As we neared the cottage, I started to get nervous. What kind of a welcome would Ma give me? Would she be angry I’d stayed away so long or, worse, that I’d not stayed and tried to get Aidan O’Hanlon to marry me? Would she treat me like the prodigal daughter, or would she make me turn on my heels and go straight back to America?

I needn’t have worried. She was waiting at the gate, a scarf around her head and her hands clutched to her chest. She looked smaller than I remembered. When she saw us, she ran through the gate, her arms outstretched, screeching like a madwoman.

“Ah, Nora. Is it really yourself, darlin’?”

She almost pulled me out of the cart and stood pawing me all over, as if making sure I was flesh and blood.

I laughed. “I’m not a ghost, Ma. ’Tis myself, large as life and twice as ugly!”

She began to cry. “Nora. My beautiful Nora. Ye’ve come back to us. Thanks be to God. My prayers have been answered.” She turned to Da. “Don’t just be standing there, Peadar, get her bag and bring it in.”

She led me to the cottage, her arm tight around my waist, as if afraid I would disappear. She chattered on, half talking, half weeping. Suddenly, all I wanted to do was go to bed and sleep, but I knew there was no chance of it this night. When we came through the door, my old cat came hobbling up to me, mewing to beat the band. I picked her up and held her in my arms.

“Ah, hello, puss, sure I thought you’d have forgotten all about me,” I whispered, stroking her soft fur.

“Sure none of us forgot you, daughter,” said Ma. “Even after we thought you were dead.”

She crumpled in a flood of tears. I put my free arm around her and pulled her in close. “Don’t cry, Ma,” I said, “I’m here now.”

She dried her tears with her sleeve. “I’ll go and heat the kettle.”

I went back to stroking the cat. ’Tis going to be a long night, I thought.

* * *

Ma had a thousand questions. They poured out of her so fast she gave me almost no time to answer them. The kitchen table was loaded down with bowls of stew, a big plate of soda bread, and my favorite apple pie was sizzling in an iron pan that Ma was after taking out of the turf fire. I was famished with the hunger and dived into food. There’d be plenty of time to answer Ma’s questions later. Da sat in his chair by the fireplace, watching us but saying nothing.