DANCING AT THE CROSSROADS

 

                                                                Chapter Ten

                                                                 Scene One

 

Sundays in Ballymay were an important marker in village life, and for most of its residents the Mass was central to Sundays. Of course not everyone in the village was Catholic but there were more who were, than were not. Michael remembered all too well that the previous Sunday Mass had been somewhat difficult and was hoping that today it would be different.

         Whereas Father Power had been on hand to smooth the way, this time he was not. Whereas his council and authority had persuaded his brothers to behave with some sense of decorum, this time he had stood back. And whereas he could have intervened, wisely he was leaving the Cassidy's to behave as they saw fit, knowing that any solution based on him could only be a temporary one.

        When Michael and Molly arrived there was no sign of the brothers and so as before they took their places on the back pew in order to get out first. In doing so they spotted the others more or less where they had been the week before. This time there were no backward glances or whispering behind hands.

         Michael's heart sank. He had so hoped that the formalities of the previous week might have lessened the tension, but that, it seemed, was not the case. And if there had been any doubt about that it was removed when the service ended and Michael and Molly emerged from the church to a dry but cloudy day. There was no wind and it was moderately warm and soon people were milling about, some waiting for the priest to take up his customary position, while others talked in little groups. They waited as the congregation spilled out until the last few stragglers had gone. Of the   brothers and their families there was not a sign. There had been no confrontation; they had simply left - no doubt to avoid one - by another door. When it was clear that there could be no other explanation Michael and Molly left too, but it was a quiet and sombre walk home.

        Before long they reached the cottage and soon they were sat eating breakfast. Michael had just finished his bacon and eggs and was reaching for the toast when, as though he had just remembered, he told Molly that he was going to Dublin.

        "Oh; and when will that be?"

        "Wednesday."

         "You are a man of surprises," Molly managed to say over her coffee cup. "What brought that about?"

        He proceeded to tell her of the arrangements made by his London doctor, and that he had made an appointment.

       "Very glad to hear it," Molly replied, "It has worried me that you haven't been getting any treatment."

       "It's more of a check up than treatment," he told her, "and on my way I am taking Connie to meet her son who lives in Waterford. It's an open day at his school and Molly has asked me to go with her."

       "Has she now?"

       "I'll not stay long, but I hope to meet her son while I'm there."

       Molly let the comment pass, but she had noted that Michael had said 'her son' and not 'my son'. Was that significant in some way; she wondered, a change of attitude perhaps, a Freudian slip, or just a mistake? She simply commented, "It will be a long day; are you sure it's the right thing to do?"

         Michael told her that he had called in at Browns and had arranged to use one of his hire cars. "It should be alright."

        "I'll pack you some sandwiches then." Molly concluded with a heavy heart, fearing that this might be a crisis point for her brother. She was aware that meeting Connie's son for the first time would be a key moment for him, and though she was worried that such a long day might take its toll, she could see that it was a step he would have to make sometime. She hoped for his sake that this would be the right time.

         Michael was up with the birds on Wednesday morning, and on drawing the curtains he saw Brown's hire car waiting for him on the rough track behind the cottage. After the usual ablutions, a quick breakfast of cereals and toast saw him ready. He had insisted that there was no need for Molly to be up so early, but he was pleased to see a pack of sandwiches waiting for him. It was now that time when summer comes to an end and autumn creeps in unnoticed. It was not cold, but at that early time there was a slight chill in the air. The clear sky was light despite the sun not yet being in view, and the weather forecast was favourable. The car, a well used Rover 75 seemed to be in good order, and a quick glance told him that, as arranged, the tank was full. By Seven O'clock Michael was knocking on Connie's door and was looking forward to the day.  When Connie opened the door her smile told him that the day was going to be special.

       "Come in Michael," Connie said, "I'm nearly ready."

       "Hope so; we've a long day ahead of us."

       Soon they were on their way, and Michael, a competent driver having spent so many years in the motor trade, maintained a good speed. At this early hour he hoped the light traffic would allow him to clear the winding country roads without any problems before they reached the main road at Limerick. From there he should be able to make good speed on the eighty miles or so to Waterford. So it proved and not long after nine they were in the town.

