DANCING AT THE CROSSROADS

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                                                                         Chapter Twelve

                                                                              Scene One

 

The rest of the week was very strange for Michael. Surprisingly he felt better and was able to spend most of the day-time hours downstairs. Summer was long gone and autumn too had slipped gently away as well, but the winter weather was bright and quite warm for the time of year. The weather people had warned that it was holding back the worst of what was yet to come. The Indian summer which had been promised had not quite materialized but neither had the season rushed headlong into winter. Michael had even enjoyed the nice bonus of being able to spend some time in Molly's little front garden. He continued to enjoy a steady trickle of visitors, mostly children but also a couple of visits from Seamus.

        His two sons Ben and Danny had negotiated with Mr Brown for a long term hire of a car and were in and out constantly taking Molly to the shops or to visiting the brothers. When possible Michael joined them and if that had not been possible when they returned they would treat him to a summery of the salient points of their trips. The boys  had made themselves very popular with all the members of the clan, and even Donny's 'couldn't care less’ attitude became less noticeable. Despite their less than youthful years they seemed to be acting more like children than children, without forgetting why they were there. Of course they had quickly recognised the gulf that existed between their father and their uncles Richard and Donald, and just as quickly decided it was not only a problem for their seniors; it was a problem that they too should play a part in resolving. Accordingly they had treated their uncles with a certain deference and were pleased to notice less frostiness in their manner, if not yet a complete thaw. For the moment however they had felt it prudent to visit only when Michael was not with them.

        Despite all this activity the days seemed to drag for Michael and he felt a feeling of disloyalty. He could not quite come to terms in his thinking, knowing that he should be content with two sons. Yet he longed for the week-end to arrive when Matt would come to see him. Matt; his first son,  the son he yearned for, but could not have.

        The arrival on Thursday morning of his doctor on his weekly visit had added a little relief, as had his treatment. Indeed his doctor was up-beat in his assessment, adding only the warning to "take it easy." and then rather less optimistically, "It's a pity you did not start this treatment sooner." But overall his comments were encouraging.

       When Saturday came it was as though the long week had flown,  even though conversely his longing had seemed to drag it out. He paced the floor impatiently all day, but Connie and Matt did not arrive. It was a bitter blow and he could not hide his disappointment from Molly.  While Michael had not confided in his sister verbatim he had kept her in the picture to a large degree and so she knew pretty well which way the wind was blowing. That her brother had abandoned his quest to reunite with his son was clear,  but she knew, despite his words, that if for whatever reason a change should occur in Connie’s position Michael would seize the opportunity to get closer to Matt

        Unlike Michael Molly had not been looking forward to their visit. Though she was now on very good terms with Connie, she had never met her son, and knowing as she did that he was also Michael's son and therefore her nephew, was something that she did not know if she could cope with. But despite his relative improvement Michael was not well enough to make the visit to Connie's house so there was no other way. She would have to put on a brave face.

        When Molly awoke on Sunday morning it was dark and cold. The sky, which during the previous few days had been clear, was now cloudy, and a gusty wind forced light rain against the windows. Autumn had finally given way to winter.

        As always on a Sunday morning Molly busied herself with breakfast preparations. With the arrival of Ben and Danny the house had become very cramped and meals had been difficult for Molly and she had been pleased when, after a week or two, her brother Brian, aware of the difficult situation had offered the boys accommodation at his much larger house. The boys, anxious to fit in as best they could, but not wanting to leave their father suggested a compromise. They would stay with Brian at the weekends.

        So the Sunday breakfast table, at least for the time being, was once again set for two.

        That she would be going to mass on her own this time did not change anything, just as it had not done the previous week. Michael would have to wait for her return. Father Power had promised to call later in the day to give him a blessing so Molly was content that the essentials were taken care of.

        When she returned it was with a lighter step for she had good news for Michael. As usual after the Mass the family had congregated outside the church where matters of interest to them all were discussed. It was an informal arrangement but useful for it was the only time in the week that some of them saw other family members. Inevitably the main subject of this days gathering was Michael's progress.

        "They're all willing you on." Molly told Michael. "Even Richard said he hoped you will improve quickly."

        "Did he now. Perhaps there's hope for me after all." Michael responded somewhat flippantly.

        "Oh I'm sure he meant it; he seemed to be genuine. And don't forget I know him better than you."

         As they discussed the merits of Richard's apparent change of heart they both took up their breakfast duties, Molly in the kitchen, and Michael completing the settings. Michael had enjoyed a good nights sleep and felt much improved and while Molly was at church he had washed and dressed and made his way downstairs.

        Breakfast over the two of them sat down before the open fire. It was warm and cosy, and the rain against the windows, changing in intensity as the showers swept by, induced a sense of well being. It was a cosiness from which they did not wish to be disturbed.  But disturbed they were.

