The Witches of Slievenamon

"TMI, Etain, much too much TMI," Caoimhe cringes but then smiles as she looks at me with raised eyebrows, reminding me that I should be having 'that word' with her sooner than I had imagined.

"Now, my father was gone before I was even born. I only knew his name was Ogma, but in truth he was the same father as my sisters. The family had moved to the seaside very near the port of Cork by then although it was not much of a port in those days, though many ships came and went it was such a good harbour; my dear sweet sister Dubheasa was another two years behind me, She was dark skinned and brown eyed, her father Elloth was a trader in spices and was also dark skinned, I always thought he was from Africa because of the colour of his skin and that he traded in fruits, fruits that I had never seen before. Again, he fogged everyone's mind, so even Mother never cottoned on to him being the seventh version of the same Tuath Dé. Elloth stayed with us for about eight years, which was his longest ever stay, although he made many long sailing trips so in truth he probably returned regularly enough to the Otherworld to satisfy the requirements of the Treaty and used the portals to bring back fresh fruit for the market. And we all thought he must've been the quickest sailor in the world! Elloth and my sister Dubheasa died of a fever when I was 10, at least that's what we were told at the time. And that was the last time my mother married. It was the last time Our father came to our world. I was very close to my step-father, Elloth, he was the closest person to a father figure in my life, although Kaetlynn's last husband Piotr Wisniewski was a darling who Kaetlynn felt she could never replace and that determined her to leave this world once she saw that Caoimhe didn't need her any more."

"Oh, Etain, I did need her. I really miss her so much," Caoimhe wails.

"I know you do need someone, so that is one of the reasons I allowed Kaetlynn to persuade me to come here. The next few years can be tough on a girl with only one parent, I know that from experience, but it must be even harder than I had it without a mother or older sisters who have endured the stages of change from childhood to adulthood. I think Bebhinn also felt that Kaetlynn's time here was running short and opted to move to the Otherworld first. Kaetlynn met your mother Ella as she was trying to sell both these houses and after meeting her decided to take her cottage off the market and stay for a while."

"So you are staying here instead?" Caoimhe asks hopefully.

"Aye," Etain nods, "and will stay here for as long as I am needed."

"Thank you, Etain," Caoimhe reaches across the table with both hands, which Etain takes in both hers.

Caoimhe squeezes her hands and releases the nearest one to hold onto one of mine. So I reach across and hold Etain's hand and we all smile at each other. I feel like we are becoming a family, the first real family that Caoimhe has known.

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 11: DREAMS?

I sigh contentedly on Friday morning and remain in the warmth under my comforter even though I feel the need rising within my bladder to use the bathroom soon. I think I can hang on a little longer though, not wanting to disturb Etain, whose lovely head is resting on my chest, her light snoring reminding me of the slumbering bees who are probably only now waking up for another long day of pollen foraging.

Yes, Etain is still sleeping in my bed, five nights on from that first night. She has done so ever since she begged to stay with me on Sunday night after Caoimhe retired early ready for school next day, the poor girl exhausted after the excitement of the weekend with the unique Etain as our guest.

I had been exhausted too, and I confess that I put up little resistance, agreeing with her sentiments that, "although I know that I love you Richard, I want to be absolutely certain of our mutual feelings before we ... you know. Can I somehow 'soothe thy savage breast' by singing to you?"

Well, it has been a long time for me to share a bed with anyone, let alone a beautiful maiden and, even though it seems odd, even as the thought crosses my mind again, knowing she tells us that she's at least about 1600 years old, I just cannot help react to how young she looks and conscious too, if we did settle into the long term relationship that she seems to desire, that when I'm seventy and clearly mortal and running out of time, she'll still look only twenty and remain as immortal as only a true goddess can be.

In a matter of just a few days, Etain has insinuated herself into every aspect of our lives, my daughter and I.

Even though her house has had the electric power restored and she still prefers cooking half our meals over her own open peat fire, she is learning how to use our switched on domestic appliances.

She cooks our breakfast every morning and most of our main meals, and prepares Caoimhe's school snack box to take with her for lunchtime.

