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arrangements. Besides, you married
for love; I should be able to do the same.”
    Brendan’s face
grew red. He set his feet on the slippery snow, his hands on his hips and
announced, “Our parents weren’t here. We had to make our own decisions. But I
am here, and I’m your Da. I can do what I think best and this is best. Aislynn,
I’m gettin’ old. I don’t have much to leave you. Let me go to my grave knowin’
you’ll be taken care of.”
    “You’re not
going anywhere.”
    “When I do, I
want you well married, and he’s the best I can do!”
    Aislynn felt
weak as a new fear swept over her, “Da, did you promise I’d actually marry
him?”
    “No, but if you
want to humiliate me before the whole parish, you’ll refuse the choice your ol’
Da has made for you. ‘Tis up to you. Now I’m cold, and I’m goin’ to eat me
dinner.” He brushed past her and disappeared into the kitchen.
    Aislynn stood on
the landing shivering and biting her lip. She fought tears while she tried to
think of an acceptable way to disengage herself without insulting the Mahers or
humiliating her father. Although her father’s heart was in the right place, she
just wished he would let her make her own decisions. In Aislynn’s mind, if she
wanted to hold on to the hope of Tim, why should anyone interfere with her
choice?
    Melting snow was
seeping through her thin shoes. Her cold feet reminded her she must move them
in one direction or another. She composed herself with the thought that given
time, she could find a way to get what she wanted.
    As Aislynn
entered the hall, old Mr. Malloy was squeaking his fiddle into tune. Sean’s
eyes caught hers, and she saw him report her return to the table’s occupants.
The conversation stopped and Aislynn was greeted by silent expectation. She
threw her shoulders back and stood at her place, feeling the anxiety radiating
from Johnny’s body and hearing his short breaths. With her eyes focused on the
stew, she ladled a bowl for her Da and shoved it at him; only its thickness
kept it from sloshing over into his face. Following custom, she filled the next
bowl for Papa Nolan, her second father. Everyone waited to see whom she would
serve next. As a guest, Mrs. Maher was in line, but as her intended, Johnny
took precedence over his mother and the other men. She could feel their
anticipation and knew what they wanted, but Aislynn believed she should make
her own choices. Aislynn looked up at Sean; his eyes pleaded with her as they
shot toward Johnny. Grimacing, she closed her eyes and handed the stew to
Johnny.
    Johnny took the
bowl in both of his hands and turned his face up to Aislynn’s. “Thank you,” he
said, sending her a grateful grin.
    Aislynn could
feel her heart softening, her anger draining into pity. With a long, calming
breath, she gave him a sympathetic smile and said, “Happy Christmas.”
    The Mahers joined
the Denehys at midnight mass. Kneeling between her father and Johnny, Aislynn
felt trapped. On one side, she could feel her father’s critical gaze. On the
other, she could feel Johnny’s discomfort in the taut muscles of his arm and
his thigh as they pressed against her in the crowded church. If she looked out
of the corner of her eye, she could see the muscles in his jaw were tight. She
leaned back against the pew, and with her head bent, feigning prayer, she
studied him from under her lashes. He was just a hair taller than Tim, but
everything about Johnny was big: his legs, arms, back, shoulders and head. He
had a round face and when he smiled, a chipped tooth, broken in a fight, was
revealed. His gray eyes, sandy hair and pink-toned skin were not features
Aislynn found attractive.
    Disinterested in
Johnny, Aislynn’s attention shifted. She watched the smoke from the candles and
incense rise to the ceiling. Among the beams, Aislynn imagined thousands of
prayers still swirled, waiting to be answered. Sometimes she feared if she took
too large a breath, she might inhale