        Molly was almost slumbering when a knock on the door brought her back to her senses. "Who on earth can that be?" she muttered as she moved towards the door. When she opened it there was Connie with a tall young man standing just behind her.

        "Come in come in," she said urgently, "and get out of the rain."

        "I hope it's alright coming on a Sunday, Connie asked apologetically.

        "Of course it is. It's just that we were expecting you yesterday."

        "I know and I'm sorry. Matt’s car broke down and he didn't arrive until after tea time. It's a pity you're not on the phone..." she added, but left the rest of her explanation unspoken.

        Molly had never felt the need for a telephone. "What do I want with a telephone?" she had always argued when her brothers dared to broach the subject. "I’ve got two strong legs haven't I, and anyway who would I ring?"

        It was a perennial; it came up every year like the roses, but Molly could never be convinced that the benefit of the phone was not only that she could ring people, but that people could ring her.

        While making her apologies Connie had reached back and pulled Matt forward. "Molly, this is my son Matthew, but everyone calls him Matt." As they shook hands she looked to her son, "And this is my good friend Molly."

        "Pleased to meet you Molly." Matt said warmly. "Of course I have met your brother, is he not at home?"

        "Yes, he's waiting for you in the front room. He's been a bit off colour for a while but the last few days have been better; he's looking forward to seeing you again; please come through."

        Molly had been very circumspect during the introduction knowing that she was meeting a man with whom she shared a common ancestral blood line, but most importantly knowing that she must not show any knowledge of that fact. In the event that concern quickly passed, and soon she was the confident host. It was not lost on her that Matt was all that Michael had said he would be. Charming, intelligent, and easy to be with. When he smiled she saw something familiar in his eyes, and his frequent soft laugh made her feel close. The mood was light and enjoyable, and despite her stance Molly could not help a feeling of kinship. Now she understood why her brother so wanted this person, no longer a child - indeed well beyond the flushness of his youth and now a proud grown man - to be his son.

        The time came for the obligatory cup of tea, and when Molly left to prepare a little snack Connie joined her. Michael seized the opportunity to speak one to one with Matt. He suspected however that it was not just by chance that they had been left together. This was a test. Connie was putting her trust in him to keep his word, and Michael would not betray that trust. But he was somewhat trumped by Matt's opening remark.

        "Mum tells me that you and my dad were friends until they were married, but then you went away."

        "Yes we were. Two kids born in adjoining houses at about the same time. We were in each others life from the very beginning. More like brothers than brothers." Michael added with a whimsical smile.

        "It must have been a shock for you when you discovered he had died."

        This was very uncomfortable for Michael. It was nothing more than his guilty conscious of course but it felt as though Matt knew it all. "It certainly was." was all he managed in reply. Would he ever get the chance to tell Matt that he thought he had killed his father? Would he ever get the chance to ask him for his forgiveness?

        "I expect you knew my mother as well." Matt somehow pulled Michael out of the dark fog that seemed to have enveloped him.

        "Oh yes; I knew your mother very well. We were a kind of trio for a few years; and in any case Ballymay was a much smaller village then. Everyone pretty well knew everyone."

        "What made you leave?"

        This was it. The question Michael least wanted to answer. He had given his word. Connie had placed her trust in him. He could not tell the truth, but he was unwilling to lie.

        "Lots of things really." He looked at Matt wondering how he would react. "But one of the main things was that I fell out big time with Co'lin."

        "With my dad?"

        "Yes, your dad." It was a big effort for Michael to use those words, but he felt he could do little else. "We had been friends since we were in nappies and we fell out as often as we fell in, but in the end we fell out over a woman."

        "A woman?" Matt echoed. "Any prizes for guessing which woman?" Matt asked, bearing a curious if not surprised expression.

        "No I guess not; but please don't say anything to Connie. It's a long time ago and everything has changed."

        "Are you telling me that you and my dad were both in love with my mother?"

        "Yes I am; but he won fair and square, and Connie could not have had a better husband; or you a better father."

        "That's very generous of you, and somehow I feel sure that if it were the other way about he would have said the same. In any case I'm sure mum is glad that you came back to Ballymay."

        "I wonder? Michael smiled somewhat laconically, "perhaps you should ask your mother about that."

        Just then the door from the kitchen was pushed open by Connie carrying a tray, and Michael was just able to say a quiet, "Don't forget now; not a word."

        "You two had a good chat?" Connie asked as she put the tray down.

        Caught by Connie’s unexpected return Matt was unable to respond, but something like a two eyed half wink in Michael's direction conveyed his acquiescence.  Very soon tea and toasted teacakes changed the atmosphere and the conversation took on a less challenging aspect until the time came for the visitors to take their leave.

