Steenie O'shea: Seanachais

By Mali Berger

On February 2, 2002, the Seanachais (Gallic for storyteller) Steenie OShea of Galway, Ireland, discloses to her young niece, Aine, the mysterious family secret that occurred in 1977. The narrator describes Steenies amnesia and its effect on author, Maeve McCourt, in Fountain Hills, Arizona. What is the source of identical books created by the two storytellers, an ocean apart, the same year? Maeve travels to Galway, meets the OShea bookshop clan and enters into the strange evolutionary transformation of the Blues. Travel with the OSheas from the Sligo of W.B. Yeats down the coast of Galway Bay to The Burren as the venture becomes more and more convoluted, entangled with a 350,000 year-old mystery.

Maurice Meehan, Steenies fiance, a poet of the sea, disappears in 1974, shortly before their wedding day. Did he drown with his Da and brothers in the curagh accident off the Aran Island of Inishmaan where J.M. Synge lived and wrote his plays? What is the "Third Way" and its connection between Belfast and the Giants Crossing in Northern Ireland?

Mali Berger, storyteller of this fiction thriller,
combines mystery, romance and philosophy in her fey Irish happening, enticing, entrapping the reader into this strange OShea family secret.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Jun 14, 2002
• ISBN: 9781465322685

Mali Berger

The author of seven books, including three novels in the Irish Trilogy, Steenie OShea, Aines Story and Niamh River, that takes place in Galway, Ireland, Mali Berger has also published short stories, a memoir and a book for children. In addition, she writes bi-monthly articles for the Arizona Authors Association. Mali taught American Literature in Michigan and Chinese Universities as well as The Dalton School in Manhattan and presently balances life between New York City and Galway, Ireland with visits to Dublin. Her love for drama and the theater as well as bundles of books from Kennys Book Shop in Galway are mirrored in her stories.

Book preview

Steenie O’ Shea

SEANACHAIS

Mali Berger

Copyright © 2002 by Mali Berger.

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

To order additional copies of this book, contact:

Xlibris Corporation

1-888-795-4274

www.Xlibris.com

[e-mail]

Contents

Part I

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Part II

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Ten

Eleven

Twelve

Thirteen

Fourteen

Fifteen

Sixteen

Seventeen

Eighteen

Nineteen

Twenty

Twenty-One

Twenty-Two

Twenty-Three

Part III

One

Two

Three

Four

Five

Six

Seven

Eight

Nine

Epilogue

Acknowledgments

TO CHRISTINA ARGUETA, ERIC BERGER AND SILVI BERGER, MY TREASURED BLUES, WHO TRAVEL THE THIRD WAY, EACH FOLLOWING THEIR OWN PATH.

I see my life go drifting like a river From change to change; I have been many things—

-W. B. Yeats, Fergus and the Druid

Part I

One

GALWAY CITY, IRELAND

FEBRUARY 2, 2002

AUNT STEENIE?

Yes, Áine.

Please tell me the family, hush-hush secret. About you and Aunt Brigid? That mysterious story that Mam keeps hidden from me.

It’s not a secret, Áine, just a strange happening. A peculiar serendipity. I’m surprised Deirdre didn’t share it with you. That was 25 years ago, too long for family mysteries. I was 27, Brigid 30 and your Mam only 19.

Mam always says the same thing. That’s Steenie’s story to tell, not mine.

Put the kettle on for tea, fill the plate with scones because it’s going to be a long night. How old are you, dear niece? Seventeen it is, am I right? She gazed fondly at the copper-haired teenager with long strands sliding like silk down her shoulders. Long past time for you to know the O’Shea’s true Irish story, that fey incident. Where shall I begin?

How were things in the beginning, Aunt Steenie? You’re the storyteller, the family Seanachais. Just tell me a story. Her green eyes shone with excitement as she settled back in anticipation.

1977

Steenie O’Shea awoke, opened her eyes, closed her eyes, burrowed back under the quilt and covered her head completely. Peering out a few moments later, she shook her head in dismay.

