The Goblin

Every night at midnight, the purple clouds came out to dance with the blushing sky. With their arrival, came a knowledge of things well beyond the average person’s ken. Such was not the case with Aoife. Even though she had turned sixty-four last October, Aoife still searched the purple clouds each night for she knew they held a mysterious power and could change the pattern of her life. It was only a question of when they would choose to point in her direction and say, “It’s your turn.”

From the bedroom window, Aoife could hear the chirping of crickets and the soft coos of owls floating across the dew-filled air, both heralding the midnight hour. In anticipation, she stood completely still. The flimsy curtain billowed in the breeze, floating about her to mimic the advancing clouds.

Bong….Bong…..Bong. From below, Aoife heard the triumphant chime of the grandfather clock. Two more strokes, and it was midnight....again. Aoife held her breath as she peered at the rose-hued sky, a fervent prayer from her lips. Despite the plea, however, only the crickets and owls responded, seeming to mock her long-awaited desire for something more.

Disappointed, Aoife sighed deeply. She was about to seek the solace of her bed when from below, the slightest movement caught her eye in the deepening darkness as the clouds receded. She squinted, attempting to identify who or what had created the movement, but any further sight of it eluded her. She closed the window, sure it had been only an animal.

From below, the distinctive sound of a knock broke the silence. Startled, Aoife quickly pulled the shawl from her rocking chair and wrapped it around her shoulders. Who in the world was here to see her at such a late hour? Carefully, she made her way down the old staircase. A light rap on the heavy paneled doors sounded again, assuring her that she had not imagined the first.

Pausing in front of the door and attempting to sound unafraid, she asked, “Who is it?”

“It’s Seamus. I’ve come a long way to see you.” A man’s voice, thick with a Celtic brogue, responded.

Aoife took three steps backward as if to escape. Who the devil was Seamus and what could he want with her? Surely he did not expect a woman all alone, such as herself, to answer the door for an absolute stranger.

In a sudden attempt at bravado, she barked, “I don’t care who you are – be on your way, I’ve no need of you this night.”

Nothing but quiet ensued for long minutes before the man spoke again, his voice oddly laced with humor. “Are you quite certain, Aoife? I’ve heard that you’ve been desiring something new. I am prepared this eventide to help you with just such an endeavor.” When the silence continued, he added, “I assure you, another opportunity will not present itself beyond the dawn’s light.”

Surprise flickered across Aoife’s face and a million questions surfaced in her mind. How did this stranger know her name? And how did he know anything about her innermost desires?

Suddenly, enlightenment struck. The clouds, the wondrous purple clouds, had surely sent this man named Seamus to her, whomever he might be. She was sure of it. Without further contemplation, she swung the door open wide.

Aoife studied the man who stood before her in the moonlight. He was unlike any other she’d seen. His hair was thick, a vibrant red, and his emerald eyes overflowed with glee as he returned the look she gave him. He was tall, lean, and dressed immaculately in dark clothing with knee-high boots. He held a riding crop at his side though there was no horse in sight. Her mind raced with doubts. Was he here to harm her or to help her? There was only one way to know.

“Well, come inside if you must,” she said, moving aside so the man could enter. “I’ll put the kettle on for some tea.”

“Oh, sweet Aoife, do you not have something a wee bit stronger than tea? It’s been a tumultuous journey this night,” the stranger said, doffing the hat he wore and laying it upon the table.

Aoife eyed the man with skepticism, but then nodded as she pointed for him to take a seat at the table. If indeed the purple clouds had sent this man her way, she had no time to waste and would gift him with nearly anything his heart desired. From the cupboard, she pulled a bottle of amber-colored liquid and two glasses, which she proceeded to fill. She’d likely need a strong drink of whiskey herself, she surmised.

As she placed the drink before him, she noticed that despite removing his hat, the man still held the riding crop across his lap. Why was he holding it as though his life depended on it? Keeping her thoughts to herself, she took a seat across from him and drank from her glass of whiskey. It would help to steady her nerves and allay her fears.

“Oh, but you’re a good woman, Aoife,” Seamus said with delight, following suit and drinking deeply of the whiskey.

