Tressa

Tressa

2d edition

By Barbara T. Cerny

Copyright © 2018 Barbara T. Cerny

Smashwords Edition

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What others are saying about this book:

Tressa was on the short list of books for the 2017 Book Viral Millennium Award: A captivatingly authentic and beautifully told page turner, Tressa proves to be a genuine gem in a demanding genre and an example of historical fiction at its very best. Exquisitely told, powerful and thoroughly enjoyable Tressa is a must read for fans of Historical Fiction and is recommended without reservation.

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Emily-Jane Hills Orford for Readers' Favorite, 5-stars: With clever and accurate insight into the lives of women in this era, the author has created a powerful story about the working class that equals the intensity of many Catherine Cookson novels. A great read and a thrilling plot.

Rubina Ramesh for The Book Club, 5-stars. The flow of the story is beautiful with each character being very much the part of the story. The best part I loved was the relationship between Ethan and Tressa - a sweet understanding, a camaraderie which encouraged the goodness in each other.

Lynne Murray, Editor, Muse It Up Publishing: A wonderful and compelling storyline that drags the reader into it and makes you want to keep reading to the very end.

*****

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Synopsis

Escaping personal tragedy, Tressa O’Daire leaves Dublin, Ireland, for a new start in Colonial New York. A baker by trade, she finds work with the Langley family as a nursemaid to their baby girl, all the while yearning to reclaim her love of baking and start her own business.

Ethan Langley, crippled in a riding accident that left him in a wheelchair, has spent the last eight years in his room hiding away from his family and the hatred of his brother, Heaton. The only bright spot in his life is his sister, Sarah. When a courageous and determined young Irish woman enters the household, Ethan’s life is changed forever.

This beautiful Colonial romance will hold you firmly in its grasp, from its heart wrenching beginning to its heartwarming end.

Prologue

June 1806

New York City

Tressa O’Daire gazed out the window of the ante room in the Christ Church on Broad Way and Warren Street. The morning sun streamed through the leaded glass, setting her red locks aflame.

It is time, my dear.

The young woman turned to see James Bainbridge standing in the doorway, a broad smile on his wrinkled face. Ethan is waiting, and none too patiently, I imagine.

Tressa returned his smile and rose from her seat by the window. She strode over to the elderly gentleman, who was smartly dressed in a black suit and burgundy cravat. She reached up and smoothed a wild gray hair back into place behind his ear.

You look right handsome, Mr. Bainbridge.

Perhaps, but no one will be looking at me today. All eyes will be on you. And what a vision of loveliness you are.

Tressa blushed at the compliment. She had never thought much of her appearance. But she did feel beautiful today. And why not? Didn’t all women feel beautiful on their wedding day?

She ran her palms down the azure satin fabric of her skirt, smoothing out the wrinkles that had developed as she sat. Marjie is a wonder with needle and thread, thought Tressa. She altered Miss Victoria’s gown so that it fits me perfectly!

Mr. Bainbridge extended his arm to her. For a moment, Tressa wished it was her father who would guide her down the aisle, but he was in Ireland, along with the rest of her family. She fingered the cameo broach pinned to the lace bodice of her dress. It had been a gift from her mother, passed from eldest daughter to eldest daughter for many generations. Tears welled in her eyes, threatening to spill past her long, light brown lashes.

Are you ready?

Mr. Bainbridge’s soft voice brought Tressa back to the present. She looked up at him and nodded resolutely, pushing remembrances of her family aside. Joy filled her heart as she thought of Ethan waiting for her at the altar. She hooked her arm into Mr. Bainbridge’s and they made their way down a small hallway toward the sanctuary.

As she waited for the ushers to open the wooden doors, Tressa pondered the amazing circumstances which had led her to this moment. Here she was, a simple Irish girl, now arm in arm with the professor who held the chairmanship at Columbia College’s philosophy school! Her excitement mounted as she heard the organist strike the first chords of the Wedding March.

The doors creaked on heavy hinges as the ushers grasped the brass handles and pulled them open. Tressa let out a tiny gasp at the scene before her.

She smiled at the people from the college, wearing their robes or Sunday best. The students clapped while the professor stood straight with decorum fit for royalty.

Tressa nodded politely to the other merchants and their families who shared the blocks around the bakery—folks she saw if not daily, then weekly.

Tressa laughed as the Held children waved cheerfully from their seats. She nearly cried to see the old employees of the construction company beaming from their pews, wistful looks of days gone by furrowed in their brows. So many had come to see them marry. It was a dream come true.

