Buried in a Bog (7 page)

Maura stood up, slid the door open as silently as she could, and slipped inside, stopping only to brush her teeth before she fell onto the bed.

And still couldn’t sleep. She had come to Ireland because her promise had made Gran happy, and she wanted to honor her memory. She had planned to spend at most a week doing her duty to Gran. She’d been so caught up in burying Gran—next to her father—and then clearing out what little there was in their apartment, that she hadn’t had time to think about what she wanted to do next.

But now she had freedom, and an unexpected opportunity. She didn’t have to rush, and if she could make enough money to cover her simple needs, she would have some breathing room to decide about her future. And it wasn’t like she was making a long-term commitment; she would be helping out, just for a bit, while she got to know the area better. Got to know people who had known her gran and her father, as a child. This would probably be her only chance, so why not take it?

Feeling obscurely reassured, she turned over and fell asleep.

T
he next morning Maura was awakened by the tapping of rain against the glass sliding doors. It came as a surprise, but Maura realized it shouldn’t have: it must rain all the time in Ireland, to keep all those fields so green. Still, she was glad she’d had a day of sunshine first. If it had stayed cold and grey, like the day she’d arrived, she might have turned tail and run. She lay listening to the sounds: the rain, of course, but also the clinking of pans and plates in the kitchen above, and the young voices as the Keohane children pounded down the hall and out the door. She thought she heard the rumble of a male voice as well—Ellen’s husband? She didn’t want to move, but she knew Ellen would probably be waiting breakfast on her, and surely her landlady had other things to do today.

She checked the clock: 8:00. That meant she’d had no
more than six hours of sleep, after a long day yesterday. The night before, Jimmy and Mick had offered her a job at the pub. And by the light of day she still thought she wanted it. She could stay longer. It wouldn’t be much of a vacation, working all the time, but she’d never had any vacations anyway, so nothing new there. She wouldn’t be seeing much of Ireland, but she’d never been a fan of touristy things back home in Boston, and she didn’t plan to join groups of gawping tourists here. And she’d get to know some real people.

But there were a lot of things that were murky, starting with how long Jimmy and Mick might expect her to stick around, and how much money she’d actually see from the job. She’d served in enough bars to know that it was hard work, hard on the feet and back. In Boston she’d had to fend off her share of randy drunks who thought she was an easy target. Would it be like that here?

Maybe she should talk to Mrs. Nolan about it. Maybe she should take another look at the pub: if it stood up to her inspection on a gloomy day like today, maybe there was hope.

Maybe she should get out of bed.

She swung her legs to the floor, then stood and crossed to the door to pull the curtains back. No one for miles to see her standing there in the ratty old T-shirt she slept in, unless she counted some curious sheep a few miles away. The sky hung low with grey clouds, and sheets of rain swept across the harbor, obscuring and then revealing the hills beyond. In the nearest pasture the cows were huddled together in one corner. The land on the right was filled with dark pines, closely packed, with no visible buildings. A few birds she couldn’t identify swooped low over the water, then sped away.

She shook herself.
Take a shower
,
put some clothes on, and go eat breakfast. Then visit Mrs. Nolan. Then come back and take a long hard look at Sullivan’s.
She showered, dressed in her last clean pair of jeans, and shoved her feet, sockless, into her shoes. After running a comb through her hair, she declared herself ready to attack breakfast.

“Ah, there you are,” Ellen said cheerfully as Maura walked into the kitchen. “Will you be wanting the full breakfast again?”

“Don’t go to any trouble, please. You can give me whatever’s easy.”

“If you don’t mind what the children have left, there’s plenty. Always late for school, they are. Except Gráinne here.” Ellen reached down to tousle the curls of the little girl that had been hiding behind her legs. “Come on, darlin’, let Mummy do breakfast for the nice lady.” Gráinne didn’t budge, but stuck her thumb in her mouth and stared at Maura. “Shall I bring it out to you?”

“Do you mind if I sit in here with you again?” Maura asked. “I like having someone to talk to, and besides, I’ve got some questions for you.”

