14: Wednesday, the Best Day of All

<body topmargin=0 leftmargin=0 marginheight=0 marginwidth=0> <table cellpadding=0 cellspacing=0 border=0><tr> <td valign="top" colspan=2 height=90 BGCOLOR="#CC9900" TEXT="#080000" bgproperties="fixed" background="047005a0dwnjzk.gif"> <div> <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U><B>home</B></U></A><B>     | </B><B> </B><B> </B><B>  </B><FONT SIZE="5" COLOR="#FFCC66" FACE="Arial" ><B>Cassie's Writing</B></FONT></div> <div> <A HREF="id25.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="1: Surprise Encounter"><U><B>1:  Surprise Encounter</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id26.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="2: A Proscribed Venerable Love"><U><B>2:  A Proscribed Venerable Love</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id27.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="3: Stalked by the Vampire"><U><B>3:  Stalked by the Vampire</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id28.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="4: Flight to the Auld Country"><U><B>4:  Flight to the Auld Country</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id29.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="5: Ally From Nowhere"><U><B>5:  Ally From Nowhere</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id30.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="6: Tales of Pookahs and the Sidhe Peopl"><U><B>6:  Tales of Pookahs and the Sidhe People</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id31.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="7: The Middle Kingdom"><U><B>7:  The Middle Kingdom</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id32.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="8: My Lady Healer"><U><B>8:  My Lady Healer</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id33.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="9: Triple Betrayal"><U><B>9:  Triple Betrayal</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id34.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="10: A World Apart"><U><B>10:  A World Apart</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id35.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="11: Flight From Tara"><U><B>11:  Flight From Tara</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id36.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="12: Imbas Forosna"><U><B>12:  Imbas Forosna</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><A HREF="id37.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="13: Wheel of Fortune"><U><B>13:  Wheel of Fortune</B></U></A><B>   |   </B><B>14:  Wednesday, the Best Day of All</B></div> <div> </div> </td> </tr><tr> <td valign="top" width=210 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> <B>14:  Wednesday, the Best Day of All</B></div> <bR> </td> <td valign="top" height=390 BGCOLOR="#FFFFFF" TEXT="#080000"> <div> "Where to?" Willie asked, starting the car.  "Back to Collinstown?"</div> <div> "No!"  Quentin and Julia exclaimed together.  Willie looked at them in the rear view mirror and nodded.  </div> <div> "Let's see what's in the next town," Julia suggested.  She turned to Quentin.  "How long have we been gone? Has it really only been a week?" </div> <div> "I don't know-they kept saying that time is different there.  We have to find out what day this is," Quentin answered.  </div> <div> The next town was Castlepollard, which even had a castle called Tullynally.   Willie stopped at the first bed and breakfast he came to. "This looks nice," he said.  "I bet they got some good food here, huh?" </div> <div> "Hope they've got a newspaper," Quentin said, helping Julia out of the car and giving Willie what he hoped was a  see-if-you-can-find-one look.  He was gratified to see that Willie understood although he didn't seem to like it much.  Well, I have to put up with his company now, Quentin thought, the least he can do is find us a paper.   </div> <div> As usual the couple running the bed and breakfast were cheerfully friendly people who seemed to be honored to serve breakfast to Americans who hadn't even checked in yet.  The man, Mr. Sheehan, brought them into the dining room.  No one else was about-we've got the place to ourselves, Quentin thought cheerfully.  </div> <div> "Ah, t'won't be just a few minutes.  We'll bring on the full fry."  At their puzzled looks, he said, "A big breakfast-eggs, rashers, scones." </div> <div> "That sounds wonderful!  I feel as though I haven't had a breakfast like that in ages!" Julia exclaimed.</div> <div> Quentin nodded in agreement.  "It's weird, isn't it?  I'll bet it's only been a week-that's when we had breakfast with the--" He broke off.  He didn't want to think about the Sweeneys. </div> <div> "Ya think so, huh?"  That was Willie, approaching from behind.  </div> <div> Mr. Sheehan looked around, surprised. "Oh, this is-a cousin, Willie Loomis," Quentin said impulsively.  Willie gave him a surprised, shyly pleased look.   </div> <div> "Ah, I'll be tell me wife there's one more then," Mr. Sheehan said, excusing himself. </div> <div> Willie sat down, looking like a happy puppy Quentin thought.  He had a newspaper in his hand but sat looking back and forth at Julia and Quentin.   </div> <div> "Well?" Quentin finally asked, impatiently. </div> <div> "Oh, yeah!" Willie exclaimed, opening the paper to show it to Julia.  "Lookit the date."</div> <div> "Oh!" Julia gasped.  "It's April 30th!" </div> <div> "That can't be!" Quentin objected, grabbing the paper to look at it.  Sure enough, the date was right there:  April 30th.  He looked at Julia, stunned.   "We weren't gone that long!" </div> <div> "Time moves more slowly there, remember?" Julia reminded him.  She looked at Willie worriedly.  "Willie, you said that Barnabas had you call my cousin Brian two days ago-isn't that right?"         </div> <div> "Well, yeah, Julia, but," Willie hedged, looking uncomfortable. </div> <div> "But what?" </div> <div> "Well, two days ago-um, it's been over a week it looks like.  Honest, I thought it was two days 'cuz it was just two nights we spent over there!"</div> <div> Julia was alarmed.  "Quentin!  The family will be frantic!  Brian was expecting us in Sligo over three weeks ago, to begin with!  If Willie is right, then they've had no word from anyone in at least a week!"</div> <div> "We better find a phone," Quentin muttered, feeling stunned.</div> <div> "Ya better get your story straight," Willie advised. </div> <div> Willie was right.  Quentin put his head in his hands. "Holy shit, Julia! What are we going to tell everyone?"   </div> <div> Julia looked stricken but ventured hopefully, "Maybe we can come up with something they can believe-a side trip, maybe?"</div> <div> "I think ya better tell them the truth." Willie was looking at the paper, and Quentin was about to ask him what the hell he meant when the other man pushed the paper toward him and pointed.   The article wasn't very big-just a paragraph or so, and that was probably because the concerned parties lived in the next county.  All it said was two families were combining resources to comb the countryside for their missing relatives.  The families, of course, were Beatrice O'Neill and the Collinses of the U.S.A. and the O'Neill clan of Sligo Town. </div> <div> "Ohhhhh, hell's fire!"  Quentin groaned.  "Julia, we're in trouble!  Look!"  </div> <div> Julia looked and gulped.  "Oh, dear, my poor Aunt Beattie is probably having heart failure!"  She looked at Willie, puzzled.  "The Collins family is only looking for Quentin! There's nothing here about Barnabas." </div> <div> "Yeah, well, uh, Barnabas, see, he told me to tell them he was goin away on an extended trip.  He said he'd be back in touch in a few weeks-" Willie broke off.  "Geez, you guys are in hot water, huh? " </div> <div> "We've got to have a good reason why we didn't call your cousin for a week, Julia," Quentin muttered, thinking.</div> <div> Mr. and Mrs. Sheehan, blissfully unaware of anything wrong, came out with platters of food to set before their guests.  </div> <div> "Thank you," Julia smiled weakly.  </div> <div> Willie immediately began to dig in with a healthy appetite.  Julia looked at Quentin. He sighed and shrugged.  "We deserve a decent last meal, don't we?"  He began to fill a plate liberally and handed it to her with a smile.  </div> <div> The Sheehans looked at each other and shrugged.  "Let us know if ye'll be needin anything then?" Mrs. Sheehan said.</div> <div> "Thanks, we will," Quentin said, with a charming smile.  He'd loaded down his own plate too.  "Eat, drink and be merry, Julia, for when we make our phone calls, we die," he murmured, kidding. Julia looked at Willie and Quentin, who were both obviously enjoying the meal.  How could Quentin eat like that, knowing how Roger was going to yell and carry on?  Poor Elizabeth was probably frantic.  And her own family!   Julia wondered how Aunt Beattie even got involved in the first place-had she called Collinwood?  