Cailín (Lass) (Anam Céile Chronicles) (20 page)

“If you
were to cease to exist,” I stated clearly, “so would I.”  Dreadfully serious I be!

 Donovan
scoffed.  “There be no if, Aislinn,” he stated plainly, his voice poignant. 
“Just when.”

“No!” I
cried.  “Together forever we must be!”

And fer
the first time ever, I wanted to shake him, to scream at him fer uttering such wretched
things.  Instead, overcome with the harsh reality of his words, I simply buried
me face in his chest, wishing to drive away the thought of such a horrid
occurrence.

“We will
always have forever in each moment we share together.  Fer these moments are
all we truly have.  In the end, life ‘tis merely just a collection of moments, be
it not?” he disclosed encouragingly, trying to rescue me mood from its descent,
though fruitful in his attempt he was not.

“Aislinn,”
Donovan said tenderly, lifting me chin to look at him. “There be something I
need to say to you.” 

I
lifted me saddened eyes to his and waited.

T
he next
day, Donovan returned me home.

Upon
hearing our cart coming up the drive, Deirdre rushed out to greet us.  I could
hardly stand it; I had to tell her what had transpired during this significant
voyage.  I jumped out of the cart and skipped up to her.

Instantly
sensing something extraordinary, her face became inquisitive.

“You
shall never guess!” I pronounced through me giddiness.

Her
eyes widened as she declared intuitively, “. . .
No
!”

“Donovan
has asked me to marry him!” I announced elatedly.

“Aislinn!”
she cried, embracing me snugly.  “Oh my goodness!  Congratulations to you
both!” 

Deirdre
promptly grasped me hand to look at the ring upon it.  “What sort of ring is
this?”

Donovan
walking up to meet us, rolled his eyes at me impetuosity.  “’Tis called a
Claddagh ring.  They originated in the fishing village bearing the name, not
far from here.”

“Indeed! 
I
have
heard some discourse of those,” Deirdre replied with interest. 

“They
have been gaining popularity in recent years, and are especially sought after
by young men planning to propose to their lady because of the significance of the
meaning they carry.”  Deirdre appeared curious fer more.

“Look
here.”  Donovan took me hand in his, lifting it fer show as he commenced with
his honoured depiction.  “The hands symbolise the friendship that guards the
heart, the very same heart that symbolises love and affection that wears the
crown of loyalty and trust, making the bond grow stronger day by day . . . ‘til
eternity."  He grinned proudly and turning, kissed me full upon the mouth.

“Thus,
in a nutshell, the meaning of the Claddagh ring could be summarized as, ‘Let
Love and Friendship Reign Forever’.”  Quite pleased Deirdre be with herself fer
grasping the notion. 

“Precisely,”
Donovan returned.  “I determined to find a ring fer Aislinn that be as
meaningful as she be to me.”  He gazed to me again.  It delighted me so to see
him beaming.

“Oh!  You
must
allow me to help you plan the wedding!” Deirdre insisted.  That
would be just the sort of thing I could imagine her doing well. 

‘Twas
then I noticed that Deirdre be surrounded in a radiance of crystalline-like
shimmers all around her as upon the new fallen snow blanketing over her natural
bright yellow luminosity. 

How
curious
. . .

“And
when shall this long-awaited blessed day occur?” she probed on, and then persisted
without waiting fer our answer.  “I may have just enough time to plan for later
this summer . . .”  

Donovan
and I we both simply looked at each other.

 “I
suppose then, that you have yet to decide upon a date?” Deirdre affirmed. 
Without waiting fer our answer, in her typical fashion, she continued on as she
held out her hand to Fergus who was approaching us.  “We have some joyful news
of our own to share . . .” They exchanged exuberant glances.  She turned back
to us placing her hand upon her abdomen.  “
We
are with child!”

“Oh,
Deirdre, Fergus, how wonderful that be!  So pleased we be fer you!”

C
ould
we, I would have married Donovan
that
very day!  On the other hand,
circumstances be as they were, we could not be married ‘til he was finished
with his apprenticeship.  That wouldn’t be fer three more years! 

I
believed those surely would be the longest years of me existence!  If only I
had known the nature of the trials I would have to endure.

During
that prolonged time, our love, as well as our passions grew ever stronger.  Or,
at least, I know
mine
surely did!

As eighteen
I be, and a full-fledged woman then, I endeavoured to convince Donovan to make
love to me.  Afflicted I be with increasingly overwhelming urges and many
profound changes that I disregarded as merely being part of me becoming a
woman.

And
always, much to me amassing frustration, did he decline me advances, upholding
me virtue.  “Wait ‘til our wedding day we must,” Donovan would tell me. 

Honestly,
I did not know how much longer I could contain meself in his presence!

One day
when Donovan came to Deirdre’s to pick me up, he wore a simple, lightweight
sweater.  Admittedly, not much notice had I taken in his apparel before then,
but this day it did rather strike me, mostly because simple folk such as we
typically did not don clothing of colour.  Blue ‘twas, more specifically
cerulean; the only time I had viewed that exact hue be in the colour of the sky
on a perfectly clear day, sunlit and vibrant. 