Ellen cocked her head at Maura curiously. “I’d be glad of the company—it’s a treat to talk with someone older than ten, and I have few guests this time of year. Gráinne, will you sit down at the table now?”

Reluctantly Gráinne sidled up to a chair across from Maura and climbed into it.

“Coffee, Maura?” Ellen asked.

“I’ll take tea, if you’ve got it made. I should get used to it, shouldn’t I?”

“Sure.” Ellen filled a mug and set it in front of Maura.
“My husband, Thomas, tells me there’s a strange car out back—would that be yours?”

“Yes and no, I guess. Bridget Nolan offered to let me use it while I’m here, I think mostly to be sure I’d be able to come back and see her again.”

“I’d been wondering how you’d get around—Mick’s not always handy to give rides.”

“What the heck does Mick do? I gather he’s supposed to be working at the pub, but he’s not there much. Does he have another job?”

“He does a bit of this and that. When he’s away he’s usually in Cork City. He used to work for one of the big foreign companies that set up here, but then the economy fell apart and so did his job. You’ll hear a lot of tales like that, mostly from men sitting in the pub in the middle of the afternoon.” She took a swallow of her tea and handed Gráinne a toy. “Do you know, I’ve been thinking of your gran. Nora, she married a Donovan, did she not? I knew some Donovans back when I was in school, but that would’ve been after she went to Boston, I’d guess. When was that?”

“She left here not long after my grandfather died, more than forty years ago, I think. She managed all right while my dad was growing up, and I guess things looked up after he got married and they had me. But then he died in an accident at work.”

“Did you have the chance to know him?” Ellen asked as she dished up scrambled eggs from a pan on the stove. “Go on, finish them up for me. I never know what my lot is going to want to eat in the morning, so I make plenty.”

Maura obediently forked up some eggs. “I barely remember him—he’s more like a big shape to me than a person, if
you know what I mean. Anyway, according to Gran, my mother couldn’t take it, living with an Irish mother-in-law and taking care of a squalling kid. She just packed up and left one day.”

“And she never returned? In all these years? Never called or wrote to see how you were?”

“No. Or at least, if she did, Gran never told me. She really believed in family loyalty, and when my mother ran out on us, she was as good as dead to Gran. Heck, I turned eighteen a few years ago—if my mother had wanted to find me, she could have. Gran raised me on her own.”

“It was a hard life, then?” Ellen pushed a plate of toast toward Maura.

Maura took a piece and buttered it. “I guess, but we managed. I’ve been working since I was sixteen, but Gran told me that I had to finish high school. Then I started working full-time. Just like Rose at the pub. Didn’t she ever want to see more of the world than this small town?”

“She’s a good girl, and she’s stuck by her dad. As you said, family comes first.”

Maura resolved to have a chat with Rose when they had a bit of quiet time together. But talking about Rose had reminded her of what she wanted to ask Ellen. “Can you sit for a moment?”

Ellen checked to see that her stove was turned off, then took a chair next to Maura, pulling the still-silent Gráinne into her lap. “Nice to have a few minutes of my own. You said you wanted to talk?”

Maura fumbled for a way to ask politely but in the end just blurted out, “Jimmy and Mick asked me if I want to work at the pub while they figure out who the new owner
will be. I hadn’t planned to stay around long, and I’ve got a ticket back next week. I’m not sure what to do.”

Ellen tilted her head at Maura. “What is it you’re asking me?”

“I’m not sure.” Maura considered. “Probably a couple of things. I mean, I’ve been here, what, not even two days? First Bridget Nolan hands me the keys to her car, and then these guys offer me a job. They said you’d give me a deal on my room if I stayed. Sorry, that sounds kind of pushy, but they’re the ones who brought it up. I don’t even know if they talked to you about this. And I really can’t afford much.”

Ellen sat back in her chair and laughed heartily, and Gráinne in her lap looked up at her curiously. “Ah, that’d be Jimmy, I’ll wager. No harm done. But is that what
you
want? Why’d you come to Ireland at all?”

