MARTHA CONSIDERED THE August sky, clear and blue with only the slightest trace of clouds, hoping that the breeze would dry the huge pile of washing on the line. Later on she planned to take Alice into town with her, as she wanted to get some shopping for the weekend. The Clarkes had invited them over to a barbecue, Irish style, which meant if the rain came there’d be a mad run into the kitchen to finish off cooking the steaks and hamburgers. She wanted to buy them a good bottle of wine, and some strawberries and raspberries for the dessert.
Alice was outside playing with Conor and Katie and another child from a house down the way, the four of them racing around in their shorts and T-shirts trying to catch each other.
Martha smiled to herself. She’d just got off the phone from Dan, who had surprised her with the good news that he was due in Dublin the following week. His trip to Ireland was part business and part pleasure, he’d explained, and Martha’s whoops of delight had no doubt confirmed to him which part she fulfilled. She couldn’t wait to see that big lump of a man again and knew in her heart that Dan Kendrick had become far more than a friend or a casual romance to fill the gap left by her husband. He was someone she could trust and totally rely on and respect along with physically wanting him too, daydreaming like a besotted twenty-year-old about lying in his arms. Dan had told her of his feelings for her. Martha scarcely credited her own response, and the fact that she was finally ready to overcome all caution and admit she’d fallen in love again. Spending time with Dan would give them both the opportunity to see just how serious their relationship was.
Martha sat in the canvas deck chair out back and put her feet up, glancing at the rest of the post and the newspaper as she stretched out her limbs in the warm sunshine. Evie had forwarded on a bundle of mail from back home. Martha skimmed through it: she was saddened to hear from Henry Madison of his brother’s death, but glad he’d had his surgery and was planning the trip of a lifetime to his beloved Italy with his friend Celeste.
Sitting there doing nothing she realized how she’d come to enjoy the pace of Irish country living, far removed from the frantic demands of her American existence. The peace was suddenly disturbed by the distant sound of the children shouting and screaming, and she jumped up wondering what in heaven’s name they were fighting about. There was no sign of them around the cottage or in the field so she ran towards the gate, spotting the splash of their coloured T-shirts at the end of the lane. Alice ran frantically towards her screaming, ‘Mom! Mom! Come quick! We need you!’
As fast as she could, Martha raced towards the group of children, alarmed to see a heavy farm tractor pulled into the ditch beside them, the driver hunched down over something. Filled with dread, she breathlessly ran towards them.
‘Mommy, it’s Conor and Katie’s dog, he’s hurt!’
Relieved that at least the children were safe, Martha immediately recognized the Clarkes’ small white and black Jack Russell terrier lying on the rough ground.
‘Tiny didn’t see the tractor!’ sobbed Katie. ‘He was chasing a rabbit through the long grass!’
She bent down to examine the poor animal, shocked by its injuries. Blood was seeping from his stomach and nose where the tractor blow had caught him. Tiny whimpered wildly every few seconds, the sound of his pain filling the still air.
‘Tiny, come on, Tiny, get up!’ pleaded Conor, the small boy in shock kneeling beside his pet.
‘Mom!’ pleaded Alice. ‘You can do it! You know you can. You can make him better.’
As the four children stared at her, Martha stood transfixed.
‘My mom can heal him, Katie, she can,’ Alice assured her, staring straight at Martha.
Innocence, trust and complete honesty in her child’s eyes – how could she betray those ideals? The very things that as a parent she had taught her daughter every day of her life!
‘She’ll fix him, make him better! Just wait and see,’ promised Alice. ‘Mom’s able to stop bleeding, and heal people, honest she is.’
Alice pushed her towards the animal. ‘Please, Mom! Please!’
The tractor driver, eyes downcast, avoided the children’s stares. ‘Missus, do you think I could use the phone in your house to get the vet, maybe he could do something,’ he offered. ‘The poor thing’s in a lot of pain and might need to be put down.’
