The Realm of the Sun

A New Home

          "Say 'thank you, Da'," Saoirse encouraged her children as Lachlan served them each a very small cut of meat, a small piece of bread and a handful of leafy greens from their garden in the back.

          "Thank you Da," echoed Pearse and Angharad.

          "Thank you Da," Eamonn replied separately, forcing his voice to be artificially deep so it would sound similar to his father's.

          "You're very welcome," he said with a smile as he planted a kiss on his daughter's forehead and tussled Pearse's unruly hair. Saoirse had put baby Nory in her cradle so she could have at least a little while to herself to eat her meal. Tara nodded in gratitude to Lachlan as her plate was placed in front of her. She looked down at the small piece of meat. She dared not ask what it was they were eating; she did not want to know. It certainly looked extremely appetizing and she was hungrier than she had ever been. They were not terribly meager rations, but Tara was surprised to see the children reacting so extremely to this little amount of food. It seemed as though this much was rare. She could have guessed they lived in a relative poverty based on their house and their village. But seeing how this tiny plate of plain foods excited them so was what confirmed it. 

          Tara and Nessie had also scraped and scrounged for food, but they had an entire forest to themselves. Tara would fish in the mornings while Nessie picked from the garden. They had grown their own crops and vegetables in the fertile soil by the pond. It was a balanced supply that kept them alive and healthy for sixteen years. Tara never once went hungry even for a day. Looking at the children's little plates, she realized this was in part because she never had to share.

          "Did you get a lot accomplished today, darling?" Saoirse asked her husband as he sat down beside her at the family's round hard wood table.

          "Aye, we've nearly finished rebuilding the Ceallaighs' house," he replied, cutting into his dinner with a sharp knife made of wood and stone.

          "How is their little boy?"

          "Better. Hopefully now he'll recover sooner without that draft from the torn thatch," Lachlan took a ravenous bite of his bread and chewed in the side of his mouth. It seemed he used all of the muscles in his face to eat. It occurred to Tara that she was staring and that she had never seen a man eat. Her eyes feel to her own plate.

          "Da, will you take me with you to help build?" there was a kind of rasp in Eamonn's voice that was indicative of his trying to speed the process of it's changing.

          "Maybe tomorrow, Eamonn. But a lot of it's thatching. And I don't want you up on any roof just yet. When ye get a little taller perhaps."

          "I'm already taller than I was yesterday, aren't I, Ma?" he boasted, with a small, but deliberate glance at Tara. He was thrilled to have a new audience member to whom he could brag about his growth spurts.

          "Is that so?" asked Lachlan, fighting a laugh as he glanced at his wife.

          "Eamonn has me measure him every morning first thing and we mark it with a notch in the doorway," Saoirse explained to Tara and Lachlan.

          "And tomorrow I'll be even taller, Da," the boy assured him. His eyes darted between the notches in the threshold and his father's stern gaze.

          "We'll see, son," he finally replied, "we'll see."

          "I'm taller than Eamonn!" exclaimed Pearse.

          "No you're not, Pearse," Eamonn scoffed, "You're five. That's half my age."

          "But I'm tall too, aren't I, Ma?" he persisted, turning his head to block his older brother from his range of sight.

          "You're perfect just the way you are, dearest," she replied with a loving smile. Pearse smiled with hubris and stuffed his mouth with greens.

          "This is where you'll be sleeping," Saoirse whispered as she led Tara up a back stairway she hadn't noticed even existed. The creaky narrow steps led to the loft that could be seen when first entering the cottage. Tara had thought the only way to get up there was the ladder in front, but Saoirse explained that her husband was too tall to climb the winding staircase and that it was better to have two ways to get down from the loft in case of an intrusion or a fire. Tara was amazed by how nonchalantly Saoirse had referred to the possibility of intruders. There was a woolen blanket over a pile of hay and a pillow stuffed with feathers and coated in a slip of soft cotton.

          "Thank you," muttered Tara, unable to think of what else to say. The three children lay fast asleep all huddled in the corner in a mess of hay and knit blankets.

          "The children usually sleep over there, but Angharad sometimes gets frightened in the middle of the night and may come over to sleep by you," Saoirse explained, her lips curving upward. Tara watched a specific memory or image cross Saoirse's clear eyes.

          "Thank you," said Tara, "for everything."

          "There's a heavy knit blanket for you there if you get cold in the night and you're always welcome to ask for anything if you need it. I'm afraid we don't have much, but whatever we do have—it's yours too." Saoirse smiled, her sapphire eyes sparkling even in the dimly lit loft. "So if that's all, then..." she began to turn to climb down the stairs.

          "Why are you doing this for me?" Tara blurted. Saoirse stopped and turned to look at her again with a curious smile. "I mean, being so kind and everything. Taking me in like this, a total stranger..."

          "Any friend of Cú Chulainn's is not a stranger," she said to start and then her eyes seemed to glisten even more as she studied at the construction of Tara's face, "And strange as it may seem to you, Tara, you remind me of someone who was once very kind to me. And I will never be able to repay the kindness to them, you see. Anyway, I understand your situation and I want to help."

          Tara smiled, so relieved to know that there was true kindness in this world about which Nessie had cautioned her so fervently.

          "Thank you," was all Tara could manage to say. Her words were simple, but they didn't feel simple, for they were filled and true.

          "On special mornings, the children and I make berry cakes. Would you like to help us tomorrow?" she offered, with a loving glance at her sleeping children.

          "Very much," Tara replied, nodding her head.

          "Wonderful. Now, try to get a good night's sleep," Saoirse whispered as she started down the staircase.

          "Goodnight," Tara replied. She looked over at the children one more time and smiled because she felt like she could be their sister. Then, fluffing the hay, she laid herself down and pulled the warm, knit blanket over her body. One shutter of the back window remained open to welcome the chilled night air. Tara smiled tearfully as she looked on the narrow rectangle of navy sky. It was sprinkled with stars, some brighter than others, but all so very far away. She tried to imagine what the stars had seen of the war and of her parents, whoever they may have been. Tara thought of the stars watching from their safe distance, seeing everything that goes on and not being able to speak.