“Because Gran wanted me to come—I’m doing it for her sake. I think she wanted to come back herself, but we never had the money. When she got sick, she went fast—she was only seventy. I think she wore herself down, between worrying about me and working, and sometimes she even took on extra jobs just to make ends meet. I helped as much as I could, but it wasn’t a lot, until I finished high school. So before she went, I promised her that I’d come over and at least tell Bridget Nolan face-to-face.” Maura looked down at her plate, her eyes blurred with tears. “I never even knew until after she’d died that she kept in touch with Mrs. Nolan—Gran never talked about her life in Ireland. I only found out when I was clearing out her things.”

“I’m so sorry—she must have been a good woman. Sounds like you’ve had a hard time of it. So you’ve no place to go back to? No one who’s waiting for you back home?”

“No,” Maura said, then added, “Jeez, that makes me sound pathetic. No home, nobody in my life, and here I am dumping on you, when I only met you the day before yesterday. It’s not your problem.”

Ellen was silent for a few moments, thinking. Then she said slowly, “But you came to me, asking what to do. Since you asked, let me tell you this: I think you need to give yourself some time. You’ve had a lot to worry you, for a long time, and maybe now you should just step back and not decide anything for a bit. If you go back now, you’d have to deal with finding a place and a job and all that. You need to give yourself time to grieve for your gran. If you stay here, you can get by on little while you figure out what it is you want. There’s no need to hurry. Do you see that?”

“You mean, sort of put my life on hold and just be?”

Ellen smile. “Maybe. Have you ever done that?”

Maura shook her head. “I never had the chance. But I guess you’re right. If I can switch that plane ticket, I suppose there’s no reason I can’t just hang out here in Leap until I figure out what comes next.”

“Exactly. And I’ll see to it that Jimmy and Mick pay you enough to cover your room.”

“You can do that?”

“Sure. I know Mick’s sister, and my cousin taught Jimmy’s girl Rose in school. We go back a ways.”

“I’m not asking for charity, you know,” Maura said dubiously.

“It’s not charity—it’s helping each other out.”

She was talking about simple kindness, which had been all too rare in Maura’s life. That was going to take thinking about. “Should I talk to Mrs. Nolan about it?”

“You’re off to see her again?”

“I’m planning on it, and I think she’d enjoy another visit. Look, about this car of hers—I feel funny just taking it like this.”

“She wouldn’t have offered if she didn’t want you to have the use of it. She hasn’t driven in years, and it can’t be worth much. Just enjoy it, will you?”

Enjoy. Relax. Have fun. These were concepts Maura was having trouble wrapping her head around. And the fact that people wanted to do things for her, make her life easier, took getting used to. Was it that the people here were extraordinarily nice, or were the people in Southie, or even Boston, just less friendly in general?

“Thank you for being frank with me.”

“So you’ll be staying on?”

Maura smiled at her. “Maybe. I need to have another talk with the guys at the pub. That place is a pigsty, and I don’t know if I want to be spending a lot of time there.”

Ellen waved a hand at her. “Ah, it’s got good bones. Old Mick, he was used to the dirt. But the place has some life in it yet.”

“Hey, I’m just a temporary bartender who can’t stand dirt. Well, I should go get ready for the day. I’ll let you know what I decide after I speak to Mrs. Nolan and drop by the pub for a chat, if that’s all right with you.”

“No problem. I’ll be here.”

Maura stood up, then waved at the child in Ellen’s lap. “Bye-bye, Gráinne.”

Gráinne looked silently at her, then raised one starfish hand and waved back.

M
aura collected her bag and her car keys. Dressing had proved challenging, since everything she had squashed into her one bag was still as hopelessly wrinkled as it had been the day before. She could almost hear her gran’s voice:
Ah, Maura, sure and you’re not in such a hurry that you can’t tidy up?
She put the bag down again, shook out the rumpled clothes on the bed, and put them one by one on hangers. She was not happy with the results. If—still an “if”—she chose to stay around longer, she’d have to do some wash. Worse, she’d need more clothes: she was not going to make it working at the pub with only two pairs of jeans. She wondered briefly whether she should ask Ellen where to shop for inexpensive clothes, but that could wait, along with the “where to do laundry” question. She’d make
it through one more day with the clothes on her back, and right now she wanted to get to Mrs. Nolan’s house.