Where am I? What is this place? She sat up in bed and curiously looked around. Persimmon walls, burgundy ceiling and lemon drapes. She crawled out of bed to stand barefoot on the wooden floor and then, tentatively, crossed over to pull the drapes.

The sea! How beautiful. I’ve never seen this view in my entire life. Chilled, she slipped on the lavender robe, carelessly thrown over the plum chair and groped her way to the full length mirror.

Something’s wrong. I’ve never seen me before, either. Short red hair, deep blue eyes, 5’5 and 120 pounds," she estimated aloud.

I must have hit my head last night. Drank too much at the bar. But how did I end up in this color-crazed spot?

Catching sight of a handbag, she dug deeply and found a billfold. A bit shaky, she saw the driver’s license. Steenie O’Shea, 7 Aran Way, Galway City,

Ireland. Birth date? February 2, 1950. The photo is definitely me. I’m Steenie.

Ireland. I’ve never been in Ireland in my whole life. What’s going on? This is scaring me. Calm down. You look okay, quite pretty in fact, and this room is adorable.

Steenie opened the bedroom door and peeked out into a burgundy painted hall.

Anyone here?

Silence. She cautiously checked out a second orange bedroom and purple tiled bath. Gingerly holding the railing, she slowly slipped down the wooden stairs that opened out into the living room.

At least my friend has a lively color imagination. Aqua walls, blue ceiling, cream lace curtains and pink patterned sofa and chairs. Whew, this is the most colorful place I’ve ever been in.

Steenie wandered to the left, opening a door into a bright yellow kitchen. I’m in a dream. This can’t be happening. She crossed the floor to open the back door and stand on the porch.

7 Aran Way. Suddenly she raced back through the living room and opened the front door. Over the door she read, 7 Aran Way.

Bending down, she retrieved the morning paper. Inside again, she read the date on the newspaper; February 2, 1977.

I’m 27, appear to live on 7 Aran Way in Galway City, Ireland, in the most colorful house I’ve ever seen. Maybe I’m an artist or a house painter, but why can’t I remember anything at all beyond waking up this morning at 10 A.M.?

The doorbell startled her.

Mornin’ to you, Ms. O’Shea, you’ve got lots of mail this lovely day, said the cheery postal worker. Smiling her thanks, Steenie investigated the mail hoping for some memory link. Nothing.

Steenie O’Shea fell down on the pink sofa. What’s going on? I’m frightened. Take it easy, girl. You’ve just got a memory lost. Something happened last night. You ‘re just fine. Relax, take a shower, go back to sleep, when you wake up this will just be something to tell your friends.

Shower, sleep and Steenie O’Shea awoke the second time. She dressed in jeans and warm shirt of aqua-pink design, returned down the stairs to the yellow kitchen, put the kettle on and found some scones in the refrigerator.

Searching through the cupboards, she chose a large green cup for tea and rested at the round kitchen table with her morning newspaper. Her hands shook as she sipped the hot tea. The loss of her mind sent chills through her body.

Still don’t know who I am or at least don’t remember my identity. What do I do? Should I be at a job somewhere? No clues in the paper.

After eating she snuggled on the sofa, covered herself with a quilt to sleep some more, hoping that rest was all she needed to awake into full memory. Didn’t work.

By mid-afternoon, conditions still hadn’t changed. Steenie decided to take a walk, maybe meet someone who knew her. Outside, she investigated the house.

What an adorable cottage. White stucco with paintings and thatch roof. I must be an artist. Could I have drawn those wildflowers and green ivy circling the door and windows? I don’t think so. Somehow I don’t feel that creative.

Drawn to the sea, she slowly walked past other cottages and followed a path down to the water’s edge. I’m a blank sheet, an empty page in a novel about Steenie O’Shea at 7 Aran Way. At lease I have a beautiful place in which to lose my memory. Blue-green sea, sand beaches as far as my eyes can see and over there—three islands. Lost in space and time, she caught a glimmer of memory, something about those islands, she thought.

