Where Old Ghosts Meet Read Online Free PDF

the letter and asked for a knife.
    Peg hurried to the drawer and set a knife by his hand.
    He turned the envelope over and then carefully slit it along the crease. The single sheet of thin transparent paper was folded neatly three ways from top to bottom. It crackled to the touch.
    Peg moved away and busied herself at the fire, but a few minutes later when she glanced over her shoulder he was staring out the window. The single sheet of paper lay discarded on the tabletop.
    â€œWhat does it say?” There was no need to ask who it was from.
    He didn’t answer right away but then, without even a glance at the paper, he spoke the contents in a dull monotone:
    Dear Mr. Molloy,
    I regret to inform you, that at this time, I cannot see my way to issuing you an invitation to come to Ireland with a view to meeting with me, my wife and my children. As you have not seen fit to contact me over the past forty-six years and consequently know little about us, I think that this move would be inappropriate and an exercise in futility.
    Yours sincerely,
Eamon Molloy
    â€œI don’t want to say anything out of turn about your father, but that letter, well, the letter sounded just like something from a government official. I tried to console him, saying that one day maybe things would change. Now, can you believe it? After all these years, you’ve come. I was right. Now, I think we should have a cup of tea, girl, or maybe a bite to eat. It’s getting on for lunch time.”

3
    Peg held the loaf of bread close to her chest, drawing the serrated blade back and forth with a well-practiced hand. Crumbs tumbled to the floor and onto the table but she took no notice. Balancing the thick slice of bread between the knife blade and her thumb, she passed the bread to Nora and then proceeded to cut a second slice for herself.
    â€œI’ll get the soup.” Nora went to fetch the two steaming bowls.
    â€œIt’s just a bit of pea soup I made yesterday.” Peg brushed the crumbs off the table and sat down.
    â€œIt looks delicious. You still cook for yourself every day?”
    â€œYes, girl. I like everything fresh. Might as well boil up them newspapers,” she nodded at the pile stacked at the end of the table, “as eat that old garbage you get to the store. Besides, I like to do a bit of cookin’. Gives me something to do.”
    The sun had edged its way around the corner of the house and fell diagonally across the table. Feeling the warmth on her shoulder and forearm, Nora looked up. “What a grand view you have from here.”
    â€œOn a day like today everything looks grand, girl. But there’s days I can’t see beyond the rise out there, the fog is that thick. It’s the same with the snow and sleet: everything blotted out, just like you’ve pulled down a blind. Can’t see a blessed thing then. But it can shift about just like that and then the cliffs and the rocks come out of nowhere, right at you. It’s all fine and grand so long as you’re in here lookin’ out, but if you’re out there lookin’ for a way in, it’s not so grand then.”
    â€œDoes the water freeze over in winter?”
    â€œNo, girl, not really. But time to time we get a skim of ice close to shore, and in the spring of the year the slob ice sometimes comes in the bay. The youngsters go pan hoppin’ then. You know, jumpin’ from one pan of ice to the other, playin’ about. When we were to the island we seemed to get it worse. Winter months I remember lying in the bed, a gale blowin’ outside. Nights like that you’d think the house would just take off with the lot of us still in our beds and be gone out to sea. Next mornin’ when we’d wake, the spray off the water would be froze solid on the windows to the front of the house.” She finished up her soup, wiping around the edges of her bowl with the last crust of bread.
    â€œMatt never liked to be on