And a Diamond in the Middle

Our itinerary slowly began to take shape via online research and frequent correspondences to the Irish tourist offices in various towns. Since we'd visited most of the larger cities, we decided this would be a backpacking trip for us, hiking daily and spending our nights in a bed and breakfast, an inn, or a real hotel. Every few days, we'd catch a train or a bus and move to another area.

Much of my free time was spent in research into Irish mythology and, to Kathy's amusement, leprechauns in particular, but I was soon surprised at the diversity of creatures from Irish folklore beyond the little guy. Usually termed fairies or "little people," the leprechauns and others living in the wilds are seen as a mischievous bunch, generally keeping themselves hidden from us "regular folk" except when we intrude upon them.

Beyond the fairy folk, there are others like the banshee, the kelpie, and the pooka, that I seemed to recall from my Dungeon & Dragon days back in college and grad school. Others such as Irish werewolves and changelings were somewhat similar to their European cousins, but several others such as the Fear Gorta, the Far Darrig, and the Abhartach were new to me and seemed to be possibly Irish exclusives.

Not knowing for sure but having a graduate assistant who was interested, I put him to gathering as much information as possible on all those and more, including possible ties to ancient Greece (or possibly even Phoenicia) or to their counterparts in Greek and Roman mythology.

In addition, there were the crop circles, said in "olden times" to be where Irish fairies danced and leprechauns did their jigs. Hearing of leprechauns, Kathy enjoyed listening to some of the tales, including one published by Irish Nobel laureate William Butler Yeats about the farmer who built his new house in a fairy crop circle.

During the farmer's housewarming, the guests heard the timbers of the house creak from the strain and the new homeowner became drunk enough to hear the voices of the little people as they shouted and worked to push the house over and out of their circle before dawn. When he called out to them to stop, with the promise that he would move his house from their preserve, they told him to move it halfway between their circle and another, and there he found a pot of gold while digging the new foundation.

"See! I told you we should have been faster when we were chasing that rainbow," laughed Kathy, speaking in her own fake Irish accent. "Oh, I love me a little leprechaun, or," she added as she stroked the sides of my jaw as if it was a leprechaun's beard, "my great big one."

With Matt being at a friend's that evening, we made love after sharing more than a little of a bottle of wine. Kathy's voice once again had that imitation Irish accent as she urged me to "Push, push, push!" like the little people in the farmer's house as I slammed into her over and over from behind. There were lots of giggles and questions about whether I'd enjoyed her little pot of gold, or whatever, as we snuggled together in a loving embrace after we were done.

Months passed. Research on my mythology book advanced, and Matt graduated from high school as the date of our fourth trip to Ireland drew steadily closer.

***

On our fourth trip, we were hiking upstream along a little tributary to the River Shannon one afternoon when we decided to continue on a little further than originally planned. It was there that we came across a quiet little pool in the middle of the stream with a ring of trees encircling it and fields beyond. Kathy's breath caught and she reached out to take my hand in hers.

"Oh, Sam, this is...beautiful," breathed Kathy as she gave me a momentary squeeze. "The farmer must love this place, it's so perfectly kempt, the grass trimmed so well, the flowers laid out so nicely. It's so...so serene, so calming." She took a deep breath. "And it smells like heaven. It's like I could stay here forever."

"It's quite beautiful," I agreed, "and you're right, it smells wonderful...but I don't know about staying forever. I think we'd eventually get mighty hungry out here."

"Oh, Sam!" she repeated, but this time she gave my arm a little punch as she added with a laugh, "Always thinking with your stomach."

When I just looked at her, I think she was about to give me a harder one for good measure but I grabbed her upper arms, pulled her to me, and kissed her hard.

She kissed me back, hungry and fierce, and it wasn't but a few moments before she was pulling my sweater and shirt up and over my head. I did the same with hers, the sweater taking her cute little Irish hat off her head with it, and I tossed them to the side as she was undoing my belt, pushing down my pants and underwear, and taking me in both hands to pump me up. It felt great but wasn't necessary, because I'd popped up like a jack-in-a-box as soon as she started.