Julia usually called her once every two weeks and saw her on the major holidays.  Oh, dear, Julia thought, trying to imagine what they must be thinking.  She imagined them keening and wringing their hands, and suddenly the image became too funny.  She began to giggle and then burst into laughter.</div> <div> Willie looked at her curiously, but Quentin paused in his eating long enough to tell her with understanding, "That's a healthy way to look at it, my love.  Try this-it's really delicious." </div> <div> Julia managed to stop laughing and picked up her fork. The food did smell wonderful.</div> <div> Quentin decided to take the blame himself.  When Julia protested because it wasn't fair, he said with a shrug, "Look, I've always been the black sheep in the family, and I've always been in trouble.  This is nothing new for me.  Whereas you, my dear, are a 'good girl'."</div> <div> "Oh, Quentin, really, we're not school children," Julia objected. </div> <div> "True, but we're both not pregnant either, and I don't want you to be upset anymore than you already are," Quentin replied, brushing away any other arguments she had.  He insisted on calling everyone, including Julia's Aunt Beattie in Boston, her only surviving relative.  Julia thought the least she could do was to sit by and listen to each one of the phone calls.  </div> <div> Starting with Aunt Beattie, he apologized for worrying her; he'd had an idea for a detour trip, had gotten lost and then the car had broken down.  He continued to make up stories until the elderly lady grew tired and confused.  All she wanted to do was speak to her niece and hear Julia's voice. Quentin held the phone out away from his ear when he called Collinwood and got Roger on the phone.  Julia could hear Roger's voice clearly:  "What kind of irresponsible behavior is this?  Do you realize you had Julia's aunt terrified out of her wits?  She had no idea what was going on! The poor lady had to come to us, asking if we knew Julia's whereabouts!  And then you didn't show up as you promised!  I'm surprised that poor woman isn't in the intensive care unit!" </div> <div> When the shouting stopped, Quentin put the phone back to his ear.  "Look, I'm sorry.  We were out in the country-there wasn't a phone, and we got lost wandering around.  The people we met didn't have phones-"</div> <div> "And the pubs didn't have any either?" Roger broke in, obviously not buying the whole story.  He went on brusquely, "All right, well, the important thing is you are both safe and sound."  He sounded exasperated.  "Now what is this about a wedding?  I will need to give Elizabeth the details."     Brian O'Neill decided that Quentin must have been descended from one of the original tribes-even if his name was Collins-because he'd never heard such blarney in his life.  Since they had to be kin of some type, he would give Quentin the benefit of the doubt and not punch him in the snoot for scaring the entire Irish branch of the O'Neill clan half to death.  Brian wanted to talk to Julia, possibly to make sure she really was alive and well. </div> <div> "We'll be there tomorrow morning," Julia promised.  Obviously, Brian wanted to know why they didn't just come straight out because Julia replied, "Well, we promised to go fishing with a friend...this was before we saw the newspaper..." Her voice trailed off and she blushed guiltily. </div> <div> When she hung up, Quentin laughed and took her into his arms.  "Julia, you're an old pro at this and I didn't even know!"     </div> <div> Julia smiled wanly.  "Well, you should have guessed.  After all, I've lied about what Barnabas and I were up to enough times." </div> <div> "Well, thanks for buying us another night together!"  Quentin took her hand in his.  "What's wrong?  It's not just having the family in an uproar, is it?"</div> <div> "No, we've done that before," Julia agreed.  She put her other hand on Quentin's, wondering if he would understand or if he would think her silly.  Well, there was just one way to find out.  "I can't feel them anymore, dearheart."</div> <div> He frowned for just a moment and then realized what she was talking about.   "The heartbeats?"</div> <div> "I thought I'd be able to hold on to what Daoirdre told me-about how to 'feel' things.  I still can, in a way.  I mean, I know that they are there. I just can't feel their hearts beating anymore."</div> <div> "I'm sorry, Julia," he said, trying to sound sympathetic.  "You really miss it, huh?  I think it would drive me crazy-like drumming in my ears or something." Julia laughed.  "It's not quite like that-it's different."  He looked at her, his blue eyes puzzled.  He didn't 'get' it, but it was all right, she decided.  After awhile, she would feel the babies moving.  She would be able to feel that special connection with the babies then. </div> <div> "Julia?" Quentin broke into her thoughts.  "As long as we lied anyway, why don't we get a little boat and go fishing?  Maybe we could even bring 'ole Willie Loomis' along-then it wouldn't be so much of a lie.  What do you think?"</div> <div> "I think I love you very much!"</div> <div> The next morning, Julia felt a little nauseated as she looked at breakfast.   "This looks interesting," she said politely to Mrs. Sheehan, who was beaming at her.  "What is it?"</div> <div> "Oh, 'tis boxty," replied Mrs. Sheehan.  She was delighted to see Quentin and Willie dive right into their platters.  Julia continued to smile.  Mrs. Sheehan went on:  "There's a sayin about boxty, Missus Collins:</div> <div> 'Boxty on the griddle, </div> <div>  boxty in the pan, </div> <div> If you can't make boxty,</div> <div> you'll never get your  man.'  </div> <div> Ye don't have that worry, then, do ye?  Well, for breakfast, I add milk and egg to the potatoes and butter." The thought of bacon frying in a pan with butter, milk, and potatoes made her insides churn.  Julia didn't say anything but decided to skip the boxty.  </div> <div> As soon as Mrs. Sheehan left, she quickly scraped her serving onto Quentin's plate, who looked at her, startled.  "Don't ask," she said.  "Just give me your scones."  Her breasts felt tender, too-or maybe she was just imagining it.  Maybe Quentin had been just a little too enthusiastic the night before, knowing that Cousin Brian and Fiona would separate them once they arrived at the O'Neill house.   </div> <div> Quentin grumbled and complained, but the fact of the matter was that if they were to marry in Ireland they were going to have to establish residency. They would have to establish residency in Sligo for at least fifteen days in order to get a marriage license. The earliest they would be able to marry would be in three weeks.  </div> <div> "We're going to be parents for crying out loud!"  Quentin groused as Willie drove them toward Sligo Town. </div> <div> Julia smiled.  "Do you remember the movie you took me to just before we came here?"  He shook his head.  It seemed so long ago.  "Tradition, tradition..." Julia sang softly.  When he frowned, not appreciating the joke, she said,  "Dearheart, it's no different for us than it is for the family in that movie.                   There are rules." </div> <div> "Yeah-decorum," Willie agreed, looking pleased with himself for using such a word. </div> <div> Quentin didn't appreciate his help.  "Shut up and drive!" he growled. </div> <div> "Hey!" Willie snapped back, glaring into the rearview mirror at Quentin.  "Ya think I don't know what it's like?  I was engaged, too, ya know?  I was supposed to get married, but-" He broke off abruptly, turning red. Quentin had forgotten.  Willie had been engaged back when Barnabas had the curse returned to him.  Barnabas needed him, and Willie hadn't wanted to stay.  Barnabas and Julia said they understood-Willie deserved a life of his own.  In the end, though, Willie had come back. At what cost? </div> <div> "Hey, I'm sorry," Quentin said.  He meant it.</div> <div> "Okay, then," Willie muttered.  He brightened a little.  "Look, it ain't so bad, Quentin.  You'll keep busy." </div> <div> Doing what? Quentin wondered, already feeling as if he'd been abandoned.  It was an odd thought.  Julia wasn't abandoning him.  She'd be right down the hall...he wasn't sure he could stand it. It turned out that Brian O'Neill had different plans in mind all together.  </div> <div> The O'Neills came out to greet them as soon as they heard the car pull up.   Even though they'd only spoken with Julia on the phone, both of them hugged and kissed her as if she was a long lost relative they hadn't seen in years.   Brian, who looked suspiciously like Pat O'Brien to Quentin, turned to shake hands with him.  There was a moment of hesitation before he reached to clasp Quentin's hand.  Although they didn't say anything, Quentin caught both Brian and Fiona looking back and forth between he and Julia.  He was pretty sure he knew why-they were about the same age as Julia and he knew perfectly well how old he looked.</div> <div> Brian finally cleared his throat.  "I hope ye don't mind the arrangements we've made for ye," he said politely, his tone saying that it didn't matter whether Quentin minded or not.  "When we found out there was another cousin about, I had a talk w'my brother Denny.  He lives up the street a bit and he's a room for you two cousins to share." Quentin's eyes narrowed, but he didn't say anything.  So, he wasn't even to stay in the same house with Julia, then?  </div> <div> "Hey, that's really nice, huh, cuz?" Willie was enthusiastic, giving Quentin a nudge in the ribs with his elbow. </div> <div> "Yeah-nice," Quentin answered automatically, manfully controlling himself from giving Willie a knock on the back of the head.  Who did he think he was?  Cuz? </div> <div> Fiona drew them all into the house, she and Julia talking about Mary Ann O'Neill Connolly.  Quentin deduced that this was Julia's grandmother and tried to figure out the relationship between Julia and Brian.  Finally, Julia turned to him and explained that Mary Ann O'Neill and Brian's grandfather had been firstcousins.  </div> <div> "What does that make you?" Quentin joked.  </div> <div> "Kissing cousins?"</div> <div> "Na then, there is no such thing," Brian objected.  Apparently he didn't have a sense of humor where family was concerned.  "I believe we are fourth cousins." </div> <div> "Fourth?  Very interesting."</div> <div> "You have a distinguished name yerself," Brian went on.  He seemed to feel that Quentin wasn't properly impressed.  "Be that as it may, the O'Neills are all descended from the royal family of Tara." Quentin's lips twitched with amusement but not for the reason Brian suspected.  He looked offended.  "'Tis not a joke, boyo."  At that, Quentin bristled a little but held his peace.   He suspected that this was the root of the problem. </div> <div> Julia put in helpfully, "Brian, I think Quentin was smiling because we have just learned a great deal of the history ourselves on our little 'trip'."</div> <div> "Let's see if I have this right," Quentin added.  "The O'Neills were the kings of Ireland from ancient times almost to the 17th century, isn't that correct?  And as a result, there are O'Neills all over Ireland-they're not localized to a couple of counties.  Not like my family.  Isn't that right?"</div> <div> "That's right," Brian agreed, his expression brightening considerably.  He looked at Julia.  "So am I to understand ye are both working on this book together?  That's what took you away for so long?"</div> <div> "Yes, and I do apologize for worrying you," Julia said. </div> <div> "Sure and we've forgotten already, haven't we, Brian?" Fiona set down a teapot and cups.  She was on her way back to the kitchen for scones.  "We've a weddin to plan, then!" </div> <div> "Ah, for that, woman, we'll be needin whiskey, not tea!" Brian called after her.</div> <div> My kind of guy, Quentin thought.  Brian got up himself and retrieved a bottle from the cupboard, splashing a good two fingers in their cups.  Julia politely declined, and Brian didn't seem surprised or offended by that.  He held his cup up and waited expectantly for the others to raise theirs.  He intoned, with a twinkle in his expressive eyes:  "May those who love us, love us. And those who don't love us, may God turn their hearts.  And if He doesn't turn their hearts, may He turn their ankles, so we will know them by their limping."  He winked at them broadly and drank up.  Yes, thought Quentin, my kind of guy.</div> <div> By the time Fiona returned to the table, the topic had turned from weddings to megalithic stones.  When Brian found out they'd been to Newgrange and Rathcrogan, he snorted and said, "Ah, that's nothin compared to what we got here.  I'll take ye around and show ye then this afternoon."</div> <div> "But what about the weddin?" Fiona asked.</div> <div> "Ah!" Brian waved his hand in dismissal.  "We'll pick up the application o'course.  We can't be talkin to Father until Sunday anyhow." Before Quentin and Julia could say anything one way or the other, Brian went on, "If it's stones ye're interested in, then ye must see Carrowmore and Creevykeel.  Did ye know that they're older than Newgrange by a thousand years, then?"</div> <div> Good, more raths, Quentin thought with dismay.  He'd had quite enough of them and could tell by the look on Julia's face that she was fed up too.  However, if they backed out it might blow the cover story, so he felt stuck with it.  At least he had a working tape recorder again.  "I think I'd like to see the beaches and the island-what is called? Innisfree?" he ventured once they were on the road.</div> <div> "Sure, I can take ye there tomorrow.  I can keep ye busy all the time ye're here," Brian said.  "I've lots of stories I can tell ye, too."</div> <div> "Hey, what's that mountain called?" Willie asked.</div> <div> "Benbulben-King Mountain," Brian answered.  "Ye keep goin down this road and eventually ye come to Donegal."  They weren't going that far, however.  Brian took them to Carrowmore.  Great, more stones, Quentin thought when they got out of the car.  "This predates Newgrange by a thousand years, don't ye know," Brian said proudly.  "Some Swedes came and excavated here and what do ye think they found? Bone dice! Think o'that-prehistoric gambling, then!" At the summit of Knocknarea Mountain, they came upon a huge flat-topped cairn overlooking the megalithic cemetery.  "That there is Maeve's Cairn," Brian said.</div> <div> "Maeve?  Queen of Connacht?" Quentin asked.  When Brian nodded, Quentin looked closely at the cairn.  "I'll bet that goes over to Faeryland," he commented.</div> <div> Brian gave him a startled look.  "Why, how did ye know that then?"</div> <div> "Oh, we learned a lot on our side trip," Julia answered wryly.</div> <div> "Ah! Well, we'll keep goin then.  I'll show ye where the hut sites are. It's been excavated, and the scientists found all manner of tools an all from the Iron Age-that's when Maeve was queen, y'see.  These hut sites were probably seasonal hunting camps, but I'll bet the folks lived there, too, when they were buildin the cairn for the queen.  I know this-tis bad luck to take any of the cairn stones-ye'll bring the wrath of Maeve on ye."</div> <div> When Brian saw they'd become tired of wandering around the stones, he said,  "There's another place I can take ye not far from here.  'Tis on the water, as you asked, Quentin, although it's not Innisfree.  Come on, then. When ye've had yer fill we'll all go out to eat, then.  Ye'll meet Denny and Rose as well."      Brian took them just west of Knocknarea, and now they were able to see a body of water.  "That's Ballysadare Bay," Brian explained.  "We've a bit of everything here, ye see.  We've the mountains, the beaches, the islands, and the farmland.  This here is another reason why so many people did not have to flee Sligo in the beginning of the Famine.  Lots of folks were able to fish and gather shellfish here.  I'll tell ye another thing, too, ye'll be able to see the Great Seal Bank from here."  He parked and they all got out.</div> <div> Willie wrinkled his nose.  "Looks like a trash heap," he said.</div> <div> "Willie!" Julia exclaimed.</div> <div> "No, it's all right, he's right, he is," Brian laughed.  "This here we're standin on is called a kitchen midden. 'Tis a polite way of sayin what your cousin called it.  These here shells an other stuff was probably left by the ancient people-they fished and hunted seals here, too, ye see?  An all the shells an bones an stuff, it just piled up.  Them archaeologists found all sorts of pottery here, too, from the Stone Age times."</div> <div> It was impressive, and they spent more time walking along the midden.  The feet of other tourists had worn down the site; still they were able to find rocks with the fossils of crustaceans and other sea creatures.  "Do you suppose this all looks new in Brugh?" Quentin whispered to Julia as they bent                  down together to examine some oyster shells embedded in the rock.  Julia had just been wondering the same thing.  She thought she could detect something from touching the rock-what was it?  A sense of-was it surprise?  Did sea creatures feel surprise?</div> <div> "Tomorrow, ye'll get all the culture ye need," Brian told them.  "I'll take ye to Drumcliffe-ye'd like to see St. John's too, I'm assumin-'tis where Yeats is buried.  I think we might go out to Innisfree, too, if there's time."</div> <div> This sounded more interesting.  Julia said, "Will we have time to pick up a marriage license application?  How does that work?"</div> <div> "Ah, yes, time enough, my dear," Brian replied.  "I'm sure ye'll be wantin to talk to Father first.  We'll take ye to the Cathedral of Immaculate Conception.  Wait until ye see it! Never a prettier sight will ye see anywhere!"  His voice had taken on a reverent tone.  From the front, Willie looked over his shoulder at Julia and Quentin.  His expression plainly said: Huh? I didn't know you were Catholic.</div> <div> Julia looked at Quentin, feeling a little dismayed.  She was a lapsed Catholic.  She wasn't sure about him.  