Andy set his phone to play Christmas music through a Bluetooth speaker he took from his pocket. Singing along, everyone helped fill several cardboard boxes with decaying, yellow-paged books with titles like “Irish Minstrelsy” and “Bards of the Gael.” The packing team worked for nearly an hour and cleared more than half the parlor.
Gemma closed a volume she’d been scanning. “Time to heat up the food. Ronan, you have some wonderful treasures here. I suspect I’ll be visiting the storage unit to browse through the poetry books. Ben, a lot of these books contain folktales and legends. You might find some new stories for your tours.”
Ronan viewed the remaining piles of books and sighed. “My father liked his books, all right. I’m glad my mother isn’t here to see the mess he made of the place.”
“You’re talking through your left leg, Ronan!” Joan looked ready for murder. “Was your father a bogman with no back to his britches? He was not. He had a brain, and schooling. He was an honest man who took care of his family. He helped us all look after our money, and he paid for your education, for all the good it did. You’ll never have the head to fill his hat!”
Ronan resisted the urge to duck. Had what he’d said been that bad?
Andy stepped between them. “Jayz, Gran. What was in your cup of tea this morning?”
She removed her glasses and dabbed her sleeve at her eyes. “Ah, feck,” she sobbed. “I’m sorry, Ronan. It’s the memories, is all. We were all heart-scalded when your mother died, and poor Condy loved her so much. He never got over the loss of her. ’Tis a shame what happened to the poor man. I’m sorry, lad. Truly. I meant nothing bad to you.”
Ronan hugged her hard. How wrong he’d been to think he was the only one affected by his mother’s death and his father’s odd behavior! “It’s all right, Auntie Joan. You’re working too hard. It’s time for a break.”
Joan sniffled and reset her glasses. Nodding, she retreated to the kitchen with Gemma and Suzanne.
Gabbi stayed. She stepped toward Ben. “I hear you know lots of folktales, Ben. Do you know about the seal people? Ronan thinks his family might be descended from them.”
Ben winked: he’d caught her diversionary tactic. He came to crisp attention. “Might?” He’d raised his voice as if he were an actor about to perform. “They definitely are. Ronan’s grandmother was a Conneely. Everyone knows they’re descended from the seals. I’ll tell you the tale, if you like.”
“Wait for us!” Gemma shouted from the kitchen. “We’ll be right there.”
A few minutes later, she and Suzanne carried in tea-laden trays. Joan brought milk and sugar. Everyone fixed a cup and found a seat in chairs and couches recently cleared of books. Andy switched off the music and sat beside Suzanne. Brendan and Joan sat together. Ronan dared to sit next to Gabbi.
Ben stared at the toasty stove, as if he were seeking the start of the story. He found it.
“It was this way.” He spoke with the confidence of a born storyteller. “Long ago in the west of Ireland, a family named Conneely lived by the sea. One day, as the son was gathering seaweed, a seal swam close to shore and flopped onto a rock. It shed its skin, and when it did, it became the most beautiful young woman Conneely had ever seen. She left her skin on the rock and jumped into the waves. While he watched her frolicking, he fell in love with her. Soon she swam back and replaced her skin. She became a seal again and swam out to sea.
“Conneely returned to the shore the next day. So did the seal. This time, when she changed to a woman and took her swim, he stole her skin and hid it in his shirt. When she finished swimming and saw that her skin was gone, she shrieked and cried. ‘What will I do? My father will be angry if I’m not home by nightfall.’
“Conneely stepped forward to spring his trap. ‘I have your skin, and I’ll not give it back to you. Come home with me. I promise I’ll always treat you well.’
“When she refused, he left her there, though as he expected, she followed him. What choice did she have? He reached the house before her and hid the skin in the roof thatch. She stayed the night and grew to love him. The next day, they were married. They were happy together and had five sons, handsome boys with dark black hair and eyes as blue as the sea.
“One day, while Conneely was fishing, his wife was minding the sheep. She saw that the house was on fire and ran to the neighbors, calling for help. The men climbed onto the roof and threw the burning thatch to the ground. A chunk of it fell near her feet. Her skin was in it. She snatched it up and ran to the shore. When she put it on, she became a seal and dived into the sea.
“Conneely came home that night and found his house half-burned and his sons crying for their mother. Frantic, he searched the burned thatch for the sealskin. When he failed to find it, he knew what had happened.
“The next day, he and his boys ran down to the shore, hoping to see her. They did. She swam in close, and though she assured them she loved them and would always watch over them, she vanished into the waves. They never saw her again.
“And that’s why they say the Conneelys are descended from the seals.”
The room overflowed with cheers, applause, and Joan’s signature two-fingered whistle.