2002—Seanachais

Well, Áine, that’s the beginning, said Steenie.

You actually lost your memory—in this very cottage—where we are sipping tea and eating scones? excitedly asked Áine.

She jumped up and clutched the kettle. Here, let me refill your tea cup. Are you okay?

Yes, I want to tell you my idiosyncratic story. Throughout the whole painful experience I made fortunate discoveries, accidentally.

What happened next, Aunt Steenie? What did you do? Who helped you?

This is the part when your Uncle Daniel came to my aid.

Steenie O’Shea slipped back into the Seanachais story.

1977

Dejected, Steenie slowly walked back to the cottage. As she opened the door, the phone rang. Hello.

Steenie, where are you, we’re all waiting for ya darling.

Who is this?

What do you mean who is this? Can’t you recognize your own brother’s voice? Is it that your birthday has curdled your brain?

My brother?

Come on Steenie, stop fooling around. We’re all here. Your party begins and you haven’t arrived.

What party?

You haven’t forgotten your birthday, now have you? You sound odd. Steenie, it’s Daniel, your brother, as you well know.

Daniel?

Steenie, you’ve got me worried. What’s wrong?

If you are really my brother, could you come over to the house?

Steenie, your sisters, Brigid and Deirdre are bringing in steaming platters of food right at this moment as we talk; Mam and Da are dancing, the bar is open and Guinness is flowing.

Please?

I’ll be there in a jiffy.

Ten minutes later, Steenie opened the front door to a man who claimed to be her brother, Daniel. He looked so much like her that she gasped in relief: same red hair and deep blue eyes, a little older and taller, perhaps 6’ and 180 or so pounds, but family resemblance mirrored her own image. He was dressed for the party in black sweater and pants.

Steenie, what’s wrong? Your birthday getting you down?

Daniel, I’ve lost my memory. I can’t recall you or any family member or even living in Galway City and surely not this house or anything in it, not even myself.

Silence. You don’t know me, your very own brother?

Sadly Steenie shook her head. I woke up at ten this morning and knew nothing. I’m a blank sheet.

Daniel hugged his sister, patted her on the back and looking into her tear stained eyes, said, Okay here’s what we’ll do. You go dress for the party. I’ll wait and drive you over to Kenny’s. When you see the family and all your friends, your mind will snap out of it.

Kenny’s?

The bookshop, Steenie, our bookshop, the family bookshop. Where the party is being held. Don’t you even recall the books?

Shaking her head, she said, Not a thing, Daniel, I don’t know a thing. I’ll see what party clothes I can find in the closet.

The closet was full of the most colorful, fun clothes that she had ever seen. Choosing a full dancing skirt of turquoise and a peach, lace top, sprinkled with sparkles, she quickly dressed.

Finding appropriate jewelry, she then brushed her hair and quickly joined Daniel. He nodded his approval, grabbed her hand and guided her out to the small copper-colored auto.

2002—Seanachais

Steenie sipped her tea, smiling at her spell-bound niece.

Your Uncle Daniel saved my life, Áine. I was totally confused, and I don’t know what I would have done without him.

I don’t know how you managed even with his help. What a distressing predicament. I’ve always loved this colorful cottage, Aunt Steenie. Sitting at the round table in this yellow kitchen as you tell me the story thrills me. But, why did you keep the same vibrant colors for 25 years?

This cottage was painted before my amnesia, Áine. I liked it before, during and after the rare event.

What happened to change things, Aunt Steenie? Did you remember any of the family and friends at your birthday party?

Smiling at Áine’s excited interest, Steenie slipped back into her storyteller past.

1977

Ten minutes later, Daniel swung the auto into a parking place across the street from Kenny’s. He pointed and said, Your party awaits you, Steenie, it’s your 27th birthday.

The oval black sign, with Kenny’s printed vertically, hung next to a Paddy’s Whiskey advertisement.