‘Oh, of course, the house just at the end of the lane, the back door is open and there’s a phone in the kitchen near the dresser. I’ll stay here with the children.’
They were looking at her, waiting, expecting her, the adult, to be able to do something to resolve the situation. Desperately she wanted to help the small dog, relieve his agony, and could see hope flicker in the children’s eyes, the belief that she could restore their pet to the way he had been, back jumping and chasing across the Wicklow fields after rabbits.
The dog’s eyes were glazing over, he was giving in to the pain, shudders racking his blood-matted body, tongue out, panting.
‘Mom, please do it, don’t let Tiny die,’ begged Alice, pummelling her legs, hysterical almost. ‘Please! You can cure him.’
The tractor driver had disappeared from view.
She couldn’t do it. She just couldn’t help the small creature! How could she, with so many witnesses? The children would talk! They were only children, after all. And the man if he came back! A pint after work down in the local pub and he might come out with it. She’d already lost so much, how could she go through it all again? The men, women and children of this new community would in their hour of need then call on her, and in fairness how could she possibly refuse them and turn her back on her calling once the word of her healing power got out?
The dog’s eyes began to glaze, deep in shock, as instinctively she reached for him and made the decision.
‘Good boy, Tiny! That’s the good dog,’ she urged softly as she laid her hands on his quivering body, gently feeling to see where he was bleeding from and trying to staunch the flow. ‘It’s all right, Tiny, I’m not going to hurt you,’ she comforted as she tried to draw off the pressure and pain from his swollen abdomen.
The dog panted rapidly as if having trouble breathing and Martha moved the position of her hands, feeling the energy flow through her fingers, hoping that the small dog would respond.
‘Poor Tiny’s in bad pain!’ murmured the boy hunkered down beside her, gently petting his dog’s paw with the tips of his fingers.
‘He is, Conor pet, and I’m not sure if we can save him.’
Concentrating, Martha focused on the animal, hoping that the terrier would respond in some way to her touch and gain some alleviation of its pain. The four children were rapt with attention.
‘Mom?’ asked Alice.
‘Ssshh, pet, let me work . . . Come on, boy! Come on, boy,’ she pleaded, hoping that Tiny could still hear her and was responsive to the human voice.
‘He moved! Look!’ shouted the boy.
It was almost imperceptible but the dog had definitely tried to move.
‘He’s getting better,’ murmured the little girl Maeve.
The animal gave a shudder and tried to stretch his paws, making an awkward effort to lift his head.
Martha, hardly daring to believe it, noticed that the blood seeping from the gash on his stomach had seemed to ease a little. Pulling off her waistcoat, she gently wrapped it around the small frame as she lifted the injured dog up into her arms.
‘Come on, you lot. Tiny needs to be seen by a vet.’
‘Is he going to get better, Martha?’ begged Katie.
‘I don’t know, I can’t promise anything. Tiny has had a real bad bang from the tractor and needs to get stitches and be checked over. He’s bleeding inside and I think he’s busted his leg. We’ll just have to wait and see.’
The children began to follow her as she walked back towards the lane, Alice walking in step with her.
‘I told you my mom could heal him and save him from dying! I told you!’ A fierce pride was reflected in her youngest daughter’s eyes.
Martha swallowed hard, knowing her secret was no longer safe. The children would bear witness to her healing power, whisper it among each other, tell their friends, tell their parents and like a ripple along the shore, she would no longer be able to hide the truth from those around her. Perhaps here in a place like this she could still live some kind of normal life. Have people accept her for who she was!
The dog whimpered in her arms.
‘There, now. There now, good boy!’ she soothed, holding him against her chest. In the distance she could see Mary Clarke coming towards her with the tractor driver, a look of utter surprise on his face.
Martha looked down at the dog and at Alice. How could she have, even for a single moment, considered betraying her child’s trust. She couldn’t run away or hide, pretend to be someone different. There was no denying or escaping from what she was . . . she was a healer, and would no longer turn her back on the gift she’d been given.
THE END