Promises in the Wind

** #1481371 Not An Image **

         A damp mist hung over the pathway, creating ethereal illusions as it swirled in the air around the young man; eighteen years old, Jakodi Kilarny was the sole care-giver and provider for his seven younger siblings and the stress of responsibility sat heavily upon his young but sturdy shoulders.

         Oh. Ki'sara he yearned, imagining her face in the wisps of fog, her red windblown curls tied back with the green scarf  he'd presented as a parting gift at her departure eight months before.  So real was her image in his mind he reached out to touch her cheek, sadly withdrawing his hand when it stroked only cool evening air.

         "Ki'sara," he whispered, "grá mo chroí, cronaím thú. Love of my heart, I miss you."  Listening, he imagined her reply echoed in the distant crashing waves.  The salty sea air mingled with his sweat and tears, all of which he wiped away with his coat sleeve.  "Mo chroí go deo na ndeor, he exhaled into the passing breeze, "my heart is forever." 

         With the heaviness in his heart so great, the boy dropped to his knees and wept tears for all he had so recently lost: his mother and one of his younger brothers had passed away a bit over a year before, and six months to the day later, his father left for America with several other Kilkee families, Ki'sara's among them.  Doubled over his broken heart, Jakodi resembled one of the many gray rocks that dotted the cliffs overlooking Kilkee.

         Reaching into his jacket pocket, Jakodi retrieved a folded sheet of paper.  In the last rays of sunlight he reread the words:

         "My Dearest Children,

         "I fear I shall never lay eyes nor hands upon you again in this lifetime.  I have taken deathly ill and weakness prevents me from work."

         Jakodi clutched the sheet to his heart, a single tortured sob escaping his lips as his one unanswered question ascended to the heavens:  "Why?"

         He sighed defeatedly, foreseeing the effect this devastating news would have on his siblings; how can I comfort them when I cannot accept it myself?  He breathed deeply, filling his lungs with the pungent saline air.  Blowing it out once more, he watched the swirling mists recede and roll back, as waves of the sea.  The heather swayed softly, dispersing its gentle perfume into the breeze.  Calmed by the familiar scents and sounds of his beloved homeland, Jakodi continued on, filthy and exhausted from long hours at the Kilkee docks.

         Light spilled from the windows of the two-room stone cottage; Jakodi slung his rucksack to the ground and paused, watching the household activities through the window.  Seventeen-year old Tashaundra had the two older boys at the table reviewing their English.

         "When Papa takes  us to America, you'll need to know how to speak to the people there," she reminded when they balked at their lessons. 

         Jakodi silently opened the door and set his bundle on the floor.  "Doing well with your English lessons?" he asked.

         "Yes, Kodi," they chorused respectfully, grinning up from their books.

         He nodded his approval.  "Make Mama and Papa proud, boys," he commended. Eleven-year-old Lakendra was sitting in the rocker by the hearth reading to the three youngest children.  He avoided her eyes and glanced at Tashaundra, gesturing toward the back door with his eyes.

         "I need to get some more wood," she said knowingly, gathering her shawl about her shoulders and lighting the lantern by the door.

         "Let me help you," Jakodi offered.  He opened the door and took the lantern from her hand as they stepped outside. 

         With the door safely closed Jakodi set the lantern on the windowsill and extracted the crumpled paper from his jacket pocket.  Extending it to his sister he swallowed the lump forming in his throat.  "Two letters today, Tassie; you need to read them both."

         Tashaundra accepted the first note, wondering which contained the words she most dreaded.  Surely, one of them must; what else could explain Kodi's expression, she reasoned.  She inhaled a quick, quavering breath, unfolded the paper, and held it in the stream of light.  Her father's handwriting greeted her and she touched his words with a trembling fingertip, feeling somehow closer to him by doing so.

         Jakodi saw her begin to sway, knowing she had come to the most important part:

         "At present, a nice family is caring for me.  Knowing not what else to do, and uncertain of my recovery, I've entrusted all funds saved to the diligent care of Tobias Cahill, retaining but the smallest bit to offset  my care.  I have left instruction that all should be sent to you in the event of my death, or if I've not recovered and returned to the group within a few weeks' time."

         Tashaundra looked up at her brother, tears glistening in the flickering lantern light.  "What do we do now?" she asked softly.

         Jakodi's only reply was to hand over the second letter.  Skipping quickly past Ki'sara's comments of fondness, Tashaundra found the portion Jakodi had intended for her to see:

         "It has been four weeks and your father has not yet returned.  Our sadden hearts worry terribly that he has been lost.  Papa has given the money entrusted to him and a few other valuables, including these letters and further instructions to well-trusted and beloved gentleman who is returning to dear Ireland to ready his own family for their voyage to America:  Mr. Colin Trevelyan."