So Etain sleeps with me at night, testing my resolve to keep my hands off her delectable body every night and every morning.

Now she spends most of the day with me too, travelling to my various work sites in my car or, if I am at home making online meetings or updating servers remotely, she will do the housework or continue to explore the extensive grounds on her side of the cottage and forage for fantastic foodstuff that I didn't even know existed.

Then we collect Caoimhe from school together, which almost makes me feel that we are becoming a family. And, of course, Etain has instantly got on with the Moms that we share the school runs with. They don't have the same school bus system here as in the US, due to the short distances and the schools are much smaller and more neighbourhood based.

Some of the Moms were sending me moving eyebrows and winks. They think that Etain is a perfectly sweet young woman but then they don't know that she's a powerful witch, who can calm me with a touch of a finger, and immortal so she will outlive me and my child's children and my grandchildren's grandchildren.

It is a lot to think about as we lie there at dawn.

I think that she goes to the faerie ring too, and even went out Wednesday in the middle of the night, as I noticed her gone when I woke up alone in the middle of the night. I didn't hear her go or even feel her return but she was back here Thursday morning, much as she is this morning, Friday.

She snuffles and hums with a low drone sometimes. She never really disturbs me, if anything her presence is a comfort, and she is always warm to the touch.

***

Monday I had actually travelled with her through the Faerie Ring to a similar portal in Cork, behind a garage in an overgrown garden from where I called a cab to pick us up. They don't have Uber or Lyft in Ireland but there are plenty of local cabs listed online.

What of my brief experience in the Otherworld?

Well, not much to say other than it is mind boggling to take in while you're there.

I was only there for about 90 seconds on the way to Cork and only about five minutes on the way back. First of all the bramble area of wood in my back yard was replicated in the Otherworld, only there were no brambles, nor was there a wood, just grass land and rolling hills as far as I could see, under a gorgeous blue sky, while in my back yard it was overcast and drizzling. We took one step in and the brambles disappeared back to the Ordinary World, leaving us in grassland.

We walked down a well trod grass path, around a thicket and into an unfenced and overgrown back yard.

As soon as we stepped into that yard, the heavens opened up with heavy rain and the garden was suddenly enclosed by a close boarded fence, with a boarded up house at one end.

Frighteningly unreal transitions from one world into another and back again, with no sign of another soul ... or devil or god for that matter.

A gate next to the sealed-up and part derelict house enabled us to get out of the garden into a Cork street which was just a short cab ride to the office where I had to spend half the day setting up and testing a new server.

While there, the beautiful Etain, never far from my side, chatted and charmed all the men and women she met in the offices. She even went out of her way to touch one woman who Etain told me later she sensed had a difficult time in her immediate future and had a quiet word of advice for her to avoid what was to happen. Etain said the woman was almost in tears in gratitude because no-one had understood what torment she was going though or had the solution that Etain suggested.

Living with a witch is never going to be dull, that's for sure.

We went back home after my work, through a different garden this one at the back of a pub in the centre of Cork, stepping out of that wet beer garden into the warm sunshine of the Otherworld again. This time it was a longer walk to find the edge of my back yard bramble patch, which took us back home in a matter of steps into overcast skies and the fresh ozone of recent rain.

***

While I lie here reminiscing over my last five days with Etain, I feel her move. Looking down at her lovely head resting on my chest, I see her eyes blink open as she smiles at me.

"Were you away with the faeries and dreaming, Richard?" she asks, her voice still husky from sleep.

"No, I never dream. I was just thinking about our two short journeys through the Otherworld, and how strange that the transition seems so, well neat and tidy. If it wasn't sunny there and raining here, I wouldn't even feel the transition."

"Well, now that I know I have a right to be there in the Otherworld, it sort of takes the edge off," she grins. "When I rushed past that Faerie folk on my very first foray into the unknown, I was shaking with excitement and hid for all the days I was there from everyone, fearing that they would hold me until I was forced to slake my thirst and be trapped there forever."

"But you were not trapped."