         Later when all in the cottage was settled and dark, Michael lay in his bed feeling strangely content. Matt and Connie's visit had gone well. He had met Matt's unintended challenge head on, and though he knew he had not told the whole truth, neither had he lied. What was more, without breaking his promise to Connie he had shared a confidence with his son. Jointly they had entered a conspiracy and he felt a great sense of attachment to him, almost a bond which he had not anticipated. Whether Matt felt it too he did not know. "Probably not", he conceded, but he was glad that he had not seemed too shocked at the revelation that he and his mother had known each other somewhat more intimately than she had previously divulged.

        "Perhaps," Michael's last thought before he drifted off into a contented sleep, "this is as good as it gets."

 

Chapter Twelve

Scene Two

 

More weeks passed and soon it was mid December. Christmas only a couple of weeks away but not quite near enough for Michael to feel its excitement. It was rather like an anticlimax before an event, anticipation muted by uncertainties and doubts. And to make things worse the weather was a flat grey. A grey sky without a hint of sunshine but without the threat of rain. Breezy but without the threat of a gale, nor the promise of calm. And a neutral temperature which threatened neither of the extremes of fire or ice. Grey and uneventful.

        One morning while Molly had gone to the shop Michael pottered around the cottage and its little garden, but there was not much to do. He strolled a little way along the dusty road passing the other cottages and heading towards the Beech tree. Finding no inspiration there he did not linger; merely pausing to wonder, somewhat away from the main priorities of his life, how old it might be. As a child, as a boy, and as a young man he did not remember that it had ever occurred to him to be curious about the tree. It was simply there, just as it always had been. Somehow it did not look any different, neither older or bigger, than at any time in his recollection, but now, for reasons that seemed strangely important he wanted to know. Is there anyone who could tell him.  Unlikely; he conceded. Despite his sudden interest he doubted if there was anyone else in the village who cared.

        He wondered slowly back to the cottage, his mind busily jumping from one thing to another, submerged under all the nothing thoughts and his going nowhere plans, while, almost in a state of trance he pondered his future. So much so that by the time he reached number eleven he almost walked straight into a man standing by the gate.

        "Michael," the man said, "are you alright?"

         "Hello Donny." Michael responded, somewhat surprised. "Yes; I'm sorry. I was day-dreaming I guess. Apart from not expecting anyone."

        "Sorry if I startled you."

        "Not your fault if I wasn't looking where I was going."

        "Fair enough; is Molly at home?"

        Michael was pleased that Donny had brought their mutual apologies to an end. It was slightly awkward, as was the memory of their last one to one encounter which had seen him dismissed, unwanted, from his doorstep.

        "No, I'm afraid she will be away the rest of the morning. A bit of shopping and then visiting a friend I think. Do you want to leave a message?"

        "Not at all," Donny replied. "As a matter of fact it might be better. I would like to talk to you."

        "The last time we spoke was very unpleasant," Michael said a little hesitantly, "another episode like that I can certainly do without."

        Donny too was hesitant, perhaps feeling some guilt as he recalled the incident. "I was very rude that day, and I am sorry. I promise you that there will be no repeat."

        "Glad to hear it. Shall we go inside?"

         Without asking Michael had put the kettle on and soon they were settled in front of a nice fire, each with a steaming beaker of tea to warm their hands, and, Michael hoped, their hearts.

        They sat for a few minuets without speaking before Michael broke the silence. In the circumstances he was the host and did not want to subject his guest to the same indignity he had suffered.

        He made a circularly gesture around the room. "It's hard to believe that this is the same house that we grew up in when we were kids." he observed.

        "Is it not so?" Donny responded, "Seven of us, and I don't think any of us knew we were crowded."

        "Ah," Michael was quick to seize the opportunity that had come so quickly. "It would be nice the think that we don't know it now."

        Donny was quiet for a while and Michael was worried that hid jibe may have gone too deep, but then he spoke. "When we first heard you were coming home we all went through every emotion possible. From joy to disbelief, from happiness to fear."

        "Fear!"  Michael was astonished. "Why fear?"

        "We had all forgotten you. So much time had gone by and you were no longer part of the family. So much time that if we thought of you at all, we thought that you were dead. You were no longer part of our lives."

        "I don't think I will ever be able to make you believe how much I regret that." Michael's head was bowed, and he spoke quietly. "All I can say is that I do."

        "We didn't now you, or what kind of a person you would be. All we knew was that you had left us and never came back; as though you didn't care - so why should we?"

        Both men were speaking quietly now, the crackling noise from the fire being the loudest sound in the room.

        "You are right, and I can think of no reason why I should expect you to believe that it is my dearest wish to be part of the family again - but that is the truth."

        "Can you ever be part of the family. Everything has changed since all those years ago; will we be able to trust you?"

        "I hope I will be able to prove that you can. I know what I have to do and I trust myself, but I know I can't do it on my own. I need you to trust me in return."

        "It's a lot to ask!"

        "I know; but that is what I'm asking."