         Tashaundra looked up from the letter.  "Father sent further instructions?" she asked, hopeful.

         "Yes, but they're dated the same as his last letter," Jakodi explained.  "Everything I received from Mr. Trevelyan is in my rucksack."

         "Please, Kodi, tell me what Papa said, what he wanted us to do."

         Jakodi pulled his sister close to comfort and strengthen her as much as him self.  "It will be too hard, Tassie.  Papa's illness must have been speaking when he wrote the instructions because they are too difficult to carry out."

         Tashaundra pulled away.  "Kodi, tell me," she insisted, new tears flooding her green eyes.

         Jakodi looked at the ground and kicked at a stone embedded in the earth, carefully measuring his words before conveying the message.  Unable to find a way to soften the blow, he blurted out, "Papa wanted us to take the money he sent and secure passage to America for Duffy, Finnigan, Teagan, and little Murielle..."

         Tashaundra covered her gaping mouth with a trembling hand to stifle a horrified scream.  "It can't be true," she gasped.  "Papa would never separate us like that!"

         "Shhh," Jakodi warned, looking through the window.  "Don't alarm the others.  We need to figure this out before we tell them of the plans, and we have to be sure of them so they aren't so afraid."  Jakodi grasped his sister's shoulders and looked into her eyes, "Tassie, we are grown and we can work hard to earn the money needed for our passage; this may be the only chance the wee ones have to reach America and it is better they do it now, with a seasoned traveler like Mr. Trevelyan."

         Tashaundra bit her lip and nodded, knowing he was right.  With one hand she wiped away her tears and with the other, she clutched at her heart, as if feeling the need to collect the pieces of the broken organ to repair later.

         "Let's go in and get dinner on before they get curious," Jakodi suggested.  "Meet me here tonight after the girls have gone to sleep and we will walk in the moonlight and share our secrets as when we were children."

         Kashaundra smiled weakly and nodded.  She loaded his arms full with wood and pushed open the door.  "I will meet you here," she said glancing at the sky, "in the moonlight."

         Jokodi had spent a portion of his wages on needed foodstuffs and began unpacking them from his rucksack once the fire was blazing.  A fresh fish wrapped in a flour sack would serve well for dinner.

         "Where's the second fish?" asked thirteen-year-old Faron, ever alert to changes.

         "You've a keen eye, Faron," Jakodi commended.  "I had two fishes but I traded the smaller one with a farmer for this," he explained, holding up a bulging sack.  Untying the top he gently emptied a variety of vegetables into the waiting basket. 

         "Carrots," squealed two-year-old Murielle, pointing gleefully.  The tiny toddler could barely contain her joy as she stretched her cotton dress to its limit and her feet danced a rapid rhythm on the wood plank floor.  Unable to stay in one place any longer she ran toward her brother and was caught up in his outstretched arms.  She hugged him hard and giggled, carefree and too young to notice that his tears weren't tears of joy but those of heartache; it was no longer laughter that shook his body but great heaving sobs of sadness.

         Looking on, the others worried in their silence but knew Jakodi would tell them everything they needed to know when the time was right.

***

         Jakodi slipped from the room unnoticed by his brothers and crept to the back door.  In the moonlight he leaned against the woodpile counting the stars, wondering if Ki'sara was looking at those same stars in America.

         He took her note from his pocket once again and read:

         "Kodi, Kodi; My Dearest Love,

         "If only I knew the day you would arrive I would count the days until we were together again; instead, I must count the days we have been apart.  Oh, that I had but one item of good news for you, to brighten your day, to imagine the smile on your lips.  Alas, bad news is what I must now bear.  Forgive me, my dear one; forgive me for saddening your heart further with this burdensome news."

         Oh, Ki'sara, if only you knew.  The promise you still love me and haven't given up and found another comforts my heart.  If only you knew, you would write every day and somehow I would know it and never give up hope of being with you once more.  The stars blurred as hot tears of longing streamed down his cheeks.

         "Ready?" Tashaundra asked, slipping out the door. 

         Jakodi gasped, startled by her sudden appearance.  An embarrassed smile crossed his lips.  "Ready," he stammered, regaining his composure.

         The pair walked for a distance in silence, passing the stone barn that housed a cow and a few sheep.  Once they passed the thick windbreak of tall pines, the moon shone brightly, illuminating the meadow.

         Tashaundra slowed her pace and took hold of Jakodi's arm.  "In my mind, it was only yesterday we'd chase through the field, hiding in the grass waiting for the other to pass."  Their eyes met and no other words were needed.

