Free Song of the Silent Harp by BJ Hoff Page A

“She just…slipped away, Morgan. So quietly…so quickly…”
    Katie now came to stand beside Johanna, and Morgan released his brother to gather both little girls into his arms, giving them a hug and some feeble words of comfort before handing them back to their da. He turned and walked uncertainly toward Nora. When she lifted her face to look up at him, her grief was a raw, painful thing.
    Gently he eased her away from the priest, and she came to him with a choked sound of despair. As he held her, Morgan felt her trembling, sensed her frailty. The knife of sorrow dug even deeper into his heart, sharpened by a sudden thrust of fear for the small woman in his arms. Instinctively he tightened his embrace.
    â€œShe is gone, Morgan. Catherine is gone.” Muffled against his chest, Nora’s voice was little more than a whisper.
    â€œShhh, Nora.” He rested his chin gently on top of her head. “Catherine rests now. Her struggle is done.”
    While the priest prayed with Thomas and the girls, Nora went on crying softly in Morgan’s arms. He longed to console her, but at this moment he, who had spent most of his life fashioning just the right words for his feelings, could summon none at all to assuage her grief. He could only hold her steady and let her weep.
    After a time, her trembling subsided and she backed away, avoiding his eyes. “The old man is ailing now,” she said abruptly. “He took to his bed late this afternoon and has not got up since.”
    â€œOld Dan?” Morgan frowned. He shouldn’t be surprised; the elderly and small children were among those hardest hit by the Hunger and its companion diseases. But Big Dan Kavanagh had always seemed as invincible as the mountains of Mayo themselves, as enduring as the round tower on Steeple Hill.
    â€œI must get home,” Nora said, taking another step backward to free herself from his arms. “There’s no more I can do here for now, and I left Daniel John to see to Tahg and the grandfather.”
    Morgan nodded, noting the sooty smudges of exhaustion beneath her eyes, the ashen pallor of her thin, drawn face. “I’ll see you home, then.”
    â€œThat’s not necessary,” she said stiffly.
    â€œIt will soon be dark. Besides, you may need me to go for the doctor for Old Dan.”
    She shook her head. “I wanted to go myself this afternoon, but he wouldn’t hear of it.”
    â€œEven so, I’ll see you home.”
    She looked at him, saying nothing, then turned and went to have a word with Thomas.
    Outside, the last light of day had almost faded. The gloom-draped dusk was heavy with snow, and the sorrow from the cabin seemed to be carried on the wind.
    They walked along without speaking until Morgan broke the silence between them. “So then, how is Tahg? Any change at all?”
    Nora stumbled on a jutting ridge of ice, and he took her arm to steady her, tucking it firmly inside his own. “He’s so terribly weak,” she answered worriedly. “It’s as though he’s coughed away all his strength and has no more left inside himself. He coughs all the time now, night and day. The medicine Dr. Browne left with us doesn’t seem to help at all.”
    Morgan pressed her hand. “This cold weather is hard on a cough. Sure, and he’ll do better once spring comes.”
    When she said nothing, he added, “You must get some rest yourself, Nora. You’ll be no help to your family if you’re ill.”
    She gave a small, apathetic shrug but didn’t answer. Morgan felt her shiver and attempted to pull her closer to his side, but she firmly resisted.
    â€œIt was all so much easier when we were young,” he said with a sigh, primarily to himself. He was remembering other walks they had taken through the snow, in happier days. “Life was kinder then.”
    â€œFor you, perhaps,” she said tersely. “I hated being a