Aoife studied him. While somewhat odd in appearance, he was still attractive, and certainly charming to say the least. She cleared her throat. “About the purple clouds, Mister…ah, Mister Seamus….”

“I insist you call me Seamus." He smiled, an engaging one full of mirth. "Indeed, Aoife. Your time has come. The purple clouds have at long last favored you, and I, Seamus, am at your service.”

“I’m not sure I understand. Whatever could you possibly do?” Aoife asked, perplexed as to how Seamus could help fulfill the long-held desires of her heart.

“Do you not know, Aoife?” Seamus gave her a playful wink before continuing, “I am a goblin and ready to make your desire a reality.” He suddenly grew serious. “Ah, but I’m guessing you’ve not met a goblin before, have you, dearie?”

Aoife slowly shook her head. She had, of course, heard many a story about goblins, but nary one goblin had ever made an appearance at her door before this night. Ah, well, it was about damn time.

Aoife picked up her glass of whiskey and drained it. “Well, I am ready, Mister Seamus. I have been ready for a very long time,” she said emphatically.

“I like your spirit, Aoife,” Seamus said and with one final swallow, he drained the last of the whiskey from his glass as well. He held it out for a refill. Aoife generously served him ample more.

Aoife’s heart soared. Here, at last, was her chance. In sixty-four years, she’d lived mostly alone, fending for herself despite the fact she’d married at sixteen but had to bury her husband ten years later. Despite ten years together, he had never proved to be more than a friend. She’d given birth to and raised three sons, but now they seldom spared a moment for a visit. Her life had mostly been lived alone, holding dear to her heart the memory of a long lost love named Paddy. How different things would have been had she married Paddy instead of her husband! Foolishly, she’d thought her husband could offer her so much more. But now, she had been gifted the opportunity to recapture what had been lost to her – the truest of love. Aoife’s heart swelled with joy. She could be young again and life offer so much more. In anticipation, she stood and smiled at Seamus.

“Let’s hurry and get this thing done. I told you I’m ready,” she urged the goblin.

“Are you sure you want to go back, Aoife?” he questioned. “You will not be able to travel back and forth between the two lives. Your children won’t be around for you to see again. Your life will be completely changed,” he cautioned.

Aoife’s smile turned to a scowl. “My sons aren’t around now! I’ve got my own life to live, and I told you, I’m ready.” Her heartbeat soared with excitement; she could scarcely wait to be young and with Paddy again.

Seamus stood and carefully lifted the riding crop. “All right, my dear Aoife. If you’re absolutely, positively sure, I’ll give you your heart’s desire and make you young again, and you'll be wife to Paddy, your true love.” His eyes grew steadily more serious with the words he spoke. “May you be happy, Aoife.”

With a wave of the riding crop, time changed in a purple-tinted flash.

****

Aoife awoke to the sound of roosters. The sun was breaking through the dingy window curtains as she opened her eyes. Confused for only a moment, Aoife bolted upright in the bed. She remembered full and well where she was supposed to be. Long, brown hair in lieu of gray strands fell about her shoulders. Joy encompassed her; she was young again. Still, this was not what she had expected; she was all alone in the bed.

Suddenly, Paddy burst through the door, his hair disheveled, his clothes rumpled and dirty. He was unshaven even though it was well past dawn.

“Aoife, the kids are hungry,” he barked, seemingly irritated by the fact she was still abed. “Why have you slept so late?”

“Pad...dy,” she stuttered. “I’m so happy to see you.”

Paddy spun about and glared at her in disbelief. “Happy to see me, are you? Well, how about being happy to see your six youngins in the next room! We have been ready for breakfast since sunup!” His irritation with unmistakable.

“Of course, Paddy. I’ll see to it right away.” Aoife smoothed her hair into a bun at the nape of her neck and threw the covers wide, suddenly self-conscious as she emerged from the bedsheets. Six children? How in the world had that happened? She blushed a bright red. Well, she knew precisely how it had happened, but still, six children?! She and Paddy were evidently very much in love. He had obviously just forgotten how much in light of the lack of breakfast.