Somehow, I got one of my hiking boots off and was able to step out of one side of my shorts before I pushed her shorts down too, taking her panties with them, and caught the globes of her sweet ass in my hands to pull her tight against me. We kissed and cuddled, standing there to the side of that beautiful little pool, our desire for each other burning like a fiery volcano.

"I love you, Sam. I love you so much. Make love to me, right here, right now. I want to remember this place and what we do here forever."

I have no idea how she'd done it but she'd gotten her right hiking shoe off, freeing her leg which I lifted up to and held in the crook of my arm in a ballet-like stance. Stepping back and grabbing a seemingly sturdy limb of one of the trees that encircled the pool with my other hand to steady us, she hooked her foot behind me and then guided me into her channel. As wet as she was, I slid right inside, deeper and deeper until I was completely seated, feeling her heat completely engulf me.

"Do it, Sam," she whispered, so I began thrusting into her as she held onto me for dear life with both hands, clenching her pussy around my dick, releasing as I pushed back in, and clenching again with the next withdrawal. Kathy moaned quietly as we loved each other this way, getting more intense as time passed until I felt her quivering when her orgasm overcame her. Buried deep in her, I stopped and pulled her close to me, letting her enjoy her moment as she buried her face against my chest while trying to catch her breath.

"Mmm, that was great, but as hard as you are, I'm guessing we're not done," she whispered some moments later.

"Not quite," I agreed with a kiss to her forehead when she looked up at me. "That is, unless you're done," I added, praying that she wasn't.

She grinned at me. "No, not done at all. Though, if you don't mind, I'm done with this position. I quit dance lessons after tenth grade and didn't cheer after high school so my leg—no, make that legs—feel like jello after that."

I retrieved a blanket from my pack that I'd brought for this trip for just such emergencies while Kathy removed her other boot. Once the blanket was spread out on the soft grass by the bank, I removed my other hiking shoe, too, and then we lay down on the blanket, kissed for a bit, and resumed our lovemaking, first with Kathy on top facing me as she looked over the pool because she wanted to, but with her "jello legs," she tired quickly.

"You mind switching?" she asked.

"Anything for you, sweetheart." I helped ease her down on her back where she pulled her knees high and wide so I could enter her missionary style. I went slow and steady at first, grinding hard against her clit with each stroke, helping her build over time before I felt my buildup coming. Faster we went, and harder, with Kathy milking me with her muscles as I plowed into her repeatedly. My pressure was building, multiplying, and I fought it, trying to hold out every extra second that I could though I knew it wouldn't be more than seconds away.

Luckily, Kathy groaned then, gripping me with her arms and her sex, and, out of time, I responded with the most intense orgasm of my life, exploding into her, filling her with blast after blast of my cum as she moaned and kissed me again and again.

"Oh my God, Sam! I felt that! It felt like a cannon going off inside me and it had to have been a gallon," she teased when I pulled out and lay down next to her. "Seriously, I'm leaking everywhere now and I think I'm going to be floating in my panties for the rest of the afternoon. Maybe even for the rest of the trip. Sweetheart, you had to have been dying to have that much stored up! Why didn't you tell me you were hurting? I'd have been glad to have helped you with it!"

We'd gotten to our inn late the night before so we'd gone straight to bed, skipping our lovemaking but we'd done it the night before that so I didn't know why it had felt so intense or why there'd been so much.

"Well, looks like we'll need to wash this towel and the blanket this time," she laughed as she cleaned herself. There was some on her finger so I reached for the corner of the towel to wipe it for her, but she pulled it to her lips, inserted it to the second joint, and then, looking me in the eyes, slowly pulled it out, her lips cleaning it of every drop.

"Wow!" she said. "That's really good. You know what? You're getting a blow job tonight when we get to the hotel. All the way. Every...single...drop."

I looked at her in surprise. "Seriously?" While she'd always enjoyed pleasuring me, in recent years we'd gotten in the habit of stopping her oral activity before I came so we could make love since I couldn't be sure if I'd have more than one ejaculation without waiting an hour or two for another chance.

