The Gleaning of Hindsight

"Did you hear that?" Aoife spoke to no one but herself for she lived alone. "Do you hear the rush of wind and see the glorious purple-hued clouds? Hear the lightness of flower petals as they fall from the billowed softness like whispers of dreams, caught by the dew laden grass? Oh, but this night, I wish...." Aoife's voice drifted off, her attention focused on the skies.

This evening was no different than any other. Each midnight, without fail, the purple clouds appeared to blush painted, dark skies. With their arrival also came the delicate flower petals falling from their depths for an hour. With the petals came a knowledge of things beyond the average person’s ken, but such was not the case with Aoife. Even though she was sixty-six, she anxiously awaited the clouds' arrival each night for she knew therein was the power to create change in her life.

From the bedroom window, Aoife could hear the chirping of crickets heralding the midnight hour. In anticipation, she waited as the flimsy curtain floated in the breeze about her as if mimicking the billowing clouds.

Bong….Aoife heard the old grandfather clock. The final stroke of midnight. She held her breath, peering at the tinted sky, a prayer in her heart. Only the crickets responded, seeming to mock her long-awaited desire for more.

Aoife sighed. Maybe tomorrow night.....

She was about to seek the comfort of bed when from the grounds below, a movement caught her eye. She squinted in the midnight light, attempting to identify who or what it was, but further movement eluded. She closed the window, surmising it was only an animal.

The loud sound of a knock broke the silence. Startled, Aoife pulled her shawl about her shoulders. Who the devil was here at such a late hour? Candle in hand, she made her way down the rickety staircase as a light rap on the heavy paneled doors came again.

Pausing before the door, Aoife attempted bravado. “Who goes there?”

“Seamus. I’ve come a long way to see you and have a devil of a thirst.” A man’s voice, thick with an Irish brogue, responded.

Aoife took a step backward. Who the devil was Seamus? What did he want with her? Surely he couldn't expect a woman, all alone, to answer the door for a stranger- and at this hour!

Mustering courage, Aoife barked, “I don’t care who you be, be on your way, I’ve no need of you this night.”

Quiet ensued for a moment before the man spoke again, his voice oddly laced with humor. “Are you quite certain, Aoife? I’ve heard you’ve a longing for something new, and I’m prepared this eventide to help with just such an endeavor.” At her silence, he added, “I promise another opportunity will not come another light nor beyond the light of dawn.”

How did this stranger know her and her name? What could he possibly know about her longings?

Enlightenment suddenly struck. The wondrous clouds and petals must have sent this man. Without further ado, she swung the door wide.

Aoife studied the man standing before her. His hair was thick, vibrant red, and his emerald eyes twinkled in the moonlight. He was tall, lean, and dressed immaculately in dark clothing with knee-high boots. He held a riding crop though there was not a horse in sight.

Aoife’s mind raced. Was Seamus here to harm her or to help her? 'Twas only one way to know for sure.

“Well, come inside if you must,” Aoife said, moving aside so he could enter. “I’ll put the kettle on a spot of tea.”

“Sweet Aoife, do you not have something a wee bit stronger?" the stranger winked at her as he spoke, doffing and laying his hat upon the table. "It’s been a tumultuous journey.”

Aoife eyed the stranger but nodded nonetheless and pointed for him to take a seat at the table. If indeed the pink petals had sent him, she had no time to waste and would gladly gift him whatever his heart desired. From the cupboard, she pulled a bottle of amber-colored liquid and two glasses. She’d likely need a strong dram of whiskey, too.

Placing the bottle before him after filling the glasses, she noticed he still held the riding crop across his lap. She settled in her seat across from him and drank the whiskey, hoping it would steady her nerves and allay her fears.

“Oh, but you’re a good woman, Aoife,” Seamus grinned in delight, following suit and drinking from his own glass.

Aoife studied him. While somewhat odd in appearance, he was also attractive, and certainly charming. She cleared her throat. “About those pink petals, Mister Seamus….”

“I insist you call me Seamus." The man smiled, an engaging one full of mirth. "Yes, indeed, sweet Aoife, your time has come. The clouds and their petals have favored you. I am completely at your service.”

“I’m not sure I understand. What could you possibly do? For me?” Aoife was somewhat perplexed.

“Do you not know, Aoife?” Seamus feigned surprise. “I am a goblin and ready to bring your desires to fruition.” He smiled. “Ah, but I’m guessing you’ve not met a goblin - and certainly not a handsome one like me - before this night.”

Slowly, Aoife shook her head. She had heard many a story about goblins, but nary one had ever made an appearance at her door. Well, it was about bloody time.

Aoife drained her whiskey. “Well, let's get on with it. I’m ready. I've been ready for a very long time."

