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your shirt on and fix your hair. Please? For me?
 Fine. Letting out a heavy sigh, Ciaran rose from the table
and trudged back to his bedroom.
Hearing the doorknob clatter, he turned his head toward the
front door.
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Ciaran s father cracked the door open.
 Good afternoon, Mr. O Kelly. Did you have a good time at
the pub?
Mr. O Kelly took a few steps into the room with an unsteady
gait and closed the door.
Anxiety tightened his chest. What would Ciaran think of his
father s condition? At least it wasn t as bad as the night before.
Mr. O Kelly came back around to focus on him.  Indeed, I
did. Where has Ciaran gone off to?
 Right here, Da. Ciaran strode out from the hallway leading
to the bedrooms. His white shirt hung open over his chest and
down over his slacks, untucked. His hair was brushed, but a lock
of it popped out on the side of his head.
 Would you like some bread and cheese? He pushed the
platter toward Mr. O Kelly.
 Thank you, Shannon, but no. I d like to get out to Nessa s
grave and was hoping you boys would accompany me. He
walked over and put his hands on the back of a chair while he
waited for an answer.
 Of course, Da. Stepping toward his father, pain swept over
Ciaran s face.
He gulped. How close they were. Not at all like he and his
father. They were never at odds, were always polite and
respectful. Feeling a stab of regret plunge into his heart, he
shifted his gaze to his hands, resting on the table surface.
Mr. O Kelly left the chair and strolled toward the hallway
leading to the bedrooms.  I think I left my pocket watch in your
room this morning, he mumbled, passing his son.
 You will go with us, right, Shannon? Ciaran walked over
and stood directly in front of him at the table.
He gave Ciaran a sad smile.  Of course. If you want me there,
I ll be there.
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A Summer Without Rain
Mr. O Kelly ambled back into the kitchen. He shoved a silver
watch into his pocket.  Well, let s be off then. He walked to the
door, opened it and stopped.
 Um, I need to get my shoes. He stood from his chair, paced
into Ciaran s room and entered it. Horror bolted through his
body as he scanned the rumpled sheets and bedcovers. Oh no,
Ciaran s father was just in here looking for his pocket watch.
Slowly, his gaze rose to the nightstand. Gasping in shock, his eyes
took in the bottle of mineral oil, still opened, sitting right out on
the nightstand. Would Mr. O Kelly have any idea what they did? If
he asked, what sort of an excuse could he give him?
He strode to the nightstand, capped the oil and tucked it away
in Ciaran s drawer. He turned his attentions to the bed and
straightened it. Grabbing his shoes and socks, he sat on the bed s
edge. With trembling hands, he pushed his shoes on. He shook
his head. They had to be more careful. They had to stop doing
things in Ciaran s house.
He stepped out of Ciaran s room with his head down and his
hands in his front pockets. What should he expect when he
returned to the main room? If his own father had seen those
things in his room, he d be thoroughly beaten, if not worse. He
certainly would never be allowed to see Ciaran again. But those
were his parents, the ones who always scrutinized every little
thing he did. The ones who inspected his room every chance they
got. He entered the main room and brought his gaze up.
Ciaran held the door open as his father stood, waiting, on the
front stoop.
He looked Ciaran over for a second, searching for any
indication things were not right.
 What? Clear annoyance resonated in Ciaran s voice. He
shifted his stance.
Could he say anything about the oil? He glanced at Ciaran s
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Christie Gordon
father, standing near to Ciaran. No, not yet, Mr. O Kelly s too
close and it appeared, for now, all was well.  Nothing, I ll tell you
later, he whispered, walking passed Ciaran and out the door.
The three strolled in silence down the drive and turned at a
path between two fields. Fledgling plants waved at them from
their beds of peat and dirt as they passed. A warm breeze picked
up and ruffled the shirts and hair of the three men. Ahead stood
a tall oak tree, its canopy branched out at least twenty feet in all
directions.
Shannon gazed up at the tree s branches. This tree was Mrs.
O Kelly s favorite. He d seen her sitting beneath it many times
reading books of poetry. Sadness built inside him. She d never
read those books again. His gaze fell to the fresh grave at the
base of the tree s trunk. At least she d always be here, under her
tree.
The trio stopped at a grave marker carved out of stone. A
Celtic cross with a ring surrounding the crucifix stood tall out of
a square base. A small insignia centered itself in the crucifix. The
base held Nessa s full name, etched in intricate writing, along
with the dates of her short life.
Bowing his head, Shannon formed the sign of the cross with
his index finger, from shoulder to shoulder and forehead to
chest, along with Ciaran and his father. He stole a glance at
Ciaran and Mr. O Kelly, standing next to him.
They stood still like statues on guard. Ciaran sniffled and bit
his lower lip.
The urge to reach out and hold Ciaran engulfed him. He
couldn t, it would look suspicious.
 So, Nessa, your locket is safe with your sister. Mr. O Kelly
turned to glance at Ciaran.  Your son seems well. He glanced at
Shannon.  And Shannon is even here to see you, he spoke in a
soft and steady voice.
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A Summer Without Rain
 Hello, Ma. I ve missed you. Ciaran s voice wavered.  Iona
was very nice  His breath hitched.
Lurching sideways, he reached out for Ciaran and snapped
back. What would he normally do? His lips pursed and his mind
raced as Ciaran s grief consumed him once again. He ached to
hold his grieving lover. But should he?
Ciaran whirled around and embraced him. Burying his face
in Shannon s shoulder, he succumbed to quiet weeping.
He let out a soft gasp. What would Ciaran s father think? He
glanced up from behind Ciaran s shoulder to peek up at Mr.
O Kelly.
Pain littered Mr. O Kelly s face, but there were no signs of
disapproval.
He placed a timid hold around Ciaran.
Ciaran s father stepped over to the young men and laid a
gentle hand on his son s shoulder as if to help comfort him.  It s
all right, son. Emotion laced his voice.
His eyes closed. He couldn t look at Ciaran s father anymore.
If he did, would their new feelings show? Would some trace of [ Pobierz całość w formacie PDF ]