Ahead, the church's white alabaster stone altar provided a backdrop for Ethan Langley, the love of her life. He wore a somber black suit that contrasted starkly with the huge smile on his handsome face. Joy radiated from his green eyes as they sparkled with love. Her own breast beat with the thunder of a thousand wings of angels as she walked toward him.

Before she knew it, they stopped their walk to the altar and Professor Bainbridge put her hands in Ethan’s, leaving her to her destiny. Tressa barely heard the words of the minister as she chose to embrace this strange fate that had befallen her. In front of her was the perfect man for her in every way, one whom God had found to fill the holes which plagued her heart.

Ethan’s voice shook with emotion as he softly replied, I do.

Tressa reached out to touch his face, knowing those two words fulfilled a dream in the man next to her. His love showed through his eyes, dazzling her. She meant her own soft I do only for him as a promise of her undying commitment.

Too soon, the ceremony ended and the newlyweds came down the aisle, shaking hands and hugging their well-wishers. They merrily led the way back to the Dublin Bread Company where great quantities of breads, jams, and a giant cake topped with an inch of lemon frosting awaited the partygoers.

Tressa sat on the wagon beside her groom, waving at passersby who stopped and gawked at what looked like a parade coming down the street. She laughed in sheer happiness at what the Lord had provided today.

Five years ago, she never would have believed this was possible.

Chapter 1

July, 1801

Dublin, Ireland

Tressa watched as Séamus Bannon sauntered into her Uncle Finn’s bakery on Aikenhead Trace. Womenfolk considered him the most eligible bachelor in Dublin. He could have his pick from among the beautiful lasses in town, but he seemed only interested in Tressa, and she found it puzzling. She was from sturdy stock, and thought her face to be rather plain. Her wild red hair refused to stay in its binds, flying all around her face. Freckles spackled her nose and nearly every inch of her body. She was a bit on the plump side from all the pastries she ate. At twenty, she was well past the prime marrying age. She was naturally shy and preferred kneading dough in the bakery to talking with men. If a man said anything to her, she usually blushed uncontrollably and made excuses to run and hide. At this moment, she wished she could melt into the countertop.

Her cousin and best friend, Muriel, swooned at her side as Séamus entered the bakery. Look who’s here, Tress, she whispered, poking Tressa in the ribs with her elbow.

Where is that little winner of a lassie? Séamus boomed, looking right at her with big grey eyes surrounded by long lashes. He smiled so brightly it lit up the room. As usual, Tressa blushed deeply. But before she could think of an excuse to run into the kitchen, Séamus walked right up to her and stared her down.

I have a yen for blueberry pie, and only one made by yer hands will satisfy my desire.

He leaned over the counter and put his face close to hers, taking one of her hands in his. She felt the roughness of his calluses. I know the good folks of Dublin flock to this bakery to buy yer prize winning pies, but I hope ye saved one for me.

Even though Tressa loved working at her Uncle Finn’s bakery, moments like this made her wish to be home with her mother tending to her siblings.

Hello, Séamus. Muriel gazed at him adoringly. Have ye broken any more records at the factory this week?

Tressa resisted the urge to roll her eyes. Muriel’s fascination with Séamus’ strength and prowess embarrassed Tressa. They all knew her suitor was a highly successful man, holding all the records at the brick and cement factory for production, strength, and dependability. According to him and his mates, Séamus Bannon could haul the most bricks, stack them higher and better than anyone else, and craft them faster than any other worker at the plant; another reason why she was utterly bewildered by his attentions toward plain little her.

Wanting him gone as soon as possible, she pulled her hand from his and retrieved a pie from the shelves. Here ye are, Mr. Bannon.

Not so fast, lassie. Séamus grabbed her hand as she turned from the counter. Fraughan Sunday is in three days and I would be honored to escort ye.

Muriel let out a little gasp. Yes! Tressa would love to go, wouldna ye?

Tressa stood in stunned silence. Muriel’s quick reply had backed her into a corner. If she went with Séamus, they would spend hours together in the thick heather bushes where the bilberries grew. She wouldn’t know what to say to a man for hours on end! What could Muriel be thinking?

Ye could bake a bilberry cake and present it to me at the Fraughan dance. His eyes sparkled. He continued to stare at Tressa and she simply stared back, too shocked to respond.

He dropped the coins for the pie on the counter. I will pick ye up after church. After an exaggerated bow before the two ladies, he walked out of the bakery.

