Blackthorns of the Forgotten Read online

  Gillean asked Sully, “Is this true? Did you do something on my behalf that caused you such pain?”

  “Gillean.” Sully tried to put him off.

  “Tell me. Is this true?” Gillean persisted. “The letter from Ciar, does it have anything to do with what happened to you?”

  “Yes,” Sully sighed. “But it’s over now. Ya are free to go. Look at it this way, I won’t be around to harass ya anymore.” He tried to muster a laugh, but failed miserably.

  “Keelin, is this the only choice he has? To go with you, and remain as he is now?” Gillean persisted.

  “Yes it is,” Sully broke in. “Now let’s just go, please.”

  “There must be another way for him,” Gillean pleaded. “What is it?”

  Sully looked away as Keelin spoke. “You tell me, Gillean. What is your choice?”

  “My choice?” Gillean’s patience for the child’s paradoxical responses was wearing thin.

  She waited.

  Gillean’s stomach churned. “Alright.” He took a cleansing breath. “He stays with me, and he remains safe from whatever edict producing powers that did this to him.”

  The girl heartened. She placed her hands on the two men. “If that is what you want.”

  “Don’t do this,” Sully beseeched her. “Just take me with ya. It’s what I want.”

  “But it is not what he wants. Haven’t you learned your lesson yet?” She turned to go, handing the guitar to Gillean. “Here, this is for your journey. It has always taken you where you need to be.”

  Gillean took one arm from Sully to accept the guitar. He smiled at the girl, grateful for her assistance.

  “The powers be with you both.” She kissed Gillean then Sully on the cheek. “And remember,” she cautioned, “they will be watching you, Sully.”

  Vicissitudes

  Shortly after Keelin’s departure, the train pulled into a station. It was around mid-day. Gillean insisted they leave the train to tend to Sully’s wounds. A good number of people were disembarking. Gillean wondered why he had not noticed any other passengers until now. Could one of these people have witnessed the bizarre happenings during the train ride? There was no indication from anyone that anything unusual transpired during the journey. Fathers were reunited with their children and wives, lovers embraced—and the most unusual pair of the singer and his mate did not stand out among the crowd of weary travelers.

  The station was tidy and welcoming, the afternoon warm and bright. As Gillean assisted Sully with his arm around him for support, he remained alert for a sign of where they had been deposited. A white wooden post with painted black letters spelled out a word he had never seen before.

  Gillean noticed Sully putting up a brave fight against the obvious pain. Gillean had given him his leather jacket, partly to keep the shivering man warm but also to hide the terrible burn marks on his shirt and skin. Gillean wanted desperately to find them shelter so Sully could get a proper rest, and to question the man at length about who he really was, and had been.

  “Do you know where we are? What does the word on the sign mean?”

  Sully drew in a breath and said, “Athruithe sa Saol.” It means vicissitudes of life.

  “Vicissitudes?”

  “Changes, changes in life.”

  “I know what vicissitudes means.” Gillean had been Trinity-educated after all. “I never heard of such a town? Are we still in Ireland?” He scanned the area for something familiar.

  “I wouldn’t know.” Sully leaned against his companion. “You are the erudite, all-knowing one.”

  Gillean gave Sully’s shoulder a squeeze. “Come on now. We’ll manage, no worries, right?” He said it as much to reassure himself as the disheartened Sully.

  “Gillean, I have to sit awhile. Why don’t ya go on without me, I’ll catch up.”

  Gillean shifted both his suitcase and Sully’s cloth knapsack over his free arm.

  “Nothing doing. I’m not going anywhere without you. You heard what Keelin said. We are in this together. We’ll find a place to stay straight away. Can you manage for a little longer?”

  The guitar hanging over Sully’s shoulder swung against his side as he winced, “Yeah, sure. I’ll be alright, lad.”

  Gillean could see that Sully was making his best effort not to be a burden and his heart went out to him. “Good. We’ll settle at the nearest bed and breakfast we can find, which shouldn’t be too difficult. If this is Ireland, we should find an inn with welcoming patrons in no time.”

