Galway Girl

Crystalline, blue irises peered out into the distance searching the horizon for the hopeful billowing of sails. Their oceanic pierce seemed to threaten the rolling waves below as they thrusted themselves upon the shore with more force and effort. Bubbling foam splashed and swayed. Spider-legged lashes fanned forward like arrows softening the harsh gaze beneath them. Rain drops penetrated and weighed down on them until finally they collapsed and rested against porcelain skin. The gales whipped ink doused strands of silk back and forth until frustration trapped them together in a dark gray, tattered ribbon that blended in with the fuming clouds looming over the towering cliff upon which Ashlynn Kennedy stood.

Screams even more hollow than a banshee's wail hitched themselves to the wind in order to terrify and intimidate the dreams of living a life where a Gaelic whisper was not persecuted, every hour was free from worry and hunger, and English landlords were no longer a form of oligarchy; the dream of living a free life once again. Every thought was discarded by one foggy phantom that had appeared gliding toward the homeland. No more waiting and doubting. The promise had been fulfilled.

Panels of the faded cotton dress were hoisted in order for the quick left foot right foot movement to be possible. She ran to the square in the little cobblestone village where her Ma and older brother were awaiting her return. As she clutched her sides gasping for breath, she spit out one of the few English words they knew. Coming. An inexpressible relief pushed their frowns aside if just for a moment and their grins lit the room.

b § d

Ashlynn turned around and stared at the vast green expanse of a land she held very dear to her heart. The ship had reached its shore and for the first time America felt tangible. Before she was about step off of Galway's ground, she uttered a final phrase to settle the rushing air until her return.

"Erin go Bragh." Ireland forever.

b § d

Boston swarmed with immigrants - most of them were Irish - and after simply a month their status in the American culture was easily expressed. "Get out of my way, biddy!" yelled a man harshly as he rushed by Ashlynn knocking her to the ground. English was now a necessity to know so their Gaelic wouldn't be criticized in addition to their cultural stereotype, but Ashlynn was a fast learner and already picked up on it.  Her 21 year old brother, Michael, got a job at a nearby factory. His income wasn't much so she in turn looked for a way to contribute. 

She was fortunate enough to find a job cleaning and cooking for the Fredericks, a wealthy family living on the edge of the city, who accepted her services despite her heritage. They were a family of four. Mrs. Frederick was an understanding woman of the most amiable nature. Her husband was rarely ever seen, but he didn't seem to have a problem with Ashlynn; at least, if he did he didn't show it. They had two children: James and Annie. James was her age, 17, and attended a boarding school regularly.  She had never met him, but Mrs. Frederick told her many stories about him while Ashlynn worked and said he’d be coming home to visit for a short time in the next couple of weeks. Annie was 8 and the sweetest child. Sometimes, instead of cooking or cleaning Ashlynn would play with Annie in the Frederick's beautiful garden. As far as jobs go, she couldn't complain. She had more than most in this new land and was treated respectably by her employers. It was more than she could say for Michael.

He came home that night after a twelve hour day of labor exhausted and wrung tight. These days he never seemed to be in a good mood with anyone - not even Ma who remained in the warehouse for the majority of the time taking care of their own family's responsibilities.

"Boston is almost beyond the Pale!" Michael complained slamming his holey and grungy hat on the ground. The mushroom cloud of disturbed dust scrambled to settle back down.

"Whoah? Come here! Have ye yet to realize how fortunate we are? If nothing else, we have food on the table," Ashlynn chided as she reached down to pick up his hat. "Be grateful for what ye have." She shoved the hat into his chest and grabbed the broom to sweep up the mess.

"If we got so much to be grateful for then go make me a sambo! After all, that's what ye women are for in this American culture, isn't it?"

            "Jeanie Mac, Michael! What have ye done said to your sister there? 'Tis a soft old day. Get some fresh air. ‘Til calm ye nerves," said Ma as she was stirring a pot of celery stew for supper. He grumbled and stomped back out the door. "Ye better keep an eye on him." Ashlynn followed.

b § d

"Another round, ol' chap! ‘Tis no comparison with the fine Guinness on tap at our hole in the wall, but it'll do." Michael took the final swig. "Aye, it'll do." Ashlynn stood outside of the little Boston pub and stared through the window at her brother who was slamming coins down on the table for another pint when a drunken man came up behind him.   

