1

Chapter 1
The Hovel
Hes gone. I cant see him anymore. The boy flashed
an expression of glee.
Clare thrust her arms on her waist. Davin
Hanley. Shut that door before your ma takes ill, and Ive told
you about disrespecting your father as such. For all he does for
you? You must be ashamed.
Davin scowled. Im just happy for Da, thats all. Now we
wont be such a bother.
Were not a bother. Caitlin gathered the bowls and spoons
from the table.
Caits right, Clare said. Theres much on his mind, what
with raising the likes of us in these troubling days.
Ronan waddled to the doorway and put his arm around his
younger brother. Come. Theres a cow thats been missing ya.
Thats it, off you go to milk her, boys. Clare put her hand
on Caits shoulder. And you tend the chickens. Not too much
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as the feed is low. While youre at it, make sure those ladies
know theyre behind on the rent.
Caitlin giggled. Their eggs?
Tell them Im serious. Clare wagged her finger.
That I will.
Clare waved at them with the backs of her hands. Why are
you all tarrying? Hup, hup. Much to do still.
When the three of them emptied out of the door, Clare
sighed. Much to do still. She actually embraced complete
exhaustion. Throughout the difficulties of her labors, she antici-
pated it as the treasured visit by her evening angel. It meant the
family would soon be asleep and she could finally pass her heavy
torch to the maker of dreams.
Although one more day of her fading youth would escape
her, those she loved would be safe. At least until the morning
sun delivered new burdens.
She hurried to clean the dishes. It wouldnt take the boys
long to milk the heifer, empty the tin pail into a jar, and lower
it by twine to the bottom of the cool waters of the well to keep
it fresh until morning. Caitlin returned eggless and helped her
older sister finish the cleaning just as Ronan and Davin returned
from their chores.
Clare provided evening lessons in reading and arithmetic,
made certain they bathed well with careful inspections, and now
it was time for her to lead evening prayers.
All right now. Lets offer our thanks to the Lord.
Thank Him for what?
Clare glared at Davin, but before she could respond, Ronan
rapped him on the side of his head.
Why did you do that? Davin rubbed the feral brown tufts
of his hair.
MICHAEL K. REYNOLDS 3
Clare was disappointed to see the task of brushing his hair
was yet undone.
Ronan pointed up above and glared at Davin. Dont be
making the Almighty angry when youre standing next to me.
The seriousness in his command made Clare smile. But how
much longer would Ronan get to rule over his brother? With
his lame leg, it was just a matter of time before Davin would be
strong enough to assert himself.
Caitlin joined them, her wavy blonde hair draping over the
front of her faded yellow dress. The dress was the one Uncle
Tomas gave Clare as her sixteenth birthday present, and when it
no longer fit, Caitlin adopted it as if it were brand new.
When her uncle was still alive, he always was kind to them,
bringing gifts and sharing fanciful stories of fairies, ghosts, and
faraway lands. For years, Clare didnt know why this would make
her father angry, but as she grew older, she recognized it as envy.
In speaking about Clares father and uncle, Grandma Ella
had shared how the two fought since they were boys. Jacob and
Esau had nothing on these ones, I tell you. Her grandmother
always saw life through a veil of Scripture.
Standing a few inches above Ronan and Davin, Caitlin
reached out her arms in expectation and soon they all were
clasping hands in a circle.
Clare glanced over her shoulder at her mother, who was in a
chair knitting the same scarf she had been working on for nearly
two years. Ma. Are you going to join us?
Hmm? Ida looked up with a weary, troubled face. What?
Hows that? Her expression darkened. No. I have no desire
for praying.
As you wish. Clare bristled but tried not to show it. She
heard the same sentiment almost every day since her youngest
brother drowned as a toddler.
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All right, Davin. Since youre in need of much penance,
well have you pray.
Looking up to Clare as if to protest, he let out a deep breath
and bowed his head. There was something in his spirit that was
so appealing to her, but she feared the day would come soon
when the trials of life and her fathers cruel disposition would
dampen his flame.
Davin squeezed his eyes shut and spoke with sincerity.
Lord. We thank You for the taters. Then whispered, Which
we eat every night.
This was met with a sharp tug of his hand by Ronan, who
stumbled before catching his balance.
Undeterred, Davin continued. I pray for my ma. That shell
learn how to smile better. For my da. He glanced at the door
behind him. For my da. That hell talk to me kindly. For Cait.
That shell get a new bonnet. The blue one with the ribbons that
she likes.
Caitlin opened her eyes and grinned. Thank you, Davin.
That would be lovely.
And I pray for . . . I pray for my big sister that someone will
finally marry her. Amen.
Oh, Davin. Caitlin looked up at Clare to see if she was
offended.
Clare smiled, but the innocent barb resonated. At her age, a
woman was close to being out of time, a bruise her father often
poked. Perhaps love and adventure only did exist between the
worn covers of her books.
Sorry. I forgot Ro. Davin, with a sense of devotion,
clasped his hands. For Ronan. I pray Ill grow bigger than he.
So I can give him the whipping he deserves.
Ronan grabbed a handful of his little brothers hair and
tugged it, which drew an immediate yelp.
MICHAEL K. REYNOLDS 5
That will do, Clare broke in with an intensity that cap-
tured their attention. She decided to complete the prayer on their
behalf. Since her Grandma Ella passed, Clare struggled to believe
there was anyone listening to her petitions. But prayer still had a
role in the proper upbringing of children. The fear of God was a
helpful tool of discipline, and one she wasnt willing to discard.