         Jakodi reached into his jacket and brought out a small box.  Setting it on the large rock where they used to play, he opened it.  Inside were coins and rolls of paper money tied with string, several folded papers, a hand drawn map, Papa's pocket watch, and a few trinkets from America.  Having memorized the contents, Jakodi quickly found and withdrew his father's written instructions and handed the page to his sister.

         Holding the paper out of her own shadow she read the last instructions her father had left before his illness.

         "I know this is a most difficult thing for me to ask of you as you don't know Colin Trevelyan as I do.  He has proven himself trustworthy and respectable, a family man with values and standards your dear mother would have been proud of.  He is kind, generous, and patient, hard-working and thrifty, and I have complete confidence he will safeguard the children I wish entrusted to his care with the utmost diligence until such time as they can be brought to me in America or, in the event of my death, reunited with their elder siblings on American soil once they, too, have immigrated to this land of beauty and plenty.

         "The monies I have managed to scrimp and save should be sufficient to secure passage for the four youngest of my children:  Duffy, 8; Finnigan, 4; Teagan, 3; and Murielle, 2.  Mr. Trevelyan assures me he will cover the remainder for these four should I be lacking."

         Tashaundra blinked back tears as she imagined the empty silence that would fill their home with the youngsters gone.  "Oh, Kodi.  How can we do this?  How can we send them away with a stranger not knowing if we'll ever be together again?"

         Jakodi took his sister in his arms once more and in that moment it was hard to tell if his body was being shaken by her heart wrenching sobs or if her small frame was shaken by his.  Together they wept and planned for an uncertain future, deciding the welfare of their family and how best to disclose those plans.

         The rising sun found the brother and sister huddled by their rock in the cool autumn mist where they had dozed off the night before.  "Tassie," Jakodi whispered urgently.  "Tassie!  We need to get back."

         As they stepped inside the door the others began to rise.  Faron and Lakendra went about their chores in the barn without a word.  Their sad eyes knowingly avoided their elder siblings, not wanting to pry while still longing to know what was going on.

         "Kodi," Tashaundra whispered once they were out of earshot, "we should tell them first."

         Jakodi nodded and blew out his breath.  "It is time," he replied.  "It is time."

***

         "No, no, no, no, no," Lakendra's devastated sobs echoed around the stone barn, stirring up the birds nesting in the rafters.  "Oh, Tassie, tell him no!"  The girl wept, refusing to be comforted by any of her siblings, rounding up the few sheep they had left and herding them into the meadow.

         Tashaundra looked at her brothers and shrugged.  "I don't know how to comfort her when I am hurting so badly," she expressed, drying her tears on one of her mother's handkerchiefs. 

          Faron accepted the news in his usual quiet and thoughtful way but the sadness in his eyes was clear to see.  Kodi draped his arm across Faron's drooping shoulders.  "Be strong for her," he muttered into his brother's ear.  "I'll go to Lakendra."  Patting the boy on the back he strode out the barn door toward the meadow. 

         "Kendra," he called, but he knew where he'd find her.  He walked straight toward the large rock and in the misty grass on the far side he saw her, cradling one of the young sheep in her arms and weeping into its wool.  "Lakendra, this isn't easy for any of us," he cajoled.  "Please believe me.  Tassie and I sat out here all night discussing what we could do and what we should do.  This is what Papa wanted..."

         "What about us?" she questioned.  "What will we do without them, and how will we ever be a family again if we send them away?"

         "Papa did all he could," Jakodi replied, not knowing what else to say.  He leaned back against the rock; his sister leaned against him and he held her as he did when their mother and brother had died, smoothing her hair and rocking her back and forth until her sobs subsided into trembling breaths.  "Shh, shh, shh, shh," he said softly.  "We need to be strong for the little ones."

         "I know," Lakendra said with a sniff.  "I know."  She let out a wavering sigh and determined not to cry about it anymore, at least until she was alone.

         With morning chores completed, Jakodi walked across the top of the bluff toward town, a million different thoughts running through his mind, all of them ending with What should we do?

***

         "Jakodi!  Wake up and pull that rope," the deckhand hollered.  "Lot on your mind today?"

         "Bet it was that letter from his girl in America yesterday!" Clancy, a fellow dockworker teased.

         Jakodi caught the rope and helped pull the small vessel to the dock.  "We was only jokin'," the deckhand said, stepping ashore and clapping the boy on the back.

         "Oh, I know Cullen; I do have a lot on my mind though."

         "Care to talk over a lager at the pub?  My treat, boys," Cullen offered.

         "I don't know that I'd be good company," Jakodi admitted.

         "'At's what the lager's for!" Cullen exclaimed with a hearty laugh. 