Never
had I fancied the colour blue much, yet upon seeing Donovan wrapped in it, the
striking contrast of that colour against his white skin and dark hair, I be
done fer!  And, adorned in that as he be, deepened the hue of his eyes, converting
them into the most spectacular shade of blue! 

To make
matters all the worse, the material of the sweater ‘twas so downy soft it
virtually called out ‘touch me’!  An inordinate amount of time I spent with me
hands upon him whilst he wore that sweater!  It provided me a charming
justification to do something I had been endeavouring to avoid, vowing to
remain on me best behaviour— being too brazen.

“Where
ever did you acquire a sweater of such colour?” I asked him, captivated as I
fell
into his waiting arms.

Donovan
smiled as he answered, “Oh, me Aunt and Uncle they brought it back fer me from
their trip to France.  Pleases you, does it, Aislinn?” he enquired hopefully
with his modest smile, making me heart melt once again.

I
reached out to feel of it; allowing me eyes to easily fall shut under the
sensuousness of the feel of its material under me fingertips; a slow, sensuous
smile spreading over me face in answer to his question.

Donovan
took me on another jaunt, this time over the hills of
Conamara
, not
nearly as far as the Cliffs be, but still it be a fair ride out.  Not that ever
I did mind long rides seated beside to him in the cart . . .  

“Aislinn,
please do play your fiddle fer me,” Donovan entreated.  “I do so delight in
hearing the enchanting music which springs forth from your hands.”

Picking
up me fiddle, I honoured his request, playing fer him virtually the length of
the trip.  It delighted me nearly more than anything that he found such
pleasure in me music.

Ah,
Conamara
! 
How it exemplifies the peaceful solitude and rugged beauty of the west of Éire
with its ever-changing landscape and dramatic contrasts of sea, sky, land and
bog:  the expansive sandy golden beaches reaching out into the Atlantic,
craggy
yet majestic mountain peaks of the Twelve Bens, pre-historic bogs and shady
glens, the laced network of mist covered lakes, broken into innumerable creeks,
bays and little harbors; the Owenglin river, flowing into the sea at
An
Clochán. 
The sunbeams as they come and go cast such a range of tint, light
and shadow that constantly the mood and tone of the unique landscape be altered
entirely.

One
moment, ‘twas all beautiful spring flowers, swollen buds covering the trees,
newborn lambs dancing upon the hills.  And then, in the next, everything seemed
to transform drastically.

The
last vestiges of sunlight glimmered through the clouds, floating past the
canopy overhead.  Fer quite some time, Donovan and I stared in awe at the fiery
blaze of the sunset glistening over the sea.  Then all too rapidly, the sky
began to transform.

Darkness
as though night had fallen suddenly altered the sky, the wind gusting as though
it were the end of the world.  We watched the lightning as it took its stage
atop the clouds.  The startled, frantic chirping of the birds as they dashed
about searching fer shelter served to warn us further. 

Prompted
by the birds’ instincts, Donovan suggested, “Ought we seek out shelter?”

Having
little concern fer any of it, I wrapped me arms about his neck and gazed into
his eyes.  I stretched me neck up, to reach me lips to kiss along the line of
his jaw.  Finally, Donovan bent his head to kiss me.  Standing quiet in the
rain, we kissed unhurriedly, the rain drenching us.  I did not have a care fer
anything but his lips.

Nonetheless
Donovan— concerned fer me well-being as always he be, evidently considering me
more fragile than really I be— pulled his lips away from me all too soon and
dragged me along to seek out proper cover from the storm. 

Donovan
and I ran along laughing as children as the rain beat down upon us.  A few
hundred metres off we found a cozy little cove with a rock overhang on a sandy
beach that provided us cover from the storm.  What be the point by the time we
did reach it, I do not know, as already drenched we were regardless!

The night flooded in.  Warm and sweet and endless it would prove
to be. 

We stood there, water pouring off of our garments, onto the
once dry floor of the temporary shelter.  Donovan took notice, frowning at
once. 

“I suppose we should remove our wet wears, then . . ?” I
suggested all too hopefully, beaming with a gleeful grin.

Donovan looked up at me, rolling his eyes.

“Very well,
but if we do not, a dry place this will not remain fer long,” I strove to
convince him.  “And ‘tis so cold I be growing in these.  I do believe soaked to
the bone I be!” I fibbed, feigning a shiver as I wrapped me arms tightly about
meself.

Postpone
fer him to decide I did not, as me fingers set to unbuttoning the back of me bodic. 
I could detect from his face that he debated whether or not to protest.  Consequently,
rather than allow him the chance, I briskly popped the rest of me gown open and
let it fall to me feet.

At
first, he just stood there stunned, his eyes wide in marvel as he beheld me in
naught save me corset and pantalets.  And then, to me pleasant surprise, his
hands went to the bottom hem of his sweater and began to lift it up, his
darkening eyes remaining affixed upon me body.