Dinner at the Reagan’s went well, at least for one member of the Connors family. Jamie and Bridey O’Casey hit it off immediately. They both loved photography, something that Eric’s mother loved as well. While it was somewhat uncomfortable talking about Annie Connors in the past tense, it was an entirely appropriate thing to do in the family’s grieving process.

As you may recall, Annie had died suddenly and tragically of a brain aneurysm and the Connors men were left to deal with her death along with a new member of the family, Eric’s “sister” Eileen. Actually, she wasn’t new at all, just new to her father, who had no idea his son had another side to him. And Annie, almost in a lovely literary sense, like a valiant character in your favorite book, would have wanted Jamie to find another love. It had been nearly seventeen months since she died; she would have wanted him to move on. He was moving at a pace of his own making, save for the fact that his speed was helped along by a tailwind known as Colleen Reagan.

Bridey O’Casey was a beautiful woman who, like Jamie Connor’s late wife, was older by about five years than Jamie. She was taller, too, standing nearly six-feet tall in her stocking-feet, as they used to say. But he didn’t mind. He really paid no attention to her height as he was paying complete and utter attention on her dark blue eyes, which kept their focus on him as well. As Colleen Reagan had expected, they “hit it off.” Bridey had been widowed when her police officer husband had been killed on the interstate by a drunk driver as he stood by another car he’d pulled over for speeding. It was a long a painful process, but Bridey was past grief, she believed, and only missed her husband as most widows would (“only” being inadequate to describe the loneliness of sleeping by herself in a bed designed for two, much like Jamie felt at that moment as well.)

“I was thinking. If you two are up to it (already referred to as “you two,”) we can make it a couple’s night and go to the new Jazz club over in Penn Wynne next Saturday. There’s a new girl playing over there that we’ve wanted to check out since we heard her on her brother’s CD. I think her name is Maired…Underhill?” Paddy nodded in agreement.

“The kids can fend for themselves.” She looked over at Karen, who was looking dreamily at Eric, although she was more likely thinking of his “sister,” her hero, or rather heroine, if you’re into differentiating genders. The past weekend had been an interesting time of discovery. Karen had discovered that she was falling in love with Eric, or was it Eileen, or was it both? Actually it was both, but she was developing a decided preference as to which persona she preferred, sort of like, Indiana Jones or Han Solo; Martin Riggs or Benjamin Martin, or in this case, Karen Silkwood or Sophie Zawistowska, if you follow me.

And Eric had discovered two things about himself; first, he was capable of handling himself as Eileen, as he found out by rescuing Karen from her former boy-friend. And he also discovered that he loved Karen equally from both sides of himself, as it were, but preferred his, or rather, Eileen’s relationship with Karen. All that to say is that it had turned out to be an interesting weekend for both Eric and Eileen, and Jamie as well.

A few weeks later, Jamie Connors sat in the recliner in his living room, staring at the ceiling. He was trying to figure out what to do about his feelings; first, he felt conflicted about liking Bridey since he was a widower; most all folks who have lost a spouse may feel a sense of betrayal of their late love, even after time has passed. And there can never be enough time to separate the loss from the present, no matter how much one tries when the love is as deep and wide and wonderful as the love he and Annie shared.

But there were other “considerations.” First, Bridey was a widow, so there might be her own hesitation to deal with. But the ultimate concern; the biggest consideration to deal with was that Jamie had a secret; a secret he had shared only with Annie. As dear as the secret was to him, he had not even told his son. Without revealing too much, this was something he had seen in his own son, and was reluctant, even fearful to discuss, since he felt guilty and responsible. Only after time with Eric and his counselor was he able to see that it wasn't his fault, since there was no fault to be had; nothing to feel guilty over since there really wasn't anything wrong.

And he had done his homework, so to speak, and he came to see that his own secret wasn't wrong, even if it was confusing. But even though the secret was a treasure, a keepsake from a wonderful past, fear of rejection made him consider that his secret might never, ever see the light of day again. And he was willing to keep that secret dead and buried, if I may use a crude metaphor, in order to see his relationship, such as it was, grow with Bridey.

“So tell me, sweetheart, what should I do?” Bridey was sitting in her living room, holding a picture of her late husband in her hand. She really wasn’t talking to him; that conversation would be reserved when the time came for her own passing. She just wanted to honor his memory. She wasn’t conflicted at all about her new relationship with Jamie; having been a widow for six years, preceded by a loving relationship with an absolutely wonderful man, she was “over” being a widow in that regard.

No feelings of betrayal here, she knew that Phil was content where he was, if I may say, and she needed to move on. Jamie was a nice man, and from what Colleen and Paddy had told her, a man of loyalty, dedication, and character. She wondered if she would ever find a man just like her late husband, and it seemed like Jamie “fit the bill,” to use an old expression. But would he be “exactly” like Phil. She could live without that, if needs be, but she wondered again if she would ever find someone who suited her. She didn’t harbor any secrets; she wasn’t a person to reveal much about herself to people she didn’t know, which was probably a good idea. She was, however, completely transparent with her loved ones. It’s just that she didn’t know how Jamie might feel if he knew everything about her.

“Mom…you got a minute?” Karen was busy vacuuming the living room carpet when Colleen came in from outside, her arms holding a basket of tomatoes from the garden.