        Michael's last comment was left unanswered but by some unspoken empathy they both seemed to recognise that all that needed saying had been said. Their conversation had in the main been quiet but friendly, direct but not confrontational and he felt a degree of optimism because of this unexpected visit, and its outcome. Even more so when Donny bade Michael goodbye, for instead of taking the hand that was offered, Donny embraced his elder brother with a hug. It was brief and not too tight, but it was a hug.

        Just as they reached the front door it opened and in strode Molly. "Donny!" she exclaimed when she saw her younger brother, "what are you doing here?"

        Her concerned expression soon changed however when she saw both men smiling.  "Just visiting my sister," Donny beamed, "but she was out."  He paused, "But your man here - he looked after me pretty good."

        As he took his leave striding towards his car, he turned and gave them both a half wave and a half smile. "See you both on Sunday."

        "That was a surprise," Molly said, "I saw the car but I didn't realise it was Donny's, what did he want?"

        "I'll tell you later," he said. This time it was his turn to give the hug to a surprised Molly. "After dinner! Now, what can I do to help?"

        Molly stood with her hands on her hips, an expression of puzzlement on her face, but Michael was insistent and clapped his hands. "No time to waste; can't you see I'm hungry."

        Puzzlement turned to laughter as she pretended to throw a plate, but though she was yet to learn the essence of Donny's visit, she knew that another milestone had been passed.

 

Chapter Twelve

Scene Three

 

Following her accident Matt had seen more of his mother than usual. While that was largely behind her a complication in her broken leg had occurred which slowed down recovery and subsequently he was visiting most week ends, and these visits usually included a trip to see Michael.

        Connie was of course pleased to be seeing more of her son, but increasingly she was troubled by a growing uncertainty. What should she tell him about Michael? Should she tell him the whole story, or should she tell him nothing? Also she wondered if he had noticed that she was gradually getting closer to him.  She was aware that her stand off with him had largely gone, a stand off which had been replaced with a feeling of affection if not yet love. It was a real dilemma for she wanted to do what was right, but she did not know what was right.

        Matt had sensed that his mother was caught up in some kind of situation even though she had been careful not to open up too much to him. He had of course learned from Michael that all those years ago he had harboured a soft spot for her, and he did wonder if that old spark might have re-ignited.

        It was therefore inevitable that one day the genie would escape from the bottle, and when it did it was Connie who inadvertently loosened the stopper. It was a remark which, at another time or another place might have gone unnoticed, but when it happened it was enough to set Matt's mind into overdrive.

        It was on the occasion of one of their visits to Michael and Connie was troubled with a rather bad headache. Michael offered to massage her shoulders and neck and his dexterous fingers seemed to find the spot. Soon the pain was eased away. Connie had let her head drop forward as the soothing manipulation did its work, and unwittingly she also dropped her guard. It was almost as though she was in a trance for she seemed to forget where she was. "Oh that's lovely," she breathed the words softly, before adding, "I used to love you doing that for me."

        Neither she or Michael seemed to be aware of the effect that little tableau had on Matt. He on the other hand, though he gave no sign of it, was startled, for he felt it confirmed his suspicion that his mother and Michael were closer than either of them had indicated. More than that it seemed to suggest that the attraction Michael had confessed to when they were young, may not have been the one sided affair he had hinted it to be.

        Later, after they had returned to Connie's home and had settled down for the evening Matt tackled his mother.

        "What's the situation with you and Michael?" he asked outright.

        "What do you mean?" Connie asked falteringly, for the question had come unexpectedly and she was quite unprepared.

        "Come on mother. It's plain to see that you like each other, and just as plain that it goes back a long time."

        Connie was dumbstruck, unable to find the right words; unable even to know where to start. For so long she had struggled with her conscience, wondering what would be the best thing, and if she were to confide in her son, how to do so. Now he had forced it into the open.

        "It's a long story," she started, "and you may not like some of it."

        "Are you going to tell me that there is a dark secret; and a skeleton or two in the closet? " Matt asked his question with a smile, but that did not disguise the fact that he expected an answer.

        "It is a bit like that," Connie answered with a very worried tone, "and it has weighed very heavily since Michael returned."

        "I'm not a child any more." Matt replied. "I see a lot of things in my work so I think I can take it."

        "Oh I do hope so Matt. You are the most important thing in my life and I can't bear the thought of anything coming between us."

        Matt saw the concern in his mothers face and heard it in her voice. "How bad can it be?" he asked, "Why don't you just tell me?"

        "Because I think you might hate me." Connie's blunt statement made Matt sit up, but he too was concerned that this unexpected drama should not spoil his relationship with his mother. "I will do my best not to hate you." he smiled. "But whatever the outcome I think you must tell me now. We can't leave it like this."

        Connie tried to smile too, but it was a half hearted attempt. "I have thought about this moment many times, wondering how I would tell you and never came up with an answer. Now it is here I think that the only way is to tell you the worst - first."