Lord, please continue to hold my family in Your gentle
arms. The words seemed inauthentic and Clare hoped it wasnt
obvious. We thank You for the daily food You provide, this beau-
tiful home we share. We are so grateful for Your favor. Amen.
A-men, they chorused. The boys headed toward the
ladder to the loft to compete for their favored position in the
straw bed they all shared, but Clare grabbed Davin by the arm.
Brush. She motioned to Caitlin.
With her brother wriggling in her grasp, Clare watched
Ronan labor up the ladder as Caitlin retrieved the hairbrush
from the drawer. Although the interior of the tiny home was
confining, it was meticulously groomed, with food bins, dinner-
ware, and knickknacks all organized against the wall on evenly
distributed wooden shelves.
Caitlin handed the brush to Clare, and after a few jabs
through the hair on his impatient head, Davin climbed up to
bed. But Caitlin just stood there.
Well? Have you something on your mind?
You look tired, she said to Clare with some hesitation.
Because you all are tiring. Now off to sleep, you.
But Caitlin didnt budge. She stood as if she had something
else to say.
What?
Well. Will I look tired as well soon?
Clare let the words of the question sink in before she
answered. She carried the challenges of the family on her
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shoulders, and although she resolved herself to an uneventful
life, she yearned for Caitlin and the boys to have more.
The face of a princess will never wrinkle. She put her lips
to Caits forehead.
Caitlin hugged her sister in return and then went up the lad-
der to join her brothers in the loft. Her legs vanished over the
last rung, and Clare turned her attention to her mother, who had
nodded off in her chair.
Kneeling beside Ma, Clare removed the knitting tools from
the womans brittle grip and picked the scarf up from the floor.
It was tangled and knotted. It saddened Clare to recall how
beautifully her mothers hands once clothed the entire family.
With a gentle touch, Clare tucked the stringy, gray hair
behind her mothers ears. Oh, how grief had aged the woman.
Even in the calming arms of slumber, Ma looked troubled.
Kevans death was still hovering in her mothers fragile
mind. Last Saturday would have been the boys fifth birthday
had he not fallen into the creek that fateful day. Although Ma
could barely function in ordinary day-to-day duties, she had a
remarkable awareness of that date.
The anniversary of his death was difficult for Clare as well.
It brought back the haunting vision of her mother sitting in that
chair, eyes vacant, while holding the limp toddler in her lap, his
moist skin a pale blue.
In many ways, the tragedy extinguished the last flicker of
Clares youth. Following her mothers ensuing breakdown, she
was next in line to assume the duties and responsibilities of the
matriarch.
Up we go, Ma. Lets get you to bed.
Clare helped the fragile woman to her feet and escorted her
to the far corner of the room. There she pulled back an opening
through the hand-embroidered canopy Grandma Ella made as
MICHAEL K. REYNOLDS 7
a wedding gift. It didnt provide much privacy for the bed, but
in Clares mind it represented the last symbol of her mother and
fathers threadbare marriage. She obsessed to maintain the fabric
to its original beauty, but the years of turf smoke in the room
left the linen with a yellow tinge and a sooty smell.
She helped her mother curl into the bed and laid a worn
wool blanket over her. Clare seated herself on the edge of the
bed and watched the frail woman fall asleep.
Nightie, Mam.
Clare rose and became aware of the aching in her back and
the throbbing in her temple. It was only when she was no longer
tending to others that the pains in her own life surfaced.
She stood still, allowing a silence to confirm her two broth-
ers and sister had settled to rest above in the loft. The room was
eerily still, save the crackling of the fire, as the red glow of its
burning peat cast shifting shadows upon the walls.
Margarets chair was angled at the table, and out of habit
Clare straightened it. She ran her fingers over the time-smoothed
oak chair and tried to imagine her older sister sitting there, her
laughter winning the room. Clare didnt blame her father for
favoring Maggie, because her sister had a natural radiance about
her few could match.
What kind of life would Clare have had if Maggie never left
for America with her Uncle Tomas four years ago? Certainly she
wouldnt be carrying this burden alone.
She immediately felt shame for her self-pity and punished
herself with guilt. Such a horrible tragedy her sister endured,
and here Clare was feeling sorry about taking on some addi-
tional chores.
She went to the bookshelf above the mantel and ran her
slender hands over the cracked leather bindings, as if there were
something magical in the touch of her fingertips that would
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discern a proper choice. Clare had read these few books many
times over; the adventuresome places and intrepid characters
so well known to her they seemed as real as her life here on the
farm.
Something compelled her to pull down the Holy Bible her
grandmother had given her before she died. It was the very one
Nanna read to her often when she was a wee girl. Clares face
burned at the dustiness of the cover. Her grandma would have
been mortified and rightly so.
With the Bible in one hand, she lifted Maggies chair and
grabbed a heavy blue knit shawl from one of the hooks on the
wall. After shifting a few things in her clutches, she placed her
hand around the cold iron handle of the smoke-stained oak
door, opened it, and winced when the hinges let out a moan.
Clare stepped into the coolness of the fog-enshrouded night
and paused to allow her eyes to adjust to the darkness. Then
she sank into the oak chair and experienced closeness to Maggie
in some strange manner. Clare wrapped the shawl around
her shoulders and absorbed the gentle chorus of the evenings
sounds.
She had hoped the moon would provide enough light for
her to read, but the murky clouds prevailed and the book lay
unopened on her lap.
Somewhere in the uneven chants of the night winds, she
sought out a healing voice above the din of her life. Her imagina-
tion drifted to sweeter places and she fought back the weariness,
grasping on to what remained of the day.
Nevertheless, Clare faded as the aroma of death closed in
around her.