"Well, looky here. Isn't it another one of those blasted Paddies? Say, Paddy, how long do you think it will be before you get on the ‘paddy wagon’?"

"I ain't no 'Paddy’!” said Michael standing up face to face with the man.

"You ain't, huh? My apologies, Mr. Leprechaun. Have you stolen anyone’s gold today? I’ll give you a hint. Yours is probably at the end of the rainbow! And when you find it, drinks will be on you, chap!” The rage exploded and Michael jabbed the man in the gut. The man staggered backwards regaining himself from the surprise attack then threw a returning punch at Michael, but he was too quick for the man and his lack of sobriety. The last and defending hit forcefully sent the man across the room.

“I’m a ‘mick’!” Michael yelled down at the man who was now sprawled on the ground. “I ain’t no ‘Paddy’.” He reached for his newly refilled glass and guzzled it down. He slammed it on the counter. “Hit me,” he said looking at the man behind the counter whose eyes seemed to question his demand, but nonetheless gathered the tender on the table and got him another refill.

When the town police arrived several minutes later to escort the cause of the disturbance at the pub to the courthouse, Michael was drunk. As they were guiding his staggering body through the doors, Ashlynn ran to them.

“This is my brother. He made a terrible mistake in a difficult situation. Can you please let him off with a warning? He isn’t sober and our mother will be worried sick if he isn’t home for supper.”

“An Irishman is never drunk as long as he can hold onto one blade of grass to keep from falling off the earth,” slurred Michael as he fell to the dirt ground in attempt to find that one blade.

“There’s no grass on these streets. I think a good long night in jail will sober him up,” said one of the officers.  

 “Please, officers!” Ashlynn insisted.

“Yes, come on officers. Give the gentleman and lady a break. It was only his first offense,” said a voice with dignity that had joined the conversation. A young man followed the sound.

“He’s a Paddy! For heaven’s sake, it’s bound to happen again!”

“Mick! If you’re going to insult me at least do it properly,” Michael shouted from below.

“Yes, you could at least insult him properly! I say you should provide mercy by granting this lady’s request and let him off with a warning. After all, it would be what they call ‘taking the high road’,” the young man protested.

“Very well, Mr. Frederick,” sighed the other officer who had not spoken before. He turned to look at Ashlynn as if she were the one to blame for this event’s occurrence, “Don’t let it happen again.” The police released Michael and then went back inside to more than likely get the edge off for themselves.

“I can’t thank you enough for what you’ve done,” Ashlynn said to the young man whose intervention postponed Michael’s meeting with a row of bars. She helped her brother to his feet. “Did he say your name was Frederick?” 

“Indeed. James Frederick, at your service.” He grinned and bowed. “And what lucky name happens to be tied to such a pretty face as yours?” Michael rolled his eyes. A slight hint of rosy pink slid into her cheeks, but then quickly faded as she remembered who she was.

“When a name is tied to my heritage there is no luck, but the luck of the Irish. It would have been more fortunate to not have any luck at all. The name ‘Ashlynn Kennedy’ has no such fortune except for the blessings and provisions from God. God is good to us, but no one else is - not even our own people. Not to diminish the value of our gratefulness to you by any means of course. You have been the first exception.”

“-And hopefully not the last, Ashlynn Kennedy. May I walk you home?”

“You’ve done so much already. I couldn’t have you-”

“Please, I insist.”

“As do I, Mr. Frederick. Once again, your kindness is appreciated, but it’s best if Michael and I walk alone. We can’t afford to be indebted to you any further.”

“I see.” Ashlynn and Michael turned on their heels in the direction of home. “Well, when will I see you again?” Ashlynn turned around.

“Fate cannot be lead. The course of direction it takes is entirely of its own devising. Your name can’t possibly have so little luck as mine. Your chances are good when fate already looks kindly on you.” Before James could respond, they had already begun walking.       

“Ye should take the longest road out; it’ll be the shortest one home,” slurred Michael.