He didn't seem to be listening anyway; he was fiddling with his camera.  "Where to now?" she asked.  She'd talk to Quentin later.</div> <div> "Ah!  Now we go to the Yeats Tavern!  I'm assumin ye'll be hungry then.  We're to meet Fiona and Denny and Rose there.  I'm sure there will be others around-don't worry, we'll introduce ye around.  It'll be like home." </div> <div> Denny and Rose didn't look very different from Brian and Fiona, Quentin thought.  They explained that their two eldest sons were both away at college, leaving a room free.  They had an attractive brunette with them; this was their baby, Rosemary.  She was no baby, Quentin thought, looking at her with some interest.  He realized that Julia noticed and so he looked away, feeling a little guilty.  </div> <div> Willie had noticed Rosemary, too, and had maneuvered himself so that he was sitting next to her.  They all stayed at the pub very late into the evening.  When it was time to go, Quentin and Julia felt awkward and shy with each other.  They exchanged good night kisses on the sidewalk and then walked off in opposite directions. </div> <div> Quentin was lonesome, even with Willie in the twin bed across the room from m.  He was used to having Julia sleeping beside him, and he had never liked sleeping alone.  He thought he'd be so worn out from the day's excursion, the drinking, and the late hours at the pub, but he found himself wide-awake and trying to make conversation with Willie.  Willie was amenable at first but soon grew sleepy and annoyed.  "Geez, how does Julia stand you?" Willie finally snapped.  "Wouldya shut up and let a guy sleep?"</div> <div> Stung, Quentin snapped back, "If Julia was here I'd be asleep already and I wouldn't have to resort to talking to you, you nitwit!"</div> <div> There was a silence and then Willie chuckled softly.  "Ah, I get it.  You can't fool ole Willie Loomis.  You miss her."  He yawned in the darkness.  "Hey, that's good. Ya must love her, then.  Don't worry about it.  You'll be married soon."  Then he became silent, and Quentin thought it ironic that he'd ever want anything to move faster along than the plans for his own wedding.  He finally drifted off.</div> <div> Saturday was another busy day, with Brian and Fiona driving Quentin and Julia to Drumcliffe church, which was where William Butler Yeats was buried.  Willie remained behind to go to the market with Rosemary O'Neill.  Quentin and Julia had exchanged amused glances over that.  Brian implied that if Willie was related to the irresponsible Quentin, he was sure his brother Denny wasn't going to approve of any shenanigans; Fiona quickly shushed him. </div> <div> Drumcliffe was an old monastery. Brian and his wife happily took the couple throughout the medieval church and grounds, showing off the Round Tower and Gaelic cross.  Both dated back to medieval times, too, although Yeats' grave was of a modern era.  However, Quentin quickly became bored. "I'd rather see Innisfree," he whispered to Julia, who privately agreed.  She'd had enough of                  graveyards, megalithic and otherwise.</div> <div> After they'd looked at Yeats' grave for a respectable length of time, Brian said, "Well, it's on to Lissadell House, then, eh?  Yeats often stayed there on visits.  'Tis a wee bit down the road, toward Galway."</div> <div> "How about the island?  Innisfree?"  Quentin countered.  Brian's eyebrows knitted slightly.  "It's a beautiful day, isn't it?" He asked hopefully.</div> <div> Brian looked at Fiona.  "Are ye game, love?" </div> <div> "Well, we wouldn't want to trouble you," Quentin put in quickly.  "If you could just tell us where it is, I'm sure Julia and I could rent a boat. I heard about the fishing there-"</div> <div> No such luck.  Brian was already shaking his head, no.  "Tis true about the fishing, Quentin lad.  Sure, an Fiona an I have often enjoyed trout or salmon from Lough Gill ourselves, haven't we, love?  And we wouldn't be proper hosts, would we, leavin ye off on your own like that?"</div> <div> Julia took Quentin's hand and squeezed it sympathetically.  Proper hosts? He thought sourly.  More like proper chaperones, for God's sake!  Fiona was saying now, "Ye know, I might not mind a nice fish dinner meself now that it's been suggested.  We can try it, can we not?  An show them Innisfree at the same time?"</div> <div> When they got to the island, Fiona had some trouble getting out of the little boat.  Julia had already climbed out, turned to Quentin, and winked.  He moved with alacrity, realizing that she must have communicated with Fiona somehow.  They were well onto the island before Fiona finally managed to set foot on the ground with Brian's help.  Looking back, Quentin could see Fiona tugging on Brian's arm and talking to him.  "Remind me to give that woman a big hug and a kiss," he said to Julia.</div> <div> "What about me?  It was my idea!" Julia exclaimed.</div> <div> Quentin obligingly took her into his arms but she only allowed a chaste kiss before moving away.  "Julia, what is this?" he asked, dismayed.  "I missed you!"</div> <div> "I miss you too, dearheart, but when in Rome, do as the Romans do," Julia answered, trying to sound stern.</div> <div> "This is stupid!" Quentin argued.  "We're both well over the age of consent!  This isn't 'The Quiet Man' for God's sake!"</div> <div> "Yes, it is," Julia answered.  "At least, Brian and Fiona think so."</div> <div> Quentin looked at Brian ruefully.  Too bad this guy didn't look like the little actor, Barry Fitzgerald.  He'd be easy to get around.  Not Brian-he was a brawler.  "Julia, listen," he said rapidly.  </div> <div> Brian and Fiona were making their way toward them.  Softly, he said, </div> <div> "' I will arise and go now, and go to Innisfree,</div> <div> And a small cabin build there, of clay and wattles made: </div> <div> Nine bean-rows will I have there, a hive for the honey-bee, </div> <div> And live alone in the bee-loud glade.</div> <div> And I shall have some peace there, for peace comes dropping slow, </div> <div> Dropping from the veils of the mourning to where the cricket sings; </div> <div> There midnight's all a glimmer, and noon a purple glow, </div> <div> And evening full of the linnet's wings.</div> <div> I will arise and go now, for always night and day </div> <div> I hear lake water lapping with low sounds by the shore; </div> <div> While I stand on the roadway, or on the pavements grey,</div> <div> I hear it in the deep heart's core. ' Yeats wrote that about this island."</div> <div> "Why, Quentin, that's lovely!" Julia exclaimed, moved by the beauty of the poem.  He was just full of surprises.  She liked the images in the poem; she knew who Yeats was, of course, but she hadn't read any of his poetry, let alone memorized any of it. She gave a sidelong look at him.  "Did you meet him?"</div> <div> Quentin kissed her lightly on the forehead.  "I'll save the story for later."  Brian and Fiona were just about on top of them, and he sighed.  Three weeks of this?  It wasn't going to be easy.</div> <div> The next day, Quentin decided it would be impossible.  The men had gone to the pub again the night before, immediately after going some place called "confession".  Quentin managed to detach himself from the group without being noticed and strolled around until he saw them approaching the pb.  They spent the evening playing darts, drinking, and having a grand old time.  Quentin went right to sleep soon after they dragged themselves back and felt as if he'd only been out a few minutes before Willie was shaking him.   "Get lost!" he snarled.</div> <div> "Hey, get up, wouldja?  We'll be late for mass!"  Willie was now pulling the sheet and blankets off the bed.</div> <div> "Go away!" Quentin put the pillow over his head.  "What mass?"</div> <div> "At the Immaculate Conception, Quentin!  Rosemary told me all about it!  The family, they want you an Julia t'get married there.  Get up, wouldja?  Do you want the whole family mad at you again?"</div> <div> "Does Julia know about this?"  Quentin demanded, outraged.</div> <div> "I guess so.  We didn't get to talk to none of the ladies last night, remember?"</div> <div> He did.  Stupid customs in this country, he thought, grumbling.  It was much better in Brugh.  People were more easy going; there weren't all these silly rules to follow, and a man could sleep as late as he wanted without being molested.  "Willie, are you Catholic?" he asked.</div> <div> "No, I ain't nothin," Willie replied.  "My parents never took me."</div> <div> "But Julia is Catholic?"</div> <div> Willie looked shocked.  He'd gone back to his own bed to put on his shoes.  "Geez, Quentin, don't you know?"</div> <div> "It didn't come up," Quentin answered, scratching his head.  He vaguely remembered a conversation about the Immaculate Conception in the car a couple of days ago, but he hadn't paid attention; it hadn't been important to him at the time.  Unlike Willie, his family had dragged him along to church.  He just stopped going, especially once he'd gotten into practicing black magic with Evan Hanley.  