Bold Fenian Men
Chapter Forty-Four
Ten years later ...
- - -
The thirty-one year old Padraig Caraher sat in his living room, thinking about what had happened ten years ago, to the day. The day that everything had been settled, the day everything had ended after four years of dirty fighting, grief and war.
Padraig was still Commanding Officer, but his job was made a lot easier by the absence of a successor to McAllister. Nearly the entire West Belfast UVF had been wiped out by Padraig's unit in those years of bloody war, and no one dared to challenge the IRA under Padraig Caraher's command again. Padraig knew it might happen again, but there were now voices in the hall and he didn’t want to think of the darker days.
"Da!" Proinsias, Padraig's ten-year-old son and eldest of his five children, ran into the room. Padraig laughed, picking up his son who was the double of him all ready.
"All right, kiddo?" he asked. "Did you all have a good time?"
"It was really fun!" Proinsias said. "For a shopping trip, anyway! We got ice cream!" There was laughter as someone came into the room, and Roisin Caraher came in with the couple's other children: seven-year-old Sean, five-year-old Tómás, their two-year-old daughter, Saoirse, and baby Gearoid, who was a month old.
"You must be mad, oh crazy wife of mine." Padraig kissed Roisin on the head as she came in with the Caraher children.
"They were as well-behaved as they could get." she laughed. "And I hope they won’t blurt out what we got you for Christmas."
"I'm sure they won't." Padraig smiled as they settled down, the older children going out into the street to play, and baby Gearoid falling asleep in his father's arms.
"How ar you feeling?" Roisin asked softly, knowing that Padraig sometimes got edgy on this day of the year.
"I'm fine." Padraig assured her.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. I'm just glad nothing like that is happening anymore. I can get back to what the IRA is about. Fighting for Ireland." Roisin smiled and leant against Padraig, and there they stayed until the elder children came in and started asking about dinner. Roisin got up to get something cooking, and Padraig took the bottle from beside him and went to warm it up, sitting down at the kitchen table to feed baby Gearoid. He smiled as his son put his little hands around the bottle, watching Padraig with big green eyes as he drank. All of his children had inherited his green eyes.
He thought back over the years. Never did he think he'd see himself feeding a baby, but here he was. Cillian and Cearnaigh had experienced the same thing over the years as well. It was a sign of how things changed, he guessed.
He never wanted anything to change again. He was just glad everything was over, and he could do what he was used to: love his family and love his country. That was all he asked for.
- - -
The thirty-one year old Padraig Caraher sat in his living room, thinking about what had happened ten years ago, to the day. The day that everything had been settled, the day everything had ended after four years of dirty fighting, grief and war.
Padraig was still Commanding Officer, but his job was made a lot easier by the absence of a successor to McAllister. Nearly the entire West Belfast UVF had been wiped out by Padraig's unit in those years of bloody war, and no one dared to challenge the IRA under Padraig Caraher's command again. Padraig knew it might happen again, but there were now voices in the hall and he didn’t want to think of the darker days.
"Da!" Proinsias, Padraig's ten-year-old son and eldest of his five children, ran into the room. Padraig laughed, picking up his son who was the double of him all ready.
"All right, kiddo?" he asked. "Did you all have a good time?"
"It was really fun!" Proinsias said. "For a shopping trip, anyway! We got ice cream!" There was laughter as someone came into the room, and Roisin Caraher came in with the couple's other children: seven-year-old Sean, five-year-old Tómás, their two-year-old daughter, Saoirse, and baby Gearoid, who was a month old.
"You must be mad, oh crazy wife of mine." Padraig kissed Roisin on the head as she came in with the Caraher children.
"They were as well-behaved as they could get." she laughed. "And I hope they won’t blurt out what we got you for Christmas."
"I'm sure they won't." Padraig smiled as they settled down, the older children going out into the street to play, and baby Gearoid falling asleep in his father's arms.
"How ar you feeling?" Roisin asked softly, knowing that Padraig sometimes got edgy on this day of the year.
"I'm fine." Padraig assured her.
"Are you sure?"
"Of course. I'm just glad nothing like that is happening anymore. I can get back to what the IRA is about. Fighting for Ireland." Roisin smiled and leant against Padraig, and there they stayed until the elder children came in and started asking about dinner. Roisin got up to get something cooking, and Padraig took the bottle from beside him and went to warm it up, sitting down at the kitchen table to feed baby Gearoid. He smiled as his son put his little hands around the bottle, watching Padraig with big green eyes as he drank. All of his children had inherited his green eyes.
He thought back over the years. Never did he think he'd see himself feeding a baby, but here he was. Cillian and Cearnaigh had experienced the same thing over the years as well. It was a sign of how things changed, he guessed.
He never wanted anything to change again. He was just glad everything was over, and he could do what he was used to: love his family and love his country. That was all he asked for.
♠ ♠ ♠
The End =)