     “What's the craic?” asked Ma when they walked through the door. Ashlynn directed Michael to one of the piles of straw on the floor where he closed his eyes. When Ma turned around to see her son in his hazy condition nothing but questions tumbled out of her mouth.

“He’s drunk, Ma. He’s in no shape to deal with ye lashings and his answers are trapped behind a fog. ‘Tis best to let him rest,” said Ashlynn.

“I ain’t askin’ him. I askin’ ye! Ye were the one I asked to keep an eye on him.”

“I know, Ma, but it ain’t appropriate for a gal of me years to enter into a bar mostly inhabited by men. It may have been different in Galway, but we’re in America now.”

“Men could also get drunk on a whim in Galway, but not here - not me son. He should know better.”

“He does, but can ye blame him? The expectations in this society are runnin’ us low. He’s a grown, working man forced to receive the brunt of America’s standards. Who can blame the Americans though, when we ourselves never liked blow-ins in Ireland either?”

“‘Tis difficult, but no one said it’d be easy. I s’pose acceptance and wealth are the trade-off for freedom and opportunity. Ye have to go through the valleys first before ye can reach the mountain tops.”

 “How are ye?” asked Ashlynn as she took a wet cloth to Michael’s head. He looked up at her and began chuckling. “Why are ye laughing?”

“A good laugh an’ a long sleep are the best cures in the doctor’s book. It seems I can resist everything except temptation. Ye know God created whiskey to keep the Irish from ruling the world.” She smiled and shook her head at him.

“No, God created whiskey to keep you from ruling the world.”

“That very well may be it then,” he said drifting into the thought. Silence proceeded and then finally, “Ye should see him again.”

“Who?”

“The kid from outside the pub today that saved me from bein’ a caged bird for good.”

“Oh. Why do ye say that?”

“He fancies ye. ‘Tis a glimmer in his eyes.”

“‘Twas just the sun and ye weren’t even standing on ye feet to see his eyes.”  

“Didn’t have to; ye could hear it in his voice.”

“Well, it’s too bad the Irish ignore anything they can’t drink or punch.”

“Don’t mock me! After all, ye can drink in the sound of his voice and make his beating heart punch his chest.”

“Stop being ridiculous!”

“At least I’m not ridiculous enough to think one name is tied to one face. Ain’t ‘Mick’ and ‘Paddy’ a broadly generalized category?” Ashlynn playfully slapped his arm with the wet cloth.

“Let it go! After all, that’s what would be called ‘taking the high road’. Have ye heard of it?”

b § d

As Aslynn was on her way to the Fredericks she couldn't help but imagine what might come of the day. She wondered if James had any idea who she really was and why his family was so much different than the rest of Boston's society. She couldn't understand their kindness, but was instinctively drawn to it.

Mrs. Frederick was sitting on the porch under the awning on a white whicker chair that blended in with the picket fence and house. Annie was playing with the dandelions at her feet. James was coming through the screen door with a tray of ice cold lemonades right as his mother greeted her with a grin, "Good morning, Ashlynn! I'd like you to meet my son, James. He's finally home for the summer." Mrs. Frederick's skin always glowed when she spoke of her children just like an expecting woman. "James, this is Ashlynn. She's been helping me around the house and with taking care of Annie." Ashlynn caught a surprised, unexpected gleam in his eyes, but it vanished quickly along with any other sign of their previous encounter.

"It's a pleasure to meet you, Ashlynn," he bowed respectfully, "Your presence is greatly appreciated in our household."  

"It's a pleasure to meet you as well, sir." She curtsied. 

"Please, just James," he corrected her.

"James," she tested for the first time. He nodded with acceptance.

"I guess we will need another glass of lemonade then." Before Ashlynn could protest, he hurried inside and was handing her a glass of lemonade all her own. After listening to him tell stories about boarding school for a couple of hours, Mrs. Frederick wanted to take a nap. Annie had already fallen asleep next to her.

"Is there anything you would like me to do while you're resting?” asked Ashlynn.

"Not that I have the energy to think of right now," she smiled, "It's such a beautiful day. Why don't you go for a walk in the garden? When I wake up you can tell me about Ireland. I have always desired to travel." She closed her eyes and said no more.

