Irish Fire
“Annie wasnt accustomed to oats but the child had to eat something. Yesterday shed left untouched the bacon and eggs Brigid served for breakfast. Most likely Lucy Claiborne would have understood immediately. But this was Ireland and Annies Grandma Lucy was thousands of miles away.May I have some milk, please? the child asked politely.Ben, four years younger, wasnt nearly as inhibited. I dont like oats, Gran, he said clearly. I want pancakes with syrup.Youll like these, said Brigid cheerfully, se...tting a pitcher of milk on the table. Ive no time for pancakes this mornin. Your mums been out all night. I think we should let her sleep.What will we do while Mama sleeps? asked Annie.Brigid looked surprised. Why, youll come t the store with me, lass. Its old enough you are to be givin me a hand.I can give a hand too, Ben piped up. Im old enough.Brigid laughed. So you are. The wood needs stackin. She brushed the top of Annies head with her hand, and for an instant her breath caught. The dark flyaway curls settling like a cloud around her granddaughters face were very like Caitlins at the same age.MoreLess
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