A Town Without Honor Ch. 03

He grinned and proved me right about the playing. He started the driving bass, and I picked up the chunky rhythm.

♫ I don't mind you comin' here

And wastin' all my time

'cause when you're standin' oh so near

I kinda lose my mind

It's not the perfume that you wear

It's not the ribbons in your hair

I don't mind you comin' here

And wastin' all my time... ♫

It must have been a song he knew well. He could even play the solo after the chorus perfectly, and I muted my play while he showed off.

I noticed for the first time there was a skinny little thing sitting at his feet, her head resting on his knee, her arm clinging to his leg. In her other hand she was holding up a phone, I imagine recording our playing. No idea when she'd shown up. I looked at him then glanced at her, raising an eyebrow. He nodded, giving me a sad little grin.

I had a good buzz going. I'd been drinking since a little after noon, and I had no idea what time it was but it was definitely getting late. The girl on my right had been replaced with another more zaftig honey, who was laughing and singing away without a care in the world.

One of my 'uncle's' was cajoled into reciting, and he stood, his legs a little shaky, his eyes more than a little bloodshot. He started in with a poem I'd never heard, which I later learned was by Robert W. Service.

A bunch of the boys were whooping it up

In the Malamute saloon;

The kid that handles the music-box

Was hitting a jag-time tune;

Back of the bar, in a solo game,

Sat Dangerous Dan McGrew,

And watching his luck was his light-o'-love,

The lady that's known as Lou.

He was older than most, probably at least seventy. He seemed to repeat a few lines, then I saw a man stand next to him, reciting along with him. The older fellow's voice firmed up, and he spoke stronger. There was a guy in his twenties sitting opposite them, and I watched him walk over and sit. You could see the facial familiarity as the young man started mouthing the words in time with his father and grandfather.

"That's it, Uncle Luke," one of the women called out. "Yes, b'ye!" another urged.

I saw him lose the verse, and his grandson spoke louder,

Then on a sudden the music changed,

So soft that you scarce could hear;

But you felt that your life had been looted clean

Of all that it once held dear;

That someone had stolen the woman you loved;

That her love was a devil's lie;

The old man got the rhythm and continued, and the boy quieted. I had my arm around Jane, and heard her whisper "Isn't it just grand?"

It was, and more. A patriarch of the family, his kin gathered round. Reciting a poem he'd probably spent dozens of hours learning and had repeated hundreds of times. His son and grandson, speaking alongside him, words they'd surely learned from his lips, at his knee. There were phones out, recording the event. I imagined the young man's grandchildren at his feet, forty years from now, watching their great-great-grandfather in action. I was in awe of the family ties, and the respect shown. As he finished he walked over and kissed a rotund silver-haired lady on the lips, and everyone laughed and called out, teasing, cat calls, wolf whistles.

"Fifty-three years," Jane said softly. "They came out for you. All the way down from Torbay. It's a big deal."

I guess it was. He walked slowly over to the couch, and the girl on the other side jumped up and held his arm as he turned and slowly sat down beside me. I turned to him, smiling.

"Honor Nolan," I told him, holding my hand out.

His gnarled old hand, knobby knuckled, was rough as tree bark. "Luke. I'm your father's uncle. He was a good lad. I'm sorry for your loss."

I felt the tears well up in my eyes. "Thank you," I answered. Almost 20 years, and it still hurt.

It seemed it was break time. There was chatting going on, but no singing. I felt Jane get up, walking past me into the back of the house. Most likely a bathroom break.

"You stayin' long?" he asked.

"I don't know. No ironclad plans at the moment."

He nodded. "I'd likes you to come by for Sunday dinner."

I laughed. "To be honest, sir, I have no idea what day it is. When is Sunday?"

He chuckled. "I wish I had enough days left not to care which is which. It's Friday night, b'ye. You think we'd have this big a crowd on a weeknight?"

I didn't mention that the night before it had seemed almost as big, although less diverse. Tonight we had the young and old present, and looking around, I realized I was wrong. There must have been more than thirty people there. The kitchen table was full. The floor was covered with sitting bodies. I guess I should have been impressed that I had a seat at all.

"I'd be honored, sir."

He gave me a grin, and I could read the laughter in his eyes. "No, b'ye. I dare say we'd be 'Honored'."