        Connie stopped but Matt did not want to let the moment go. "Go on then." he encouraged.

        Connie took a deep breath. "Michael is your father." She froze; motionless and the words hung there as though made of stone.

        Matt was stunned, struggling to find any words that would make sense or for him to understand what he had just heard, but eventually he managed to ask Connie to explain.

        The next half hour was painful for them both as Connie tried to describe her life back then when she was young; how she and Michael were in love and would certainly have married, and of how fate had taken a hand in their lives. She told him of the friendship Michael and Co'lin had shard almost their births, and how they almost become a trio.

        "Almost?" Matt queried, one eye raised suspiciously.

        Connie saw that and understood the implication. "Yes, almost! But it was as friends. It was not a ménage à trois."

        "Thank god for that."

        Connie went on to describe how, despite she and Michael being the lovers, because Co'lin spent so much time with them he fell in love with her too.

        "I was young and silly and giddy, and it was flattering to have two men in tow," she explained, "but I always kept Co'lin at bay. That is except for one time. I can't remember after all this time how it came about or where Michael was, but just once I allowed Co'lin to make love to me."

        Connie looked at her son who was now facing away from her but listening to her every word. She continued her story. "Of course I didn't know it then but that was the start of the saga that we are faced with today."

        "How is that?"

        "Because shortly after I found I was pregnant, and Co'lin claimed that the baby must be his."

        "It might have been." Matt turned to face his mother, desperately hoping that what he was hearing was a mistake.

        "No Matt, I promise you, but that can stay for now because there is much more."

        Connie went on the describe that Michael and Co'lin had fallen out both claiming to be the father, and that their falling out came to a head when they came to blows, and that when Michael thought he had killed his friend and fled.

        "I did not see him again for forty four years." she said, ending the first part of her confession.

        Matt remained silent. Everything about his life was being turned upside down. To discover that the man he had known since his birth was not his father was bad enough, but to discover that the man who now had that dubious honour was almost a stranger, was nearly too much.

        "I don't know how you dare too look at him." he said, a distinct edge of contempt in his voice.

        "You will have to hear the rest of the story to know that." Connie replied.

        "Well it had better be good, that's all I can say."

        Connie tried to ignore the rising resentment evident in Matt's response as she continued. She told him of her sense of panic when she heard that Michael was still alive and that he was coming home, and of her hostile reception when finally he arrived. But then she told her son how gradually she began to believe his expressions of remorse, and of his sincere desire to own up and be counted for all his sins.

        "It's easy to say sorry," Matt interrupted, "it's just a word."

        "I know, and that's how I felt at first, but I came to realise that his compunction was real."

        "And what about you; expecting a child and left on your own. What kind of a man would do that?"

        "A frightened man."

        "A coward more like."

        "Yes, Michael would admit to that too."  Connie put her fingers to her son's lips. "Let me tell you something else." she said. "Michael had just killed his best friend in a fight over me. Can you imagine how he felt? He knows better than anyone that he had acted in a cowardly way."

        She went on to tell Matt how Co'lin had spent months recovering in hospital, but that all the time he claimed to be the father of the child she was expecting, and that we would be married before it was born. And how they became a happy family until he died.

        "No-one could have been a better husband to me or a better father to you than Co'lin was. Please remember that what ever happens now. Michael might have been your biological father, but Co'lin was in every way that really matters, your real father."

        "So why then this sudden affection for Michael?" Matt asked, somewhat calmer now but still unconvinced.

        "Because it's not sudden." Connie looked longingly at her son. She knew that their relationship would never be the same again, and desperately did not want to loose him. She also knew that having embarked on this journey she could not stop until she reached her destination.

        "Michael was the love of my life, and I was devastated when he left. But I was lucky that Co'lin stood by me and saved me from the shame of bearing an illegitimate child. I soon came to realise that his love for me was just as strong as Michael's, and I did come to love him too. We were a happy family and he loved you more than I can ever say."

        "So why....?" Matt's question remained unspoken.

        "Because in spite of everything something of Michael stayed in my heart; and I guess that it was still there when he came home. I tried to resist it of course, for your benefit as much as anything, but when I came to realise how ill he is, resistance became more difficult."

        "So what about me? Am I illegitimate after all?" Matt asked, quietly now.

        "Not in my eyes," Connie said, and she leaned forward to kiss her son's forehead, "and I am still you mother."

        Another little kiss followed then she added, "I know that Michael would like you to know him as your father, but only you can decide about that. Just the same I have told Michael that if he ever tells you himself I will never speak to him again."

        Connie and Matt continued their discussion into the small hours filling in gaps, and she answering the many questions he threw at her.

        Later it was a sleepless night for both of them.