I don’t remember a thing, Steenie moaned. How could I forget the wooden front of this bookshop or even the whole colorful street? Green, gray, orange, lavender and white shops, as colorful as my house, and all those waving flags strung across the street?"

’Tis a strange phenomenon, surely, Steenie, but don’t worry, we’ll have you well in no time. Maybe Mam and Da will trigger the memory.

Oh, what a wonderful bookshop, Steenie gushed, entering the door. I love it: a double circle of bookshelves stacked on old wooden floors and all those round tables, each with a small lamp and comfortable chairs. It looks like a huge, circular reading room. Do I work here?

Work here? Steenie, my darlin’, Daniel laughed, "you sure have lost all contact with herself. You are the author of all these books on that Steenie O’Shea display table." Leading her over to the corner table, he grabbed a book.

"I wrote that? The Blue Man from the Blue Planet? What do I know about planets of any color?"

Daniel hugged her and said, Guess you are going to have to read your books all over again. What a treat!

Steenie wandered by four additional display tables stacked with books. New Books, Bestsellers, Foreign Authors and Irish Classics. Pointing to the wooden railing that circled the second floor, she asked, What’s up there?

We have used-books on the balcony. A huge collection that makes us famous. Plus, a coffee-shop stocked with Mam’s culinary treats.

What a grand life I have. Family, cottage, author, Kenny’s, the sea, Galway City—why oh why would I want to disconnect from all this?

Daniel guided her past walls decorated with framed photos of old Galway to the noisy celebration in process at the back of Kenny’s—a separate party room. Icy cold from shock, she hung on to Daniel’s hand and walked into her present life. There they all were: her family and friends, and she knew not one.

Here comes Seamus and Eva, Da and Mam to you, Daniel whispered before the happy couple rushed forward to envelop Steenie in their arms.

Happy Birthday, Steenie, they both said at the same time. Happy Birthday Sweetheart.

Noticing her white, stunned look, they pulled back, puzzled.

Leading them over to the edge of the party, Daniel explained. Steenie isn’t feeling well, she’s … well she’s, I don’t quite know how to tell you this, but she doesn’t know you anymore.

You don’t know your own Mammy? The little people have bewitched you surely. Now, Steenie, stop fooling around tonight. It’s your party. Let’s celebrate.

Da winked. Writin’ a new story, Steenie? The young woman loses her memory on the night of her 27th birthday party at Kenny’s?

With relief, Steenie nodded her head. Yes, that’s exactly what has happened. I awoke in that adorable cottage with no knowledge of myself or any of my surroundings. I’ve never seen either of you or Daniel before, but oh, I’m so lucky to have you.

There’s not a word of a lie in it, Mam; no story either Da, said Daniel. Steenie lost her memory sometime last night. She was herself when she went to bed, and when she opened her blue eyes to the morning light, herself was gone.

Silence.

Difficult as this is to accept, I’ve never seen Mam and Da silent before, said Daniel.

I’m so sorry but I just don’t know even my own parents. Perhaps the party will jiggle a return of my memory, apologized Steenie.

’Tis true for you, child, whispered Mammy, her blue eyes brimming, I can tell you are stressed, we’ll help you, don’t worry.

Daniel, will you no bring Brigid and Deirdre over here, requested Da.

Steenie witnessed her two sisters for the first time in her new life. The first, Brigid, with shining gray eyes and a mass of dark red curls, parted in the middle and flowing down her shoulders, cuddled Steenie into her arms, smacking a birthday kiss right on her lips.

The second, Deirdre, a younger version of the first, needed a haircut. Messy, wild curls of all lengths, green eyes and a spirit of abandonment rushed towards her. ’Tis your birthday, Steenie, and a fine party we be having.

Daniel cautioned the two sisters, Shh, we have something important to tell you.

Puzzled, they listened while he explained the strange occurrence Steenie had experienced.

This is Brigid, your oldest sister, the violin playing sister, Steenie.

You don’t remember me, your Brigid?

