SELECT A CHAPTER:  1  2  3  4  5  6  7  8  9  10  11  12

City Castles®, LLC ^© 

Catherine’s Castles ^© Linda Pilkington printed on the City Castles®, LLC web site by special permission of the author. This story will appear as a serialization.  

In the Future, The Castle in the City (or Gwynie’s Story) will be available for purchase on this web site. All copyrighted materials are published here in order to promote City Castles®, LLC products.  They may not be used in any way to promote any other products.

 Federal law prohibits the unauthorized sale or distribution of copyrighted materials.  It is your responsibility to determine that your use of City Castles®, LLC material does not constitute copyright infringement.

 The story is most appropriate for mature teens or young adults.  I have never felt that I could, or should, edit a story to free it of every fearful occurrence.  I would rather show that my characters learn to be brave- and to face that which frightens them.  However, children may be afraid of imagined characters and events- and in that case, should not read – or have the story read to them.  The characters and events in both books are imagined ones.  Since they are imagined, there is no need to look for their counterparts in real life.

 If you find some resemblance with “real life”- there are reasons for that- among those reasons are (1.) your own good imagination (2.) though this work is a fantasy- I am describing people.  People tend to share common behaviors, characteristics and destinies. 

 And now- rest, read- and later- return and bring a friend, and join us in “ The Queen’s Parlor.”  We will be looking for you at www.citycastles.com. – Pass it on!

 And now let us put all cautions, and worries behind us because- once upon a time…

 Linda Pilkington  

 

  __________CHAPTER 7___________

 City Castles®, LLC

Catherine’s Castle will appear as a serialization on the City Castles®, LLC web site. The Castle in the City (or Gwynie’s Story) will be available in the future, for purchase in our online store.

All copyrighted materials are published here in order to promote City Castles®, LLC products. They may not be used in any way to promote any other products. Linda Pilkington’s works appear on this site by special arrangement with the author

Federal law prohibits the unauthorized sale or distribution of copyrighted materials. It is your responsibility to determine that your use of City Castles®, LLC’ web site material-and products does not constitute copyright infringement.

This story is most appropriate for mature teens or young adults. I have never felt that I could, or should, edit a story to free it of every fearful occurrence. I would rather show that my characters learn to be brave-and to face that which frightens them.

However, children may be afraid of imagined characters and stories, and in that case should not read- or have the story read to them.

The characters and events in both books are imagined ones. Since they are imagined -there is no need to look for their counterparts in real life.

If you find some resemblance- there are reasons for that- among those reasons are: (1) your own good imagination-and (2) Although this work is a fantasy, I am describing people- people tend to share common behaviors, characteristics, and destinies. Please stay for a while, read, relax and then--please return-bring a friend, and join us in "the Queen’s Parlor." We will be looking forward to your visit at www.citycastles.com -please pass it on!

And now let us put all cares, and cautions behind us because- once upon a time…

Linda Pilkington

January 16, 2001

---

Catherine's Castle
© Linda Pilkington

City Castles®, LLC

Catherine spent Easter at a gathering of the Connors- her mother’s family. She hadn’t seen them since January. Both gatherings were held at her Aunt’s house, and Catherine’s moods at each, were as different as the seasons.

Aunt Colleen, and her husband, John Niall owned a farm that was beautiful in every season. In January the snow had covered the rolling Iowa hills, and made the farm house look like a belated Christmas card. By April everything looked, new made, as if Nature loved starting over again.

Catherine’s original visit in January had been postponed by a blizzard that had buried the state under another layer of snow. That storm had been the grand finale to one of the harshest winters that Iowans could remember.

The blizzard had stranded motorists all over the state, including her cousin, who had been on his way to pick up her up. So to Catherine’s relief, that first, ill-timed visit to her relatives had been postponed.

Before her cousin had called, Catherine had spent the afternoon pacing the floor of the apartment from living room to kitchen, and back again, her thoughts unsettled, anxious, and her heart beating faster to keep up with them. Restlessness had set in after her talk with Liam- the remembrance of that talk, and the howl of the wind oppressed her spirits. She seemed unable to sit still-she had to keep moving.

