“It is my mam’s name.” Alice worked quietly, urging me to push the placenta while she clipped the umbilical cord and cleaned me up. “You did so good,a mhuirnin.”He pressed his lips to my forehead, letting his touch linger longer than decent, but I could not find it in myself to care at that moment.
His down time is often spent corralling my boys, changing diapers, and preparing modest meals, even after I fully recovered. I have always managed on my own or with limited assistance from other women. Padraig’s constant presence has spoiled me. Unfortunately, it has also reinforced that good men exist, but I am not fortunate enough to have one to call my own. Men are capable of great things, and I have been forcibly tied to a man who chooses to do nothing.
I cannot do this again. Four children in 6 years is a heavy burden on my body and mind. I step away from my babies and walk downstairs. Anxiety fills me, glancing at the window, noticing the creeping darkness in the sky. Padraig is usually here by now. Perhaps he is not coming over. Maybe he is working. Or…or maybe he is finally venturing into town for a different type of companionship. My stomach roils at the thought of him sharing his body with someone. And it shames me to even think it as I am a married woman. And I have laid with my husband many times since Padraig and I met, the fact that they were forced on me is irrelevant right now.
I was hoping—the door slowly opens and as if I called him forth from sheer will and want alone, Padraig appears with a small bouquet of wildflowers in his hand. Tears fill my eyes as I move quickly to close the distance between us. He shifts the flowers out of the way before I crush them, wrapping my arms tight around his waist. He is here. With me. Where he belongs.
Making a humming sound that rumbles in his chest beneath my ear, the weight and warmth of his embrace calm me quickly. Iwill feel guilt and shame later for my untoward actions, right now, I settle into his arms and breathe fully for what feels like the first time since he left last night.
“A mhuirnin, are ye alright?”
“Yes. I apologize.” I drop my arms to step back but he holds me tighter and tuts. I smile into his shirt and stay where I am.
“I could get used to a welcome such as this.” I could too. But we cannot. And with that depressing reminder, I force myself to separate and retreat a few steps. With a smile, I reach out for the flowers. “For Noemi.” Giggling, I shake my head and bring them to the kitchen area to find the cup to put them in.
“Sure. My 3-month-old appreciates the fresh flowers you bring weekly.”
“Of course, she does.”
He glances up at the second floor. “I would guess by the quiet that I missed bedtime. I am sorry, Trin, I had to stay later. We had an accident.”
“Is everyone safe?”
“A few minor injuries. Then I had…I had a word with Darragh.” He hesitates but I wave him to spill. “He has headed into town for the night.” I nod unsurprised. “I just do not understand why he would rather—” I raise my hand to stop him.
“Trying to make sense of Darragh Byrne will give you the runs.”
“Fair.” He chuckles with a shake of his head. “What was tonight’s tale?”
“Are you hungry?” He nods, eagerly eyeing the covered dish of supper I saved for him. I slide it over to him and he greedily tucks in. “Scott Squirrel was quite busy this evening. He battled a fearsome bear foe that bled beer after it attacked Scott’s belovedmutti. He had help from Spud Skunk. Thenmuttilaid out a feast to convey her appreciation for besting Beer Bear.”
Paddy chuckles as I tell him details from Jakob’s imaginative bedtime story. “He is a special kid. He needs to start writing these down.” His eyes dart up to mine, the tips of his ears flushing red as he mumbles, “It would be a good time to change some of the names.”
I drop my head back to my shoulders and laugh heartily. “It bothers you so much and I do not know why I find that so funny.”
“Scott. There are so many other names he could choose that sound just fine with the surname Squirrel. Why does it have to be Scott? What doesScotthave that, let’s say, Seamus does not?”
“Paddy—”
“He is a good Irish boy; he does not need anything fromScotland.” The distaste in which he spits Scotland is highly entertaining. “Glad ye find it funny,cailin.”
“I do; I needed that.” Paddy’s smile falls away instantly.
“Has something happened?”
“No. Yes. Not really.” I suck in a sharp breath and force myself to explain. “I do not wish to put you in a troublesome position; however, do you have a connection to a trusted physician…not employed by the coal company?”
He stands up quickly, resting his hands on my shoulders and squeezing as he looks me over. “Are ye ill?”
“No. A few of the wives…” This is harder than I thought it would be. I do not shy away from difficult or tedious endeavors, but Padraig could get in trouble by aiding us, and I do not want to even think of the consequences that await the other wives and I, if we are caught. “Our husbands are only faithful to their sins.We require a proper physician with access and a willingness to help. Or the supplies to make our own.”
“Make your own what,cailin?”
“Contraceptive diaphragms.” Padraig stares at me for several long moments. He does not blink and it unnerves me. His mouth opens and closes but produces no sound. I startle when a loud, boisterous, uncontrolled laughter bursts from his chest.
“Jesus. Mary. Joseph. And all the wise men.” Wiping under his eyes to catch the tears, he grins at me and the sight of it steals my breath. “Ye never been a timid girl a day in your life, have ye?”
Paddy 7.
