Bring My Soul Out of This Prison (on hold)

Chapter 6

Seamus woke up the next morning as the first rays of light from the sun streamed in through the window.  Sleep fought him as he opened his eyes and then closed them again several times.  Another reason not to wake up yet was because he knew that the ground would be hard and cold.  The idea of cold seemed to so foreign to him as he lay comfortably in his warm bed that he didn’t want hard reality to set in just yet.  So, he pulled the quilt over his head, snuggled down into the blanket, and gave in to sleep.

A single cough, followed by a series of dry, hacking coughs came from the direction of Murphy’s bed.  Seamus groaned loudly when the blanket was suddenly snatched from his body.  He turned and opened his eyes to see an exultant Murphy standing over him.

“Come on, boy, it’s time to get up,” he held out a hand to help Seamus get up.  Murphy laughed his gravel laugh, which then turned into another round of coughing.  He turned away from Seamus’ concerned look and only turned around again when they were over.  “Don’t look at me like that, boy.  I’m not going anywhere.”

Seamus thought to himself, “That’s probably what my dad said to himself too,” but he did not say it out loud.  Instead, he just shook his head and reached for the blanket.

“Oh, no,” Murphy laughed again, “you’re not going back to sleep.  You need to get up and go to work.”

“The shop is open this early?” Seamus asked incredulously.

“Not for customers.  There’s apparently a lot of things you’re expected to do before the shop opens.  The butler, Grant, gave me a note here from the Master but I can’t read it.”  He pulled the note out of his pocket and handed it to Seamus.  Seamus didn’t even look at it, he just shook his head negatively.  “Well, then, it’s a good thing I made Grant read it to men then, huh?”  Murphy folded the paper back into a neat square and stuck it in his pocket.  “Grant says that I will drive you in but you need to find your way home.  As soon as you get to the store, you’re to pull the tools out of each desk, lay them in a nice row, make sure the leathers are stacked neat and nice, and then clean up the store itself, you know, sweep and dust.”

Seamus’ head was spinning and he dearly hoped that he could remember all of that information.

“Come on, boy, we can’t waste the whole morning yapping.”  He grabbed Seamus’ hand and hoisted him up on his own feet.

They both washed up in the basin and dressed.  Seamus went to get another log for the fire, Murphy set fire to what was left of the kindling, and reheated the rest of the soup from dinner.  After they ate, they cleaned up the house a bit and set off for the main house, where they would pick up the cart and be on their way.

There are a handful of other manor houses on the way from Mr. Twomey’s house to Dublin.  At the third one, Seamus saw something that made his heart skip a beat.

The house itself looked very similar to Twomey’s house, however it was nearly as wide.  It too had a small orchard in front of the house but instead of a thick hedge, which blocked your view until you entered the gate, there was a tall, intricately decorated wrought iron fence.  The gate doors, in the middle, had a graceful arch at the top, instead of going straight across like in Mr. Twomey’s house.  Through this gate, Seamus could see two children playing in the trees.  The first was a boy, his hair the color of burnished copper, wearing a small version of the type of suit an adult man would wear; dark brown pants, and jacket, with a lighter brown vest, a white linen shirt, and shiny brown shoes.  The other child was a girl.  This girl is what made Seamus’ heart skip a beat.  She was wearing a light blue muslin dress with a white apron tied on the front, light tan hose, and dark brown boots.  Her hair was the color of golden wheat in the summer, pulled away from her face with a blue ribbon, and flowing down her back in millions of little soft waves.  She laughed as she chased the boy around tree after tree and her laugh was like none Seamus had ever heard before.  It sounded like birds singing in spring and like pure joy; a happiness Seamus had never imagined before.

“Who is that girl?” Seamus asked Murphy as they drove past he house.

Murphy looked over his shoulder in the direction of Seamus’ point, “Oh, that’s the Evans’ place, so she’s probably one of their children.  Why?”  He turned and saw the look on Seamus’ face.  “Oh no, boy,” he laughed, “She’s not for you.”  He slapped Seamus on the back and laughed again.

Seamus turned around on his seat to see her one last time.  Now she was standing, hands on her hips, and laughing victoriously at the boy who was no laying on the ground in defeat.  Seamus sighed and did not turn around again until he could no longer see her