“I like your spirit, lass,” Seamus said, draining his whiskey. He held the empty glass out, and anxiously, Aoife served him ample more.

Aoife’s heart lifted. For more than forty years, she’d lived alone. Despite the fact she’d married at sixteen, she’d had to bury her husband ten years later. In ten years, he’d never proven to be anything more than a friend. She’d given birth to and raised two sons, but now they seldom spared time for her. Life was lonely, and she only found comfort in the memory of a long lost love. How different things would have been had she married Paddy. Foolishly, she’d thought her husband could offer a better life. Now, at long last, she had an opportunity to recapture lost love. Her heart lightened. She could be young again - with Paddy.

“Let’s get on with it. I told you, I’m ready,” she urged as she stood.

“Are you quite sure, Aoife? Be careful with you wish for, lass. You won't be able to travel between the two worlds and won't see your children again. Things will be completely different,” Seamus cautioned.

Aoife’s scowled. “I don't see my sons now! I’ve got me own life to live, and I told you, I’m ready.”

Seamus lifted his riding crop. “All right, Aoife. If you’re sure, I'll grant you your heart’s desire, make you young again, and wife to your lost love.” His eyes grew serious. “May you be happy, Aoife.”

And with a wave of his riding crop, time changed in a pink-hued flash of light.

****

Aoife awoke to roosters crowing. The sun was breaking through faded curtains. Confused but for a moment, she bolted upright, remembering well where she was supposed to be. Looking down, she saw long strands of brown, instead of grey, hair. Joy encompassed - she was young again. Still, she was alone. Where the devil was Paddy?

Suddenly, Paddy burst through the door, his hair disheveled, his clothes rumpled and dirty. He was unshaven even though it was well past dawn. It was obvious he’d slept in his clothes.

“Aoife, the kids are hungry,” he barked, apparently irritated by the fact she was still in bed.

“Paddy,” she stuttered. “I’m so happy to see you.” A smile lit Aoife’s face.

Paddy spun about, glaring in disbelief. “Happy to see me, are you? Well, how about being happy to see your six hungry wee ones! They’ve been awake and ready for breakfast since sunup!” He made no effort to disguise his irritation.

“Of course, Paddy. I’ll see to it immediately.” Aoife smoothed her hair, pulling it into a bun as she threw the covers wide, suddenly self-conscious. Six children? How in the world? She blushed a bright red. She knew precisely how it had happened, of course, but still, six children? Obviously, they were still very much in love, so Paddy’s impatience must be due to hunger.

Aoife opened the door to find six red-faced children between the ages of one and twelve. Small fingers tugged at her apron as she quickly tied it around her waist. Tears streaked the faces of at least two children begging to be held. Not taking the time to address individual needs, Aoife lit the stove. It wouldn’t do to upset Paddy further. Despite the chaos, she smiled. She and Paddy would have this evening to reacquaint themselves.

Aoife spent the day performing a variety of chores: cleaning, cooking, gardening, tending kids, and washing clothes. In addition, Paddy expected her help in the fields. Aoife wondered why he’d decided to farm instead of helping with his father’s mercantile business. While it didn’t make sense, Aoife reminded herself money wasn’t everything. The love she remembered with Paddy had been splendid and would always carry them. Still, she was anxious to sit after supper and find out more about this unexpected life she was living.

Later in the evening, Aoife found a quiet moment to herself. The children had been fed, washed, and were abed. She glanced at Paddy, who sat rocking before the hearth, smoking a pipe and reading. He seemed oblivious of her.

Aoife pushed stray hairs back from her face. She must look a sight! She was hot and tired after the long, busy day. She hurried outside to gather her thoughts and pulled the kerchief from her head, dipping it in the water pail and freshening up a bit. She’d change for bed and ask Paddy to sit down for a long awaited conversation. Butterflies of anticipation filled her stomach at the thought.

So as not to interrupt Paddy, Aoife quietly reentered the house and entered the bedroom. She changed into bed clothes and brushed her hair, deciding to leave it down. Paddy had always loved her long hair, often stroking it. She couldn’t wait for him to show the same affection and whisper sweet words of love again.

Entering the room, she thought Paddy still read, but on closer inspection, Aoife learned he snored softly. Paddy had fallen asleep, and Aoife's heart warmed at the sight. It had been an exhausting day. Still, there was much she needed to say to the man, so she must wake him.

Aoife knelt before the rocking chair. “Paddy. Please wake up, dear Paddy,” she said, lightly touching his knee.

Startled, Paddy jumped. Opening his eyes, he sputtered. “What’s wrong?” He stood upright, shoving Aoife’s hand from his knee.

“Damnation, women! How many times do I have to tell you not to wake me?” he barked, clearly exasperated.

