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But he had been making similar excuses for days and he knew that the longer this went on the harder it would be to talk about. He could allow no further delay.
He lifted and placed another rock carefully into the gap in the wall. His mind was made up; it was now or never. He left the dry-stone wall and strode down the gentle incline past bleating, black-faced sheep and hens that flapped noisily aside to where Caitlin was pegging a towel on the clothes line. She had her back to him—a strong, broad-shouldered back for a woman—and he watched her for a time, unsure again of what to say or of whether he even wanted to say it. Once he glanced up at the wall where he had been working and was on the point of going back discouraged, when Caitlin turned and saw him.
“Michael, you made me jump, standing there.” She pegged another towel on the clothes line.
“The last time I saw you, you were up at the top of the field.” She smiled at him, her eyes squinting against the bright spring sunshine.
“What’s wrong, Caitlin? What’s happening between us?”
Caitlin’s smile turned to a worried frown. “Nothing’s wrong, Michael. What makes you think there is?”
“Don’t I even get a kiss these days?” Michael looked away, embarrassed.
Caitlin’s smile faded, and she too looked away but with feelings of guilt.
Michael was hurt and frightened. “Something’s wrong, Caitlin. Have I done something? Have you found someone else?”
“No, of course not.” Caitlin turned her eyes to his and then lightly kissed him on the forehead.
Michael was unmoved. “You’re not telling me what’s wrong, Caitlin. You’ve been avoiding me. You’ve been sneaking off to the church often enough but you haven’t come once to the cottage.”
Anger was creeping into his voice, and he tried to check it. He paused and looked back at the stone wall, almost as if he were on the point of returning there. But he stayed, and his face and his voice were troubled. “You’re acting different, Caitlin. You’re not yourself. And you seem distant now, as if you wanted nothing more to do with me. I’ve been afraid to go to your room at night. It’s Padraig, isn’t it? You’re in love with him again. Maybe you’ve never stopped loving him.” All of Michael’s fears poured out in an anguished flood of words.
Caitlin placed a hand on Michael’s arm. “Yes, I have been going to the church, but not because of Padraig. I don’t love him anymore. I love you,
Libros Libertad 