     Co'lin and Connie had been proud when Matt had won his place at Dublin University, and even more so when he emerged three years later in his mortar board and gown, clutching his degrees in English History, English Literature and Sociology.  From there he went to a teacher training college. A few temporary posts finally led to a permanent post in a special needs school at Waterford, where he felt that his skills and talents might make a difference. He had progressed to become the deputy head teacher, was well respected; satisfied and content. It was nearing twenty years since he first entered the school, and in all that time he had never thought of going anywhere else. "Why should I," he would say, "when I am doing a job I love."

       In that time Connie had visited him many times for various events so she knew the way to the school, and as they approached the main gates Michael was tingling with nervous anticipation. It was an old building, once the magnificent dwelling of a rich Dublin industrialist, but now put to a much better use, where older boys and young men who had suffered from unfortunate physical disabilities at birth, or some injury at work or play, could be rehabilitated.

        Much of what he did required the cooperation of all the staff in all the departments and everyone there recognized that success depended on it being a joint venture. Depending on their needs the patients might stay a few weeks; a few months, or even - occasionally - a few years. And every time one of their charges left to return to the wider society, either cured or much improved, there was a feeling of satisfaction amongst the staff which made all their efforts and devotion seem worth while..

       Michael and Connie walked slowly through the tables and displays arranged outside of the school, giving an indication to visitors what might be found inside. At the same time Connie was looking for her son Matt.

       "Don't forget you promised me not to say anything about . . . well you know what I mean."

       "Yes I promise, Michael agreed, "but I can't deny that I am excited at the prospect of meeting him."

       "Well don't let it show."

       For the first time that day Michael sensed a degree of nervousness in Connie. Perhaps she was having second thoughts about the visit; or at least his part in it. 'Too late now', he thought, but to Connie he said, "I promise to be on my best behaviour."

       Indeed it was too late now for the next thing he heard was Connie's voice rising. "There he is - over there, by that side door. She rushed to him and gave him a motherly kiss on the cheek. Michael continued at a more leisurely pace and by the time he reached them their private greetings were done.

       "Michael," she said, "Come and meet my son Matthew. Matt to most people," she added. "Isn't he handsome?”

       "Give up mother," Matt chastised, "You'll be making me blush." As he spoke he extended his hand. "Nice to meet you Michael. Mum told me on the phone last night that someone was bringing her. It's very good of you."

       "It's a great privilege." Michael answered. "Your mother and I knew each other many years ago, and as I am on my way to Dublin it seemed like a good idea. Company for us both."

       While these pleasantries were being exchanged Michael was having a good look at Matt, hoping perhaps to see a likeness to the face he saw in the shaving mirror every morning. Sadly he did not see the mirror image he might have hoped for, but neither, he was pleased to note, were there any obvious dissimilarities. He was taller than himself by a good few inches, but he recalled that it could be something on his mother's side, for most of the men in Connie’s family were tall. Michael noticed Matt was also slightly the bigger in build of the two, a reflection no doubt of his own recent poor health, while Matthew on the other hand was well, fit, and active. But in one thing Connie was right. He was a good looking man and when he smiled Michael was sure that it was not his imagination or wishful thinking, for only then did he fancy that he saw something of himself.

         His musing was brought to an end when he realised that Matt was speaking to him, "Mum tells me you knew my dad!"

        "I did," he replied recovering quickly, "and I was very sorry to hear that he is no longer with us."

        "You were friends then?"

        "Oh yes; we virtually grew up together, and we were more or less inseparable."

         They chatted for a while and the settled look on Connie's face seemed to indicate that she no longer feared that Michael would spoil things. For his part Michael was being careful, for he did not want to fail Connie despite his desire to throw his arms around Matt and hug him. Now there was one more thing he had to do. He had met his son, even though that fact was not yet - indeed might never be - acknowledged, Later, if all went well, he would be meeting  Matt's twin sons; his grandsons.

          "Your mother tells me that you have two boys; twins she says. Are they here today?"

          "Boys!" he gave a little laugh. "You wouldn't think so if you saw them, they're both taller than me, but they are not her yet I'm afraid."

        "That's a pity. I would liked to have seen them."

        "They are both at their jobs, but they have promised to come this afternoon and help with the clearing up."

         "Good," Michael said, "I might get another chance later on. Perhaps they will still be here when I call to collect Connie."

