Toward the Sea of Freedom Read Free Page B

Lordship’s fields meaning to catch some little sinner.
    The landlord’s bright, moon-bathed wheat fields gave way to the tenants’ plots—small, impoverished, without a golden glow. The blight had not only blackened the roots but also the leaves of the potato plants. The dying plants cast ghastly shadows in the moonlight, and Kathleen was certain she could feel death. She took Michael’s hand.
    Finally, they parted at a fork between their farmsteads—the O’Donnells’ small house and the tiny, dilapidated hut of the Drurys. It was late. Their family members would already be asleep on mats on the ground. Kathleen had four siblings, Michael seven. Even if their families could have afforded beds, there would not have been enough space for them. In the O’Donnells’ cottage, a fire was burning. Kathleen might still get something to eat. It was dark at the Drurys’.
    The next day was Saturday. In the morning, Michael would take his fiddle and O’Rearke’s donkey into the town. And somewhere on the way to Wicklow, the saddlebags would fill with whiskey bottles as if by magic.

Chapter 2
    “No, Father, I don’t want to! I don’t like him. You can’t do this to me!” Kathleen spoke desperately, shaking her head forcefully.
    “Now, don’t act like that, Kathie. You don’t have to marry him right away!” James O’Donnell yelled at her.
    It was apparent that he did not think it right that his oldest daughter was arguing with him here, in front of the house and in the presence of most of her siblings. When Trevallion visited on Sunday, the children had excitedly assembled at the fire where their mother was roasting a few of the scant edible potatoes from the harvest.
    The tenant farmers often cooked in front of their cottages to avoid filling the rooms with too much smoke. The chimney did not draw off the smoke sufficiently, especially in the wind and the rain. Now, the pan smelled of the bacon the man had brought.
    “Mr. Trevallion very politely asked if he might bring you home after church next Sunday,” her mother said. “Why should we deny him that?”
    “Because, by rights, they should not let the brute into church in the first place!” Kathleen raged. “The O’Learys’ baby died yesterday because Mrs. O’Leary’s milk ran dry. With that”—she pointed furiously at the remaining bacon and the small sack of flour, which her mother gazed at almost in worship—“he might have saved it. But alas, Mr. Trevallion wants to accompany me at Mass, not Sarah O’Leary.”
    “Lucky for us, child,” said her father. “And I’m not much upset that you don’t like the man. At least then you won’t allow him anything that isn’t proper.”
    “At least not until he brings a whole ham by?” Kathleen asked importunately.
    Her father’s slap struck her so hard and so unexpectedly that she stumbled backward.
    “You’ve gone too far, Mary Kathleen,” said her mother. Although she did not sound very convincing; apparently sin was relative in sight of bacon. “And it wouldn’t be so wrong to think a bit about the pantry when you think about love. Passion fades, Kathie. You’ll love your children forever, regardless of who gives them to you. And you’ll be grateful to a husband if he can feed them. With Mr. Trevallion you’re on the safe side, whether we like him or not.”
    “I won’t sell myself.” Kathleen tossed her blonde hair and stepped aside in case her father might slap her again. “If I have children, it will only be by a man I love. Otherwise, I’ll go to a convent.”
    Although her mouth watered at the scent of the potatoes roasting with the bacon, Kathleen turned on her heels and ran out. No, she wanted none of the meal that was Trevallion’s payment for her companionship on the way back from church. What she wanted was Michael. She had to tell him about this.
    She gave herself over to a moment of fantasy that Michael would run straight to Trevallion’s house and challenge him to