He'd been inside plenty of churches, looking around, but honestly couldn't remember the last time he'd gone to a service.</div> <div> "Well, she must be or else everybody would be goin to the other church, St. John's."</div> <div> "St. John's?  Isn't that a Catholic church, too?  I thought they named all their churches after the saints."</div> <div> Willie gave Quentin a look of pity.  "He's one of those whaddayacallit, um, one of those guys who followed Jesus around, not a saint."</div> <div> "A disciple?"</div> <div> "Yeah!  One of them guys."  When Quentin scowled at him, Willie went on patiently, "Well, I mean, he ain't a saint in this country.  They all got Irish names, those saints."</div> <div> "How the hell do you know so much?" Quentin demanded with grudging respect.</div> <div> "Rosemary told me."</div> <div> Rosemary again.  "Hey, Willie, did you get a chance to, you know-with her?"                                 Willie looked shocked.  "They don't do that here, Quentin!"  He got up and went to the door.  Then he looked back sheepishly.  "Well, at least, she says they don't-until you get married. I don't think she was lyin to me-I kinda think she likes me, too."  He shook his head.  "I dunno-after I was engaged the last time, I'm kinda wonderin if I oughta-"</div> <div> "But Barnabas is in Brugh now," Quentin pointed out, searching for his shoes.</div> <div> Willie made a contemplative sound.  "Rosemary, she sure is pretty, though, ain't she? And she's really nice, too."  He went out and shut the door behind him.</div> <div> Quentin and Julia sat side by side in the beautiful old cathedral, which made the long mass more bearable.  They were able to whisper discreetly to each other. Julia explained in a hurried whisper that she was a lapsed Catholic; she hadn't been to confession in years before yesterday. Busy Sunday shifts at the hospital had started her drift away from the church.  In addition to that, there was the death of her husband, the two miscarriages (she still hadn't told Quentin about that) and the many deaths she'd been unable to prevent.  The deaths and her encounters with the supernatural had deeply shaken her faith. </div> <div> Quentin wasn't even sure what he believed.  He thought the Latin sounded elegant; the cathedral itself was beautiful.  He really didn't care where they got married until the mass was over and Brian began to enthusiastically talk about making an appointment to see Father.  Quentin only half-listened as Brian explained there would have to be a special dispensation because the groom wasn't Catholic.  Julia nudged him sharply and he did take note that Brian was saying that they would have to talk with the priest several times out marrying out of the faith, and they would both have to come for pre-marital counseling.  </div> <div> "How long does that take?" Quentin asked, suddenly concerned.</div> <div> "Ah, three months more or less," Brian answered easily, and Quentin stopped in his tracks.  Brian and Fiona walked on, oblivious.  </div> <div> Taking Julia's elbow, Quentin leaned over so that he could speak into her ear. "No!" he exclaimed flatly.</div> <div> "What about a civil wedding?  Or a Protestant one?" Julia asked quickly.</div> <div> "I don't care-I'm just not waiting three months!"</div> <div> "Believe me, I don't want to either," Julia agreed fervently.  She bit her lip.  "The family expects it, though.  What can we tell them?"</div> <div> "I'll think of something," Quentin said, with determination.  He was already thinking, remembering Lissadell House.  That was the house Yeats had frequented, and it was on the way to Galway City, which was in the next county south of Sligo.  Quentin had been to Galway; there were a few very relevant things he remembered about it that he felt he could use to their advantage.  He continued to make his plans even when Brian managed to finagle a meeting with Father and the four of them sat in the priest's office.</div> <div> Julia listened with growing dismay as Father explained how things worked.  He was a very kind man and probably meant well, but Julia began to feel more and more oppressed at the man spoke.  He explained that it was his responsibility to make sure that Julia and Quentin had a reasonable understanding of a good Christian marriage and that they were both willing and able to commit to each                  other.  Furthermore, since they were both Americans, he would write to Julia's dear aunt for a letter of freedom.</div> <div> Julia cleared her throat, horrified.  It sounded like slavery.  "I'm sorry, Father...a what?"</div> <div> "Ah," he smiled at her, "well, now, it just means a letter from your parish priest-ye have not lived here for six months ye see, and 'twould be from  an assurance ye are free to wed, ye see?" </div> <div> "What has my aunt to do with it?" Julia asked.  "She's my nearest kin, that's true-but I don't live in her parish."</div> <div> "Ah, well, just a technicality, then," the priest said, shrugging it off.  "I'll contact the parish priest of your hometown-ye've lived there at least six months, have ye not?"</div> <div> "Yes," Julia replied, glancing at Quentin, who seemed to be peacefully daydreaming.  She wanted to pinch him.  How could he be miles away now?</div> <div> "I'm sure there's no problem getting the father of your parish to forward your papers now," Brian put in.</div> <div> Oh, God, Julia thought.  I haven't set foot in a church in years.  I don't even know if Collinsport has a Catholic church, never mind what parish it might belong to!  Quentin still looked unperturbed.  He must have something up his sleeve, Julia thought.  She began to relax a little.  If he wasn't worried, it had to be a good plan.</div> <div> Now the Father was addressing Quentin about this letter.  Julia nudged him in the ribs.  "Oh, I'm not Catholic," Quentin announced with an ingenuous smile, completely ignoring the surprised reaction from the priest.</div> <div> "Oh, I'm sorry, Father!" Brian exclaimed.  "I forgot to tell ye!"</div> <div> "It's all right, now," the Father said soothingly.  He probably doesn't care, Julia thought.  It's no skin off his nose; we're not potential parishioners anyway.  He'd begun talking about dispensations from the local bishop and pre-nuptial classes.  Julia's head began to spin.  Some time later, the conversation came to an end.  Dazed, Julia realized she had no idea what they'd just been talking about; the last thing she remembered was the priest saying that once they'd applied for a license they could meet again to talk about classes and selecting a wedding date.</div> <div> She clutched Quentin's elbow as they walked out onto the street.  He leaned over and whispered softly to her, gangster-style, "Don' worry aboud it.  I've got it all under control."</div> <div> Both families came together for breakfast on Monday morning, everyone sitting around the large kitchen table.  Quentin announced that he wanted to drive Julia into Galway City.  Brian's mouth dropped open.  "Whatever for?" he wanted to know. </div> <div> "It's a surprise-for her," Quentin answered, his jaw setting stubbornly. </div> <div> "Well, I suppose I can drive ye," Brian agreed grudgingly.  "There are a few places we can visit, but I have to tell ye-" </div> <div> "Thank you, but I don't want to trouble you any more," Quentin interrupted, looking at Julia for help.</div> <div> "It's very kind of you to offer, Brian, but I know that you're busy-you said  yourself you were planning on working a little today," Julia said. </div> <div> "I cannot neglect my own kin!" Brian muttered.</div> <div> "Willie can drive us," Quentin offered.</div> <div> "Yeah, sure I can," Willie agreed with little grace.  Obviously he'd wanted to squire Rosemary around Sligo some more.  It crossed Quentin's mind to have Willie invite her, but he didn't want to make any more trouble than he was sure he was going to cause.  Brian had an inkling there was something of a scamp in Quentin; he had no idea just how devious Julia's intended could be.</div> <div> As they got under way, Willie grumbling under his breath, Quentin drew out his tape recorder.  "We can get a little work done on the way, my love," he said to Julia with a great beaming smile.  She wondered if he'd lost his mind; they needed to talk about what they were going to do!  "Have you ever been to Galway?" he asked. </div> <div> "Never.  Quentin-" </div> <div> "Did you know that it's called the 'Venice of the West'?" he went on.</div> <div> Julia sighed.  "Yes, dearheart, it was a very wealthy trading center, and that because of its location." </div> <div> "Ah, Julia," Quentin held the little microphone toward her.  "Tell me the story.  You know what?  Now I really know where you and your grandmother get it from-the storytelling, I mean.  She's a natural born shanachie, and so are you-and that's because you're really one of the Good Folk."  Here, back in Ireland, the term he used came out as Daoine Sidhe.