Jane returned from her short journey and leaned over Uncle Luke. "So glad you came, Grandpa," she said and gave him a kiss on the cheek.

He smiled. "You gonna entertain us, Janie?"

She blushed. "I thought I might, just a little." She turned to me and passed me a piece of sheet music. "You think you could play that?" she asked. "It's very slow, just an easy slow single strum every bar."

I opened it and saw that it wasn't that difficult. No exotic chords. It was written in Gaelic, and I had no idea what it said. I tried a few bars, and she stopped me. "Slower strum, let all the strings ring."

I did it again, and she smiled. "Perfect. Try the first line."

She watched as I played the chords, humming softly the tune, then almost whispering the words. She slowed me down again, and I wondered how slow the song could be. Then she gave me a kiss on the cheek. "That's perfect."

When she stood, she pulled me up by the hand and made me stand with her. The young man that had recited the poem with his grandfather was recruited to sit and hold the music up in front of me. We had everyone's attention by then. She walked over to her Grandmother and pulled her up. Jane made her sit by her grandfather, then stood beside me. She gave me a nod, and I hit the first slow strum.

♫ Aréir is mé téarnamh um' neoin

Ar an dtaobh thall den teóra 'na mbím... ♫

I got chills when the first notes left her lips. She had the most amazing, high soft voice, and though I had no idea what she was saying, I swear it was the most beautiful thing I'd ever heard. She sang to her grandparents, and I saw the older woman hold Uncle Luke's hand in hers.

I later learned the song was Ar Éirinn ní neosfainn cé hí, For Ireland I'd Not Tell Her Name. Halfway through the song Uncle Luke stood and took the woman's hand in his. She stood and went to his arms, and they danced slowly. One of the children said something, and I heard a whispered "hush" and the sound of a hand smacking flesh. I didn't hear anything else for the duration of the song except Jane's mesmerizing voice.

I got a feel for the song after a couple of verses and started playing with a simple finger-picking interspersed with soft strumming, and the music took over, guiding my fingers in a way I'd never felt before. I closed my eyes, letting her voice steer me, even playing a bridge with a picked melody when she paused in her singing. I knew it wasn't the end, it couldn't be. She should never stop singing.

I heard her take a breath, and muted the playing, letting her voice take over, with a minimal accompaniment. Her volume grew stronger, and again I picked out the melody, strumming harder as her voice soared. I felt goose bumps on my arms, and a shiver run down my spine.

Her voice slowed, and my fingers followed suit, adding chord derivations, creating the sustain, building to what I could feel was the end. Her voice rose, powerful, filling the room. I only prayed I could do her magical tones justice. She held a note long, an eternity, and I strummed the three descending chords, then stopped, in tune with the song, as she completed the last line acapella.

♫ ...Is ar Éirinn ní n-eósainn cé h-í. ♫

I heard the shouting and laughter and opened my eyes. I looked over and she was smiling beautifully, her eyes glistening, the highlights of her hair angelic. She reached out and put her hand on my arm, and I felt a spark, almost a shock. It had been magical and I had been part of it.

"Nanny's song," she said, and I saw the silver-haired woman in front of me, reaching up for my head. I leaned over and let her kiss me on the cheek. "Thank you," she whispered, her face glowing. She was beautiful in that moment, and I could see the pride on Uncle Luke's face as he stood with his arm around her waist. Fifty-three years, and to be adored like that.

It was too much for the moment. To know I'd never have that. What I'd lost. What her betrayal had cost us. I couldn't breathe, couldn't see from the tears in my eyes.

"Excuse me," I gasped, letting my guitar fall to the floor, and turning to escape the suddenly claustrophobic confines. I was almost running by the time I hit the door.

I ran a good twenty yards down the lane, until I stumbled, unable to see where I was going. I fell to my knees, gasping, my chest crushed by despair. I leaned over and let the tears go.

I was almost breathing normally when I felt the arm around my shoulders. I glanced over to see Jane's concerned face. She didn't try to console me or hush me. She held me, letting me get it out, there for me when I needed her.

"I'm sorry," I eventually gasped.

She didn't reply, simply giving me a squeeze, and leaning her head on my shoulder.

I wiped my eyes, trying to put on a smile. "You were amazing," I said softly. "The most beautiful thing I ever heard."