         "More than likely I expect. You said you are going on to Dublin. Is that a business trip?" Matt enquired.

          "No; no more business for me. Had enough of that!" Michael chuckled. "No, it's a bit more mundane than that. I'm going to meet my new doctor. See what he's got to tell me."

          They chatted for another half an hour before Michael announced that he had to make a move. "It's another long drive, and the time is moving on."

        Soon he was on the road with his head full of thoughts; positive and negative. On the one hand he had met his son, and he and Connie were friendlier now than at any time since his return. On the other hand he knew that he had only a short time to achieve his dream of complete reconciliation.

        He arrived in Dublin with time to spare before his two o'clock appointment; time enough to find a nice restaurant for a meal and a rest.       

        Michael was reasonably content. His relationship with Connie had improved greatly though there was no evidence of a romantic relationship developing, and neither would he allow it. He knew that time was precious, but he would not inflict on her the trauma of another loss. But he was glad that they were no longer at odds. Though she had not yet formally acknowledged his paternity of Matt, she had come close to it and Michael had come to accept that it would probably remain like that. He could only hope that one day after he was gone the time may be right for him to be told. That would have to do.

       His doctor turned out to be a large affable man, Irish through and through, and he had all Michael's case notes to hand, sent on from his London doctor.

       They talked about his condition, and then he examined him keeping up a continuous banter of cheerfulness as he prodded and poked. Meanwhile his nurse relieved Michael of various liquid samples from his body; blood, urine and saliva, checked his blood pressure, height and weight.

       "Well?" Michael enquired as he was preparing to leave, "Is there anything you can tell me?"

       "Nothing I'm afraid that you don't already know. The news from your London doctor had not been good. I'm sorry to tell you that you are not fairing quite as well as had been anticipated due in part because of the stress of your life style."

       "But I live a quiet life since I relinquished my business activities." Michael protested.

        "I was thinking of other things. In his notes your London doctor makes reference to a long standing family feud. I understand that you are engaged in some delicate negotiations."

        "Yes, I think I let my tongue wag a little too long."

        "Of course it is none of my business but that and the lack of meaningful medication and treatment is not helping.  My information is that if you don't make some drastic changes in your life we may be talking of months rather than years."

          The doctor had spoken with a gentle smile, no doubt concerned at the effect his message might have.  "I'm sorry to put it so bluntly, but perhaps I can give you some advice."

          "Medical?" Michael asked.

          "No not medical, I guess you've had plenty of that already."

          "What then?"

          "It's simple to say, but maybe not so simple to do, but it's this. Decide what’s is most important for you to do in the time you have left; concentrate your mind; discard everything else, and then go for it."

         "Funny," Michael said out loud as he was driving away from Dublin, going over the events of the afternoon. "That's just what I thought I was doing."

        But the doctors words had gone deep, and the drive back to Waterford gave him time to think things through without any other distractions, and by the time he had found Matt's home he had made some decisions.

        His visit to Matt's home was a bittersweet affair, and he made it as short as possible. He met Matt's wife, a cheerful friendly lady, and his two grandsons who were every bit as delightful as their father. Though he ached to tell them all who he was, and who they were, he refrained.

          Quoting tiredness and the long drive home they left as soon as it was polite to do so. By early evening they were on their way while the sky was still light despite the falling sun.

        It was clear to see that Connie was content. She had a small but wonderful family and she had enjoyed a happy day with them. Inevitably some questions had been asked about Michael but she had dealt with them sensibly, and by giving no clues as to his real agenda they were none the wiser.

       "Thank you." Connie said to Michael before they had gone too far.

       "For what?" he asked.

       "For behaving impeccably." she answered.

       "Ah that!" he smiled. "I did what you asked of me, and what I’m sure now was the right thing to do."

       "My word, I am surprised to hear you say that." she said rather quietly. "Have you had a change of heart?"

       "Not quite that, but perhaps I may have been a little too aggressive in wanting my way."

       "I don't quite understand."

       "I want Matt and the boys to know about me; about me and you, but I have come to realise that maybe I am not the right person to tell them."

       "Who then?"

       "One day, when the time is right; you."

       "Me?"