Till that storm Catherine had almost enjoyed "Iowa’s harshest winter" – it had seemed like an adventure as long as Liam was there. Now she was consumed by the thought, " Just a few days and he will be gone. How cold and dark it will be then. It is over-how can that be?"

Catherine had been glad to be alone. It would have been terrible to spend the first hours of the end of her romance-explaining it to someone else- even when that someone else was a good friend.

Brittany had left earlier to attend one of the events of the new semester, a dinner given by some VIP Alumni. So Catherine had spent the entire evening, pacing the silent apartment, waiting to hear from her cousin, and taking calls from her relatives about him.

As the storm worsened, Catherine had few worries for Brittany- Brittany would find somewhere to stay- she was not the type to brave the forces of nature- if she didn’t have to. And sure enough, Brittany had called to tell her that she would be home sometime that Sunday.

Vaguely, Catherine felt that it was selfish, not to worry about what might become of her cousin and her friend. But after her cousin had called her, and she in turn, had relayed his messages on to his family-her mind quickly returned to her own troubles.

After she had hung up the phone, Catherine had stood staring out the window, but barely seeing the storm that was raging outside- she was engrossed with the storm raging within her own heart and head.

"Everything has changed. What now? Liam is going-that is certain."

" I want to cry… but I can’t. If I let myself cry then I might cry in front of Liam, and I won’t do that…"

"I’ve got to think-not feel. I must keep remembering why I’m here."

She was exhausted but her mind wouldn’t rest, and so the soliloquy continued.

"I won’t think about Liam. I have to put caring about him in the past. I have to go back to my own life- to my own plans."

"During these months, I’ve worked, but I have stopped focusing on my own dreams. Now, I’ve got to hold onto those plans or I’ll have nothing left."

"For so long I have wanted to go to St. Columba. I came here willing to attend the University, but with the hope of transferring."

"Then after my transfer-I would be a true scholar with two years of mastering the Great Books curriculum. It was my mother’s dream for me, and then my dream for myself. The point was to understand those books…so that when I wrote…the words and the thoughts that I needed would be there. "

Back and forth she went…pacing…barely knowing that she was pacing. Her heart aching as her feet paced, again and again, the length of those quiet rooms. Once, she had glanced up and caught a look at herself in the living room mirror.

She had stopped, shocked at the unhappiness in her eyes, "He will never see that look in my eyes." She resolved. "Whatever, happens, whatever he says…I promise, myself that he will never know what I am feeling now."

 

Later, the storm that had raged outside had ended, and Catherine had slept.

Waking the next morning she had stood at the bedroom window and gazed out at a peaceful world. She welcomed the quiet of the morning and rested her aching head against the cold glass of the window.

She had struggled the night before to put aside her impulsive, heart, and to clear away passion. The future was still confused, but she was back on her own path. To take that path she had to live her own life and focus on her own goals. She faced difficult days ahead, of letting go of love and the delightful feelings that had made each day of the past few months so exciting.

The rescheduled visit to her relatives had taken place a week after the storm; Liam had driven her.

Since those first moments when Liam had told her that he was going to France their feelings had been turbulent. Now they were both trying to decide how, and on what terms they were to part.

This parting was different than a mere semester in France. Their feelings had changed because the circumstances had changed.

Liam had been offered a chance to join a new program. First he was to be the regular "student abroad", and then at the end of the semester he was to begin an intense period of study that would allow him to enter a new business program. That program would last for two additional years.

For Catherine, this news had come right after the first shock of finding that he was going to France, and as her mind was softening the blow, by whispering that it was only for a few months.

From the first, Liam, had felt that he must tell her the details of his leaving-and if his benefactors could have seen his face as he told her- they would have wondered at his lack of enthusiasm.

True- he had said, "It really is the chance of a lifetime."

And then, trying to explain his reasons for going, " I want it because I watched my father work his heart out-he never had many chances- Catherine. Money isn’t everything- but without some of it- there are no opportunities. I’m not saying this very well, but the idea of my own family struggling along as I have- well, it scares me. It would be ok if you knew that they would have good fortune-but they might not-money can take the place of good luck."

