Everyone had either erected their tents on the beach and crawled in for the night or, like Frank and Colin, had languidly propped themselves on logs and rocks by the beach bonfire like a Dionysian dinner party. People played guitars, told stories, and many came up to Michael to chat with him as we sat by the lapping tide, alone together. I had wrapped myself back up in my jacket but left my hair down, twirling it around my fingers nervously.
“I love when the fire festivals fall on a new moon,” he said. “When it’s this dark, you can see every single star.” I nodded. “We see them how people saw them every night before all the pollution and buildings and light blocked them out,” he added.
“I couldn’t agree more,” I said. “I love new moon energy. It feels like the beginning of a new chapter.”
“I like that,” Michael agreed, shifting closer to me.
“I still can’t believe I fainted.” I laughed, a bit embarrassed still but focusing on more important emotions.
“Yeah, I couldn’t decide if it was a compliment to my kissing style or maybe a bad sign,” Michael joked, flashing his white teeth with the lovely little space in them. It may have been dark out with no moon, but I could still see the important parts under the light of the stars. “I’ve never had a girl faint when I’ve kissed her before, though I have heard I’m not terrible at it,” he said, clearly fishing for some absolution.
“I think I was just overtaken by the ceremony as a whole. I really lost myself,” I said, leaning back to rest on my elbows and get a better view of the stars.
“I’m sorry for surprising you like that. I lost meself in it too, and I lost my ability to, uhhh, you know, restrain my desires.” He looked down bashfully and handed me back the tin mug of tea we were sharing. “I hope you’re feelin’ better now.” he added. I sipped and thought. Unafraid of the silence between us. Apparently Michael didn’t share this courage because he quickly piped up. “Frank seems quite smitten over there, which is nice. I’ve known Colin for a while. He’s a nice bloke. Often drives the lorry that delivers new kegs to the bar. And so what did your measurements and alignments tell you up there on the moor?” he asked without taking a breath.
Was Michael getting nervous and thus chatty? I wondered, amused that this ultraconfident leader of men and women, and pint slinger no less, could be nervous. “I feel confident about my thesis,” I continued since he seemed relieved I was doing the talking now. “The book will discuss the monument complex throughout the Northern British Isles, their alignments, and thus when they would have been used for festivals, as well as the distances between them and how and why ancient people would have traveled between monuments to celebrate the wheel of the year with a broader community.”
Michael nodded. “Sounds like you may have learned something from the modern festivals as well as the ancient monuments.” He nudged me with his shoulder playfully.
“I did. Truly. And Sully would be so glad,” I answered earnestly, looking into his eyes a moment too long and losing my train of thought as he bent closer to me. “Your grandfather told me what you do for the locals in August at your farm,” I offered, changing the subject. “Hosting them for weekly bonfires, free beer, music, and stories so they get a reprieve.”
He nodded, gaining the courage to peer over at me out of the corners of his eyes. “Aye, it’s a beautiful thing, community,” he said in a soft voice. “You Americans are so determined to be independent and self-sufficient, I think you forget you need people sometimes.” He reached out to place a hand on my knee. “Do you know what the ancient meaning of Mabon really is?” he asked gently.
“It’s derived from Welsh and means triumph over the darkness.” That made him laugh, and I wasn’t sure why.
“Yes, love, literally.” he sniggered. “But the meaning of the ritual and in coming together, is to remind ourselves that we need one another to overcome the darkness.” I sighed a deep, guttural sound. “The darkness of the winter months ahead.” he clarified. I nodded. “ Edie, I’d love for you to come to the farm for a wee stay, see old Mickey again, meet my animals. You’d love it there.” I nodded again, looking out over the sea. “I’d say you could excavate anything you like there, but your mind seems so far away, I’m not sure I can reel you back in, even with that.” His thumb moved back and forth over the outside of my kneecap in a reassuring rubbing motion. He was trying very hard to act in a courteous, platonic manner, but the restraint was written all over his face.
“I never really had the approval or the love of my father,” I said. Out of the blue, into the universe, there it was. Michael’s hand stopped rubbing my knee, and I felt him hold his breath as I continued. “I guess I went into academia to prove something to him. Maybe that I was smarter, or better, or just worthy of admiration.” Now I was on a roll and I blushed. I hadn’t shared so much of myself in a long time.
“Mmmm, that’s hard.” Michael said soothingly, urging me to continue. He was gentle with me like I imagined he was with the animals on his farm.
“I wanted strictly academic admiration, but Sully gave me something more. It was a fatherly love I’d never had before. I took it for granted, I ran away, and then he was gone. And all the emptiness I had felt as a child came back, but worse this time.”
“I understand,” he said. “And that’s why you’re working so hard on your wee book and why you’re determined for it to be perfect. You owe it to him.”
“Yes, that,” I admitted. “And I think it will be the thing that gets me a research professor position at the university. And that’s where I need to be to make a difference like he did.”
The admission hung between us in the air for a moment, and once again Michael broke the silence. “I don’t mind ye living three hours from me if that’s why you’re pushing me away, Edie. Reason doesn’t matter o’er much where love’s concerned.”
I laughed out loud. “You can’t love me. This is the third time we’ve met.” I laughed some more, looking into his serious eyes.
“But I could love you is what I’m sayin’,” he said defensively. “So don’t overthink or hold back because of Dublin. You do what you need to do.”
“Will you go with me?” I blurted out, and he went a little pale, speechless. “No! Sorry, I just mean—will you go with me to Dublin and Newgrange for the winter solstice? We can do some Christmas shopping in Dublin and be back by Christmas Eve?”
“Ahhh, of course, love,” he said, relaxing, knowing that I had not asked him to uproot his life and move with me to some gray apartment at Trinity for a professorship I didn’t even have yet. I didn’t correct him for calling me “love” this time. I let it lie between us, so it could become what it wanted to, and I think this gave him some comfort too. Like I might let him in. He reached for my hand. “I’m sorry your heart has been broken.” he said, simply. We interlaced our fingers, and he asked me, “Didn’t you say your pa was Irish? From Donegal, when we were there for Beltane?”
I nodded. “Yep. O’Connors we are.”
He ran a finger across my clavicle where a smattering of freckles covered my décolletage. “Catholic too?” he asked.
“Oh, yes,” I answered. “Saint Catherine of Siena is my patron saint.”
“Ahhh,” he said, looking into my eyes, “Mines an Italian too.” I loved how Irish people said Italian like “Eye-talian.” “Too many Irishmen carry the weight of their ancestors. Pain from deprivation and years of injustice, especially Catholics living in the Northern Republic like your pa.” I nodded in agreement. “I’m not saying this in defense of him, mind ye,” Michael continued, reassuring me, looking away to find the words. “I’m sayin’ it so you know I understand that you’ve suffered, as many of us have.” He looked at me, searching for something.
“Thank you,” I said. “Not only for recognizing me, but for wanting to understand me.” I set my tea down, finally, and took his hand in mine, rubbing the knuckles.
Then his coy smile. “When you’re feelin’ more tethered to the earth, Edie O’Connor, I’d like to kiss you again.” He tilted his head and narrowed his eyes in a gentle question.
“I feel…I feel so rooted to this ground, I don’t know if I can ever get up,” I said blissfully, with tears in my eyes.
“Weeeell, that’s good enough for me.” Michael smiled into my eyes as his fingers smoothed my hair and pulled my chin toward his for our second kiss. This time we both sank into the earth together, and the waves lapped at our feet, and the bodhran music played by the fire, our friends’ voices lifting into the perfect fall evening.