       Ignoring her verbal gesture, Michael continued. "And if the time is never right, they may never know. That thought makes me feel sad but I have to leave it to your judgement."

       "I'm very relieved to hear this, but why? It's a complete turn around from all you have said before."

       "It's my conscience again. That damned thing keeps getting in my way." He laughed at his little joke and Connie laughed too, despite his lack of clarity. "You see I was so full of wanting to redeem myself, I lost sight of the fact that in doing so I might be doing harm to others. Especially you."

       "I wish that there was a way to solve this dilemma so that everyone was happy." Connie said, accompanying her words with a faint smile.

       "Who knows," Michael responded with a weary smile, "perhaps one day there will be."

       That seemed to be the end of their conversation for the rest of the journey, both deep in their own thoughts, but just before they arrived in Ballymay, Connie spoke again.

       "I may have misjudged you Michael Cassidy. It’s possible that you may be a better man than I gave you credit for."

       "Well thank you ma'am, let's hope I can live up to that new assessment."

       That said they arrived at Connie's home, happy and sad, tired and confused, wiser perhaps, and yet in their different ways, curiously optimistic. Michael refused the offer of a drink complaining of tiredness, and this time it was true for as predicted it had been a long day.

        It had indeed been a long day, and for Michael it had been the most paradoxical one of his entire life. He had met his eldest son for the first time and the joy he had felt had been almost unbearable. And, as if that were not enough he had met two young men who were, as far as he knew, his only grandchildren.

       Maintaining regular contact with Jean after his expulsion from New York, and from her life had not been easy despite his efforts. He had tried but despite her insistence before he left that he should not forget his son, he found her to be taciturn in her response. He had occasionally corresponded with Ben during his early school years and during this period he had learned that, despite her earlier refusal to contemplate divorce, Jean had remarried. The inevitable consequence of that event was that what little contact that there had been dwindled to almost none, until eventually it stopped completely. The further consequence of her new status was that he knew nothing of Ben's progress through his youthful years and into adulthood. Had he married? Michael had wondered from time to time. Had he fathered his own children? Another question he could not answer.

       But now he was more convinced than ever that he did have another son, his first son a brother for Danny back in Sydney.  If there had been a lingering doubt it was gone for good for he had seen something in Matt's eyes and he was certain. Perhaps in the end that certainty would have to be sufficient. Just as he knew that his two grandsons would carry his genes, if not his name, into the future.

 

Chapter Ten

Scene Two

 

Another week progressed with little change, little progress and inevitably another Sunday.

        "Will it be another battle of wits?" Michael asked Molly as they arrived at The Sacred Heart. He expected that there might be some hostility as he had previously experienced but this time he was prepared. They went through the same routine, arriving at the church to see Father Power on the steps talking to one of his parishioners. Outwardly it seemed just the same but it was different. It was an overcast but dry day, and despite a breeze people were still milling about on the steps leading up to the main door of the church. But the thing that was different could not be seen for it was in Michael's head.

        He had increasingly come to realise that by aligning herself with him, Molly was in danger of becoming ostracised from the rest of her family. Her position as its head might even be challenged. He could not have that. Also as a consequence of his ‘trip’ with Connie, and meeting his son and grandsons he had changed his thinking completely. In a way that he would never have been able to explain it had lifted a weight from his shoulders, and for perhaps the first time he had a real sense of direction.

       Molly was surprised as they approached the steps that instead of them making their way to the priest, Michael had taken a firm hold on her arm and guided her behind him, up the steps and into the church where he chose a pew near to the front.

         This was also part of his new strategy. His brothers, their wives and families could now see him without turning around, something Michael was determined not to do. Neither would he seek them out after the ceremony.

       Now it was Molly's turn to be uneasy. Michael had spoken of his new thinking, but only in that vague sometimes infuriating way which so often she failed to understood. She did turn her head and when she saw the family groups looking in their direction she nodded to them. Unlike Michael she was not concerned about a possible reaction from her other brothers by supporting their eldest one, or that her position in the family might be challenged. She had been the matriarch for so long it never occurred to her that her authority might be threatened. Despite all that she was nervous following Michael's 'odd' behaviour.

          "Are you sure that this is the right thing to do?" she whispered, not wanting the congregation to hear.