"You knew all along didn't you?" asked James picking a leaf from the tree and twirling it around his fingers as they walked.

"What did I know?"

"As soon as you heard my name you knew who I was."

"I can't deny it."

"Why didn't you tell me you worked for us?"

"I didn't want to skew your perception of me even more than it already was. I figured you'd find out soon enough anyway."

"I must admit I was surprised to see you standing there. I wasn't expecting to have such luck."

"Neither was I."

"What do you mean?"

"Your family has treated me with nothing but respect and equality. I can't understand your kindness when the rest of society despises us."

"I can't understand why they despise you in the first place. People like you are adding culture to our country and in my opinion should be treated the same way we treat ourselves. Unfortunately, I do realize there are few who think that way." They came upon a meadow in which they both fell back and gazed up. "When you were in Ireland, did you ever stare up at the sky and search for shapes of animals in the clouds?"

"Once, but it was a very long time ago when my father was still alive. It was one of my last memories of him. I must have been 4 years old because it was right before the Great Potato Famine." When James didn't respond she continued, "I really wanted a new goat so I could start making my own butter. Father took me outside and we laid back on the grass. He told me to stare up at the sky and watch the clouds. 'Ye can have any animal ye want, Ashlynn. The sky will give it to ye.' He pointed up at a cloud in the shape of a rabbit and another one that looked like a horse. 'Use ye imagination to find a goat and when ye do he's yours.' I laid there for the rest of the day looking for my goat in the sky. When it never appeared, I was in tears. He made me go out the next day and watch the sky again. 'Anything is yours as long as ye have your imagination and dreams.' Then before my eyes a fluffy, white goat trotted across the blue expanse above me. My excitement thrilled my father enough to go out and buy me a goat. I named her Cloud.”

“How did he die?” asked James.

“There was no exact cause of death. It could have been any combination. Our whole family suffered from malnutrition. My younger sister starved to death. My father had a weak immune system. Any untreated cause could have been fatal.”

“How did you survive?”

“In some ways I didn’t. Those years took everything except our lives. They were dark times and the memories are too painful to recall.”

“Ashlynn,” James sat up blocking the sun’s rays from penetrating her face. He stared into her eyes which were overflowing with glossy tears. She hadn’t realized how emotional she’d become. He slid a freshly plucked daisy in her hair, “you are free now.” His neat blonde hair was now tousled and his vibrant, green eyes pierced her soul, but the look in them was reassuring. His presence revitalized her.

From that day forward in between cleaning, cooking, and playing with Annie they spent every waking moment together. Anyone from a mile away could see a romance had bloomed and it did not go without scorn and ridicule. Ashlynn found herself light-hearted and worry-free despite the cruel whispers and judging stares. Michael smirked knowingly and Ma didn’t know what to think. Mrs. Frederick was always shooting bubbly smiles at them. Annie was simply happy to have them around and would occasionally ask if Ashlynn was someday going to be her big sister. Time didn’t seem to exist in the heat of Ashlynn and James’ summer love, but trouble was brewing in paradise.

When September finally rolled around James had left for his last year at boarding school. He’d be home again to visit for Christmas, but December seemed too far away. Ashlynn began sweeping the floor when voices began arguing upstairs. Every time the woman spoke the man’s voice would thunder over hers so that it was almost like she never said anything at all.

“But George-”

“NO! Everything has already been arranged. You can’t keep putting this off. He’s not your little boy anymore.”

“That has nothing to do with it! There’s someone else already filling that position in his life. He’s happy right now. Why would you ruin that?”

“The boy doesn’t know what he wants, Rachel! He doesn’t have a voice in this. I am his father and I know what’s best for him. He’s marrying Katrina Dior and I don’t want to hear another protest from anyone about it!” The woman fell to the floor sobbing and the man stomped off. When the door slammed shut, the wind was knocked from Ashlynn and she fainted.