</div> <div> Julia smiled, taking the microphone and leaning against him.  She'd learned a lot more about her heritage than she'd ever expected to; Brian O'Neill had filled in some more of the gaps, and she looked forward to filling in even more of the gaps.  "Well," she began, speaking slowly and clearly for the benefit of the tape recorder,  "the town grew up around a castle-just like many of the towns did.  The castle was built in the early 13th century. It was ruled by the fourteen tribes of Galway." </div> <div> "And what are they?" Quentin prompted.  He had her talking almost to the outskirts of the city itself. "Galway's been burned to the ground, and it was overrun by Cromwell's army,but it still endures.  And I suppose Yeats called it the 'Venice of the West' because the language and culture is preserved there-near the River Corrib, which runs through it. Oh-look!  There is the Church of St. Nicholas.  Did you know that this is the largest medieval church in Ireland?"  It was impressive to look at as they went by. </div> <div> Julia started to continue her narrative of Galway. Quentin stopped her with a kiss as Willie turned down a street and then parked the car.  "You had this planned all along!" Julia exclaimed.  They were at a jewelers'.  </div> <div> Grinning, Quentin led her inside.  He even invited Willie in, who was as excited as a puppy again.  Julia hoped he didn't knock anything over and break it. </div> <div> "Which one do you want?"  Quentin asked.  </div> <div> There were Claddagh rings with emeralds for crowns and diamonds set into the hearts; there were Claddagh rings with sapphires in the hearts and diamonds all around; there were others with diamonds inset throughout the ring. Julia settled on a ring with an emerald in the heart and diamonds inset into the crown and around the band.  The clerk asked:  "An do ye know which finger you'll be wearin this beautiful ring on?  I don't know if ye know the story..." </div> <div> "Oh, we know," Julia interrupted softly, with a beautiful smile.  "When I do wear it, it will be on my left ring finger, with the heart pointed in."</div> <div> The clerk beamed.  "Congratulations! Ye know that one of these stones must be yer birthstone, do ye not? 'Tis good luck, ye know."   </div> <div> "Even if my birthstone is ugly?" Julia asked, not bothering to suppress a smile.  She loved the ring; it was beautiful. </div> <div> "Ah, especially then, my lady!" the clerk exclaimed.  Julia and Quentin exchanged startled glances, which the clerk didn't appear to notice.  He measured her finger, took down the engraving information and promised to have the ring ready in two days.  </div> <div> On the street again, Quentin took her by the arm.  "Before we go sightseeing, I think there's something we need to talk about.  Why don't we stop at a pub?"  Both Julia and Willie were still both excited about the ring.  As they sat around the table and after they'd placed their order, Quentin took Julia's hand and said, "You know we can't get married in Sligo-not at that cathedral anyway." </div> <div> As Willie's jaw dropped, Julia nodded her head.  "What are you thinking?" she asked.  She knew he had to have a plan.</div> <div> "Well, first of all, I want us to get one of those marriage license applications-here."</div> <div> "Here!" Julia exclaimed. </div> <div> "We haven't been in Sligo that long," Quentin said persuasively.  "Only a couple of days.  We haven't even applied for a license there yet.  Why don't we get residency here?  We can live here the two or three weeks they require and we   can get married in a church here, can't we?  Isn't there a Protestant church here?" He knew damn well there was. </div> <div> Julia's eyes brightened, realizing.  "Quentin! St. Nicholas is Anglican!"   Still, her brows knit together a little.  "Residency, though?  My cousin-" </div> <div> Quentin turned his "aw please" look on her, the look that worked so well on Elizabeth, Mrs. Johnson, and any other woman he wanted to charm. "Look, whose wedding is this?  I don't want to be away from you for three weeks, Julia, it's driving me crazy!  It's not like we don't know each other inside and out."</div> <div> "Man!"  Willie blushed furiously.  "I'm gonna go for a walk.  I'll be back in a few minutes."  He got up and made his way out of the pub.</div> <div> Quentin shrugged a little and went on,  "If we rent a little cottage here, that would establish our residency here.  What do you say?  Julia!" </div> <div> "I suppose we could look," Julia gave in.  She really was beginning to feel closed in by family, fussed over as if she was a young girl instead of a mature woman.  She cared about her cousins but was it that important to her that they approve of her?  She didn't think so, yet, she said,  "Look, for propriety's sake, let's rent a cottage for me and a flat for you and Willie."  </div> <div> Before Quentin could protest, she smiled and said, "After all, this is still Ireland.  You don't have to sleep at the flat, dearheart.  That just has to be your address, all right?" </div> <div> Quentin kissed her fingers, delighted.  "All right!"</div> <div> Willie was not as delighted.  His expression grew darker and darker as first Julia found a cozy little cottage on the outskirts of the city and then Quentin took the first decent looking flat they could find.  "Whaddaya gonna tell your family, Julia?" he demanded, sounding as if he disapproved.</div> <div> "That I want to do some more sightseeing.  They can come and see me at the cottage-alone," Julia answered, with a crafty lilt to her tone. </div> <div> Willie made a  face.  "Oh, that's great.  And as soon as they're gone, Quentin's gonna be shackin up with you, huh?"</div> <div> "What are you, her Jiminy Cricket?" Quentin demanded, irritated.  </div> <div> "No, but ya didn't think about how I might feel about it, didya?" Willie snapped back.  He looked like he wanted to fight.  "Maybe I wanted to stay in that town!"</div> <div> "Why?" Julia asked, completely puzzled.</div> <div> Quentin, though, understood.  "Rosemary."  He also understood Willie was being dumped unceremoniously with the flat.  "You could take her there, Willie," he suggested hopefully. </div> <div> Willie was shocked.  "No way, man!  This is a nice girl! Whatsamatta with you?"</div> <div> "Sorry," Quentin muttered.  "Well, look, it's really not that far, you know.  What is it?  Less than an hour away?"</div> <div> Willie gave him an irritated look.  "I guess I don't have a choice, do I?" </div> <div> Julia put her hand on Willie's arm.  "Oh, Willie, I'm sorry.  You're always getting the short end of the stick, aren't you? We'll make it up to you, don't worry." </div> <div> "Ah, geez, Julia. Ya know I'd do whatever I could to help you.  Y'don't gotta do nothin for me," Willie sighed.  "Look, you're happy, right?  Barnabas is happy-I guess.  My turn'll come."</div> <div> "We'll put a good word in for you with Denny," Quentin offered. </div> <div> Willie's eyes grew large.  "Ah, geez, thanks, no, Quentin!  Don't do that!"   It was very clear that he was thinking a good word would not benefit him coming from Quentin. </div> <div> Quentin didn't care.  He was in an expansive mood.  "Let's go have a look around before we call Brian," he suggested, taking Julia's arm again.  He was in a very good mood.   Willie could do as he pleased this evening, but Quentin knew                 exactly where he wanted to be tonight and exactly what he wanted to be doing.</div> <div> He was sitting right next to Julia on the bed in the little cottage when she called Brian to deliver what was (to her family) the distressing news that she was going to stay on in Galway.  Julia hung up, obviously upset, and Quentin put his arms around her to comfort her.   She turned to him, opening her mouth to kiss him. </div> <div> He laid her back on the bed.  "I'll help you forget," he promised her.  "We're doing the right thing-we're doing this our way."  He bent down to her, touching her gently at first, and then with more passion and desire.</div> <div> They arranged to meet with the Anglican pastor and found out that he would be able to marry them in six weeks time.  "If you're superstitious at all, ye don't want to marry in May anyways," he explained good-naturedly.  "It's all got to do with the Virgin Mary-ah, I see that you're not superstitious about that then."  Quentin had begun shaking his head vehemently but June was better than July or August.  </div> <div> The pastor's wife had come in with tea for them and had overheard the conversation about superstition. "What about the day of the week?" she asked brightly, serving them all. </div> <div> "I imagine that Saturday and Sunday would be the most popular days," Julia ventured.</div> <div> "That's true.  There's a saying that goes: 'You Marry on Monday for wealth, Tuesday for health, Wednesday the best day of all, Thursday for crosses, Friday for losses and Saturday no day at all."           </div> <div> "Wednesday," Quentin said immediately.</div> <div> "Wednesday!" Julia exclaimed.  "I thought you weren't superstitious!" </div> <div> He looked at her ingenuously.  "Not about marrying in May, but that's out anyway.  Look, it's just a saying, but I like it.  Wednesday is the middle of the week so it makes sense it would be the best day of all.  I know what you're thinking-you're thinking plane schedules and workdays and inconveniencing Roger.  But it's our wedding.  Why do we have to get married on Friday or Saturday just because everyone else does?  Let's be different!" </div> <div> Julia looked at Quentin. She really couldn't resist him, and after last night, she didn't think she would even want to try. "The best day, eh?" She laughed.  "On a Wednesday, then." </div> <div> The pastor took out his calendar and consulted with it a few minutes.  "Ah. Well, what about Wednesday, June 17th, then?  That'll be enough time to fulfill the requirements of the residency-ye'd have to be waiting around four weeks anyway."</div> <div> Julia clasped Quentin's hand.  It was beginning to seem real.  "I like it, do you?" she asked, and Quentin nodded.  The sooner the better.  "This will give us time to make plans-contact the family, arrange a reception-" </div> <div> "We have to let Barnabas know," Quentin put in.  He looked at the pastor, remembering something suddenly.  "Oh!  We want to get married in the evening-is that all right?" </div> <div> The pastor's brows went up a little.  "Sure, an I would be glad to do an evenin ceremony for ye."  Americans!</div> <div> "Barnabas," Julia said thoughtfully.  She hesitated.  She wasn't afraid to go back, and yet- </div> <div> "Maybe Willie can go for us," Quentin suggested gently.  It was probably a bit much to be asking of anyone but Willie could always say no.  Quentin had a feeling he wouldn't refuse-and he was right.  Willie agreed to return to Brugh and find Barnabas.  After Willie left, Fiona and Rose O'Neill drove down the following Friday with Rosemary.  </div> <div> Rosemary seemed disappointed that Willie had gone out of town, fishing, but was happy enough to go along shopping with her mother, aunt, and Julia.  The women were full of advice for Julia, whose head began to spin again.  The ladies isisted on running Quentin off.  He seemed to be relieved, leaning over to kiss Julia and whisper in her ear:  "Will you be all right?"</div> <div> "I think so-but send out a search party if you don't hear from me," Julia replied, kidding.</div> <div> "Don't let them talk you into anything if you don't want it-it's our way," Quentin reminded her, with a wink.  "I want anything you want, Julia."  He strolled off down the walk, whistling.</div> <div> "Have ye a dress, then, dearie?" Fiona began, even before Quentin was out of sight. </div> <div> "Well, not yet," Julia answered.  "I don't want a gown.  I thought about a nice-"</div> <div> "Oh, to be sure, then darlin, and we can go lookin for the most darlin weddin dresses for a twice-married lady!" Rose interrupted.  "Ye know about mixing the colors for your dress, do you?"  </div> <div> "Well, no-" Julia was surprised.</div> <div> "Well, ye must have a  beautiful dress-not white, no, but ye have other  choices and not just off-white.  Listen:  'Marry in White, everything right.'  Well, ye've been married before so we'll not choose white.  'Marry in Blue, lover be true.'  That's a good color, blue is.  These ye don't want then:                 'Marry in Pink, spirits will sink; Marry in Grey, live far away; Marry in  Brown,  live out of town; Marry in Green, ashamed to be seen; Marry in Yellow,  ashamed of your fellow; Marry in Black, wish you were back; Marry in Red,  wish you were dead."  </div> <div> Julia burst out laughing.  "It would seem my only choice is blue!" </div> <div> "Na, then, Julia, I'm not done then.  'Marry in Tan, he'll be a loved man; Marry in Pearl, you'll live in a whirl." </div> <div> "Pearl-an off white," Julia said meditatively.  "And tan.  With some blue."   She looked at Rose and Fiona.  "Quentin can wear blue?"</div> <div> The sisters-in-law exchanged glances.  Rose said, "An why not?  His blue could go wi' the blue in the dress we buy for ye."</div> <div> Julia smiled with satisfaction.  Marry in blue:  lover be true, she thought, silently chiding herself.  Still insecure, Julia!  Still, it didn't hurt to play it safe.  As they shopped Fiona and Rose educated Julia in a few other traditions and superstitions:  it would be good luck if someone were to accidentally "tear" her new dress (Julia was horrified at that thought but elected not to say anything at the moment); Julia must not put her veil on herself-she must allow either Rose or Fiona, who claimed to be happily married, to do that for her; they must arrange for a man to be first in the receiving line for good luck; and to have beautiful children, Julia must look  at the sun as she left the church.  I think I looked at the sun in Brugh at some point, Julia thought to herself, with a self-satisfied little smile.</div> <div> During the six weeks before the wedding, all of the plans were made: the invitations, the reception, the wedding cake, the music, and the flowers.   Julia made her own choices, pleased with the advice from Fiona and Rose. </div> <div> "Ye can choose a Celtic design that ye can carry throughout the whole weddin and reception, especially if it's genealogy ye're interested in," Fiona advised. </div> <div> "Ye can make an Irish blessing a part of your wedding vows, too," added Rose.  </div> <div> "And perhaps ye might like to have a harp at the reception-for a wee song or two." </div> <div> "The bodhran," Julia said immediately. The eyebrows of the two women shot up.  </div> <div> "Why, er, yes-'twould be fine for the dancing!" Fiona agreed.  Shyly, she added, "'Tis also good luck to allow family to be helpin with the weddin or reception.  I thought I would mention to ye that Brian can play the bodhran."</div> <div> "So can Denny," Rose added. Julia smiled.  "Quentin and I would be honored."</div> <div> A few days later, Willie returned with the news that Barnabas and Daoirdre  were on their way.  "Only here, ya gotta call her Deidre." </div> <div> "How is she?" Julia asked.</div> <div> "Good, Julia, good.  They seem real happy.  They're buildin a big manor house of their own in this place, uh, Usineach."  Willie grinned, then excused himself to call Rosemary. </div> <div> When they weren't making love and they weren't talking about the wedding, Quentin and Julia toured Galway.  They visited Kennedy Square, which had been renamed in honor of the assassinated President, which was a plot of land-like a park-that dated back to 1710.  Lynch's Castle was the home of the county's most powerful family; they no longer lived there, but the carved façade still bore the arms of King Henry VIII.  They went to the left bank of the River Corrib to see the Spanish Arch, remnant of a 16th century bastion built to protect the city from pirates.  There was even a part of the city called "The Claddagh".  Quentin said he was sure Roger would be interested in this part of town because it most related to the Collins' family business-the people here were fishermen and gathered seafood; Julia smiled because it was the first time he'd seemed to give the family business any serious thought.  They found out that claddagh actually referred to a "stony beach."  </div> <div> The days passed swiftly. All day during the 14th of June, family members arrived from the United States and from other towns in Ireland.  Julia was reunited with her elderly aunt Beattie, who looked more and more like Nana every day.  Quentin brought Roger down to "The Claddagh", effectively forestalling any grumbling on his cousin's part about irresponsibility.  Quentin was right-Roger was favorably impressed and looked around with appreciative and possibly speculative eyes.  </div> <div> As it grew later into the afternoon and became dusk, the couple became more and more nervous.  Was it the ceremony they were anxious about-or the whereabouts of Barnabas and Daoirdre? Everyone gathered at the church.  It was dusk now.  Quentin fidgeted in the back room with Roger, who only seemed to make his cousin more nervous.  Just as Quentin was about to seek out the pastor and tell him regretfully they'd have to get started, there was a bit of a commotion at the door.  It swung open, and Barnabas entered the room.  Quentin wanted to collapse into a chair, relieved, but found himself moving toward his cousin.  He found that he had missed Barnabas very much these weeks.  "I was beginning to think you weren't going to make it," he said.</div> <div> Barnabas lifted his brows and  gave Quentin a stern what's-wrong-with-you  expression.  Slowly, though, a smile lifted his lips.  "Well, Quentin, you cannot say that I don't enjoy dramatic appearances!"  He exclaimed.  His eyes communicated more, and Quentin remembered not only the time that Barnabas had suddenly appeared to save him from the descending axe on the pendulum but also the time he'd awakened to find his cousin in the corner of the room where he and Julia slept.  