       "If they wish to speak to me then they will have to come to me." he replied. He too spoke quietly, but not as quietly as Molly, and people in the pews close to them would certainly have heard his words. "They know I am here; I am not hiding from them, but from now I am not grovelling."

       Molly was shocked. "No one expects you to grovel, but you have to understand how they feel."

       "No one has tried harder to understand how they feel than I, but it works both ways. They must try to understand how I feel."

       Further conversation was halted by the arrival of the priest in his fine alter garb, followed by a clutch of alter boys, also dressed, if somewhat less flamboyantly, for the purpose.

       Michael's firm attitude was not to be the only surprise for Molly. The Sunday Mass was a largely routine affair, more often than not with little to separate one from another, but this one was going to be different. There were more surprises to come which would leave her open mouthed.

        She did not have to wait very long. On their previous attendance's to the Mass when all the congregation had gone forward to have the consecrated bread dipped in wine and placed on their tongues, Michael had remained in his pew. He had not felt himself to be in a suitable state of grace to receive God's body and blood. But that simple act had clearly set him apart from all the others who wished to receive the sacrament. This time however at the appropriate moment Michael was the first to stand, only slightly before everyone else, but enough for all to see.

       When he reached the priest, instead of offering his tongue he lifted his hands, side by side so that they formed a cup. As he did so he said, "Bless me Father." whereupon the priest placed the small disc of unleavened bread on his hands, while at the same time offering to Michael that which he had asked; in Latin of course.

       The Mass ended as usual with the priest leading his young helpers up the nave and then back down the side isle to the sacristy. The congregation at this point continued toward the large doors at the rear, out of the church and onto the steps.

       Michael however did not rise until they were the last ones to leave their seats.

       "My word you're full of surprises today." Molly said, no longer trying to whisper. "I hope that you'll not live to regret it."

       Michael ignored the obvious implications as he was sure that Molly had not intended to be cruel. "I hope so too sis." he answered. Then, gently taking her arm he asked, "Shall we go?"

       They walked unhurriedly to the big doors were they caught up with those who were waiting patiently to speak with Father Power, still slightly breathless after his quick change into outdoor clothing. They too joined the queue, and slowly emerged into the porch where a dozen or so people were still waiting their turn to speak to the priest.  Beyond him were those parishioners who had already received his brief greeting and were taking their leave.

       Michael was pleased to see that beyond the steps the Cassidy's were waiting in two close but separate family groups. They stopped for a moment to receive the holy man's blessing, and for Michael a whispered "I have not seen you at confession yet!"  Then they set off on their walk home taking a route that was close enough to the waiting Cassidy clan for Michael to speak the words "Good morning everyone; peace be unto you."  but he did not stop.  Molly, caught unexpectedly by her brother's decisive action turned back and slightly out of step waved to her astonished 'family' calling out,  "Good morning."

       It was neither the time or place for taking issue but Molly could not wait until they reached home.

       "What was all that about?" she asked, her aggravated state somewhat exacerbated by the fast and determined pace her brother obliged her to make.

       "What was what about?"

       "You know very well. Going to the front, standing up first, and then leaving them all standing." she almost shouted. "And to cap it all taking the sacrament when you haven't been to confession."

       "How do you know that I have not been to confession?"

       "I know because you would have told me. And anyway I heard what Father Power said to you."

       Michael threw back his head and laughed. "There are no secrets from you are there?"

       "Not if I can help it." Molly looked at him with a slightly puzzled expression on her face. "There's something different about you today. Something's happened hasn't it?"

       "You're right sis, something has happened, but it's mostly in my head. I think I have come to realise that if I am patient things will fall into place."

       "I do hope so," Molly replied, aware that time was part of her brother's problem. "but what has happened?"

       Michael stopped abruptly. "Well I'll tell you. I want our brothers to know I am not going down on my knees for them. They all know that I am here because I want to be part of the family again while there is time." He took a sideways glance at his sister only to see that she had done the same to him. It was a very brief eye contact, but in it there was a kind of understanding."

        "Why don't you tell them; I'm sure that they will sympathise."

         "Because Molly, and I want you to understand; I don't want their sympathy. I want them to love me, but for who I am with all my faults and sins. I want them to know that I am truly sorry for what I did and that I beg their forgiveness. But what I do not want is for them to accept me just because they think I might be dying."

