Chapter 62

More than a week had passed since Colm’s funeral, and Moira had just spent the first night in her own home since the fire. She had been staying with Peg, keeping watch over her, cooking, and cleaning up after the wake. She was willing to stay as long as Peg needed. Moira had planned to stay longer. In fact, she had not wanted to leave the Sweeny house, but Peg insisted.

“I’ve got to start living life again sooner or later,” she’d told Moira. “Besides, I won’t be alone once Sean and Áedach finish building my caretaker’s chalet in the back.”

With the truth about Moira’s past now out in the open, the people of Ballymann finally seemed to be warming to her. Many stopped and chatted with her in the shop, and she heard from many parents that the children were looking forward to returning to school.

Sitting now in the quiet morning light of her own home, with no school day ahead of her, Moira dropped to her knees. “Lord, I never would have dreamed You would bring about such beauty and redemption from the ashes. Thank You for the miracle You’ve worked in Áedach’s life, and forgive me for when I’ve doubted You. Help me live a life worthy of that to which You’ve called me.”

She continued in that posture of prayer, soaking in the presence of the Almighty. The clock ticked away on the mantel, but she had no inkling of how much time had passed. If it weren’t for the knock at the door, Moira felt she could have passed the entire day there in prayer.

She answered the knock and was surprised to see Sinead at her door, smiling like a giddy child on Christmas morning. “Good morning, Sinead. What brings you by this fine morn?”

A hearty laugh bubbled up and Sinead wagged her head. “Doncha know it’s no longer morning when midday has passed?”

Moira’s brows raised. “Surely it isn’t midday yet?”

“Nearly one o’ the clock!”

Moira stepped back, allowing Sinead into the house.

“I’ve come ta request the honor of yer presence.”

Moira sat at her table and motioned for Sinead to do the same. “I’m sorry?”

Her boisterous laughter was contagious, and before long both women were cackling, though Moira didn’t quite know why. When the laughter died down, both sighed deeply. Moira placed a hand on Sinead’s. “Oh how I’ve missed you, friend.”

“Aye.” Sinead nodded. “And I, ye.” Sinead squeezed Moira’s hand. “Now, that’s enough o’ that. There’s not much time.”

“Not much time for what?” Moira asked.

“I was sent to bid ye come at two o’ the clock. And ye’ve been requested to wear yer new frock.” Sinead nodded, satisfied that she’d delivered her full message.

“Two o’clock? Where? Who’s inviting me?”

Sinead wagged a finger. “Tsk, tsk, tsk! Just get on yer fancy dress, I’ll help ye with yer hair, we’ll pinch up some color in those cheeks, and ye’ll be ready in time. Aye?”

Moira shook her head, curious what in the world could be happening. However, it was clear Sinead was going to offer no further information. She retrieved the dress from her press, and Sinead squealed from across the room.

“Oh, Moira, I didn’t know that was yer new dress!” She clapped her hands and jumped up and down in place. “Where did ye get it?”

“From O’Tooles,” Moira teased.

“Och!” Sinead swatted the air. “I know tha’ ! But how?”

Moira shrugged. “It was left here on my table as a surprise. I was meant to wear it to the Paddy’s Day céilí, but then—” Her countenance fell.

Sinead crossed herself and then kissed her thumb. “Aye, was a sad Paddy’s Day fer us all. I can’t remember ever hearing about a time when all festivities were canceled.”

The friends clasped hands, letting the gravity of the moment settle on them once more. Sinead was the first to break the silence. “We’d best get ye dressed, love.”

The girls worked in tandem getting Moira out of her faded traveling frock and lacing and buttoning up her new velvet gown. When Sinead tied the strings of the apron around her waist, Moira looked down at herself and ran her hands over the rich fabric.

“I can still hardly believe it’s mine.”

“Let’s see to those locks, aye?” Sinead worked Moira’s hair into an intricate weave of plaits and curls. When she placed Moira in front of the looking glass, Moira could hardly believe her eyes. She turned toward her friend, whose eyes were teeming with joy.

“It’s nearly two o’ the clock, dearie. Ye best be on yer way.”

“But where am I going?”

Sinead pressed her lips together and moved to the door, opening it for her friend. When Moira stepped out, her mouth fell open at the sight that greeted her. As far as the eye could see, men, women, and children—her precious students—lined the street. As Moira stepped onto the footpath, Aoife ran up, threw her arms around her waist, and squeezed.

“I knew you’d stay!” She handed Moira a single flower, grabbed her hand, and led her down the street. One by one, each person handed her a flower and offered a curtsy or bow. Every now and then, one of her students would run up and join them, or someone would call out a greeting on the breeze.

Tears of joy pooled in her eyes as Moira realized she had done it—she had saved her mother. Not her mother’s life but her legacy. Understanding bloomed like a daffodil in spring, and Moira finally realized why God had brought her to this place.

As they walked, Moira assumed this was the village’s way of welcoming her back to the school, so she started to turn down that road. But Aoife tugged at her hand. “No, Miss, this way. Toward the halla!”

Sean’s heart pounded in his chest and blood rushed in his ears. He paced back and forth, wearing a path in the freshly swept dirt floor of the halla. The community had worked all week to clear the rubble from the fire because of their excitement to help Sean execute his plan.

A commotion outside drew his attention. Children squealed, footsteps filled the road, and the murmur of a crowd grew louder. He stepped outside, shading his eyes against the sun with his hands, and grinned.

Moira, surrounded by a throng of skipping, laughing children, made her way down the street. Flowers overflowed from her hands, and joy radiated from her face as she greeted each member of the community in turn. Someone leaned in and said something in her ear. She just laughed, shrugged, gestured “I don’t know,” and continued down the road. His heart swelled at the sight of her in her new gown.

He had taken great pains to get to Letterkenny and back in time to surprise her with it before St. Patrick’s Day. He’d scraped together every extra shilling and worked some odd jobs for various folks around town to earn the price of it. Seeing her in it now, with her face shining and eyes glistening, took his breath away.

“Miss Doherty, look!” Aoife pointed right at Sean.

Moira’s gaze followed the direction of the girl’s finger until her eyes fell on him. She stopped, brought a hand to her mouth, and laughed. Resisting the impulse to run like a spring lamb and scoop her up into his arms, Sean merely extended a hand and beckoned her: Come.