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Mac nodded, though he felt three steps behind. She’d thought it all through. Did he want to leave? He wasn’t sure. He hadn’t wanted to when his mother was alive, but now?

“I couldn’t take anyone’s money. My mother wouldn’t have liked that.”

Honnie swished the tea around in the pot. “Did your mother ever tell you about the time I was invited to a very posh do in Galway? And the dress I wore?”

Mac shook his head.

“It was put on by those heritage people, one of the groups that give awards for traditional things. I knit a shawl and to be honest I didn’t even know what I was knitting it for, only that there was prize money and a few of the other women were entering. Long story short: I won. They keep the shawl when you win those things, by the way. I didn’t know that. There was a dinner at a hotel as part of the prize, with speeches and photographs, and another girl and I spent the night in Galway. This was 1942. Sugar and tea were rationed but we had plenty of it that night. The girl I went with was from Roundstone and won for her beadwork. I had nothing to wear and maybe you can’t understand being a family of boys but the panic about that was big.” Honnie laughed, remembering.

“PJ was only small still and I wasn’t feeling my girlish self. Anyway, your mother heard about all this through her mother, who heard from mine. She wasn’t married yet—she was younger than me—and what did she have over her arm as she walked up the lane one afternoon but the most beautiful frock. She was helping with the baking at Screebe House at that time and one of the guests left it behind to be donated. It was said to be out of style but it was good material so your mother snapped it up. Don’t forget she didn’t live down your way yet. She carried that frock from Screebe House to the island, and then from the island to me. It was a shade of blue you don’t see too often.

“So next thing your mother was standing in this room, wiping the table—the very table you’re seated at now—and after spreading out the dress, she got out her little scissors and quick as could be had all the darts and seams opened. Then she had me fit it on. She made marks here and there, then she sat down with it and after a few hours, Macdara, it fit like I was born to it. I never felt so lovely in my life.”

Mac felt something inside him collapse. He raised his hands to his face.

“Hush now,” Honnie said. “Look.” She drew a small leather pouch from her skirt pocket. She opened the pouch and showed him the fold of money. “All the women chipped in.”

“I thought you said this was just a passing thought.”

She laughed. “Don’t you know when the women suggest something then it’s usually already done?”

“My brothers expect me to join them. And it seems to me that I should go where they are. We should all be together, especially now. Don’t you think so? I haven’t even seen Sean since before our mother died.”

“Do they like England, Mac?”

Mac didn’t see how liking factored in. No one ever mentioned liking a place as part of the reason for choosing it.

“Does any Irish person really like England?”

“I can’t answer for all Irish people and I’ve never been to England but I can tell you that my two love Montana. It’s not only that they say so. I’m their mother, I can tell what’s true and what’s not when they write. You never know, maybe your brothers would leave England and join you there.”

It wasn’t so easy, as they both knew very well, but she was trying to make light of it, to help him not feel the weight of the decision and the work she’d already done. She covered his hands with hers. “In America you can be there legally, under your own name. I’m only an old lady who’s never left the Cuan but if you ask me, that’s something. PJ’s father-in-law would sponsor you. It’s just signing a form that says he’ll house you and give you work. You don’t have to hide and be afraid someone will call you by the wrong name or say something that will land you in trouble. It’s only getting there is the obstacle,” she said. “Once you get there the work is so plentiful you’ll never have to worry, not if you’re able-bodied and willing.”

“When do I have to have it all sorted by?”

“I know it’s a lot to think about. I know you weren’t expecting it. But soon. There’s a lot to be done.”

Mac stood and Honnie walked him as far as the gate. “Your father—” she began.

Mac felt his body brace.

“He did what he thought was right. What else could be done with boys so small? It’s hard to understand, I know. But I’ll keep an eye out, Macdara. I’ll keep an eye out for the rest of my life. PJ says Kevin and I should go to America, and the girls, too, but where am I going at my age? I’ll be buried here with the Lees.”

“But why me?” Mac asked. “There are a lot of people wanting to strike out for abroad.”

“I delivered you to this world. And as soon as Nuala introduced herself, I thought: this cannot be borne.”

“Did she tell you about the electric stove in Chicago?” Macdara grinned. It was his first genuine smile since his mother died.

“Did she ever,” Honnie said.

“WHAT WAS HONNIE SAYING TO you?” Rian asked, running up to meet Mac on the road. He must have been looking out.

“Shouldn’t you be in school?” Mac asked, but he found he was glad for the company.

“She looked very serious. What did she want?”

“Nothing.”