“For my baby, of course.” Colleen said as she put the basket down on the kitchen table. “This wouldn’t happen to be about your little escapade the other week, would it?” Mothers have a way of knowing these things. They had already discussed Gary’s attack on her and they felt it best to leave well enough alone. Better not to call attention to anything regarding Eileen, since Gary already was in a remorseful mode, to put it mildly. Jerry Davis, the athletic director witness to the entire event, had him write a letter of apology to Karen and her family, and he had lost his starting spot on the football team for two games. Why be vindictive. He really couldn’t tell anyone that he had been beat down by a girl nearly half a foot shorter and fifty pounds lighter than him; could he? And while

Jerry did not know the identity of the young lady in question, he had a pretty good idea. He had worked with another young lady of the same “persuasion” a few years ago although the girl never knew that Coach knew that the lad was also a "she.” (See Salvation) He protected Danny from exposure, feeling he owed at least that much to the young man who had been so compassionate and caring with Jerry’s dying nephew Joey. So Gary’s punishment was that he couldn’t say a word; harsh punishment for someone who derived great pleasure about speaking about himself.

Karen had tears in her eyes; they came when she saw her mom. It’s like when you were little and fell down and cut your knee; you were able to fight back the tears until there was someone to wipe them away. Karen walked to her mother and held her arms out, asking for a hug. Colleen gave her more and embraced her daughter while kissing her tear-stained cheek.

“I know it’s not anything like me and your father when we first met,” she said. Paddy and she had known each other since they were in Grammar School in Dublin. They grew up as best friends and became “an item” in high school. They married young but were only blessed with one beautiful baby girl after too many heartaches of miscarriage. Karen was still her baby, and she was confused and in love at the same time with two different parts of the same person.

“You love ‘em both, Don’t you?” Colleen said, more as a statement than a question. She knew she was right. Her sister-in-law Maureen had the same experience with her brother Danny, and they turned out just fine; married for eighteen years with two lovely daughters and a relationship that included his “sister” Maggie.

“I think the best approach is to keep doing what you’re doing; loving ‘em both and let everything sort itself out. Eric is a fine lad, and we love him dearly. Eileen is just another side of someone we all love, sweetheart, so it’s okay for you to do the same."

“What about…the kiss? What do I do with that, Mom?” She cried harder and buried her face in her mother’s sweater.

“Treasure it forever, darlin’. You get only one first kiss per person, honey. And I peeked.” Her mother almost was impish about it.

“She’s a sweet girl, so to speak, and I can’t imagine a finer first kiss in the history of the world, sweetheart, so go ahead and treasure it always.” She held her daughter at arm’s length to face her.

“Let’s just sit down at the table and have a nice cup of tea, sweetheart,” Colleen said as she handed her sweet daughter a box of tissues. You may remember what Dr. Gina Kelly has to say about tea? If you want to problem-solve, put on a pot of coffee, but if you need to cry, there’s nothing like a cup of tea…or a whole pot.

Bridey and Jamie were sitting on a bench by the pond in the park near his house. The usual chorus of quacks and honks grew softer as a flotilla of ducks and geese swam in the direction of a nice lady several yards away who was throwing bread on the water. Bridey looked at Jamie, who looked back, and it was almost like a Rob Reiner movie when they both said at once,

“I need to tell you something.” Jamie was turning red with embarrassment, fearing the worst would happen when he shared his secret with Bridey. She nearly matched the crimson in his face with the glowing pink in her own.

“You first,” each said again simultaneously, more out of politeness than fear, although neither one was any less scared at the outcome of their next few words. Bridey spoke first.

“You know, obviously, that I was married.” She pointed to the ring on her left hand; she still wore it even after being a widow for over six years. She wasn’t holding onto anything; her ring was the one tangible thing left from her late husband, and she kept it as a way of fond remembrance. We had a…different sort of relationship…one that we both enjoyed and treasured (there’s that word again).
She paused and tears came to her eyes, nearly all out of fear, but some out of hope.

“My husband was all-man, like they say,” her soft hint of a brogue coming through. She was raised in Philadelphia from the age of ten, but she spent a lot of time with relatives and visited once and a while back home in Ireland, so she hadn’t lost her accent entirely.

“But there was another side of him…he….” She began to cry harder, more out of newly-remembered grief than anything else. “We loved each other as we felt we were…the ones we were and not how people expected we should be. Phil was always himself outside of the house, but when we were home, she was Lisa O’Casey. My best friend…my lover….my wife.”

She really didn’t know how Jamie was going to take this all in, and despite nearly two months of dating, she really didn’t know him at all. Nevertheless, she rested her head softly on his shoulder; years of loss and grief came out like a flood. She was ashamed and fearful for no reason whatsoever and every reason in the world, if you follow me. She had just told the man she was falling in love with about her life’s true love, as Princess Buttercup might say; her dearest closest friend whom she had accepted and treasured like a pearl of great price, as it says in another way for another reason. And what would he do with that treasure? Would he keep it safe? Would he laugh or mock or scorn and devalue what she held dear? I know you know what he would do, since you already know what a man of character Jamie was. But what he said next was both a relief to her and completely freeing to him as well.

With tears in his own eyes, he held her in front of him and looked directly in her deep dark blue eyes and said,

“My other name is Jamie,” almost as a joke some might have felt, but he was serious.

“She and Annie were best friends as well.” There’s a scene in Return of the King at nearly the end of the movie where Sam is standing next to his new bride Rose. Even though he’s loved her forever and even though he just got married, there’s a sense of wonder and surprise when they kiss, as if even after all that he couldn’t believe it was happening to him. Jamie felt the same way when Bridey kissed him full on the lips with utter abandon. It was almost as if they hadn’t been crying, since the kiss went on for minutes; yes, minutes. When their lips parted, the waterworks began again, this time for a good deal more time. The lady down the shore looked at them and smiled, and then returned to feeding the ducks and geese once again.

Treasure
from Beyond These Shores by
Iona - Joanne Hogg; Phil Bainbridge;
Troy Donockley; Phil Barker; and Frank van Essen
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mMppT0MdWMg

Next: Eileen meets...Jamie?