        Matt found it very hard to come to terms with the fact that he was not who he had always thought he was. He was confused and despite his mother's genuine expressions of love for Co'lin he felt betrayed. After all these years to suddenly find that the man you had grown up with and who he had loved was not his father after all. His sense of betrayal however was against his mother. After all, if he had understood correctly, his father had also been deceived into believing that he was his son's father. The only course open to him now, he felt, was to confront Michael. Now! Not tomorrow, but today.

        Molly was surprised when she open the door. "Matt!" she exclaimed, "this is an unexpected surprise."

        "Sorry Miss Cassidy; I hope this is not inconvenient, but I would like to talk to Michael if that is possible."

        "Come in Matt ," she said gesturing accordingly. "I'll just go and see if he is up to it, he's still in bed; not feeling too good today."

        "Perhaps I should come another time."

        "Let me check first; I think he would like to see you."

        Molly guessed that this visit might mark another important stage in the saga that was being played out in her little cottage in this quiet little village in Ireland. She was right.

        "Please ask him to come up." Michael asked his sister at once.

        "Go up Matt." she told him. "Close the door then you can talk in private."

        When he entered the small bedroom Matt's resolve to 'have it out' with Michael soon dissolved for he was greeted by a frail old man, who seemed to have aged ten years since the first time he had seen him.

        "Come in Matt, "Michael pointed to a chair, "It's nice of you to come to see me."

        "I must confess that my reason for being here is not to enquire about you health," Matt's first words were not over friendly, "but I am sorry to find that you are not well."

        "Oh don't worry about me; there are more important things to consider."

        "Indeed there are, and that is why I am here."

        "You're welcome whatever the reason."

        "That remains to be seen."

        "No, I mean it; but something is bothering you, please tell me."

        Now that he was there face to face with Michael, Matt was not sure how best to start, but in the end it came down to a simple statement. "Mum told me."

        "What did she tell you?"

        "That you are my father."

        "I believe I am."

        "You believe. Is that all you have to say?"

        "No. I know I am; but what would you have me say?"

        "Well' for a start you can tell me why you abandoned me, and my mother."

        Once more Michael embarked on the story of his love for Connie, and his friendship with Co'lin, and then with the discovery that Connie was pregnant, the fight, and his fleeing when he saw that Co'lin was dead. He told him briefly of his life in New York and Sydney and finally of his strong desire to return to Ireland to face up to, and atone for his wrongdoings.

        "But how did it happen; my father and mother?”

        "Your Mother was a wonderful young woman and I loved her to distraction. I knew how lucky I was that she loved me because every man she knew loved her too, but it was me she wanted. But because Co'lin was my friend she saw a lot of him and it was no wonder that he fell in love with her too. And don't forget that he was a great guy, and she liked him very much."

        "Enough to love him as well?"

        "No, not then; she only wanted me."

        "When then?"

        "There was just one time, only one mind you, when Co'lin charm and persuasiveness got the better of her and she succumbed to his advances."

        "Are you saying that he took advantage of her; that he rap..."

        Michael would not let Matt complete the question. "Absolutely not. It was a mutual expression of their liking for each other, and yes love, but it was not what Connie wanted at that time, and it did not happen again." 

        "How do you know?"

        "Because your mother said so; and I believe her."

        "So how did they end up together?"

        "It was a combination of things. In the first place remember that Connie was expecting a child.  When I disappeared, despite being in hospital he continued to support her, insisting that the baby was his and that they would be married. Don't forget that the stigma of illegitimacy was very real then and she must have been thankful.

        "So you are saying that the only reason that my mother married my.......my father, was to save her face."

        "Whoa there young feller; that's not what I am saying. Co'lin was an exceptionally nice guy and Connie did like him, and he loved her. I had not returned to claim her and while she was caring for him in hospital she gradually warmed to him. It's not hard to see why, and sure as eggs are eggs she fell in love with him. And don't forget that they had 'got it together' that one time - if you know what I mean - so there was just a chance that Co'lin was your father."

        "So why the mystery?"

        Michael waited a moment before he continued. "This is something you should ask your mother about; it's a bit personal you see; but let's just say that later events proved that Co'lin was not your father."

        "And you are?"

        "I was the only other man." was Michael's simple answer.

        Now it was Matt’s turn to have a long think. "Did you not know about any of this." he asked finally.

        "Not a thing! I was a fugitive on the run. I was wanted for murder and by the time you were born I was in America."

        "Did you never wonder?"

        "All the time, but as they say I had made my bed and was forced to lie on it."

        Another period of silence elapsed before Matt spoke again. "It's a pretty sorry tale you tell, and I can't think of any reason why I should acknowledge you as my father."

        This was the moment that Michael had been anticipating ever since he left Australia. Face to face with his son waiting to be accepted or rejected. He had not of course imagined that when it came he would be lying in his sick bed approaching, if not quite there yet, his final journey.

        "I guess I can think of many reasons why you should turn around and walk away." he said "and maybe only one why you should stay."

        "And that is?" Matt asked firmly, but quietly.