Aoife was greeted by six bright-eyed, red-faced children between the ages of one and twelve when she entered the adjoining room. Small fingers tugged at the apron she hurriedly tied around her waist while tears streaked the faces of at least two children who begged to be held. Not taking the time to address their individual needs, Aoife quickly started breakfast. It wouldn’t do to upset Paddy any further. She smiled amidst the chaos. After all, they would have this evening to reacquaint themselves.

Aoife spent the day performing a variety of chores: cleaning, cooking, gardening, tending the kids, washing and mending clothes. In addition, Paddy expected her to help him in the fields where he grew potatoes and barley. Aoife assumed he had decided to farm instead of helping with his father’s mercantile business. While it didn’t make much sense as the mercantile business had been lucrative, Aoife told herself that money wasn’t everything. The love she remembered sharing with Paddy had been something spectacular that would surely carry them through thick and thin. Still, she couldn’t wait to sit down after supper and find out a bit more about what had transpired, leading them to this place and time. It was all very unexpected.

It was late in the evening before Aoife felt as though she had a moment to breathe. The children had all been fed, washed, and were now abed following dinner. She glanced at Paddy, who sat slowly rocking before the hearth, smoking his pipe, and reading a book. He seemed completely oblivious to her presence.

Aoife pushed stray strands of hair back from her face. She was sure she must look a fright for she was hot and tired after the stressful, busy day. She hurried outside where the air was cooler and gathered her thoughts. Pulling the kerchief from her head, she dipped it in the water pail and used it in an attempt to clean up a bit. She’d change for bed and then sit down for a very long, much anticipated conversation with Paddy. She could hardly wait. Butterflies of anticipation filled her stomach.

Quietly, so as not to interrupt Paddy in his reading, Aoife reentered the house and moved to the bedroom. She quickly changed into her bed clothes. Combing her hair, she decided to leave it down. Paddy had always loved her long hair, stroking it affectionately in their early years together. She couldn’t wait for him to stroke her hair again.

Upon entering the room, she thought Paddy still read from the book in his lap, but on closer inspection, Aoife learned that his head hung down upon his chest. Paddy had fallen asleep. Aoife's heart warmed at the sight. It had been a very long day. He must have been so exhausted after the long day - she knew she was. Still, there was so much she needed to say to this man. She must awaken him.

Aoife knelt down before the rocking chair. “Paddy. Wake up. Please wake up, dear Paddy,” she said, lightly laying her hand atop and stroking his knee.

Startled, Paddy jumped, opened his eyes, and sputtered. “What’s wrong? Why’d you wake me?” He stood upright, dislodging Aoife’s hand from his knee in the process. “How many times do I have to tell you not to wake me, woman?” he asked loudly, clearly exasperated by her actions.

Surprised by his anger, Aoife stood and studied the man in front of her. This was not someone she remembered so fondly from her youth. This was not the Paddy who had lingered in her memories for so many years. Who had he become?

“Paddy, dear, I just want to talk for a bit,” Aoife said, lightly touching her arm in an effort to reassure him.

“Talk? You want to talk when you know how tired I am, Aoife?” He pried her fingers from his arm before he continued. “What is it now? What could you possibly want to talk about? This better be good, Aoife, because I’m growing tired of your nonsense.”

Aoife stepped back and stared at Paddy in disbelief. She knew that despite giving birth to six children, she still made a pretty picture. She had believed that their reunion would be much more pleasant than it currently was, especially in view of the six sleeping children in the room next to them. But it seemed that time had not been a friend in other ways. Never had she been spoken to in such a disrespectful way.

Aoife squinted an eye at Paddy and poked his chest with a hard finger. “Just who the devil do you think you’re talking to, Paddy McLeod? How dare you speak to me like that! I’m your wife and the mother of your children - six children, that is! And while we’re at it, please tell me just why we’re working so hard on this farm to make ends meet instead of you helping with your father’s store?”

Paddy was clearly confused. “Are you daft, woman? You know we lost the store after my Pa died five years ago. This farm is our only means of putting food on the table and a roof over our heads. Why are you talking nonsense?” Still shaking his head, he headed toward the bedroom. “I’m tired and I’m going to bed. I’ll hear no more questions from you tonight, Aoife McLeod.”