After his first words, Catherine had heard very little of what he had said. She had sat, turning her napkin over and over, and thinking, "how little he cares about me… he can’t care and be willing to leave me for years, and years. And now this hard- hearted talk about money, I thought that he was one man whose heart didn’t reside in his wallet."

Liam had gone on, "I’m not exactly the child of good fortune - if I don’t take this lucky chance- who knows when I’ll get another. "I’ve never had much luck– except in meeting you- Catherine. A bushel of Shamrocks couldn’t equal that."

For the first time, Catherine had doubted him. "Has it all been a game to him, and now the game is over? Is he telling me how long he will be gone so that he can end it neatly and completely?" She studied his profile as he looked out the window.

Each day had seemed to push them further apart. Each day Catherine grew more determined to end the pain, and each day Liam worried more about what he was losing. Each day the heart -ache increased.

On the trip to Catherine’s relatives Liam had talked on, " Catherine, we both want certain things-for ourselves and for each other. You want to be a writer. You’ve seen how your mother has struggled on, year after year-getting nowhere. So you decided that you needed the best education that you could get. You knew that it would take lots of time and sacrifice- if we grab for happiness now- we sacrifice our dreams."

"What he means is- that to fulfill his dream, there is a another sacrifice that must be made- it is the chance of sharing our dreams together." Catherine thought.

She was silent, and Liam shot a glance at her. In a few days he would be separated from her, by an ocean- and then by two years of living. Were they ever going to acknowledge in words what they both knew in their hearts?

Were they going to spend their last few days together in silence? Would they spend the time- half in anger and half in love- regretting, hoping, and longing, and still losing each other in the end?

He knew that this trip to France was an opportunity, a miracle that could change his life, and that the background in International business that he gained would be invaluable.

If it hadn’t been for Catherine he would have gone away quickly, and with few regrets, but there was Catherine-and she too was a miracle, another dream- that somehow had come true. Now it seemed that he would lose one dream in trying to pursue another.

He didn’t know what to say, or do- to make it right between them. Finally, just as they had arrived at the Connor’s farm, he had managed to say, "Catherine, two years isn’t forever- other people have managed to be apart for two years and still cared for each other."

To which, Catherine had solemnly, but steadily, replied, "Liam, it is an undisputed fact: people care about those who are near to them- oceans and years separate people- no matter what the stories say."

"What does she mean-is she warning me? One minute she is smiling…the next silent…and there seems to be nothing that I can do." He took a breath and began to search for other words, but Catherine was already out of the car-and walking quickly to the house.

The day had been an unexpected blessing to them, by the very fact that they were never left alone. If they had been together they might have reverted to trying to solve the sad little riddle- that for them- had no answer

 

After Liam was gone, and Catherine had kept her resolutions, her Easter visit was so full of January memories, that at times she had to blink her eyes to reorient herself.

That Easter she had needed to see those quiet people with their sparkling eyes and laughing voices. She had needed her Aunt- as a substitute for her mother. She needed to hear her quiet voice, listen to her stories, and to be comforted by tea, and a pat on the shoulder.

For Catherine, the Connor history had long been interwoven with the myths that she had learned from Celtic history. Her memories of their gatherings were mixed with old stories that her father had told her of Tara, the seat of the Kings of Ireland.

This confusion of people and places continued because the Connors- carried in their bloodline that ancient heritage. They were people of the imagination-story tellers- just as the Celts had been. Their stories from the past-flew forward- to envelop, and find new meaning in the present.

That January day had brought to Catherine’s mind the stories of Hallow day, a day in which there had been an assembly of all of the people in Ireland.

Because the Celts had no written history- on that day, the old laws had been recited, and new laws were made. Then the memorized history of the land was carefully recited-for the people. That history was given in verse- and so passed on. That recited verse had effectively preserved Ireland’s history for a thousand years.