        "I love you."

        "It's a bit late for that, don't you think?"

        "I hope not. When I came to Ireland it was to seek you out - you and your mother - and to beg your forgiveness.  Your mother has forgiven me, and I hope that you can too."

        "And turn my back on my father!"

        "No, never." Michael exclaimed. "Co'lin was a fine man; he was more of a father to you than I could ever have been, even if I had stayed. Above all I do not want to change your memory of him.

        "What then?"

        "All I want is to hear you call me father, even if it is only once and in private. That would be enough."

        Matt could see that Michael was tiring and prepared to take his leave. "You've given me a lot to think about," he said, "but now I think it's time for you to sleep. I will come and talk to you again before too long."

        A little raise of his hand was a signal of farewell as Matt left the room leaving Michael to ponder over all that had been said. He did feel tired; not physically perhaps but emotionally, and as he settled down one thought was uppermost in his mind.

        Matt had not rejected him - at least not yet!

 

Chapter Twelve

Scene Four

 

Now that two of his brothers were no longer antagonistic toward him Michael had seen how easily the delicate family balance might be disturbed; he did not want to make the mistake of trying to assume his place as the elder brother. That was a role he had forfeited as a young man, a role he had no wish, even if he had the stamina, to wrest from Richard. Not least because he suspected that it was fear of that very thing that caused Richard to mistrust him so.

        He felt therefore that he must use whatever time and energy he had left to win over the eldest of his three brothers. Having laid down the burden, the emotional weight, that trying to claim his son, it having almost been resolved in as much that the baton was now with Matt, Michael was almost relieved that he must make the next move. Not he; not Connie; but Matt. With the second prize of a mutual understanding with Matt almost  accepted , at least partially, Michael felt better able to face up to him.

        Gaining the love and respect of his family was a challenge of equal magnitude, and their complete acceptance of him would be a bonus that until recently he had feared might never be achieved.

        Even now he felt that some of the bridges had not yet been crossed, never-the-less, the improved relationship with most of his family had made such a difference to his sense of well-being that he felt almost re-born. He had also come to realise that there was a simple equation; until he put the weight down, he had not known how heavy it had been. Now all that remained was for him to reach out for Richard and hope that he might not be rebuffed again.

        Michael felt sure he was feeling the benefit of the weekly visit his doctor in Dublin had recommended by a specialist practising in Enniskillen, and for the first time since he had returned to the Emerald Isle he was getting some proper treatment. Now he needed to rest to benefit from the warmth that now surrounded him and to seek a return to better health.

        Molly was content that the family was almost whole again, but was concerned for now it seemed that it was Richard who was the odd one out in the family and was determined to do what she could to bring her brother back into its embracing arms. Just like Michael she had found it hard to understand why he had become isolated in his refusal to accept his errant brother back into the fold. Even Mary, his wife, was against him, but could not get him to act with the same Christian spirit of tolerance and forgiveness the rest of the family had found possible. She had even sought the support of Father Power, but he gently refused to intervene any further.

        Now Molly's main concern was that despite Michael's apparent improvement in recent weeks she could not help seeing how he had changed since that day, which now seemed so long ago, when she had heard him speak her name for the first time in over forty years.

        A knock on the front door brought her back from her inner thoughts, and aroused Michael from a disturbed sleep. The fire in the hearth was still burning well if not so bright but he had not settled well into the smallish easy chair. It was not designed for sleeping, and neither had that been his intention, but he had drifted off while Molly was busy at her chores. The gentle knock therefore had been enough to wake him.

        "Well," he heard Molly say. "I never thought to see you today. And what's with the knocking; you usually walk straight in."

        "Yes that's true, but it's different now that you have a guest."

        "Don't be so daft, it's your brother you're talking about. Well don't just stand there, come in."

        Michael sat up. He had recognised the voice but would not have believed it but for Molly's comment. He was just starting to rise when Richard walked into the room.

        "Don’t get up." he said, while gesturing the same message. Just called to see how you are."

        Molly intervened. "Take the other chair while I make a cup of tea." she too gestured. She was surprised at this unannounced visit, but was determined to make it as pleasant as possible, despite not yet knowing the nature of her brother's visit.

        "Don't go to a lot of trouble on my account," Richard replied, "I wasn't planning to stay too long."

        "Is that so; and do you think I would let you visit my home without at least offering you a cup of tea."

        "Thank you Molly; no offence intended, sorry."

        "Sit yourself down then and talk to your brother. You've a lot to talk about."

        Molly had long been the matriarchal figure in the Cassidy clan, and even though recent events had changed the emphasis to some extent, when there was any kind of confrontation that fact remained. Richard sat down in the other chair facing Michael, while the fire between them, warm but not fierce and with its gentle crackling, creating a cosy ambiance within Molly's parlour, though not yet reflected between the two men.