Surprised by his anger, Aoife stood and studied him. This was not the man she remembered so fondly. No, this was not the Paddy who had lingered in her memories. What kind of man had he become?

“Paddy, I want to talk,” Aoife said, lightly touching his arm.

“Talk? Don't you know how tired I am, Aoife?” He pried her fingers from his arm. “What is it now? What could you possibly want to talk about? This better be good, Aoife, because I’m sick of nonsense.”

Aoife stepped back, staring in disbelief. Despite working hard and birthing six children, she knew she still made a pretty picture. She had believed their reunion would be more pleasant, especially in view of the children they’d created together, but it seemed that time had not been a friend. Never had she been spoken to or disrespected in such a way.

Aoife squinted at Paddy and poked his chest hard with her finger.

“Who the devil do you think you’re talking to, Patrick Michael O'Conner? How dare you speak to me like that?! I’m your wife! The mother of your children - six children, that is! And while we’re talking, please explain why we’re working so hard on this farm instead of you working at the mercantile business?”

Paddy was clearly confused. “Are you daft, woman? We lost the store after Pa died five years ago, and this farm is our only means of putting food on the table and a roof over our heads. You’re talking nonsense!” Still shaking his head, he headed to the bedroom. “I’m going to bed. I’ll hear no more crazy talk this night, Aoife O'Conner.”

Shaken, Aoife sat before the fire. It blazed a pink hue, as though taunting to remind her of the pink petals. She had truly believed they would bring a new destiny. She’d been so hopeful.

She wasn't sure how long she sat there, but a dawning awareness surfaced. Love was more than butterflies in the stomach, affectionate strokes of the hair, and whispered words. She remembered the gravity she’d seen in Seamus’ eyes as he’d lifted the magic riding crop. He’d known full well she would be enlightened far too late.

Deciding she needed courage to face tomorrow, Aoife went in search of whiskey. She found it hidden high in a cabinet and poured a generous measure. Would one bottle be enough? Sitting at the table, she downed a glass and poured another. The amber liquid burnt as it traveled through her body. Hopefully, it would warm the chill that had invaded. Curse the bloody pink petals and curse Paddy O'Conner. Never had she needed a drink so badly.

****

Dawn was breaking, light streaming through the draperies, when Aoife awoke, still groggy from the alcohol she’d imbibed the former night. The table was hard beneath her arms and head. She must have fallen asleep there instead of in the bedroom. Well, that was just dandy since she had no desire to lay next to Paddy ever again.

Rubbing her eyes, Aoife wondered why the sound of roosters and crying children did not yet fill her ears. Looking about, she stared, disbelieving at her surroundings. Quickly loosening her bun, she found gray-streaked hair. Relief flooded. She was no longer at the farmhouse, no longer Paddy’s wife, and no longer young and mother of six. No, she was back at her home where she belonged. Had it all been a dream? More like a nightmare!

Aoife could not wait to see her sons! Never would she have thought she’d be so happy to be sixty-six, living a mundane existence in an all-too familiar home while looking forward to seeing grown children! Thank the heavens above!

Tears filled Aoife’s eyes. She had been so foolish. She would never want for more or give Paddy O'Conner another thought as long as she lived. Her husband, God rest his soul, had always treated her with the care and affection, his respect obvious in all he said or did. She wanted to weep, so intense was the scope of her regret. She realized her husband had loved her even though he didn’t stroke her hair or whisper sweet nothings in her ear. More to the point, she now knew she had loved him, too. The irony of the situation didn't escape her. She’d learned a valuable, hard lesson and wouldn’t forget it. Life and love were more than tangible things - they were the depth of years well-lived, shared with a friend. Love was respect and devotion, loyalty and friendship.

Aoife sat at the table a long while. Perhaps she ought never to pick up the bottle again, she thought, stifling a laugh. She stood, reaching to put the whiskey away but abruptly stopped. Before her, on the table, was not only one empty glass but another - but more surprisingly, a man’s black hat.

Aoife lifted the hat from the table and held it closer. She found bright, red strands of hair against the dark material. Seamus, the goblin was not a dream. Did that mean what she’d experienced had been real and not a dream? Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to damn the clouds and petals. If their magic had brought Seamus to her world and given her an opportunity to revisit youth, at least they’d seen fit to restore her life when she’d realized the mistake. She’d never look at those clouds or petals in the same wistful light again. They were indeed more powerful - and wiser – than she’d ever been. Seamus had been right - best be careful what you wish for.

A loud knock sounded. "Did you hear that?" Aoife said aloud.

Loud laughter ensued from the other side of the door. Eagerly, Aoife swung the door open. To her surprise, six grown children, spouses and children in tow, entered, laughing as they hugged and kissed Aoife in greeting.

“Morning, Mum. What’s for breakfast?” they shouted in unison. “We’re starving.”