They came from the past...

Irish grandmothers and grandfathers, bringing blessings to young William, the newest in the family line...

and bringing stories to his mother, Angie.

As Angie struggles with decisions in her own twenty-first century life, ancestors from many different eras in Irish history tell of their own struggles and decisions; their own loves and losses, joys and sorrows; their own journeys, both on earth, and in the life after death.

Helen Kennedy's remarkable and unique novel will pull you into the Irish condition of years past, and into the human condition that transcends time.

CHAPTER ONE - AN OPENING

Dark-haired Angie, a woman of thirty-five, sat and rocked her newborn baby. Her rocking chair moved rhythmically on the braided rug in the nursery. A basket of clean laundry lay waiting in front of her as she sang to her little one.

"Oh, did you ever go across the sea to Ireland? And maybe at the closing of your day . . ."

As Angie sang of Galway Bay, a woman, warm and beautiful, appeared at the left of her rocking chair and smiled at the baby. Angie, deep in her song, did not notice. After a few minutes, the woman faded away.

" . . . but to sit and watch the moon rise over Claddagh . . ."

A second woman appeared, and admired the baby as the first one had. Then she, too, faded from view.

". . . and watch the sun go down on Galway Bay."

As Angie finished the song, she rose to put her little one in his cradle, unaware that a third woman had now appeared. When the baby was comfortably settled, Angie turned to the basket of laundry. "I'd better get these put away before the Christening," she told herself, speaking aloud to make herself do it. One by one, she lifted the tiny baby garments out of the basket and folded them neatly.

Peg, the woman that had appeared, leaned over the cradle as Angie continued to sort the laundry, unaware. "I was told there was a new O'Connell," Peg commented, smiling. "'Tis such a blessed event. He looks just like my own son's grandfar, William, himself with his thick black hair."

But Angie didn't hear the woman. She turned to look at her baby, then dropped the laundry impulsively and hurried out of the room. In a minute, she returned with a photo album and began scanning the pictures, leafing quickly through the pages. After several pages, she stopped and focused on one of the photos, looking intently from it to the baby. With a nod to confirm her thoughts, she reached to pick up the cordless phone off of a side table and dialed quickly.

"Mom," she said when her mother had answered, "the baby does look just like Billy. I know you don't think so, but his nose and eyes are the same as Billy's baby picture. And the hair, that black, thick hair - both Billy and Jenny have it." Angie listened a moment to the voice on the other end, and then continued. "I know all Bill's curls went when you cut his hair for the first time, and grandma Nellie said that happened when Uncle Clarence's was first cut, too."

Angie turned back toward the cradle as she spoke, and with a start finally noticed the woman leaning over the cradle. Angie began to rise in alarm, but relaxed as she felt a warmth from Peg, who was speaking softly to the baby. Recovering from her initial shock, Angie spoke into the phone with an expression of wonder.

"Well - uh - I have to go, Mom. I'll talk to you tomorrow. O.K. Thanks. Bye." With slow movements she turned off the phone and laid it back on the side table.

Peg still gazed at the baby, but now spoke to Angie. "They always sleep better on their stomach," she observed. "A comfort, for their little bellies don't wake them so often for food. And the straw . . . "

"Who are you?" Angie asked. "Are you answering the ad for a baby-sitter? Did Brian let you in?"

"I hope the straw you are laying him on is fresh," Peg went on. "There is no smell to it. The sweet smell of outdoors is good for little ones. And that ticking looks too thin to keep the reeds from breaking through."

"I asked you . . ." Angie began, but the woman suddenly faded away. Angie blinked and looked around, puzzled. "Straw?" she muttered. "Was that my imagination?"

The day after the Christening, Angie sat again in the same rocking chair, the baby asleep in the cradle. The chest of drawers and changing table now held stacks of presents, and Angie reached for a pen and a box of thank you cards from the side table to begin the process of thanking her generous friends and relatives.

The baby began to fret, and Angie reached a hand down to rock the cradle. As she rocked, the woman, Peg, was suddenly on the other side, and Angie stopped abruptly.

"M'foot is what I used for my own William," Peg remembered. "His cradle was by the table in the kitchen, and as I kneaded my dough, I rocked it with m'foot."

"Where did you come from?" Angie asked, perplexed. "How did you get in here?"

Peg ignored Angie, and continued to reminisce. "Me mither, of course, would not let him into the house, nor let m'father or brothers visit me."

Angie found that, strangely, she did not feel anxious in the presence of this mysterious woman, so she settled back to listen.

"I had to stay in the barn," Peg went on, "from the time my belly first started to grow. Sean, good brother that he was, and two years younger than me, brought my food out. 'Leave the tray by the door and be back!' mither called after him, and this he did, knowing her wrath. But Sean always would be bringing me an apple he saved or a piece of cloth for me to sew up something for the wee one.

"The other three and m'father - not a one came to see me all the five months that I was keeping the cow company, so afraid were they of her wrath. But of course, after the little one was birthed, and they heard him crying, that's when I saw the barn door open quietly and Dennis or Colin would be bringing me something warm to wrap him in or a little rattle he made up.

"That first week I was so involved with the caring of him and the living of him that I did not notice m'father until I heard the voice of her following in behind. 'She's been punished enough for her sin!' he shouted, and I looked up startled. Father was shouting out the barn door towards her who was in the yard. He then said, 'I've come t'take ya and the wee one where ya rightfully belong.'

"'I'll not be goin' to t'house where she's not wanting me!' I cried at father, but he was picking up the babe and walking him t'wards the stone house. As I knew she would, mither barred the doorway with her body, but father held the babe to him and pushed past her. She gave him her back and would not even turn to look at m'babe. Never will I forget m'pride when father stood to her back holding the little one. I had to turn aside quickly to dry the tears in my eyes. And, as if the saints had just made it appear, next to the hearth stood a cradle, all new and smooth and made of bog wood, the wood smelling like it was fresh cut before made into the cradle.

"I took the babe from m'father and lay him down, adjusting him on the mattress made of the raw linen cloth. And it was then that I settled on the name for him - William, after his grandfar, who was proud enough of his new grandson to let it show on his face."

Peg paused, a tear gleaming in her eye, and then faded away. Angie sat in silent amazement.