       Michael felt he had made his case, and also he realised that the brisk pace was difficult for molly. Walking steadily now they were home in a few minutes, tired and both aware of the tension that had developed. Michael flopped into an easy chair, while Molly set about the breakfast.

       "It's alright Michael," he heard her say, I'll see to things. You sit back and get your breath."

       Michael laughed again. "You're a wicked slave driver," he said getting up. "What can I do to help?" He walked into the little kitchen with a hand in his pocket, 

         "Ah; and there's something else." he said, suddenly remembering. He had removed a clean handkerchief from his pocket which he had taken with him to the church for a specific purpose. Now slowly he opened up the folded square of linen to reveal the small disc of unleavened bread which the priest had place into his hand. "I will not take this until I make my confession, but I wanted the boys to see me ask for a holy blessing."

       "You certainly did that, but heaven knows what they'll make of it all."

         "Well we will soon know because tomorrow I intend to visit them all and tell them. Accept me or reject me; it's up to you."

         "OK," Molly responded, "what about them having to come to you?"

        "Yes I did say that, but I didn't mean physically, I meant metaphorically; if you know what I mean."

        "I sometimes wonder if you know what you mean yourself, but that's for tomorrow. For today, your breakfast is ready."

        "Ah Molly," Michael laughed, "you always seem to know what is important."

        For years in Molly's home breakfast was a modest affair of cereals and toast, except on Sunday.  On Sunday a full breakfast was an indulgence to be savoured; bacon and eggs; tomatoes sausages and fried bread, followed by toast and marmalade.  Coming as it did after Mass, it allowed the mouth to remain unsullied in readiness to accept the body and blood of Jesus Christ. It was inevitably a late affair but always worth the wait. It was a meal not to be rushed for Sunday was, notionally at least, a day of rest.  Therefore there would be no mid-day meal, it simply being deferred to the early evening. Michael had come to know the quality of the late meal would equally make the wait worthwhile. He was happy to fall into this pattern, even though he no longer had the appetite to accommodate his sister's idea of a man size meal.

       Michael spent the time between these two large meals in quiet contemplation, knowing what he had to do, but uncertain if he had the courage to do it.

 

Chapter Ten

Scene Three

 

The weeks come and go and it was Monday again, and as usual Molly was up and about before Michael, busy about the house. Being active was her normal state and though the cottage was not in itself demanding, now that she had a guest there was more to do. But her present activity was not to do with housework, but rather a means of maintaining some sense of normality, for life, despite her attempts to reassure Michael, had not been the same since his return.

       Her conversation with Michael the previous day had left her thinking of nothing else and as she set the little table for breakfast her thoughts went back to where, for her, it had all started. She remembered the day she received Michael's letter telling her of his intention to return to Ballymay.

         Even now, months later just thinking about it made her feel week at the knees. In any event It was rare for her to get a letter in the post, and the few that did arrive were almost always of an official or semi official nature. On that day she remembered, she had gone to the shop in the village with it's post office in the corner, and from behind its counter the lady had called.

       "There's a letter for you Molly; I, and it's from London."

        Luckily she hadn't opened it there and then for when she did she screamed. Michael, her brother, who had walked out of her life more that forty years before, and who had long been given up for dead, was coming home. She remembered how she had sat down and for what seemed like hours was unable to get up again. Unable too to stop the trembling that had taken control of her body, and hardly able to control her body's need to expel all that was in it. For hours she was in a dream-like daze, her brain unwilling to grasp what she had read. Despite several attempted re-reads to see if there was some kind of mistake it took all that time before the words started to sink in. It was not a mistake. Michael was coming home.

       It was so strange. Sometimes it seemed such a long time ago, while at others it could seem like yesterday. Then again it was sometimes hard to tell which it was. Whichever it might be however, one thing was certain. The time since Michael's arrival had been the most most incomprehensible period in her life. There had been a whirlwind of emotions, but at the same time in many ways the days and weeks had gone by without much sign that anything was different.

​

Chapter Ten

Scene Four

 

One thing had changed however about which Molly was concerned. Since Michael had settled with her, she saw less of her other brothers. She knew, simply by her own reactions that they would be equally unsure of their feelings, and how to deal with them. Unfortunately it seemed to her that they had tried to deal with it by the simple expedient of staying away. Of course they had not had the benefit of Michael's presence in their homes like she and had therefore not been able to judge for themselves if the remorse he expressed was real or managed.