        After a longish pause Michael spoke.  "It's nice to see you again Ricki. Unexpected but very nice."

        "Thought it was time. One way or another, thought it was time to get things straight."

        "Oh dear," Michael shifted slightly, "that sounds ominous."

        Richard's face was drawn as he contemplated his next move, and then he lifted his hand until it was chest high. "Do I offer this hand to shake your yours, or do I use it to strike your face?"

        Neither of them seemed to have noticed that the chink of cups had stopped, nor could they know that Molly had seated herself on the kitchen chair. She was tense with emotion for she had heard the opening remarks of her brothers, and knew that this moment was key to all their futures. She was not going to interrupt.

        Michael too knew the importance of the moment, and did not rush his answer, but when he did he was equally direct.

        "I can think of many reasons why you should strike my face, and if you did I would not complain and neither would I strike back.  And there is perhaps only one reason why you should offer your hand."

        "What is that?"

        Michael had not intended to stop at that point, and his brother's intervention threw him a little, and his next words did not quite sound as he intended. "That in your compassion you recognise my true repentance."

        "I'm not your priest." Richard answered somewhat cruelly.

        "I know; it did sound a little pompous, but that is what I meant."

         This time it was Richard who had to consider his response, but when he did it was very simple.

        "Why?"  Just one word.

        "Why?. " Michael was puzzled, "Why what?"

        "Why did you go; why did you disappear?"

        "Because I had just killed my best friend."

        The story of Michael's fight had filtered around the family but Richard was quick to intrude. "But you didn't kill anyone." he said.

        "I know that now, but all the time I have been away I thought I was a murderer. That's why I never came back."

        "Did you never think about us when you were away. Ma and Da, your brothers and sister. Did you not consider the anguish we suffered, especially your parents?"

        "All the time at the beginning," Michael answered, "but as the years went by I learned to put you all into the back of my mind, but I never forgot you."

        "Perhaps that was the difference. You knew that we were here, and you couldn't forget. We on the other hand did not know where you were, why you had gone, or whether you were alive or dead. Eventually we did forget."

        "That only adds to the shame I feel."

        "Shame is it!" Richard seemed to be angry again. "Or is it guilty conscience?"

        "Both! who knows where one stops and the other starts."

        Richard stood up; his voice was a little louder. "Have you any idea what your running away did to me?"

        "No."

        "Well I'll tell you. The farm, such as it was in those days would have been yours, but you buggered off taking all my money. For years I had been saving up to pay for college." He stopped for a moment. "Do you remember I wanted to train to be a vet but you scuppered that. Da had no money so the only way I could go to university or college was to pay for it myself, so not only did you steal my money you also stole my dream."

        Michael was now sitting with his head in his hands as his brother continued with his tirade. "Da was ailing and you had gone so that left just three of us to run the farm. Even if I still had some money there was no way I could leave as well." He stopped for a moment and Michael thought that his ordeal was over, but it was not. "And don't forget we did not know if you would come back. It could have been four weeks; four months, or four years. But no. Four decades before you showed your face, and then you walk in without as much as a 'by your leave' and expect us to fall at your feet.

        Now Michael stood up, his face drawn and his eyes red and wet with tears. Facing his brother he spoke quietly. "Everything you say is true and the only thing I can say is that I am sorry. So sorry I cannot find the words to tell you. But the simple fact is that I want you to forgive me. It is what I want more than anything, but if you can't, you can't." He shrugged his shoulders a little and lifted his hands. "In which case I will leave rather than divide my family."

        "Your family?"

        "Yes, my family; your family, it's all the same. Love me or loath me I am part of it but I will not become a thorn in your side. I'll leave rather than let that happen."

        Michael sat down again but Richard stayed upright for some minutes before he too sat down. Michael looked at him, surprised, and anxious, waiting for him to start again. Hoping to ward him off he spoke first. "I don't think there is much more to say, do you?"

        Richard leaned back in his chair and the very beginning of a smile appeared. "Yes, I think there is. It seems that I'm the only one left who has not fallen for your blarney; all those years away and you can still charm your way into people's lives."

        At another time or place those words might have been said with anger, and yet Michael knew instinctively that this time it was not so. Something in his brother Ricki's face told him that there was no bitterness. Even more so when he continued. "I seem to be out of step with the others.  I think that perhaps it's time to walk together again."

        "There's nothing I want more," Michael said quietly. "but not because you feel you have to. If you walk by my side I would like it to be because you want to."

        Ricki was quiet for a long time and Michael feared that his brother's silence might signal the end of this confrontation, and perhaps the end of his dream. But then he called out. "Molly; I thought you said something about a cup of tea."

        Half an hour later, both refreshed, they stood at the door each clasping the other's hand as Richard prepared to take his leave. A light kiss on Molly's cheek and a whispered 'look after him' signalled the end of his visit, and, it seemed, the end of his hostility.