  Gillean made a silent plea that they were still in Ireland, and not some cosmic delusion he seemed to be experiencing by the hour. The one thing that remained constant was Sully, and he was hurt. He put aside all the issues and concerns that had taken him from his own home and family, sweeping them under the carpet of his subconscious, fully focused on helping the ailing man.

  They walked along the pleasant, tree lined dirt road for only a mile when they came upon the rear entrance of a large, stone farm house. Cows and horses grazed quietly in the fenced-in yard, paying no mind to the human newcomers.

  “’Round here, that’s gotta be us.” Gillean said with enthusiasm, leading Sully around to the front of the house. “Will you be alright with the stairs here? Or I could carry you up and tell the proprietor we desire the honeymoon chamber.”

  He tried to get Sully to smile. It worked. For the first time in what seemed an age, a cautious grin slide across the young man’s lips. It was not the contagious smile Gillean had become accustomed to, but it was welcomed all the same.

  “I’d like to see you pull that one off, Faraday,” he answered with a slight spark in his eyes.

  Gillean led Sully up the first of a series of steps. The wooden exterior was a soft yellow, echoing the wild daffodils blooming in the Irish fields. The wrap-around porch offered various sized wicker chairs and a view of the verdant countryside surrounding it. There were no other houses in sight. The seclusion offered by the inn was perfect. A large sign bore the family’s crest as well as the name, “Ballyhugh”

  Upon entering, they were immediately bombarded by the sweet smell of baking. Cinnamon, butter and vanilla swirled with the dust in the shafts of late afternoon sunlight, washing every piece of antique furniture in the room in golden streams. The two men walked further, stepping onto a well-worn, rag rug. As they basked in the homely feeling, a kindly older woman appeared from a back room. Her predominately silver hair was flecked with streaks of the black color of her youth. She offered them her hands and a warm, genuine smile.

  “Hallo, lads! Welcome to the Ballyhugh. My name is Rene McHugh.

  Gillean reached for her hand. “Good afternoon, Mrs. McHugh, I’m Gillean, and this is my mate Sully.”

  The woman gave Gillean’s hand a strong squeeze, but as she reached for Sully’s, she took a step back, apprehension clouding her hazel eyes. “Oh my,” she breathed. Sully stared at the floor. He was abruptly and uncharacteristically quiet.

  Gillean broke the uncomfortable silence. “Sully is just feeling a bit under the weather you see, Mrs. McHugh. I’d appreciate it if we could have a room directly, if you have one available.”

  The woman kept her eyes on Sully as Gillean spoke.

  “Mrs. McHugh?” Gillean pressed.

  “What? Oh Yes! Yes, of course! I’m sorry. Sure we do have rooms for the both of ya.”

  She turned her attention back to Gillean who was worried she might recognize him. The last thing he wanted was for anyone to know his identity and call attention to himself or Sully. He winked, trying to speed the process along. “Thank you, Mrs. McHugh. I appreciate it if we could sign in now. Sully desperately needs to rest.”

  Whatever her concerns, she quickly responded to Gillean’s request. “Certainly. If ya would just follow me.” She motioned for them to come to an oak counter to their right.

  Sully whispered a line to one of Gillean’s songs as they walked. “Follow me, and I will show ya to yer heart.”

  “Shut up!�
�� Gillean’s voice was well above a whisper.

  “Pardon me?” Mrs. McHugh came around the counter. The stunned look on her ruddy face made it obvious she had heard.

  “Ah”, Gillean stumbled over his words, “I said, RIGHT UP! We will be going RIGHT UP to our room!” He cleared his throat. Mrs. McHugh opened a ledger, studying Gillean with curiosity. She was the perfect Irish hostess, keeping her thoughts to herself, and went about the proper business of helping her guests to settle in.

  “I won’t keep ya but a few moments. Ya need not tell me how long ya plan on stayin’. We’ll take care of such business tomorrow. If I can just get ya to sign in.”

  She offered Gillean a pen and turned the book towards him. He hesitated with the pen in mid-air. He considered how many times had he signed his name—on a photograph, an autograph book, a cocktail napkin—and, in his earlier, wilder days, various parts of a woman’s anatomy. He had signed it with great flourish and confidence then, knowing the cache his signature carried. Now he wanted as much distance from such things as possible. He leaned over and pressed pen to paper.