        She herself had little doubt that what she saw and heard came from the heart, but they it seemed were yet to be convinced. So they simply stayed away and by cutting themselves off from Michael her brothers had effectively cut themselves off from her too. Consequently she had fewer opportunities to persuade them of their elder brother's sincerity.

       Yesterday's news therefore was welcome, and Molly prayed the Michael's determination to confront his brothers would have positive results.

         "I do hope so."she muttered. "We can't go on like this; none of us."

       The sound of Michael coming down the stairs put and end to thoughts of that kind, at least for now, but Molly was shocked when he came into the kitchen. "My word," she said, "you don't look yourself at all; are you alright?"

       "Not too good today sis, but I didn't think it would be so obvious." he said as he took his place at the table.

       "Well it does. You've been gradually going down for a week or more but it seems more noticeable this morning. Have you had a poor night?."

       "I'm afraid it's not often I get a good one these days." Michael told her.

       "I think it's about time you sorted yourself a doctor closer to home. It's all well and good having posh doctors in London and Dublin, but they're no good to you when you’re ill here."

       "I've got some pills!"

       "Pills," Molly almost spat the words as if they too were pills. "What good are pills when what you need is some proper care and treatment."

       "I think it's a bit late for that, but anyway my pills seem to be doing a good job."

       Molly put two dishes on the table and then stood before her brother, looking him in the face. "It's all in your head; that's the trouble. What is it that you want; can you tell me that?"

        But Michael's response was not the one she expected. "Oh Molly," he said as he raised himself on to his feet and in one continuous movement put his hands on her shoulders, "What a tragedy that you were never someone's wife."

       "Tragedy is it?" she scoffed. "Do you not think I have had enough to do all these years without a husband getting under my feet."

       "No I wasn't just meaning a tragedy for you. I was also thinking about some young man out there who you have probably never quite forgotten; someone who loved you but because of the way things were, could not have you."

       "Well there were one or two," Molly conceded, "I was quite pretty then you know."

       "You were beautiful." Michael said softly, for a brief moment remembering that bath-time encounter.

       "Oh, go on with you. In any case it was a long time ago; it's all forgotten now."

       "Not quite I think; not quite. But I hope you've had a happy life in spite of all that?"

       He spoke in a way that made the remark seemed like a question, and Molly felt obliged to answer if a little awkwardly, turning away as she spoke. 

        "I suppose there is something in what you say, and at times I did feel cheated, but there were compensations. And I finished up with a bigger family than I could have managed if I had been married."

       "And I want you to have that family back again, with you at it's helm," Michael sat down once more but turned slightly to face his sister. "Just as it was before I came in and spoilt everything."

       "You haven't spoilt anything. Not really. you might have upset the balance a bit, but things will settle down, you'll see."

       Michael smiled at her. "I hope so." he said, "I truly hope so."

       I had been one of their occasional tender moments, moments that convinced Michael that he was right to come back to Ballymay, even if now he was beginning to doubt his motives. The more he saw and heard of the life he had left behind the more he wished he could, if only for a while, be part of it once more. But to be part of it he knew that he had to embrace the bigger picture, and abandon, or at least modify, some of his narrow objectives.

       After breakfast he took a leisurely stroll to the end of the green beyond the beech tree, but instead of turning left to Main Street he turned right away from Ballymay in the direction of the 'Cradle' the same route he took when he was going to Connie's house. He was determined to put into motion his new strategy, and he was convinced that it had to start with her.

       It was a pleasant warm morning and he hoped that a gentle walk along the country lane he had known so well in his youth, would go some way to reviving a body that was rapidly losing its physical ability. It might also help to reconcile a mind that was trying to come to terms with conflicting emotions.

         In that it seems that he was right for by the time he reached Connie's home he did feel much brighter. He was more than a little shocked therefore to discover that although he felt better, it apparently did not show.

       "Michael." Connie greeted him when she opened her front door, "Are you alright; you don't look at all well?"