"Yep," she said as she kissed me, my taste on her lips. Whispering, she added, "You'll be thinking about that for the rest of the afternoon, you'll be as horny as hell as a result, and, based on what we just saw, you'll be producing your spunk like crazy. I bet you'll have almost as much tonight as you did just now so I won't be surprised if we can make love again afterward."

She was grinning and I realized she was right; I doubted that I'd be able to get the anticipation of what she'd promised out of my mind for the entire afternoon. "You little minx! You're trying to make me think about it."

"Yep," she repeated in a sultry whisper. Nibbling my neck and earlobe, she added, "And I'm looking forward to it."

We got up on our knees on the blanket to dress, but Kathy, naked as the day she was born and looking like my personal Greek or maybe Irish goddess, looked around. "Sam, I really love this spot. You think maybe we could just stay here tonight?"

We had reservations nearby and didn't have the right equipment to camp outside so we knew it wasn't a real option. Besides, since we'd gone further upstream than originally planned, we were probably trespassing on private property, so naked and on our knees holding each other, we kissed a bit more and then started to dress.

When Kathy checked her sweater, her little Irish hat wasn't in it like we thought. We looked and looked, in the sweater, in our other things, and along the bank. We looked in the water and even up in the tree branches, but that little hat was nowhere to be found. I spent some more time searching the water from along the bank; it was clear and I could see the bottom, but that hat just wasn't there.

"Oh, I love me wee little hat," she said with her fake Irish accent that sometimes almost rivaled my own in its awfulness, but she grinned, knowing it. "And I suspect the leprechaun who stole it loves it too! You hear me, you little imp!"

We both laughed but I could tell Kathy was very disappointed at losing it. She confirmed it when she added, "Seriously, Sam, I hope we can find it. I like it a lot."

"I know you do, sweetheart. Let's look again, everywhere," I agreed. "It has to be here somewhere, so it'll turn up."

She nodded, hopeful, but two minutes turned to five and then ten and the hat was nowhere to be seen, including along the banks and out in the pool itself. Though it appeared to be very slow, I could see there was at least a little water flowing in from upstream and some flowing out downstream, so I wondered if it had fallen in and been carried downstream. We agreed to head that way to search.

At a shallow spot a short distance downstream, I took off my hiking shoes and socks and waded across to the other side. I doubled back upstream to the pool, searching that bank as I went, but saw nothing before we continued downstream.

Despite us searching both banks and as much as we could see of the middle, we'd found nothing as we reached the road where we'd started upstream earlier in the day. I climbed up the embankment and crossed the bridge to rejoin her. With the sun setting so late in Ireland in late June, we still had time to get dinner and make our bed and breakfast, but Kathy's look of disappointment made me almost want to continue our search.

"I'm so sorry, sweetheart, but I think it's lost."

"I know," she replied. "I gave up thirty minutes ago, but was still hoping that I was wrong, that we'd find it." She put her arms around me and pulled me tight. "Sam, I love you and I appreciate you looking so hard for it." She kissed me softly and then smiled, saying, "You know, I loved my hat, but...well, I guess I can just get another one."

We moved on and purchased her another hat the very next day. Though it looked very similar, it was still different, with Kathy seeing it as necessary to keep the sun out of her eyes and not as her personal fashion statement like the old one. She never really became attached to it like she had the old one.

A few days later, I spotted a jewelry shop in a town we were passing through so I suggested getting a new shamrock for it.

"Thanks, Sam, but no," she replied. "The magic of the first one is gone. That damn leprechaun took it with him."

***

With Matt away at college, things changed for us that fall when school started. We became freer and less constrained with our intimacy. The first time I took Kathy bent over the kitchen counter, she was more vocal than I'd ever seen, and it wasn't long before we were making love here and there and everywhere around the house like we were newlyweds once more.

When Kathy complained of being tired a few weeks into the school year, we chalked it up to our increased libido and adjusted our bedtime schedules a bit. That fixed the problem, allowing us to continue our play and still be ready to go to work well-rested the next morning.

By Thanksgiving, however, I noticed that she was going to bed even earlier.

"I've been dragging again, honey," she said. "Getting old, I guess. Maybe I'm starting menopause."

