Page 67 of Priestly Sins

“Is it time for our picnic, pretty girl?” I ask. “And do you want to have it out here or in the car?”

“Car” and “In the car” hit me in stereo.

I laugh. It’s settled then. I remote start the vehicle and tell my girls to go pile in. I drape a blanket over Sirona and chase Clara with one just to keep her warm. Once in the car, I help her out of her coat, but cover her with the blanket. By the time we would make our way home, she’d have a heat stroke in that getup.

We make it back to Clifden and park outside the old stone castle the town is named for. We have our square lunch food and make up stories about the who might have lived there and what their lives were like. Our stories are definitely Disney and not the Brothers Grimm.

We wave at the sheep and give them silly names.

By the time we’re back out on the road, Clara is quick to fall asleep. I reach for Sirona’s hand and thread my fingers through hers. When I bring her knuckles to my lips for a kiss, she looks at me with contentedness in her body. If I’m not mistaken, I also see promise in her eyes.

Thirty-Four

Contentedness doesn’t last long, apparently. Seems the “give a dog to the girl without her mother’s permission” thing is frowned upon.

We walk in the door to a bum-rush of dog. He’s an Old English Sheepdog but black. Just a hint of white in the beard, an anomaly among the breed. Killian has kept him for two days and apparently has seen fit to drop him in the house, with no word, and retreat back to his house, sight unseen. He’s five months old, too much pup for the couple he started life with. They offered him free of charge, refusing my multiple offers, but asked for one accommodation, that he keep his name—Hagrid, so his adjustment goes smoothly. I couldn’t refuse.

“Hi, Hagrid!”

“What?” Sirona is in disbelief.

“What?!?!” Clara is thrilled.

“Sirona, Clara, meet Hagrid. He’s our new puppy.”

“Oh my God!!!” and “Oh my God” come at me in stereo in way different tones. I glom on to Clara’s since she’s more positive.

“Clara—” I start, prepared to mention going slow and offering the back of your hand and a gentle pet to the top of the head, when I realize she is rolling under a wriggling puppy, who is licking the boxed-food remnants from her chin and wiggling… everything!

“Sean!”

“Yes?” I snap to attention.

“What have you done?”

“I got our girl a puppy. He’ll win your heart, too. Promise.”

“But, Hagrid?”

“Part of the package. I’ll explain later.”

Her hand flies to her hip. She knows just from looking at her daughter that ‘later’ means nothing. That dog has stolen Clara’s heart and her his.

“But—”

“But…she needs a friend,” I whisper, trailing my fingers down her arm and grabbing her hand. “She needs companionship and something that anchors her here. We know. She doesn’t. Yet. Might as well make this as easy as possible. And look at him.” I turn my head to the fluffball. “He needs her too.”

The lone tear that drops down her cheek worries me.

“What is it, love?”

“I could never give her all this and you, in easy fashion, have just…”

“I want a life with you. I want a life with Clara. And with Hagrid, too.”

She nods but another tear joins the ranks. She plops down on the floor at the back door and says, “Here, Hagrid.”

He bounds up, licks her face and then pushes into downward dog, tail high and wagging, chest to the floor ready to play. “Woof.”