul around here that hasn’t been on the wrong end of a blade.”
“Ain’t that the truth.” I snort, amused.
“Anyway…” Ma ducks and snatches up her dropped basket, rubbing her forehead as she watches the last of the spilled seed be consumed. “These damn birds. I better see extra eggs tomorrow!”
Basket in hand, she begins to lead the way out of the barn. “Cormac, Saoirse tells me you met with the Godmother.”
“Aye.”
“And?”
I grimace. “It’s not looking good.”
“It’s not been looking good since…” She trails off, unable to say Brenden’s name. Outside the barn, she breathes deeply and when she turns to me, her bright smile is back. “We’re feasting tonight because we have a special guest, so make sure you wash that jet stink off you before you come to dinner. You too, dear.”
With a wink at Evelyn, Ma turns and strides away to the ranch house with impressive speed.
“Wow,” Evelyn breathes. “Your mom is amazing.”
“Yes.” I nod. “She is.”
“I thought she was going to yell at me at first.” Evelyn laughs awkwardly and presses the back of her hand to her flaming cheeks. “It was kind of scary.”
“She’s the scariest, nicest person you will ever meet,” I reply. “She’d feed the enemy a good meal before killing them just so no one can say she’s a bad hostess.”
“Wow.” Evelyn shakes her head in awe. “What about your dad?” She looks around as if expecting an Irishman to sprout from the ground and introduce himself. “Is he just as scary?”
“He was,” I say quietly.
“Was?” Evelyn’s head snaps to me, her eyes wide. “Oh, is he…? I’m so sorry.”
“Nothing like that,” I assure her, then I offer her my elbow. “He’s not dead.”
“Oh.” Evelyn loops her hand through my arm. “So he’s…”
“He’s in Ireland,” I say, ignoring the familiar twang of loss that rises at the thought of him. “We lost him a few years ago to Alzheimer’s. It was so rapid, it was sort of hard to believe. We tried everything to soothe him, including sending him back to his homeland in the hope of easing his mind. It soothes him, but not in the way we hoped. I think we all thought as soon as he was among the Irish moors again, he would remember us and be cured. Instead, he’s happy and lost.”
“Oh, Cormac.” Evelyn’s voice is soft. “I’m so sorry. That’s awful.”
“It was tough but…” My jaw tightens and I pet her hand. “There’s nothing we can do.”
“I never imagined someone like you growing up in a place like this,” she says quietly, changing the subject as we walk toward the house.
“What, not enough flannel?”
“No.” Evelyn laughs. “This is just so… all this open air and the animals, the nature and everything. You seem like you’re cut from city stone, that’s all.”
“Well, fertilizer is a great front for getting weapons across international waters,” I tease, and Evelyn laughs loudly.
“I can’t tell whether you’re being serious or not.”
“No one wants to dig through shit, that’s all I’m saying,” I reply, leaving her in the mystery of the truth.
Her laughter forces away the ache in my heart, so I focus on her happy, smiling face and briefly tighten my hand over hers. Despite everything, she remains light and it eases my heart.
“Enough of that, though. You’ve got a ham to carve.”
“What?” Evelyn stops in her tracks. “In front of everyone?”
“Yep. House rules, I’m afraid. Guest carves. Come on, it won’t be that bad.”