"Oh, Kathy, you're 46. That's not getting old! Go to your doctor and get checked out. If it's the onset of menopause, she should be able to give you some vitamins or hormones or something to make you feel better."

Kathy knew it and had already scheduled an appointment for a few days later with her physician. The doctor ran a battery of tests and then referred her to a specialist who delivered the bad news.

Treatment began just days later and it was hard on her. Even more than the pain, she was sad when her long blonde hair, that she'd always cared for so well, began falling out in clumps. I wanted to shave my head to match her, but she absolutely forbade it, saying that if she couldn't run her fingers through my hair when I was going down on her, it would make her sadder still. She got a short wig for daytime and a knit hat to keep her head warm at night. Then the pain of the treatments kept getting worse and our sexual activity had to come to a stop, depressing her further.

Kathy had to take a medical leave of absence for the second semester of the school year and by late January, my worry for her had turned to panic. She was getting worse by the day...and she knew it.

"Sammy," she said one evening, "with these treatments, what little energy I had is gone. I want you to promise me something, sweetheart."

"What, honey?"

"Remember that pretty little pool in Ireland where we made love and I lost my hat? When you're ready to move on after I'm gone—and that's not to be forever, sweetheart—take my ashes there and spread them around that pool so I can be there with it forever."

"Oh, Kathy, don't talk like that. You're going to be better soon," I said with hope but knowing that it wouldn't be true. Tears slipped down my cheeks as I held her, knowing that it probably wouldn't be long.

***

The cancer was aggressive despite the treatment and Kathy passed later that spring. We spent as much time together as we could during that time, talking and planning for a future together that we both wanted so badly but silently recognized we'd never see. Though we lived several hours apart, Kathy's sisters came to see her a number of times and were with us when she passed.

Her body was cremated as she'd wanted. All of Kathy's family showed up for her memorial service, as did many of our friends, Kathy's coworkers, and my cousin Brenda and her son Josh.

The house was quiet and lonely after Matt returned to college, with every nook and cranny practically paralyzing me with the countless memories of Kathy. While I loved our home, it wasn't the same without her and I had to make a change. Kris and Kelly, Kathy's sisters, and several of my friends came over to help me downsize and get the house on the market so I could purchase a smaller house nearby. While I kept numerous memories of Kathy, I left most of them boxed up where they wouldn't serve as constant reminders of her absence.

I kept up with my teaching responsibilities but my research lagged; if not for my concern for my grad students and their efforts, it might have stopped altogether. Not wanting to let them down, I buckled down on their research, but passed on a couple of other promising students that I would have normally snapped up in a heartbeat. My writing on my mythology book came to a screeching halt too.

Taking a sabbatical during the Fall Semester and only working with my grad students when they needed me, I slowly adjusted to Kathy's absence and life went on in spite of me.

***

"Dad? Mom's ashes are still here," said Matt when he was home for a visit nearly three years later. "Doesn't that creep you out?"

"No, son, but I've been thinking about spreading them. She wanted it done in Ireland, so when do you think you'd be able to make the trip with me to do it?"

"I don't know," he said, clearly uncomfortable about it. "I prefer to remember Mom as she was, not as dust. I'll come if you need me to, but...well, I'd really rather not. I've already said my goodbye, Dad; now, I think you need to say yours."

Matt was correct, I realized. While I still loved her and always would, I knew that she was gone and would want me to let her go. I was 52 years old and had recently begun to think of putting myself back out there, to find someone who might be a new companion to help ease my loneliness, after receiving offers of dates from several female acquaintances. With Kathy's ashes in that urn like an anchor holding me back, I'd politely declined, saying that I wasn't quite ready. Matt's little push was just what I needed to get me there. I called the attorney who'd helped with Kathy's will and probate.

We chatted for a couple of minutes before Jim asked what I needed.

"Jim, Kathy wanted to be cremated and wanted her ashes spread, but she told me to wait until I was ready. I think that time has come but I'm not sure how to proceed. She wanted her ashes spread at a certain spot in Ireland. From reading online, it looks like I need to have authorization from the Irish government as well as permission from the person who owns the pool of water where she wanted her ashes spread. Do you think you could help with that?"