  He turned the book back to the woman. “Very well, Mr.…” She leaned in to make out the surname, “…Mr. Kinsey. ‘Tis two rooms you’ll be needin’?”

  Gillean breathed a sigh of relief. The earlier look of recognition on the woman’s face had vanished when she read his name. He said a silent ‘thank you’ to his mother’s clan, and answered her query.

  “No, just one please.”

  Mrs. McHugh cast a quizzical glance at Sully as he inquired, “One Room?”

  Gillean confirmed, “Yes, one room. With a king size bed if you please.”

  Mrs. McHugh stared at the men a moment longer, raising an eyebrow. “I daresay this is a most unusual request. If yer quite certain.”

  “Quite.” Gillean kept patient.

  As she turned her back to obtain the proper key, Sully turned to Gillean. “What are ya doin’? One room? That won’t rouse suspicion too much now, will it?”

  “Just shut it, will ya. If you think I am going to let you out of my sight for one minute you’re wrong. You are MINE!”

  Mrs. McHugh appeared holding a key out to Gillean, a dubious look on her face. “You gents on holiday is it?”

  Sully leaned onto the counter. “Not quite. Ya wouldn’t be havin’ yer honeymoon chamber available would ya now, Mrs. McHugh?”

  Gillean forced a laugh that was something between mortification and fury.

  “Oh ho! Sully.” He hugged the man close. “He is such a lovable imp, isn’t he, Mrs. McHugh? Imagine! The honeymoon chamber! He is really too much!”

  Mrs. McHugh kept her distance as she held out the keys to Gillean, but still trying to remain the calm professional. “Yes indeed, too much.” She came around the counter and proceeded to the back of the house. “If you two…” She hesitated as both Sully and Gillean regarded her. “…men, would come this way. Your room is just up this stair case.”

  “Thank you, thank you Mrs. McHugh!” Gillean said, pulling Sully along. When they reached room 203, she stooped at the door.

  Her face flushed as she gave them some final direction. “Well, everythin’ you’ll be needin’—towels, robes, extra blankets—you’ll find in there. I’ll return in a bit with some tea and scones for ya. Breakfast is at 8AM. Are ya all fixed then?”

  “Yes, very good, and thank you again, Rene.” Gillean gave her one of his trademark Faraday smiles, known to make many a woman’s knees, including Mrs. McHugh’s, weak.

  Her hand fluttered to her cheek as she giggled. “Ah, ‘tis nothin’, Mr. Kinsey, nothin’ t’all. You and yer friend just give us a holler if ya need anythin’.”

  With that she wobbled down the stairs, her full rump shaking as she went.

  “’Tis nothin’, Mr. Kinsey,” Sully mimicked. “Is that how ya treat women?”

  Gillean put the key in the lock and opened the door.

  “Let me tell you something, my friend,” Gillean enthusiastically replied to his companion, as he walked into the Victorian style sitting room and over to the bed. “If there is one thing I do know, it’s how to give a woman pleasure. You ought to try it some time.”

  Sully wearily placed the guitar onto the floor. “Gillean, I died when I was seven years old. I have no interest in women.” He rubbed his chest wound and looked uncertain. “But even if I did ever grow up, I hope I would regard them as more than just objects of pleasure.”

  Gillean was about to fire back a round of questions at Sully’s revelation when he noticed how pale his companion had become. He took Sully by the arm and led him to the four post bed.

  “Yeah, yeah, there’ll be time for such talk later.” Gillean’s tone softened. “You just get some rest now.”

  Sully kicked off his boots and climbed into the bed, settling with evident discomfort under the soft, down quilt. He gave the impression of being fragile and innocent.

  Uneasy about Sully’s wounds, Gillean inquired, “Are you sure you don’t need a doctor?”

  Sully yawned, “No, I’ll manage.”

  Gillean sat down on the edge of the bed. He had to ask Sully one thing before he fell off to sleep. “You said you died when you were seven. Does that mean you’re an…an angel?”

