The Irish Girl
Chapter One
The neighbors all knew young Ann Riley.
She lived with her mother and father and her big
sister, Catherine, four uncles, two aunts, and a grandmother on a big, high
hill in a big, tall stone house. It overlooked a bubbly little creek and lots
of leafy trees.
“There goes Ann Riley,” the neighbors would say
whenever the Rileys went to the store or to church. “She’s the first pioneer
child born in town.”
Yankees came first, from the east, on wagons pulled
by oxen. They bought land, then sold it to the Germans, Saxons, Prussians,
French, Luxembourgers, and Irish.
Ann had a special friend whose name was Katie Murphy.
Katie was Irish, just like Ann. Katie was born in America, too, but not in
Wisconsin.
Ann liked to visit Katie and play at her house. Ann
and Katie especially liked to listen to Katie’s grandfather tell stories.
“The hills of County Meath in Ireland were like a
vast green and gray ocean, dotted with sheep, likes white waves.” Grandfather
Murphy sucked on his corncob pipe and blew smoke through his round mouth. “I
remember the peat burning on the hearth all winter and helping my mother bake
soda bread. Father would play his pipes—oh, so lovely, so lovely.” He made more
smoke come out from between his brown teeth. “If we had more wool than we
needed to make our clothes, we would trade at the market for shiny spoons and
sharp scissors. In winter, we’d make the baskets from the grass of the sea to
take the potatoes to market. When the mist came in off the sea, we’d pretend we
were with St. Patrick in heaven.”
“Now, Da, don’t be scaring the wee ones,” Katie’s
mother would say as she bustled about, busy as a bumble bee.
“Ann Riley, who’s your grandfather?” Abbie Murphy, Katie’s
little sister asked.
Ann and Katie were dressing their corn cob dolls in crackly
corn husk dresses. “I don’t have a grandfather,” Ann told Abbie, who was only
four.
“Everyone has to have a grandfather,” Abbie said.
“Well, I don’t,” Ann said. “I have Gran Ann, Papa, Mother,
sisters, brothers, aunts and uncles. There isn’t room for anyone else in our
house.”
“But, who will tell you stories while you sit on his knee?”
Abbie asked.
“Abigail Murphy, come here this instant!” Katie and Abbie’s
mother scolded. “Don’t you be upsetting the poor girl.”
“But, Mommy, who will be Ann’s grandfather?”
Ann did not think she was poor. But she did not forget about
Abbie’s question.
When she got home she asked Gran Ann about it.
“Of course you have a grandfather,” Gran Ann said. “You had
two. One’s no longer living on this good earth, and one stayed behind at home
in Ireland.”
Ann thought about the things that Katie Murphy’s grandfather
did. Ann would just have to find a grandfather of her own who was just like
Katie’s.
Ann’s own grandfather would tell stories.