       Despite that, Michael was pleased with Connie’s reception for it confirmed his belief that she no longer regarded him as an enemy. He did not however believe that her mistrust of him was gone completely, or that her suspicions as to his motives were entirely allayed.  But what was clear he felt, was that her antagonism which earlier she had not tried to hide, was now gone. Perhaps, it occurred to him, she had simply got over the shock of his sudden re-emergence, and was becoming accustomed to his occasional but gradually increasing appearances.

       Just the same he was none too pleased to be told once more, and so soon, that he did not look well.

       As usual Connie took him into the front room, tidy and spotless as always, and invited him to sit down. "Will you have a cup of tea?" she asked.

        Usually such a question is more a polite gesture than a desire to sustain her visitors, but this time she really felt that a cup of tea was required so she was pleased when Michael accepted her offer.

       "What brings you here so early?" she asked, when she returned with the tray.

       "You mostly; and Matt, and my brothers." Michael replied somewhat enigmatically.

       Connie was immediately alarmed. "That sounds a little ominous," she said, trying not to let her concern show and determined to maintain a calm disposition. "Does that mean that you are going ahead with your claim?"

       Michael was on his feet in a moment. "No no; just the opposite in fact; well perhaps not quite the opposite, but not what you may be thinking."

       "It's very confusing." Connie said as she put down the tray. "Now sit down again and tell me what is on your mind."

       Michael laughed quietly as he took the cup that Connie offered. "Confusing! That just about sums it up, and I want your advice."

       "I don't think anything I can say will sway you away from what you want to do."

       "Ah but that's where you are wrong. What you say is very important. The truth of the matter is that I've been making a lot of mistakes so I am thinking it might be best all round if I leave Ballymay."

       "Leave!  Now that is a surprise. But what about . . . what about the reason you came back?"

       "It's no use Connie, all this time I have been thinking only of me," Michael started, "and not about what my actions are doing to everyone else. I seem to be causing nothing but anger and resentment."

       "Does it surprise you that coming back from the dead like you did has caused some reaction?" Connie asked. "It was bound to be difficult."

       "I thought that they would be pleased to see me, but I was wrong."

       Connie was very thoughtful before she spoke again. She could see that a significant shift had taken place in Michael's head; a change of attitude which might help to prevent Matthew discovering his true parentage. But she sensed that there was more to what he was saying.

       "But you haven't given them enough time to get used to you being back amongst them. It was quite a shock you know; for us all."

       "You seem to have got over it." Michael said, looking directly at Connie.

       "But I'm not family."

       "If I had not been so stupid and cowardly you would be." It was little more than a whisper, "and that is what troubles me most. I abandoned you to your fate and someone else created a happy family for you and my son," he raised his hand to stop Connie protesting, "so what right do I have to destroy that. Why should I spoil the memory of a good man in the eyes of my son?" 

       This time Connie did protest, but it was a gentle rebuke. "My son!"

       "I know; and now that I have met him I realize that no good can come from changing his perceptions of Co'lin, and of you."

       "My word." Connie said, "That is quite a change of direction."

       "I guess it is; but when I'm gone I don't want you to be sorry that I came back into your life." he said quietly.

       "Then don't go."

       "Ah! But in some things we do not have a choice."

       Michael left Connie’s home and started the slow walk back to the village, pleased that he had taken the first steps on his new path. He was still confused, just as he had been on his outward walk but somehow it was different. Despite the fact that he had given up his fight to be recognised as Matt's father he felt a lightness in his step.  Now he felt that he could face his brothers with a renewed sense of purpose.

       Connie too was confused, for Michael's unexpected change of direction had come as a complete surprise. But that was not the only cause of her confusion, for she felt she had seen for the first time something of the young Michael she had known and loved. And for the first time since his return she felt a warmer feeling to him that she had not thought could be possible.  Her main cause of confusion however was that he had said that he was going to leave.

       Not so long ago she had been mortified when hearing of his impeding return. And if only one week earlier she had heard the news of his leaving she would have overjoyed. 

       But now in just that short time she felt different. Not just because was she unsure if she would miss him or not, though she suspected that she would. Also now she had come to realise that he was not a well man; a man who for years had been carrying a heavy weight. Now he needed someone to help him to put it down before it crushed him. It was almost a whisper. “Might that someone,” she wondered, “be me?”