         Clancy gave Jakodi a playful shove and received one in return.  "That's more like it," Clancy said, grinning.

         Conversation was easy and relaxed at the pub, but even the lager didn't comfort Jakodi.  "Is it the girl what's got you down?" Cullen asked his friend.

         Jakodi looked at the two across the top of his glass.  "It's far more than that," he replied sadly.  As the afternoon passed, the men discussed the problems facing the Kilarny family and several ideas began to brew.

         Arriving home, Jakodi knew what must be done.  Inside, he went to the loose floorboard in the corner of the kitchen and withdrew the money he had stashed away.  Counting it, he concluded he had nearly enough to secure passage for one more family member.

         Tashaundra allowed her brother his privacy but her curiosity eventually took over.  "What are you planning, Kodi?" she asked, a spark of excitement in her voice. 

         "It's just an inkling of a thought," he admitted, "but I may have a way to keep all of us together."

         Drying her hands on her apron, she went to him and pulled a chair in close.  "Tell me, Kodi.  If I can help, tell me what to do; I'd do anything for all of us to stay together."

         "I still need to think and figure.  Meet me at the rock in the moonlight after the girls are asleep," he instructed.  "I know it has been difficult, Tassie, and you work so hard to scrape together the little bit of money you've been able to put toward your dowry, but anything you can spare for this endeavor would be well-spent, I promise you..."

         "Anything," Tashaundra interrupted, putting a finger to his lips.  "I will meet you at the rock."  She pushed in the chair and busied herself with dinner preparations, making the most of the meager provisions they had for the evening.

***

         "Have you been waiting long?" Tashaundra asked, breathless.

         "No, Tassie, not long.  I wanted to sit and think a while and I do my best thinking here."  Jakodi smiled at his sister and held out his hand to help her up onto the rock. 

         "I brought you this," she whispered, handing over a bundle tied in one of Mama's old aprons.  "It isn't much, but if it helps..." her words broke off as tears choked her voice.

         "Shh, shh, shh," Jakodi comforted, rocking her gently.  "If you can't spare it, I can't accept it.  I know how important a dowry is, especially now with times being so desperate."  He tried to return the unopened bundle but Tashaundra wouldn't have it.

         "'T'isn't that," she insisted, drying her eyes.  "Tell me your plans, Kodi, and tell me how I can help."

         Jakodi opened the bundle and found a small wad of money, a dozen balls of fine wool yarn, and Mama's wedding locket.  "We will do without this," he said sternly, pressing the locket into his sister's palm.  "It was all Mama had to leave to you, and I will not take that from you."  He closed her fingers around the disk and pressed her fist to his lips.

         Tashaundra bit her lip, trying to hold back her tears.  "Mama would want me to use it if it means keeping the family together," she insisted.

         "No.  We will do everything else first; if we need it in the end, it will be what Mama wants.  Right now it stays with you."

         Through the night the two siblings listed everything of value they could sell, including the land, the house, and the livestock.  "Do you think it will be enough?" Tashaundra asked finally.

         "It should be more than enough," Jakodi assured her, although he wasn't at all sure of it himself.  He couldn't expect anyone to buy their property or belongings for much when they were scrimping and saving just to keep their own families from starvation.

         "You've a long day ahead, Kodi," she said softly.  "You need some rest."

         Arm in arm they returned to the cottage.  "What is it, Tassie?" Jakodi asked as they neared the door.  "I can see that look in your eyes; there's something you haven't said."

         A single name revealed all that was in her heart.  "Brodie," she whispered, a lone tear escaping her control and leaving its path down her smooth cheek.

         "We will find a way," Jakodi promised as he held her.  "We will find a way."

         Jakodi felt weak and exhausted but sleep wouldn't come to him.  His sister's face appeared each time he closed his eyes and her last word echoed through his mind:  "Brodie."  I can't ask you to leave your love so I can find mine he thought, drifting off.

         Fitful dreams haunted his sleep that night; by morning he was ready to awaken and escape their clutches.  Before the others rose, he dressed and headed to town, anxious to set the wheels in motion.   

         One month remained until Mr. Trevelyan expected to leave with the children, and seven months were left yet on the calendar before Saint Patrick's Day.  In Jakodi's mind the month-long preparation, the ocean voyage, and cross-land travel would take all of those months but put him by Ki'sara's side in time to celebrate their patron Saint and give thanks for a safe passage and a new life.  What more fitting thing to celebrate in the Spring, the season of rebirth?

3627 words so far

This is only the first few chapters of what I hope will be a much longer story. The next portion will cover the sale of the property and the various ways the children of the family pull together to earn the needed funds to make the voyage.