"This family- seems so Irish- and yet I’ve heard Catherine say that it has Welsh, Scots, English, and even a bit of German blood mixed in." Liam had observed to her Uncle Rory.

"Well, yes, like most Americans we have intermarried. But just think of it- what were the Welsh? They were Celts. The Scots- in the beginning they were Irish. The English? A great many of them were Celts. The German blood- it is certainly there- but out numbered by the Celtic heritage that possesses us and makes us the Americans that we are."

"They are the past -those Celtic people. America is our future. But the Celtic people - their faults, but also their gifts of mind and spirit- their courage, their longing for justice, their imagination; those are the gifts we have given to America."

Later, Catherine had sat looking over some of the delicate crafts that her aunt produced. Liam had leaned over the back of her chair; his hand had brushed against Catherine’s auburn hair-as he asked more questions.

"Why do you do make so many hearts?"

"I make other things- of course." Her Aunt Colleen had replied. "These particular hearts are inspired by the Claddagh ring. Have you heard of it?"

"The Irish heart-the wedding rings?"

"Yes, I’ve always longed for one, and so I have a special liking for a story that comes down to our family from our Irish history."

Catherine had leaned back, and Liam had leaned forward, to catch the clean, fresh scent of her hair.

"The Claddagh was made, and given, for it must-by tradition- be received as a gift, in Ireland- ever since the 1600’s."

"During those early times the Connors were Catholics- although that has changed for us now."

" There are many sad times in Ireland’s past, but some of the hardest for the Catholics were the times of the Penal laws."

"What were they?" Liam asked, feeling like a little boy at story time.

"Wicked laws that the English made- these laws were made in the 1700’s – I think- and were to suppress the Irish race- especially the Catholics."

"I don’t know all of them, but I know that Catholics were forbidden an education, and forbidden to enter a profession or even to engage in a trade. An Irish man couldn’t own a horse worth more than five pounds, or vote, or own land."

"Mankind can be wicked, and whenever too much power is held by one group- over another - tragedy results."

And then her Aunt Colleen, looking into the misty past, told them this story.

In Another Time and Place, there lived one of our ancestors whose name was Sean Connor. He was a jeweler by trade, and an artist at heart.

He had done well as a jeweler; a maker of the Claddagh rings-he did fine work. He was a clever, witty, and happy young man-until those laws were enacted.

As he saw what was happening in Ireland- he hid a bit of money away-because he knew that soon he would be forced to leave.

There were two things that held him there. One was his love of his country – that love which was so strong in the Irish. The other was his love for a beautiful woman. Her name was Margaret- or as he had called her from a child- Molly.

Molly O’Brien had been the oldest child in a poor family. Her father, a fisherman, had died trying to provide for his family.

For a few years, his widow, a young and pretty woman, had managed by sewing, and teaching lacework to the rich young ladies of the district. It was a difficult life, and the young widow hated it. She was not a woman of strong character. She longed for security and an end to drudgery.

When an Englishman, years older, and fortunes richer-asked the widow O’Brien to marry him she had accepted with alacrity-even when part of the bargain was that she renounce her Catholic faith.

But long before her mother’s marriage, Molly O’Brien, Sean Connor, and James Brown-an English man with Celtic forebears- had been playmates, and later- the best of friends.

Since they had entered their teens, both of the boys had loved Molly- and courted her. Though her family had been poor, the boys knew that Molly was more elegant than any fine lady could be.

Molly for her part had shown little preference between them and had led them a merry chase until Sean’s nineteenth birthday.

Months before, Sean had bought Molly green hair ribbons for May day, but on his next birthday- he regretted having gotten her anything.

"Why did I do it, James?" He had asked his friend, as they walked together. "It was thoughtless to buy her those ribbons-now her pride obliges her to return the favor. She doesn’t have any money- and I don’t want her struggling to get me something. I don’t want her ever to sacrifice for me."

James had replied, "Molly has her pride, but she has imagination too- she will spend that-rather than money."

It was May Day again, and as the friends approached Sean’s house they had seen Molly-step onto the porch- a basket on her arm.

She had turned at their voices, put down the basket and ran away.

