Paddy 16
I never tire of looking at my wife. She is always beautiful, even with her sleeves rolled up, dirt on her cheeks, and her hair damp with sweat.
At home, she walks the fields and gardens in plain clothing, at one with the earth.
At work, she is buttoned up and sophisticated, cutting a striking figure amongst the men that populate the industry.
Right now, she is radiant, disembarking the train that brought us from Northern Pennsylvania, she and Maeve praising their new brassieres in the same breath as cursing the need for any undergarments at all.
Emil and I continue to wisely keep our opinions to ourselves, though I know we are both supporters of no support.
Nothing wrong with knowing your woman is bare beneath her layers, ripe and ready for the taking whenever the mood strikes her or you.
Admittedly, I enjoyed watching her put it on this morning and even more when I held the strap in the back and rutted into her like a beastie from behind. She enjoyed herself too.
Maeve convinced my wife to splurge on a few new custom pieces of clothing from Laurent’s for our trip to Baltimore.
Her burgundy skirt and matching fitted jacket, cream colored ruffled blouse, and something called a cloche hat on her head.
Her hair trails down her back beneath it, reminding me of our daughters.
Jakob, Riordan, and Gabriel are the only ones of our eleven children accompanying us.
Emil and Maeve’s three are at the homestead with ours, probably wreaking havoc on their chaperones.
It is far easier to tend to the land from sunup to sundown than wrangle eleven children not yet in their teen years.
I only pray the brave men and woman watching them will still be there when we return next week.
“Aunt Olga’s ship will be docking this evening at the earliest. We can check into our hotel before supper. Boys, what are your plans? Will you be joining us?”
Jakob nods at Emil, a scowl marring his face. He is in protective mode, and I appreciate it more than he knows. This trip is extremely hard on his Mutti, though she is trying not to show it. She has not been back since she was forced to flee with Darragh more than 15 years ago.
“Uncle Emil, we will be staying with Mutti. I do not feel comfortable leaving her.”
“Jakob, I will be fine, your da is with me.”
“He is, and so are your eldest sons.” Jakob is surprisingly a lot like me.
Over the years, out of all our children, he is who I spend most of my time with.
Not for any preference, we share many interests, a common view of the world, and a deep love for the land.
Riordan and Gabriel share their industrious nature with their Mutti and Uncle Emil.
And the rest of our brood are still figuring out who they are and loving life.
The fact that our children have that luxury is often difficult for Trinli and I to accept.
We grew up fighting to survive in some form or another.
Working hard to bridge the gap between where we were and where we wanted to be.
Our children, and the Laurent’s, are privileged to find their footing in the world with no pressure or constraints.
And never any force. Our daughters will find love on their own, just as our sons will.
I smirk to myself knowing one or two have already found it. The boys remain clueless and I pray they do not feck it up too much before figuring out their future was always right in front of them.
Trinli takes a deep breath. I rest my hand on her hip and stand close behind her, giving her my support. “We should go now. Get the ugliness over with, then we can focus on Aunt Olga’s arrival.”
Maeve snorts, “Right, because having to flee your homeland because of a world war and a boiling uprising in your own country is such a happy occasion.”
“Based on what Emil has mentioned of his aunt, I would think she would agree that visiting my parents is far more dire than anything going on in Russia.”
“It is Russia.” Riordan comments, his voice low and deep. “I imagine uprisings and war are normal over there.”
“We should wait until Aunt Olga explains what is going on over there before making any assumptions out loud.” I clap Riordan’s shoulder hard, gripping the meat of his muscle tight enough to cause him to wince. He dips his chin curtly once in understanding.
“Trin, if you are ready, we can go now. There is no shame in waiting. Or not going at all.” Maeve comforts my wife with a soft smile.
The enduring friendship the four of us have formed over the years is just one of many reasons I am forever grateful that Emil chose to visit Magnus Mining all those years ago.
My wife had friends in the patch, and they were quite sad to see her leave.
Most of the relationships she had in Magnus were built on proximity and necessity.
They were all struggling and Trinli made them a true community.
They looked to her to lead, to make the hard decisions, to shoulder the burden of hundreds of mouths to feed.
They took orders, but no one besides Margaret took the time to get to know Trinli.
To look deeper than the composed persona she shows the world.
Trinli is soft and sweet and vulnerable. She is there for everyone else; I am here for her. Maeve and Emil too. They have shown us what true friendship means, and we are blessed to have them in our lives.
Trin shakes her head with a huff. “No. I am ready. Or as ready as I will ever be. You all do not need to accompany me. I can go on my own.” Several growls of displeasure respond to her absurd suggestion, and she rolls her eyes and stomps off.
I catch up to her as the boys trail behind us.
Emil and Maeve leisurely taking in the sights as we progress through the city.
“I am proud of you, a mhuirnin.”
“Thank you.” I offer my elbow and she slides her arm through, glancing at me from the side of her eye. “I do not care much of their opinion on me…but my children, you, Emil and Maeve…”
“And that is how we feel about you. I dare them say one cross word to you. We are not here for any purpose other than supporting you, love. I think it is time to put them to rest in your mind, to bar them from taking any time or energy from you again. Tell them what you need to say and be done with them.”
“The only reason I am doing this is because we were coming here anyway to pick up Aunt Olga. They are not worth the train fare to get here. I just want them to see that…despite them, I am someone.”
“You are. A wonderful mother to eleven beautiful delinquents. A wife I thank God every day for putting in my path and giving me the brains to make you mine. A woman of industry, facilitating contracts with world governments, and creating a safe work environment for her employees and their families. He traded you for $18 of cheese, but you know you are worth far more than that.”
Clicking her tongue, her top lip stretches into a wicked smirk. “In today’s market, at least $25.”
“I love ye, Trin.”
“I know you do. I feel it in your arms, your kisses, your touch, in your every action. And I love you, Paddy. I hope you know that I do.” She stops us on the busy sidewalk, turns to me and cups my face.
I slide my arms around her waist and rest my forehead on hers.
“I would go through it all again knowing it would lead me to you.”
I kiss her soundly, always hungry for her. This is not the time or place, however, so I force myself to pull back. “I would have offered at least $22 to your father.”
Her laughter floats on the sea breeze, her eyes less haunted. “Well, now you can offer him a swift kick to his old, wrinkled arse and it will not cost you a cent.”