A cold, wet towel was placed on her forehead and she was gently shaken. “Ashlynn?” Her eyes slowly peeled open and they stared up into Rachel Frederick’s swollen eyes. “Thank goodness you’re alright! You had me scared to death!”

b § d

            James returned home early in October, but not for a vacation. It was to attend his mother’s funeral. She had been sick for a while, but didn’t want anyone to know. She grew weak and frail and before Ashlynn was aware of the circumstances, the house was abandoned altogether from Mrs. Frederick’s touch. Ashlynn continued to keep it in order until George Frederick’s footsteps hit the stairs like lighting bolts. Ashlynn was in his crosshairs.

            “Ever since my wife hired a biddy like you she grew more and more sick! It’s the luck of the Irish cursing our family. I want you out of my home and don’t ever come near here or my children ever again. If you fail to adhere to my warnings I will have you arrested!” Ashlynn fled from the Frederick’s home never to return.

            The next news came in the paper announcing the marriage of Mr. James Frederick and Ms. Katrina Dior. Ashlynn’s heart sank when the wedding bells rang on that fateful day. Neither Ma nor Michael could comfort her. She felt once again trapped in a cage of solitude.

            Without the steady income from Ashlynn’s job, they were barely making ends meet. It felt like the famine all over again. By early winter, Ashlynn came down with a fever. She would toss and turn in the night with terrible nightmares of death. When she woke up one morning after dreaming of her own Ma’s passing, she came to discover it wasn’t just a dream. She had a living nightmare. She was sent into a deep state of depression. Michael dragged her to a medical professional, but there was nothing they could do to help Ashlynn. They said her reaction was abnormal and she could soon become a threat to the public if actions weren’t taken immediately. Michael resisted, but once people were aware of Ashlynn’s condition nothing could be done.

The only solution was confinement.

She was locked away from the rest of the world where other women like her lingered in their own secluded cells. It was no better than prison. She began imagining the people from her past as years went by. They drifted in and out dancing along the brick walls reminding her of the life they once shared together and making her believe it was still her reality. Their voices sang to her. Their touch caressed her clammy skin.

The wind squeaked through and carried her name. Ashlynn, it whispered. She knew the dignified and calming nature upon which it was said. She felt the emotion. She knew it was him. After all these years, he had finally come back for her. A dormant hope long forgotten was now renewed. She knew he must be just outside waiting for her. The hope released her from her dungeon’s dark clutches. The last time she felt the open air on her face was five years ago. It felt like nothing had changed - not even the season. Flurries of snow were once again pecking at her skin.

Crystalline blue irises peered out into the distance searching the courtyard for a sweeping silhouette. Their glazed pierce seemed to contain the entire expanse. Spider-legged lashes fanned forward like arrows preserving the hopeful gaze beneath them. Snow flakes penetrated and weighed down on them until finally they collapsed and rested for a second against porcelain skin. The gales whipped ink doused strands of silk back and forth until a delicate white daisy flew free leading Ashlynn Kennedy’s eyes to where James Frederick stood.

“I must admit I’m surprised to see you standing here. I wasn't expecting to have such luck,” Ashlynn said smiling.

“Neither was I,” James agreed.

“What took you so long?”

“I was married for a while to a woman I didn’t love and was trapped inside a marriage I had no escape from. Then when I joined the war against the South to carry out my beliefs, she wasn’t expecting to have me come back alive so she ran off with another man to start a new life. I don’t blame her though. I suppose I have the luck of the Irish,” he grinned. As they embraced each other, everything faded to black.

b § d

“How did she die?”

“She had the window open all night and froze to death.”

“Why was she admitted in the first place?”

“Depression. Too many deaths and losses I suppose. Towards the end she began hallucinating about a man named James in particular. She was clutching this when she died.” The attendant handed the man a shriveled daisy. He stared at it intently and fingered the petals.

“Does she have any family still alive?”

“Maybe a brother, but there is no way to contact him.”

“I’d like her body to be prepared immediately.”

“Yes, Mr. Frederick. She should be prepared by tomorrow.”

b § d

James Frederick stood upon a towering cliff overlooking the ocean. He opened the urn and tossed the ashes into the gale’s current in hopes that maybe it would be strong enough to carry her over all of Ireland. He looked up into the sky and searched the clouds. Anything was his if he had the imagination and dream. Then he saw her. Ashlynn’s delicate expression was smiling down on him.

“Welcome home, Ashlynn. Welcome home.”