Page 54 of Against Ebony Irish Seas

Anger spurted up inside her again. They thought, what, that she was giving him some sort of favors in exchange for staying in his house? How could anyone think that of them? He was just being kind. But they seemed to know that, didn’t they? Like they knew she was an artist. Who, to their minds, had liberal ideas! Like they knew the first thing about her or her beliefs.

She let out an aggrieved shriek. What was wrong with people anyway?

She called Linc and told him to put Bets on the phone. After relaying the incident, Bets said, “I think I know who would do this, but can you describe these women?”

Their images were so detailed in her mind, she could have described the round woman’s worn brown coat down to the fact that it was missing a button at the bottom. She kept to salient details, marveling at how similar it was to filling out a police report. She hadn’t done that since she and her parents had been pelted with rotten eggs.

“Dammit!” Bets exclaimed the moment she’d finished. “The rail-thin one is Orla MacKenna and the round one is Mary Kincaid.”

She well remembered Mary’s name. “Your nemesis and the woman trying to close the arts center.”

“Orla is the wife of the former head of the council who caused us a heap load of trouble,” Linc told her. “Sophie, we’re on our way over. Lock the door, will you?”

Her knees grew weak. “They’re gone now. I’m…not fine. But you don’t need to come over. I was going to head to my studio shortly.”

“Indulge a worrywart like me, will you, sugar?”

“They were trying to scare me off.” She shook herself. “I’ve dealt with women like them before.” The image of Jamie’s principal rose in her mind. They hadn’t spoken since that first day, but she always felt the woman’s disapproving eyes watching her when she arrived at school.

Linc made a clucking sound. “You think they’re done? Malcolm and the rest of them are launching their next strike.”

They didn’t have to wait long. Thursday’s edition of a major national newspaper published an article titled, “Daughter of Pornographic Painter to Follow in Mother’s Tracks with Nude Sculpture in Mayo.”

Jamie had shown up at her door early in the morning with a grim look and a copy of the paper. He’d wanted to be the one to break the news to her, and indeed, it had helped. A little. She finished the article and pushed the paper aside, feeling ill, and he picked it up and waved it around. “It’s bollocks!” he hissed, keeping the volume low since Greta was still in bed. “The worst kind of vitriol.”

“Yes, it is,” she whispered. “It’s full of twisted lies and innuendos. I mean, they intimated that I’m a deviant because I made my mother that naked monkey orchid for her birthday.”

He pulled her into his arms. “It’s totally out of context.”

She gripped him tight. “The way that reporter implied that I’m a user and a whore because I’m living in your home with my child after just arriving—and you a schoolteacher. Jamie, I don’t—”

“Like I told you when Mary and Orla spewed their venom at you… No one who knows me and the situation would think any differently of either of us. You’re shaking,mo chroí. Come sit down.”

“You need to get to school to prepare for the day.”

He clutched her harder. “Don’t bother about that now. I expect you’ll have others here at your door soon enough. I was fortunate Carrick called me after rising early with Emeline and reading the paper.”

Her fingers dug into the coat he hadn’t bothered to remove yet. “I’m glad you came. Jamie, I just can’t believe this. I know reporters write crap all the time, but this is vicious. The kind of stuff my parents had to contend with decades ago. They called my design ‘pornographic.’” Her voice broke. “They didn’t even include a picture so people could decide on their own.”

“Peoplewilldecide. We’ll see to it. Sophie, don’t let these lies twist you up inside. You’ll talk to Linc and Bets today and figure out a plan.”

“Maybe Greta and I can move back into the mobile home even if the electrical company doesn’t reinstate our account today.”

He framed her face. “Don’t be silly now. You’ll stay here as long as you have a need. This will blow over. It’s only some gobshite from Dublin making noise.”

Linc called the newspaper and complained to their editor, who apologized and promised to look into the issue.

But it didn’t blow over. Another paper out of Galway published an article the next day claiming the center’s new children’s program would be using books with pornographic images in them, meaning one of their nonvoting members had likely leaked it and was in Malcolm’s pocket.

Jamie threw the paper on his kitchen table. He’d come over early Friday morning and brought it with him, knowing she’d want to see it straightaway. “The book they name is certified by numerous art associations for children. They’re paintings! Masterpieces! Some of them hang in churches, for heaven’s sake. And it’s not like we’re using that book to teach young children. It’s for the teenagers.”

She rubbed her temples. “You know I used to hover in the doorway as my parents tossed aside newspapers like this and railed at the injustice of it all. Jamie, it makes me sad to see them call Botticelli’sBirth of Venusand Michelangelo’s paintings in the Sistine Chapel ‘pornographic.’ I know they caused controversy in their day, but most of the world is past that.”

“Clearly not the people we’re dealing with.” He pressed her gently into a chair. “Let me make you tea,mo chroí. Then we’ll call Bets and Linc.”

A raw vulnerability rose within her as she watched him fill the kettle. “You called me that Irish phrase before. What does it mean?”

He looked over his shoulder, a smile breaking across his face. “My heart. Do you want to cancel our date tomorrow night and stay home?”

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