"No, but I didn't know that I wasn't in danger. I thought I was a trespasser and I still feel that I don't belong there. I still refuse to eat, drink or sleep while there, all the while I still have the calling to return to this place, the world of my birth." She sighs. "Is it time to get up yet?"

"No, we've twenty minutes before we need to get Caoimhe up from her sleep and feed her breakfast. Were you out at the faerie ring last night?"

"No, not last night, remember it will be Friday night tonight and I promised that we are going dancing together," she smiles. "So, were you not dreaming of me just now?"

"Thinking of you, yes. I seem to be doing a lot of that ... ever since you appeared into my life soaked to the skin a week ago, I seem to be thinking of nothing else but you."

"And now you're making me wish that I had listened to Kaetlynn all those years ago and met you and Caoimhe then. I am sorry. It took me a long time to make up my mind what was best for me. I rarely act on impulse. Now I realise that you are the answer to my dreams and my only worry is that I will not fulfil the promise of your own dreams."

"I never dream while I sleep, Etain, at least I never remember any dreams when I wake."

"Not even nightmares?"

"No, Etain, never had nightmares. Caoimhe used to when she was younger."

"That is so odd, Richard, that you do not dream, or you think you don't dream. Almost everyone that I've known dream. I'll ask Kaetlynn whether that means anything. Now, what do you know of Irish myths?"

"I only know of your Finn MacCool, that he was a giant who made or destroyed the Giant's Causeway in a fight with some Scottish giant. I think I only heard of him through Ella, possibly after she spoke with your sister Katie. I mean, I now know a bit about Faerie Rings and the like and about witches, but I only ever heard of the Witches of Salem kind that we had in the States, but never heard of any witch stories in Ireland."

"We Irish witches are quiet by nature and we only do good, not evil. My sisters and I were caught out by a sense of injustice, not malice and were punished for our reaction."

"Well, I don't blame you for what you did, they were cheats who deprived you of a deserved victory, although the hero at the centre of the story was a cheat and liar," I say, adding, "What other myths should I know?"

"There are many, Richard," she smiles and, with questioning eyebrows, asks, "So you've not heard anything of the Irish legends of Changelings?"

"No, I don't think I even heard of them. What are they?"

"Ah, well, Changelings are people who are cursed to occupy other people's lives, never their own, often they bring mischief and devilment to normal children's lives."

"What, by taking over bodies and changing from a sweet and child to one who's been a permanent pain in the butt for the last couple of years?" I say with a degree of feeling but temper my comment with a smile.

"No, Richard, Caoimhe is not a Changeling, she is merely a girl forced to grow up quicker than she should because her only parent is a man, admittedly an adorable one, and doing the very best for his daughter he can, but Caoimhe needs a mother right now and will do for the next few years. You already sense this and dread telling her about sex and menstruation and strategies for dealing with it."

"I thought you couldn't read my future?"

"I can't but I know a little about you and know the solution," Etain smiles, "and I'm applying for the job, it's the only job I've applied for since meeting the King of all Ireland somewhere back in the mists of time for my messenger role."

"Well," I say giving her a squeeze, "the job is yours but I'm not sure what I can offer you in return."

"Your heart, Richard," Etain breathes in reply before she sweetly kisses my hairy chest with her soft warm lips, "that, is all I want."

Xxxxxxxxxxxxxxx

Chapter 12: MOMS' MORNING

All Fridays drag, but some more than most.

Well, this Friday drug on like the rain of Ireland had gotten into and dampened down the sands of time.

But even in the worst of Fridays there are always high points in every day and the weekly coffee mornings that my school run group hold every Friday is one of them.

Most Fridays during the school year, around 35 weeks out of the 52, the group of Moms that share our particular school run always get together for a coffee morning (even though most of them actually drink tea by preference to my favourite bitter brew) and we take turns to have it in our houses each week so your own turn as host only comes up every couple of months or so.

The group pick Fridays for our little get-togethers as it is the day they collect their messages for the weekend (that means their groceries in local-speak) during late morning before lunch and they tend to do the housework in the afternoon. I try and work my schedule around them, especially when it's my turn to be host.