Steenie shook her head and repeated the shake with tears in her eyes as Daniel introduced her to Deirdre.

With a sparkle in her eyes, Deirdre refused to accept the explanation. Steenie, what are you doing this time, trying to fool us all into a new story line? Does this mean you don’t remember my latest misadventure with … whoops, guess I won’t tell you his name?

Steenie laughed at her baby-sister’s exuberance. Nope can’t remember either the good or the bad.

What now? Do we tell the others? asked Mam.

No. This is family business, determined Da. Best you have a grand time at your own new birth party, Steenie. With your talent for dramatization, act out your own story tonight, he challenged.

2002—Seanachais

Emerging briefly from her Seanachais tale, Steenie munched a scone and said, I was truly disturbed, Áine. Not knowing my own parents and sisters had me badly shaken.

Oh, Aunt Steenie, I can’t even imagine the mind’s blankness. Seeing my Mam and Aunt Brigid as if for the first time. They sound so young and vital.

Sure, said Steenie. Now they are 44 and 55, but then only 19 and 30. Your Mammy, Deirdre, was a darling, both spontaneous and serious at the same time. The dancer and the economist.

Refilling the pot with fresh tea and boiling water, Steenie said, Ready to go back in time to 1977?

Nodding her head, her niece settled back in the chair, poured herself a cup of hot tea, and prepared herself for the next episode.

1977

As if developing a new memory link, Steenie said, Mam-Eva, Da-Seamus, Sisters-Brigid and Deirdre and brother-Daniel. All O’Shea’s. Kenny’s Book Shop, my books, colorful cottage, sea, Galway city and 7 Aran Way. Right?

There’s not a word of a lie in it, darling, encouraged Mam. Deirdre is 19, Daniel 28, Brigid 30, I’m 53 and Da 54, just so you get the historic times settled into that new brain of yours."

7 Aran Way? My cottage? Why did I paint it so many colors?

They all chuckled. Daniel explained.

"Read your third book, The Cosmic Story Line. The cottage was the setting for the story, and you decided it needed realistic colors, so the whole family spent the weekend painting it according to your directions."

I love it. Did I love it yesterday?

That you did sister, dear, said Brigid, in fact we all do.

Where do you all live?

Why Steenie, said Da, Mam and I live above the shop, Diedre too; Daniel and Brigid each have their own places now.

My cottage is down the street from yours, just two blocks to the south facing the sea, the yellow one with white shutters, thatch roof, directed Brigid. Come, have tea with me tomorrow, 11 A.M.

I have an apartment just around the corner from this bookshop, said Daniel. You’ll enjoy the paint job. Let’s go party: dance, food and Guinness and see how good an actress you are Steenie.

Daniel guided her out onto the dance floor. With his arms around her, protecting her, he circled the floor following the rhythm of violin and harp musicians. For the first time since she awoke as the blank page, Steenie felt cherished and calmed.

I’m better, Daniel, thank you brother.

It’ll be alright, Steenie. ‘Tis a fine woman you are, and we all love you. Just relax and your memory will come floating back in no time.

Tell me more about the family, Daniel. What do you all do besides run the bookshop?

"Da and Mam are the driving force behind the shop. Da directs the whole business. He’s a great organizer. Keeps it humming and successful. We all make a living, good living from Kenny’s. Da was raised on a sheep farm, up near Sligo. You love the area and have researched the fairy tales for your own work. It’s Yeats’ country, Steenie, and one of your favorite spots. When Da gets some free time, he heads up to Sligo; as children we all spent our vacations there.

Mam orders all the new books, sets up author events, runs that whole department. But her main love is cooking. She’s the best. In fact, she whipped up all the refreshments tonight. She has help from her food staff, and she even runs a catering service.

They dreamily circled the dance floor in perfect harmony.

"Brigid’s the musician of the family. She sings and plays her violin at the Galway Latin Quarter; works part time at Kenny’s. Customers love hearing her music as they roam the shop. Deirdre’s in college, studying business, but she’s