The May Basket was pretty- decorated with green ribbons, and lined with a piece of lace- for Sean to use as a neck cloth. Placed over that lace, -to protect it-was a broad leaf. On top of the leaf were hundreds of shamrocks- given to bring him luck. They were newly dug- the dew still upon them. The glint of the morning sun sparkled on the dew and the shamrocks looked as if they had been cast in gold.

James had turned away when he spied a note tucked into the green plants. He made an abrupt excuse, and left his friend to admire the May basket by himself.

Soon Molly and Sean were secretly engaged, and James, although still a friend-seemed distant- and kept away from them.

At first, the "secret" of their engagement had been intended to last only until Molly’s next birthday-then she had planned on asking her mother’s permission to marry.

Molly had always tried to protect her mother. Now she wanted to prepare her before she announced her marriage to Sean Connor. Soon, other occurrences made the "secret" of the engagement a necessity.

The Penal laws had been enacted, and Sean's career as a jeweler was ended, and even worse- Molly’s mother, that pretty, widow had quite suddenly, re-married.

As so often happens in marriages made primarily for money, her husband, Mr. Dean, had turned out to be no bargain at any price.

He was a tyrant who ruled in the house. He had his way in everything- and soon had his little wife, and his new family terrorized of him.

It had started with belittling his wife’s words, her appearance, and her nationality. But the satisfaction that her new husband gained from attacking her spirit- soon led him to beat her at the slightest provocation.

Molly knew the misery of her mother’s marriage. There seemed to be nothing that could be done about it-there were two younger O’Brien children that must be fed, and soon a new little baby was born to Mrs. Dean.

And after the first year- when he had ruined his wife’s spirit and destroyed much of her beauty- Mr. Dean became obsessed with dominating her beautiful daughter. In those days parents had great power over their children’s lives. Mr. Dean had a sick mind that found satisfaction in another’s pain – that and the power to control- were a lethal combination.

He was a hypocrite and neither his abuse of his wife or his cruelty to his children effected his respectability. He ranked high in his church, and was much esteemed in the village. Many there envied the O’Brien’s their ‘easy life’-and that envy often turned to spite."

For the family the saving grace was that he was often away from home- and at those times-a bit of happiness could be stolen and then saved up to remember during the miserable times to come.

Sean stayed in Ireland-trying to avoid the law, and living on his savings until he could get Molly to run away with him. Now, he couldn’t enjoy even her friendship-because Mr. Dean had forbidden her to see "that Catholic".

The only person who could handle Mr. Dean was Molly. He respected her ladylike ways-and was proud of her great beauty. He felt that she was a credit to him-and she knew that as long as he was proud of her- that he would treat her well. She protected herself, and her family by always obeying him.

As Molly’s birthday approached Sean wondered how he could let her know that his heart- was still hers. A note was too dangerous because it might fall into the wrong hands.

He thought of the past and of all of the rings he had made, and he wished that he could make one for Molly’s birthday. Then he had sighed because he had no metal with which to work.

On her birthday morning, Molly thought of her unhappy mother, and her little brothers and sisters. She thought of her own life- and how her stepfather controlled every aspect of it. He decided where she was allowed to walk and which friends she was allowed to see.

Her heart ached for a sign of love from Sean Connor. She would have despaired, but it looked as if it would be a lovely morning, and it was her birthday, and so hope filled her heart as she looked out of her bedroom window-down to the garden below.

It was very early, and shadows kept the corners of the garden dark and indistinct-and in one of those corners her favorite yellow rose bush looked abloom with dozens of roses.

"But it only blooms once in the spring- or so the gardener told me."

Curious, she pulled on a shawl, and quietly went down the stairs and out to the garden.

There on the bush bloomed dozens of tiny, wooden hearts- painted in the softest colors she had ever seen and tied onto the bush with green ribbons.

For a moment tears of happiness had dimmed her eyes, then she had gathered those hearts quickly- and fled with them into the house- sure that she could hide them away before the family was up.

She had her hand on the doorknob of her bedroom when her stepfather’s voice had stopped her.

