days in Forest Hills, where they had had an apartment. They had carved out a nice life for themselves and had forever rejoiced in the fact that they had had the courage to start their lives all over again by coming to America. But as the years passed they had begun to grow weary of the city, wanted to escape the hurly-burly, yearned to find a quiet spot that was reminiscent of the Irish countryside they loved. It was while they were visiting friends, who had recently moved to northwestern Connecticut, that they recognized they had found what they called God’s country. ‘This is it!’ her mother had said that day, and they had all agreed with Catriona. A decision was made on the spot: this was where they belonged.
It took over a year, but finally she and her parents moved to New Milford, where they had found a house that had charm and comfort and wasn’t overpriced. Bridget, captivated by her wheeling and dealing in real estate, elected to remain in the city during the week, and came out to Connecticut at weekends.
She had been twenty-three when they moved to the country, and she had met Michael Byrne within the first few months of her arrival in New Milford. It had been love at first sight for both of them. He was the type of man she had always pictured in her mind’s eye as being right for her…tall, dark, nice-looking, and kind, with a loving nature. They had married when she was twenty-five and Michael twenty-seven, and it had worked. It was still working.
I got married twenty years ago, she suddenly thought, a small frown pinching her eyebrows together, making a tight knot above the bridge of her nose. How fast the time has flown. I can’t believe I’m forty-five already. She didn’t feel it, and she knew she didn’t look it. She sighed, remembering all of the things she still wanted to do in her life. I must do them before I’m too old, before Michael’s too old, she added, reminding herself to talk to him about that long-promised trip to Ireland.
Glancing across the kitchen, Maureen saw Katie was now standing by the stove, filling a brown teapot with water. They might be different in character and personality, but there was no question that they were mother and daughter. They were practically identical in appearance, with the same colouring and build.
Sitting down in the wing chair next to the fireplace, Maureen settled herself comfortably against the chair back, her gaze still on Katie, her middle child and her only daughter. She had always known deep within her Celtic soul that Katie was different from other children. Her daughter’s personality and character were already in place the day she was born. Even as a toddler of three years Katie had known exactly who she was and what she wanted, and she had been determined. Maureen had frequently told Michael that their daughter had an unusual awareness of herself, which was manifested in an amazing inner confidence. But he knew that without having to be told; she was unusual. Yet Katie had never been bratty nor had she been precocious in an objectionable way. There had been moments when Maureen had looked at her three-year-old daughter and seen the woman she would become, so well defined was the child’s personality and character.
Maybe we’re all like that, Maureen thought, only perhaps it’s not so obvious in every one of us. She cast her mind back to Niall’s childhood, and to Finian’s as well, but they had been…well, just ordinary little boys, and certainly not particularly self-possessed or as definite and determined as their sister.
Thoughts of her sons were interrupted when Katie came over to the fireside with two cups of tea. After handing one to her mother, she sat down in the other wing chair next to the fire.
‘Thank you, darlin’,’ Maureen said and took a sip of the tea. ‘It’s good,’ she murmured, smiling across at her daughter. ‘So, you were at the barn rehearsing, were you?’
Katie nodded. ‘I think I’ve got my Hamlet right at last. I always thought the soliloquy was easy, but it’s not, Mom. Not if you’re going to do it properly.’ Katie sighed and made a face. ‘I say I’ve got it, but there’s lots of room for improvement.’ She nodded to herself. ‘There’s always room for improvement, and perfection is hard won.’
Maureen smiled, wondering whom Katie was quoting now. There were times when her girl sounded like a little old woman, especially when she’d been dipping into the classics. She asked, ‘And what about the others? How’re Carly and Denise doing?’
‘They’re good, Momma, I know that. The trouble is, they don’t. I think I’m getting them to believe in themselves more. It’s all to do with self-confidence.’
Which you’ve never lacked, Maureen thought, but said, ‘You should have brought them back to supper, Katie. There’s always enough for everyone, and especially when it’s Irish stew. Your father says I always make enough to feed Cox’s army.’
‘I thought about asking them, but I decided it’d be too much for you. You’ve been so sick.’
‘I’m much better, darlin’.’
The door at the other end of the kitchen flew open, and Finian came rumbling in. ‘Hi, there, Katie!’ he cried.
‘Hi, Fin.’
‘I prefer Finian,’ the twelve-year-old announced.
‘Oh, sorry,’ Katie replied, hiding her amusement. This was something new with him.
‘That’s okay. But Finian is my name.’ He glanced at his mother. ‘Do you need me to help again, Mom?’
She shook her head. ‘No, Fin…er, Finian. But thanks for asking. Do you want a mug of tea?’
‘No thanks.’ He shook his head and went over to the refrigerator. ‘A Coke’ll be great.’
‘What about your homework, Finian?’ his mother asked.
He swung around and gave her a long look. ‘I’ve done it.’
Slightly puzzled and frowning at him, Maureen asked, ‘When?’
‘Just now. When I was in the back room.’ He shrugged nonchalantly, explained, ‘I didn’t have a lot of it tonight. Just math.’
Nodding, Maureen gave him the benefit of a pleased smile and drank her tea.
Katie sat bolt upright in the chair looking at her mother askance. ‘Am I stupid!’ she cried in a shrill tone. ‘I left my school bag at the barn! Oh Mom! My homework! What am I going to do?’ As she spoke she jumped up. ‘I’ll just have to go back.’
‘Not now, Katie!’ Maureen exclaimed. ‘It’s far too dark already, and you know very well I won’t let you walk across the fields alone, so you can forget that!’
‘But I need my books, Mom,’ Katie wailed, her expression woeful.
‘Yes, I know you do. But you’ll just have to wait for Niall to get home. He’ll go with you. Better still, he’ll run you down to the barn in his pickup. That’ll be the quickest. Fin, go and turn off the stew, please, and I’d better take the bread out of the oven.’
‘It’s Finian, Mom,’ the boy muttered. ‘My name’s Finian, like in Finian’s Rainbow. That’s a musical.’
Maureen stared at him, wondering what he would come out with next.
Katie
