
excerpt
“I don’t suppose old Finn took too kindly to the religious stuff.”
“Maybe not,” said Caitlin. “And yet he didn’t try to discourage Padraig. If the religious life was Padraig’s calling, so be it. That’s what my father said.”
“What was your father doing in Scotland?”
“He had already taken over the farm after that terrible death of his father and his older brother.” Melancholy saddened Caitlin’s dark eyes. “But the sea was still in his blood. He could never bring himself to sell his old boat, the Maid of Drumard. Joe Carney still fishes in it, and my father used to sail with him every chance he got. That October, eighteen years ago, the Maid was fishing for herring off the coast of northwest Scotland and put into that fishing port to ride out a storm. That’s where my father rescued Padraig.”
“Do you still love him?” Michael asked in a diffident voice. “As a sister.”
“Of course I do,” Caitlin answered. “And why should I have stopped loving him? Because he’s a priest?” She stared thoughtfully into Michael’s troubled eyes. “Padraig’s becoming a priest might rankle my father a bit, but it doesn’t worry me.”
“You don’t love Padraig more than a sister would, do you?”
“No, Michael,” Caitlin answered with a firmness that Michael thought was exaggerated. “I don’t love him more than a sister would. Why ever would you think so?”
“I don’t know.” Michael looked down at the floor. “Just wondered.”
He tried to chase his worry outside into the night, but like an unwilling dog, it slunk around the door and every now and then it whimpered for attention. The simple-hearted farmer tried to ignore it. He returned his gaze to Caitlin’s shining hair as it tumbled over her shoulders and almost hid her face. People in the village said that Padraig and Caitlin had been lovers. The men in the Harbour Bar talked about it crudely and smirked into their pints of Guinness.
“Did you ever sleep with him?”
“Michael!” Caitlin gave him a scolding glance. “How could you think such a thing? You don’t know Padraig.” She stared at the fire again and pulled the rug more tightly round her. Michael’s jealousy, part of his insecurity, frightened her sometimes. That was why she lied to him. She did not often lie to Michael and when she did, it was only to set his mind at rest.
The truth was that Caitlin had indeed been once in love with Padraig. Then she had believed it to be the true love of her life, with all the ingredients of a classic romance.