"Well, Madam- where have you been so early in the morning- and what have got in your hands? I have treated you well, as long as you acted like a lady- what are you doing out of the house in your nightdress? Explain your actions!"

He questioned her, and had accused her of meeting a lover. "You will not bring shame on my name!" He had shouted, as he had torn the hearts from her hands and swept them into the fireplace. They had burned as she watched.

Her birthday, and the days after it were ruined for her, and her family because her stepfather would not rest, or let them rest, until he knew the story of the wooden hearts.

She had disliked, and feared her stepfather before-but now she saw him not only as her mother’s brutal husband- but also as one of the English. Her stepfather and the English- seemed as determined to destroy every chance of happiness, as they were to destroy Irish liberty. She hated him, and all of the English, and wished that she could rid her family and her country of them.

Silently she thanked God that her family didn’t know about her engagement- or of her love for Sean Connor. In time she hoped that her stepfather would accept her hasty story of it being her own childish impulse to hang hearts on the rose bush on her birthday.

The days went on, and the only glimpses she had of Sean were on those Sundays that her stepfather felt displeased with his family, and denied them the use of the carriage for the ride to the church. Luckily his bad temper assured Molly that they would walk to church nearly every Sunday.

Those in the town who resented that Mr. Dean, that fine upstanding Christian, had married that Catholic O’Brien woman, would line the path and smile triumphant smiles at the O’Brien children whenever their stepfather made them walk to church. "They are a bunch of trash-and you can bet he chastises them for their own good." Said the most pious among them.

Molly knew why the town folk watched them walk to church, and it humiliated her. But there Sean would be, never in the same place, and never obviously watching them. And for a moment- Molly who had become a master at disguising her feelings from the crowd- would be gloriously happy.

Finally, Molly had decided that her presence with her mother helped none of them, and that it was time to make plans to run away with Sean Connor.

The times when her stepfather was gone from home were times of rejoicing to the family. Then they stopped creeping about like prisoners. As soon as he left they would skip out the door to freedom. Molly was careful and waited two long hours after his departure before going to find Sean.

She had met Sean in the lane near her house, and soon settled on the details of their escape. In parting, they had held each other as if they would never let go.

There was one last kiss- that had brought Molly’s long hair into disarray. Then Sean had given her another beautiful wooden heart- this one had a long ribbon attached so that she could wear it around her neck.

She had put on the heart, and then tried to smooth down her hair and arrange her dress. They had each turned for home, when English soldiers, jeering, and leering -had surrounded them. Her Stepfather had struck Molly, and called her a hussy. Sean was drug away from her.

Her stepfather had cursed at her and marched her home.

She had been sent to her room, and had been kept there. For the next two weeks she had seen no one but the maid who brought her food. She was now her stepfather’s prisoner. The only news she had was that her mother, and the little ones were all very quiet like, and her Stepfather was "so very angry, Miss-it don’t do to speak of it."

The same maid told her that Sean Connor had escaped, but was hunted like a criminal. The town-although silent- knew what had happened in the Dean house-and Molly assumed that as the gossip spread they had considered her a fallen woman.

Molly wondered at her stepfather’s daily absence from home. Every morning he would leave, as if dressed for business –not to return until that night. The maid had confessed that his daily business was to find a man willing to marry his ruined stepdaughter-and almost any man would do- as long as it wasn’t Sean Connor.

That news was humiliating, but there had been so many humiliations that Molly no longer wept. In that day, parents arranged marriages for their children, but most parents would have taken care of their child’s reputation when doing it. Her stepfather’s conspicuous arrangements had destroyed Molly’s good name.

There was nothing that Molly could do about it, and so she saved her strength, and determined that whatever happened to her she would build a better life than the one she led in her stepfather’s house.

The next morning she had watched James Brown walk to their front door. He had looked up and smiled a quick-embarrassed smile, and Molly thought what a good and kindly man he was.

Later that morning she had been told that he had asked for her hand, and that she was to marry him before the month was out. When she asked the maid about any word of Sean Connor she had been told that there had been an ambush-and fighting his way out Sean had killed a soldier-now there was a price on his head.