She still didn't answer. She turned, straddled my legs and hugged me, her arms firm and comforting. I felt her hair against the side of my head. My arms wrapped around her and I held on for dear life, as the emotions broke free again, and I sobbed in her arms.

When I stopped, I don't believe I'd ever been more embarrassed in my life. I don't think I'd cried once since my father died, and now it was becoming a regular thing. Third time in the last few weeks.

She must have sensed my state, and gave a little squeeze before pulling away. "Piker. You'd played that song before. It was perfect."

I shook my head. "Never. I'd never heard it or anything like it before. All I could do was follow your voice."

She looked surprised. "Your eyes were closed most of the song. You didn't even look to the music."

"Didn't need it. I knew what you were going to do. I knew it, without knowing how."

She smiled. "Do you knows what I'm going to do now?"

I grinned back, looking down at her lips. "I hope so."

I closed my eyes when her lips met mine. The same lips those heavenly sounds had escaped from. Her tongue pierced my lips. I opened them for her. It was as magical as the music, perfect, the two of us completely in tune with each other. In turn soft, sensual, caring, passionate, and finally playful. She was grinning as I tugged on her bottom lip, then left a series of little kisses around her mouth.

She stood slowly, backing up, her hands holding mine, encouraging me to stand. "God, Honor, it hurts my legs just to see you kneeling like that, in the gravel."

I wish she hadn't mentioned it. I could feel the stones now, digging into me, my legs almost asleep, half numb, stinging as the blood flowed into them. I stood carefully, shaking them out. She let go of one of my hands and tugged me after her.

I followed, content to feel her warm hand in mine, as she guided me back to the house.

"Where are we going?" I asked on the porch step.

She gave my hand a squeeze. "Yer a Newf, Honor. You ask 'Where's we comin' to?' not 'Where are we going?'" the last delivered in a nasally impression.

I laughed, providing my own poor impression. "So where's we comin' to, b'ye?"

"You're going to apologize to Nanny. She thinks she hurt your feelings."

"All she said was thank you," I said. "It wasn't her."

"Of course not. Now you tells her that, then you and I'll go for a walk. I needs to hear your story."

I felt my ears heating up. I wasn't sure I wanted to talk about my recent past.

My choices were eliminated as I found myself standing in front of 'Nanny'. "I'm sorry I ran out like that. It wasn't you. I'm just going through a hard time right now. I hope you'll forgive me."

She smiled, and it lit up her face. "After a performance like that? I'd be ready to forgive you almost anything. Thank you again." She had an Irish brogue that a half century on the rock hadn't diminished. I loved the tone of it.

"You're most welcome. I was ecstatic to be a part of it."

"Are you professional?" she asked.

I laughed out loud. "Hardly. I'm not even very good. Something more powerful than me guided my fingers through that song. I couldn't do that in a million years. Not if I practiced every day."

"Why do I doubt that? I'd bet you could do the same tonight if Janie sang with you again." Her eyes sparkled with mischief.

I blushed. "I won't take that bet."

Jane gave me a tug by the hand. "Sorry Nanny, I'm takin' him back. We've got some talking to do."

Nanny grinned. "As long as it's talking. Keep the meaningful silences to a minimum. Understand?"

It was Jane's turn to blush. "I swear, Nanny. Talking."

I think she got a few dirty looks when she pulled me away from the impromptu party. Good for the ego. It could use a little stroking. Outside, she turned and gave me a quick kiss, surprising me, then grabbed my hand and tugged me down the road.

"Tell me. I wants to hear everything," she said, walking close and brushing her shoulder against my arm.

"I imagine you've probably heard most of it by now."

She nodded. "Yeah, about six different versions. I want all of it. From the start."

I sighed, trying to think where the start was. I began with the night Beth and I had before the China trip.

She interrupted. "No, Honor. From the start. When you met, how you got together, everything."

I laughed out loud. "That's a very long story. We might want to hang out on the porch or something. If we're walking, we'll be in Gander before I'm finished. I'm not wearing my hiking boots."

She giggled. "All right. I knows just the place."

I started. "I was nine, she was four. She was the neighbor girl, my younger sister's shadow, cute in the way that only blue-eyed blonde, round-cheek cherub toddlers could be. It was tiny Beth that gave me the nickname that would stick with me for the rest of my life ..."

