He was clearly impervious to the cold and shrugged. “Mr. Collins and Doc keep pushing each other down, and Mr. O’Toole can’t run, so he keeps getting knocked over.”
I giggled, watching as Thomas smacked the ball to Fergus, who deftly sidestepped a charging Michael Collins, his mouth moving as fast as his legs. Some things had not, and seemingly would not, change through the decades. Trash talking was clearly part of the game. Two teams of ten players each had been cobbled together from among the neighboring families. Eamon Donnelly, the man who had supplied the cart the day Thomas pulled me out of the lough, had joined in the competition, and he waved at me merrily before taking a swing at the ball. I watched, fascinated, cheering for everyone and no one in particular, though I winced every time Thomas skidded across the grass and held my breath when sticks clashed and legs tangled. Somehow everyone survived without serious injury, and Michael proclaimed his team the victors after two hours of intense play.
Everyone tumbled into the kitchen for refreshment—coffee and tea, ham and eggs, and rolls so sticky and sweet I was full after two bites. The neighbors were quick to disperse, heading home to their families and traditions, and after Thomas, Michael, Joe, and Fergus washed up and rejoined us in the parlor, we gathered around the tree and exchanged gifts. Michael pulled Eoin into his lap, and together they read the story we’d written. Michael’s voice was low and soft, the burr of his West Cork brogue around the words making my heart ache and my eyes smart. Thomas laced his fingers in mine, stroking my thumb in quiet commiseration.
When the story was finished, Michael looked down at Eoin, his eyes bright, his throat working. “Can you keep this for me, Eoin? Can you keep it here at Garvagh Glebe so we can read it together whenever I come to visit?”
“You don’t want to bring it to your house to show your mother?” Eoin asked.
“I don’t have a house, Eoin. And my mother is with the angels.”
“And your da too?”
“And my da too. I was six, just like you are now, when my father died,” Michael said.
“Maybe your mother will come back like mine did,” Eoin mused. “You just have to wish very hard.”
“Is that what you did?”
“Yes.” Eoin nodded soberly. “Doc and I found a clover with four leaves. Four-leaf clovers are magic, you know. Doc told me to make a wish, so I did.”
Michael’s brows rose. “You wished for a mother?”
“I wished for a whole family,” Eoin whispered, but everyone heard him. Thomas’s hand tightened around mine.
“Do you know, Eoin, if your mother were to marry Doc, then he would be your dad,” Michael suggested oh-so-innocently.
“Why can’t you ever hold your tongue, Mick?” Thomas sighed.
“Fergus said he overheard a proposal last night,” Michael hinted, his grin wicked.
Fergus grunted, but he didn’t defend himself or reproach Michael.
“There’s a small box tucked back on that branch there. Do you see it?” Thomas directed Eoin. Eoin hopped off Michael’s lap and peered into the dense foliage where Thomas was pointing.
“Is it for me?” Eoin chirruped.
“I suppose it is, in a way. Can you fetch it and bring it to me?” Thomas asked.
Eoin retrieved the hidden treasure and brought it to Thomas.
“Would it be all right if your mother opened it, lad?”
Eoin nodded emphatically and watched as I lifted the lid on the tiny velvet box. Inside were two gold bands, one larger than the other. Eoin looked up at Thomas, waiting for an explanation.
“These belonged to my parents. To my father, who died before I was born, and my mother, who married again and gave me another father, a father who was good and kind and loved me even though I was not his son in truth.”
“Just like me and you,” Eoin said.
“Yes. Just like us. I want to marry your mother, Eoin. How do you feel about that?”
“Today?” Eoin said, delighted.
“No,” Thomas began amid laughter all around.
“Why not, Tommy?” Michael pressed, all teasing aside. “Why wait? None of us know what tomorrow will bring. Marry Annie and give the lad his family.”
Brigid’s eyes met mine, and she tried to smile, but her lips were trembling, and she pressed her fingers to her mouth to cover her emotion. I wondered if she was thinking of her own family, and I said a silent prayer for her sons.
Thomas pulled the ring free of the box and held it out