Last Friday I had to give the coffee morning a miss because I had a sales appointment in Cork that I couldn't put off, but this week it is my time to host the event so it is a "must-do". It is basically a gossip-fest for the Moms and I find the experience both edifying and terrifying at the same time.

What is expected for this event?

Well, tea and coffee is obviously expected, with milk, sugar, various sweeteners and, absolutely necessary, is some kind of cookie or cake on offer which is expected to be home-made rather than bought.

Generally, we RSVP our likelihood of attendance during the week so that the host knows how many are coming and can cater accordingly. There's about 10 of us in the group all living south of Thurles and usually three or four of us drive each day and pick up between 2 to 4 kids, so it works out that everyone gets roughly about 2 or 3 mornings a week off to do other things, which gives us work flexibility. I usually pick up Caoimhe every afternoon and occasionally the odd child or two in addition to drop off. We use the MeWe app among the group so we know who's picking up who and it works brilliantly and no-one gets left behind.

I couldn't take Caoimhe to school last Friday, or attend the coffee morning at Moira Duggan's house, because I had to be in Cork early, but this week it is my week to host the Friday coffee morning, so I have to bite the bullet and go through with it.

You'd think my testosterone would drown in a sea of oestrogen at these coffee mornings but, while all the Moms are my age or younger, and most are quite attractive and have become relaxed in my company, they are all happily married. I would say marriages are more stable here in Ireland than my experience in the States. Anyhoo, I have never bothered them with nasty "pick-up" lines and do try my hardest not to ogle them when the weather is warm and they dress, well, minimally shall we say. I've never "hit" on them and in response they treat me like an honorary Mom.

No, that's wrong. To them I am apparently a "poor wee Gosoon'' they seem to have made it their life's work to "pair me up" with someone. They introduce me to sisters, cousins and neighbors who just "drop in fer a chat" and when they do the only seat available for them is sitting right next to me. It's obvious and I hate it but they mean well, which makes the exercise well, nice, I guess.

Normally we get three or four Moms turn up for coffee or tea when I attend, and slightly more turn up when I don't, probably because I'm the main subject of the gossip. I can tell who attends when I'm absent because they are listed as RSVPs on the cell phone app and it soon becomes obvious.

This week all ten of them are coming, without a single one crying off, no doubt because all during this week Etain has been joining me on my two morning turns on the school run and the four afternoon pick-ups so far, and now they want to know all about her.

Meaning they really want to know about her AND me rather than just about her.

It would blow their minds the things I could tell about HER! But I cannot, of course, on the one hand who would believe me?, and if they did and told anyone else, the knowledge of who Etain really was would destroy her life and ours.

So, dear readers, if only for my sake, regard this whole thing as fanciful nonsense for our own amusement, would you not?

Anyhoo, it means holding the event in my sitting room and borrowing Kaetlynn's kitchen chairs as well as moving my own kitchen chairs into my snug sitting room to ensure we can all sit down with plates on our laps and mugs in our hands and still just about have room to breathe.

Years ago, when Caoimhe started school and I was roped into the school run group and the coffee mornings started, I had to go out and buy a whole load of mugs from a charity shop and, over the years, I have acquired a number of different designs that I felt were appropriate to individual members of the group, much to their amusement, and now most of the group have done the same at their own mornings. I have a number of mugs at other houses that are stars'n'stripes or Uncle Sam and one Captain America.

Yes, I admit, I actually find these coffee mornings and the chat and gossip that goes on a fun hour or two. That makes me feel more human than merely what I really am, which is a geek leaning towards lonely nerd.

I usually make cookies or brownies for my host duties but Etain offers to make a couple of Porter cakes and a Bannock, the first cakes made with beer and the second a sweet soda bread with currants added. I wonder if the beer cake is wise, but Etain assures me that pretty well all the Moms have spoken to her during the week about the upcoming Friday coffee morning at "our" place already and between them discussed and agreed the fare to be served.

I'm easy with Etain's choice as hostess, as I only have to fill the kettle and the coffee maker. Etain even makes her special blend of tea available. I do wonder about what's in the tea, as a non-tea drinker normally, I find that Etain's tea is both refreshing and calming.