On her wedding day Molly had risen and dressed in a white lace dress, to defy what her stepfather and the town thought of her purity. In gratitude to James Brown she had dressed herself carefully, braiding green ribbons into her hair before putting it up. Around her neck she wore the ribbon that held the beautiful wooden heart.

As a final insult-she was given no carriage to take her to the church-but was forced to walk along side her stepfather. It was another chance for him to show his anger at her behavior and to humiliate her. The town folk- she had been told, had gathered along the streets to watch her passing.

Molly had decided that no matter what happened- no emotion-no pain would show on her face. If she could manage it she would look as serene, and pretty as any bride. To do any less was to give the spiteful more satisfaction than they deserved.

But as they had stepped out the front door, and she had seen the crowd-her courage had almost failed her. For the first few steps she had blushed with shame, and had looked down at her feet as she walked.

Then a glance at a bush to the side of her path showed her a wooden heart shinning brightly in the sunshine. Looking ahead she saw that all of the bushes that lined the road were covered in hearts. Hearts of all colors, more beautiful than flowers-waved in the breeze and cheered her passing.

 

And suddenly, all thoughts of bitterness at the ruin of her love, and her life, all the hate that had so filled her own heart- disappeared as she walked- surrounded by those hearts and the lost love that they symbolized.

At the end of the path stood her old friend, James Brown-smiling kindly at her. He had taken her hand, and as they walked to the church-he had whispered, "Sean Connor hung the hearts on the bushes, before it was light this morning."

" They are for you on our wedding day-and his message to you- Molly- is that your love hasn’t ended-but will live on-somehow-as long as you live."

At the altar- the ring that James Brown had slipped onto her finger was a Claddagh. Gently, he had put the hand that wore the ring to his lips- and whispered, " I am here today because I love you, my dearest, Molly."

Many in that village wondered what happened to Sean Connor. Some believed, as Molly and James did, that he had gone to America.

After their wedding the Browns moved away from that village- and built a new life together. Within months of the wedding, Molly’s stepfather had been killed in a carriage accident-leaving her mother prosperous and happy for the rest of her life.

And so you see, the hearts and their message lived on despite the cruelty that tried to crush them. And that is the message that I hope lives on with the hearts that I create and sell, and in the hearts of those who buy them.

 

The story had calmed Liam. Afterwards he had felt that no matter what changes the future held for them- the story had foretold a beginning and not an end. Silently, Catherine had looked up at him, and for a moment there was peace between them.

 

After Easter dinner, Catherine had slipped on her jacket and set out to take a walk. As she had stepped out the back door her Aunt Colleen had smiled, and pressed a package into her hands with the instructions to "open it on your walk."

Catherine had smiled at her thoughtfulness, and had walked on enjoying the sunshine and vaguely wondering what her Aunt had bought her.

Once in the meadow, she had sat down on a log and gazed out at the green and rolling hills.

 

"Today I’ve been thinking too much about Liam. I promised myself to go on with my own life. I will stop thinking of him. To do that I will remember one last thing-that he never once told me that he loved me."

" It might have been easier if I had known-one way or another. But then-the fact that he never said the words- answers the question." She told herself. And then steeling her heart, and pushing the pain away- she opened the little box.

Onto her lap poured dozens of wooden hearts, all with tiny green ribbons attached to them- and on top of them was a note.

Her hands shaking, Catherine opened it and read,

" Remember, love doesn’t die- it lives on. It lives as long as those who love are alive.

I am here today- because I love you- my dearest-Catherine.

- Liam"

And if a stranger had passed her in that green field, he would have wondered why the pretty girl-her lap full of wooden hearts- wept so long and so hard.

End of Chapter 7

Click Here to Return to TOP of Page

We want you to return and discover all of the new stories of love and adventure that await these “Colorado Girls” at www.citycastles.com – (pass it on!)

Copyright © 1999-2000 City Castles®, LLC.   All rights reserved.
Revised: April 05, 2012 .