We made a detour by the cooler, and we grabbed a six-pack. She refused to release my hand, and we walked over to the porch swing and settled in. I had my arm around her and we could hear the festivities inside still going. She was a great listener, rarely interrupting.

"I was nineteen, she was fourteen. I had the grades and test scores to get into most colleges. Carnegie Mellon wasn't only one of the best schools in the nation, but I could get nearly my entire education paid for with scholarships, grants, and a minimum of loans. I think the scholarship from the Greensburg VFW was the kicker. I was going home ..."

She laughed when she heard about Beth sneaking into my bed. "She was fourteen and she snuck in your bed, at her house? Weren't you some scared, b'ye? What if her parents caught you?"

I shrugged. "I'd tell them the truth. All we did was cuddle and kiss. I wouldn't do any more. They knew that. Beth wanted to, no doubt about it, but it wasn't happening."

Jane wasn't convinced. "A nineteen year old, with a hot young blonde in his bed? Kind of hard to believe you'd behave if she was willing. They'd take your word on that?"

"Of course. I would never lie to them. They know that. I loved her, more than I knew until that moment, but we'd always been a couple."

"Wow. Pretty cool parents," Jane said. "G'on."

I was working on my second beer. "I took her to the senior prom. She was stunning, tall, beautiful, mesmerizing. The prettiest girl I knew. I went all out, renting a limo, taking her to a fancy dinner, dancing with her and her friends. I took her to a hotel afterward.

"I was twenty-three, she was eighteen when we made love for the first time."

"Oh my God," Janie interrupted. "You've been together since she was four? You took her cherry at eighteen, after her prom? You've been together your entire lives!"

"Pretty much. We were soul mates. Everyone knew we'd be together. Long before I did. I thought it would be forever."

She sighed, turning and lying down in my lap. "You're right. This is a long story. Slower'n molasses runnin' uphill. I hopes you don't mind if I gets comfortable."

I continued and got through the wedding, my first job, and Beth's graduation without too many interruptions. "Beth graduated, debt free. I'd been in business for over a year, much of the worst of the growing pains out of the way. I no longer carried all the worry and risk of the new venture by myself. We were partners, in life, in love, and in business.

"I was twenty-eight, she was twenty-three. Two weeks after our second honeymoon, I learned I was gonna be a daddy."

Janie sat up. "Can I take a break, Honor? Hearing this is harder than I thought it would be. Let me pee and we can go on."

"Of course," I told her, watching her cute young body walk away. She was a little thing. Tiny compared to tall Beth. A bit curvier. I never had a thing for redheads, but she reminded me of Amy Adams in Talladega nights, with a little more reddish tinge to her hair. Adorable really. Why she was hanging out with me, I had no idea.

She returned after a couple of minutes and climbed into my lap. "I needs another kiss, Honor. Is that okay?"

"Pretty wonderful, actually," I told her before her warm lips cut me off. The goose bumps returned, and I held her while we grew closer, more intimate. It was a helluva kiss, and I was fairly confident it was for her as well.

She drew away, staring into my eyes. She gave me another brief, soft kiss, then laid on my lap again, her head resting on my thigh. She had brought a blanket with her, and covered up with it, offering me some. I didn't need it. I was burning up.

"You were going to be a Daddy," she reminded me.

"The next five years were everything a man could ask for. My business had grown to over fifty employees, the majority of them extended family members. We were scions of the town, bringing in money, visitors, second-hand business. My wife was fully integrated into my family; our two kids, Marie Carol, and William (Billy) Arnold were happy, loving and spoiled rotten."

I described our life, what we had, and our love for each other. "And then there was the China trip."

She giggled. "Finally. You were right, the whole story is a lot longer."

By that time, the shindig was mostly over. We'd get interrupted to say goodbye every few minutes as people slowly melted away. There were still a few hardcore partiers still going, but the real party was over. Most went out the back way, where the cars were parked, but several lived within walking distance, and those told us goodnight.

I continued. "The love making was wonderful. Better than it had been in a while. That's why it surprised me so much when she turned to me and asked me if I was happy. Her response to the same question was even more startling when she said she was content. 'Mostly happy' I think she put it."

"Did she say why?"