  Sully struggled to keep his eyes open. “I’m no heavenly being. I never was.”

  “Who was Keelin referring to when she said they will be watching you?”

  Sully weakly held one hand in the air. “Yer not to worry.” He turned his head, suppressing another yawn.

  “I’m sorry. I just want to understand what happened to you, but you get some rest.” Gillean started to rise from the bed.

  “No,” Sully reached out to him. “You should know. I want to tell you.”

  Gillean sat back down.

  “Contrary to what others may believe, angels have never been born into human existence. They are spiritual beings who come from another dimension. They may look after, and sometimes even reveal themselves to humans by taking on human form but their origin and point of return is yet another extension of this vast universe. So you see, I am not an angel, as I was once born human, like you.”

  Gillean was listening in rapt attention. “Go on,” he encouraged.

  “People like me, who die an unfinished life, we are called ‘ath-teagmha`il’. It means ‘re-encounter’. We are sent back to earth to re-encounter life as entities who offer guidance and assistance to those humans who share dreams similar to the ones we had in our life times.”

  Enthralled, but confused by the lofty concept, Gillean’s eyes requested more from his companion.

  “You see, we connect with the energy of kindred souls,” Sully put forth simply.

  “So, you’re not an angel, but some sort of guardian?”

  “Yes, precisely, because we are souls that share the same purpose or desire.”

  “And what would that be?” Gillean could hardly wait for the answer to a question he had pondered for most of his life.

  “’Tis not the—”

  “Sully, don’t even dare!” Gillean would have shaken his companion had he not been in such a sorry state.

  Sully closed his eyes. He appeared to be drawn inward by his own musings. “Ya give me too much credit. I don’t have all the answers. This is why we must travel our own path.”

  “So you have no idea why yours and mine happened to collide?”

  “All I know, is when me father used to beat me, the one thing that would console me was lookin’ out into the vast, night sky and dreamin’ of seein’ the stars and all the planets so far way from me, dreamin’ of the universe, as you once sang. I used to believe if me life was so unhappy on earth, surely there were other planets where people cherished and cared for one another, and were able to resist the temptation of evil.”

  Gillean’ eyes began to fill as he imagined the hell Sully must have endured during his brief lifetime. “And you played the fiddle.”

  Sully’s face registered surpri
se. “Yes, I did.”

  “But why me?” Gillean lowered his graying head. “I have certainly been less than an honorable man.”

  “Ya have the heart of a troubadour, and the soul of a voyager. You, too, look to the stars when life here gets too overwhelming. You envision other planets where beings live much different, more peaceable lives.”

  Gillean smiled. “Does this connection between us have something do to with why you look so much like me?”

  “Unfortunately, yes. Nothin’ could be done to help that. I am a reminder of all ya dreamed of when you were young. More’s the pity for me, eh?” Sully laughed.

  “What about Keelin? Did she die as a child, too?”

  Sully turned his head away.

  Gillean placed his hand on his companion’s arm. “I know these things must be difficult for you to talk about.”

  Sully spoke with his face to the wall. “That is why the Elders chose her to take me back. I have already broken a serious rule. Keelin was a human child whose father treated her like his lover not his daughter.”

  “Christ Jesus!” Gillean gasped, thinking of his own daughter, Isabella, only nine—years—old herself. He recalled holding her when she was born. He felt for the first time in his life, he could and would kill if anyone tried to harm her.

  “I believed there must have been a reason why I found Keelin, and so I took her with me. I presented her to the Elders, and pleaded they provide her refuge. They agreed on the condition that I never again interfere in the life of another human.”

  “Oh, Sully, but for me? Why did you feel you had to rescue me?”

  Sully swallowed hard. “About Ciar—”

  “You don’t have to say another word.” Gillean raised his hand as if making a pledge. “I’m done with her.”

  “I don’t think it will be so simple. You don’t know her.”

  “And you do?”

  Sully nodded. A violent cough overtook him.

  “Put this business out of your head. Ciar is my problem.” Gillean rose from the bed. “You just get some rest.”