Shaken, Aoife sat down in the rocking chair and stared into the fire. It blazed in a purple hue, taunting and reminding her of the purple clouds. She had truly believed they would bring a new destiny to her life. She had been so hopeful, but now that hope was gone.

She didn’t know how long she sat there after Paddy left the room. A dawning awareness filled her that love was so much more than butterflies in the stomach, affectionate strokes of the hair, and daily visits. She remembered the serious gravity she’d seen at the last moment in Seamus’ eyes as he’d lifted the riding crop. He’d known full well that she would learn her lesson far too late.

Deciding she needed something to give her courage to face each day forward, Aoife went in search of whiskey. She found it hidden high in a cabinet and poured herself a generous measure, wondering all the while if one bottle would do the job. Sitting at the table, she downed the glass and poured another. The amber liquid burnt as it traveled through her body, but hopefully, it would serve to warm the chill that had invaded her body and had nothing to do with the weather. Curse the bloody purple clouds. Never had she been in need of such drink so badly before.

****

Dawn was breaking, light streaming in through the long draperies that filled the window when Aoife stirred the next morning. She lifted her head from the table, still groggy from the amount of alcohol she had imbibed the previous night. The table was hard beneath her arms and head. She must have fallen asleep there instead of the bedroom. Well, that was all well and good. She had no desire to lay next to Paddy in the same bed anyway after the brief conversation - if one could call it that - they’d shared the night before.

Rubbing her eyes, Aoife wondered why the sound of roosters and hungry children was not yet filling her ears. Looking around, she stared wide-eyed at her surroundings. Loosening the bun at the nape of her neck, she found gray-streaked strands of hair. Relief encompassed her. She was no longer at the farmhouse, no longer Paddy’s wife, and no longer a young woman and mother of six. Instead, she was back at her home, back where she belonged. It must have all been a dream!

Utterly exhausted and relived at the same time, Aoife sank down into her seat again. Oh, but she could not wait to see her sons! Never would she have thought she would be so happy to be sixty-four years old again, living her mundane life in her all-too familiar home, and looking forward to seeing her children, but she was. Thank the heavens above that it had been nothing more than a dream, - albeit a horrible dream, but still only a dream.

Tears filled Aoife’s eyes. She knew she had been so foolish. She would never wish for anything more again, and she would never give Paddy McLeod another thought as long as she lived. Her husband, God rest his soul, had always treated her with the utmost care and affection, his respect for her all too obvious in everything he said or did. She wanted to weep, so intense was the breath and scope of her regret. Her husband had assuredly loved her even though he didn’t stroke her hair or whisper sweet nothings in her ear every day, and more to the point, she had loved him, too, more than she’d ever dreamt possible. The irony of it all did not escape Aoife. She would never forget the lesson she’d just learned. Life and love were so much more than the trivial, small things; they were the depth and dimension of a years well-lived and shared with someone else. They were respect and devotion, loyalty and friendship.

Aoife sat at the table for a long while. Perhaps she ought never to drink again, she thought, stifling a small laugh. She stood, and as she reached to put away the bottle of whiskey that had been left on the table, she stopped, her hand in mid-air. Before her on the table was not only her own glass, but another empty one, and along beside it lay a black hat.

Carefully, Aoife reached to lift the hat from the table. As she held it closer, she could see bright red strands of hair stuck to the dark material. Seamus. Seamus, the goblin, had been real. Did that mean what she had experienced had also been real? Maybe she shouldn’t have been so quick to damn the purple clouds. If they had truly brought Seamus to her world, giving her the opportunity to revisit a lost youth, at least they’d seen fit to restore her life when she’d realized her mistake. Yes, she’d never look at those purple clouds in the same wistful way again. They were far stronger and wiser than she'd ever recognized.

A loud knock sounded, and Aoife could hear laughter coming from the other side of the heavy doors. Perplexed, she quickly opened them. As she watched, six men and women entered, each hugging or kissing her in greeting.

“Morning, Mum. What’s for breakfast?” they all shouted in unison. “We’re starving.”