Barnabas clapped him on the shoulder.  "I would not miss this wedding, my dear cousin," he said gently.</div> <div> "Daoirdre?" Quentin asked.   </div> <div> "Deidre," Barnabas corrected him gently.  "She is with Julia-she is well, Quentin, and very happy." </div> <div> "Deidre?" Roger asked curiously. </div> <div> Barnabas smiled, shaking his hand.  "Roger, so good to see you!  Yes, Deidre, my special-friend.  I will introduce you and the rest of the family to her.   We have a lot of catching up to do."  He looked at Quentin and almost winked.</div> <div> The ceremony seemed a blur to the couple, who hoped that when they looked at the pictures, they would remember something of it.  At the reception, the guests gathered around the couple.  Glasses filled with mead were passed around to everyone.  Julia and Quentin liked this particular suggestion of Brian's, made grudgingly but also filled with acceptance of what was to be. The couple said                 together, "Friends and relatives, it's our greatest pleasure to have you here with us today.  After many years have passed, we'll still have the fondest memories of this day.  So we drink a cup of Irish mead and ask God's blessing in your hour of need." </div> <div> As planned, Rose had the guests' response typed and ready for those who weren't familiar with it.  They said: "On this special day, our wish to you, the goodness of the old, the best of the new. God bless you both who drink this mead, may it always fill your every need." </div> <div> When everyone had taken their seats at their tables, Brian took on the role as the Man of the House.  First, he thanked everyone for coming, especially those who had to travel far or through trying circumstances. Geez, it's like he knows, Quentin thought, looking over at Barnabas, who simply smiled impassively.  Brian went on to say that although he hadn't met Julia until recently, she was truly a member of the family and he was honored to welcome Quentin into the O'Neill family, too.  He began to drone a little, talking about the ups and downs of marriage but that it had brought rewards to his own life-meaning his beloved Fiona.  Brian was sure of the couple's future happiness but he wanted to propose a toast to the health and happiness of the bride and groom.  "Here's to you both, a beautiful pair, on the birthday of our love affair.  Here's to the husband and here's to the wife-may they be lovers the rest of their lives." </div> <div> Barnabas, who'd been seated on Julia's left, stood up now.  "I, too, would like to say a few words and make a toast to Quentin and Julia.  They are my dearest friends, and my life would have been miserably lonely if I had never met them."  He turned to Julia.  "Especially you, Julia.  You have helped me whenever I needed you to, even when I was not grateful for it.  I want you to know that I have learned a great deal from you-especially not to take friendship for granted." Julia's eyes filled with tears as Barnabas turned to Quentin.  "I have not had a best friend in many, many years.  It has been hard to for me to trust.   I am sure that I have taken you for granted, too, but I want you to know that I would trust you with my life.  I know you will be good to Julia."   Now he was raising his glass, too, as Quentin's eyes blurred with emotion.  </div> <div> Barnabas said in a strong, clear voice:  "Here's to the home that Julia and Quentin shall build. It shall have a kitchen on the first floor, a bar on the second floor, and a bedroom on the third floor, So they can eat when they are hungry, drink when they are dry, make love when they are lonely... and every other damn time they feel like it, too." At that, the guests broke up and began to laugh.  Quentin stood up and threw his arms around Barnabas, who hugged him back tightly.  Then he reached for Julia. Julia began to speak, but Barnabas put his hand over her mouth.  "No, Julia, don't say anything.  There is no need.  I love you both, and I always will. Daoirdre and I will be waiting for you in Brugh."  At that Daoirdre, who had gotten up as well, put her arms around Julia.  She smiled, radiantly beautiful.</div> <div> "We'll come after we get back from our honeymoon," Quentin told Barnabas.  Well, from the first half of it, that is."</div> <div> "The first half?"  Curious, Barnabas' eyebrows went up.</div> <div> "We thought we would spend the second half with you and Roxanne-in Usineach, if that is all right."</div> <div> "Splendid!" Barnabas exclaimed, delighted.  "And you must bring Willie with you!" </div> <div> Quentin looked around and spotted Willie at far corner of the room, talking to Rosemary O'Neill.  Their heads were close together.   Barnabas followed Quentin's gaze and said softly, "Perhaps not.  That is quite all right.  I did not want Willie to feel lost or set adrift."</div> <div> "Never," Julia said firmly.</div> <div> "I don't doubt it, dear Julia."</div> <div> The band had begun to play the first song, and the bandleader was calling for Mr. and Mrs. Collins to take the dance floor.  It felt a little unreal to Quentin as he took Julia's hand and moved with her onto the dance floor.  It was almost like déjà vu-they'd danced together the first time they'd gone out together.  Was the band really playing "For All We Know"?  He wasn't sure.  </div> <div> Everything was a blur for Julia, too-all the faces of the guests seemed to spin in circles as she and Quentin moved around the dance floor. Almost before they knew it and most certainly before they were ready, guests had begun to leave the reception.  The hour grew late; the band packed up and left.  One by one, family members dropped away until soon only Quentin, Julia, Barnabas, Daoirdre, Willie, Rosemary, and the O'Neills of Sligo Town were left.  </div> <div> Brian took Julia's hands in hers and cleared his throat.  "In Gaelic, the word for honey is meala," he told her.  He looked at Quentin, to include him, too.  "And in Gaelic, ye say honeymoon mi na meala, which sorta refers to how ye spend your time."  Julia blushed.</div> <div> Denny had come forward now, with a large bottle and two beribboned goblets.  Brian let go of Julia's hands to take the bottle and the goblets.  Turning back to Julia and Quentin, he continued, "Irish monks first produced a fermented honey brew-'tis called mead-for medicinal purposes.  Well, an it wasn't long after that they discovered it made people feel better in more ways than one."  Everyone laughed.  "'Tis considered good luck to receive these goblets as a gift and 'tis traditional for the bridal couple to have this special brew to share.  'Tis also traditional that ye have enough to last ye the full month-that's where the term 'honeymoon' comes from y'see?"  He pressed the bottle into Quentin's hands.  "Ye make sure it lasts the month, 'twill give ye luck."  The two goblets he gave to Julia.  "Ye see to it he minds and doesn't nip extra from the bottle."</div> <div> "Oh, well, I don't know about that," Quentin laughed.  He was, however, genuinely moved.  "If it really tastes that good, I'm not sure we can make it last the month!"</div> <div> To their surprise, Brian didn't laugh.  He looked serious and then said, "Ye must, ye see?  For this s the best way to ensure a good marriage." </div> <div> He lowered his voice.  "Somethin else-'tis believed the brew will bestow extra virility on ye, lad, and fertility on Julia."</div> <div> Quentin and Julia looked at each other, their eyes wide with amusement, but they were able to control themselves and not burst into laughter.  Quentin looked over at Barnabas, seeing the gleam of cheerfulness in his own eyes.  Barnabas moved closer to Daoirdre and put a protective arm around her waist. Quentin put his own arms around Julia and pulled her close.  He looked at Brian and smiled.  Thank you-we appreciate it.  And you know what-you'll be the first to know if it really works." </div> <div> Pleased, Brian ducked his head.  Quentin caught Barnabas' eye and winked. "Well, off with ye, then!" Brian exclaimed.  "The hour's late an ye must be off so's we can throw the weddin rice on ye!"</div> <div> Quentin looked at Julia.  "Ready to run the gauntlet?"</div> <div> Julia smiled radiantly.  "I'm just glad it's a short one," she said.  She held the goblets expertly by the stems in one hand, grasping Quentin's hand tightly with the other.  With the bottle of mead under one arm, he clutched her hand and began to run.  They were pelted with rice and the cries of good wishes from the group behind them.  Julia began to laugh heartily, with real joy.  Life might not always be happy, but it would certainly never be dull again.</div> <div> And it never was.  And they lived happily ever after...until the next supernatural crisis!</div> <bR> <DIV ALIGN="LEFT"></DIV> <div> <A HREF="id37.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="13: Wheel of Fortune"><U>13:  Wheel of Fortune</U></A>   <A HREF="index.htm" TARGET="_top" TITLE="Cassies Writing"><U>Cassie's Writing</U></A></div> <bR> </td> </tr></table></body>