As soon as the door closed, Muriel let out a covetous sigh. I wish Seamus looked at me the way he looks at ye. It is obvious he wants to pay addresses to ye.

But I dinna want him to court me. I want to open my own bakery. I canna marry and open a business. Tressa couldn’t actually voice her fear of being alone with any man, let alone Séamus Bannon, the most handsome man in Dublin. She clamped up like a mousetrap every time a man said more than I would like a pie to her.

Who says ye canna have both? asked Muriel.

I just canna, whispered Tressa, knowing that she’d spend Sunday petrified. Everyone in Dublin would be riding outside the city to comb the heather for fraughan, or bilberries. She didn’t want to be alone with a man, or have the whole town watching her with Séamus.

Muriel smiled knowingly at her. When the apple is ripe, it will fall. She then turned and walked back into the kitchen.

***

When Fraughan Sunday dawned, Tressa awoke with butterflies in her stomach. She barely heard a word the priest said, spending her time praying she’d have something to say to Séamus. He sat prominently next to her father as if her da already had approved of a union. She swallowed hard and prayed some more.

Séamus approached her at the end of Mass and held out his brawny arm. She took it timidly to the guffaws of her brothers. The thirteen-year-old twins, Brock and Calvagh, made kissing faces and noises while Kevin, three years their junior, played along as he always did. Séamus laughed and ruffled Kevin’s hair. Houl yer horses, boys. There’ll be none of that today boys, or yer da will top me right off, he will!

Angus and Brigid O’Daire came over to their eldest daughter’s side. Pay no mind to the hoodlums. Brigid nodded to Séamus. They are true ragamuffins.

Remind me of meself in years gone by, Mrs. O’Daire, replied Séamus.

"Brock is a plonker" commented his twin.

Yer the eejit, Calvagh, Brock replied as the two wandered off bantering.

They are yers for a guinea, Angus offered.

Mighty steep for two gobdaws, teased Séamus. Gratitude filled Tressa at the light conversation with her parents, making it easier for her to wander off with this man to gather bilberries.

We’ll try to lose them in the sedge instead. Brigid placed her hand on her husband’s elbow. We’ll lead ye out to the picnic site.

Séamus helped Tressa into the wagon. Where is yer family? she wondered out loud, hoping his parents might accompany them to the heather.

They are taking a ride from some neighbors today, he replied. I wanted ye all to myself on this fine morning.

As they followed after her parents’ wagon, her brothers still making faces in their direction, Séamus tried to engage her in conversation.

That is quite a brood yer ma has there, he nodded toward the wagon ahead of them.

She smiled, thankful for a subject on which she could easily speak. There are seven of us in all. I am the eldest.

And who is that little lassie hanging over the side and looking to fall straight on her noggin?

That is Ceara. She is eight and the complete opposite of the twins, even if her actions look a bit dangerous at the moment.

Who are the young ladies sitting with yer da and ma?

Anya and Monina. Monina wants to be a nun. She has felt the calling since I can remember.

Ah, a calling. She will miss out on the finer things in life.

Monina loved God and Jesus. Tressa couldn’t think of anything her sister would miss outside the church. What do you mean?

Like the love of a man. He gave her a wink with those gray eyes set into brows that always seemed to tease.

She looked away and smoothed her skirt, not wanting to think about Monina with a good man. Lud! The lass didn’t want to think about herself with a man either.

When does she leave for the nunnery?

Tressa paused for a minute before she found her voice again. Not until winter sets in. They want her to be a little older. She is only sixteen.

That is a mite young, he agreed. And taking vows is a very serious decision.

She is right for the cause, however, and her heart is set upon it, explained Tressa almost gushing. Taking about her siblings came naturally. Talking about herself strained her. Monina has the love of God shining through everything she says and does. I have never met a calmer soul. It is Monina who keeps the twins at bay most of the time with her soothing voice and manner.

So, she is a saint.

Darn near, remarked Tressa, thinking how much all the family would miss Monina once she left them in six months.

Is Kevin as bad as the twins?

She shook her head. He is actually quite sweet and a funny little bloke.

And the next in line to ye, Anya. Is she as shy as ye are?

Tressa blushed a deep red. "Lawd, no! She would put legs under a chicken. My ma is always trying to get Anya to houl her wheest. She talks non-stop in her sleep, too. It is a wonder I get any rest at all!"

Is that why ye say so little, because Anya says it all? Tressa could hear the teasing in his voice, thankful Séamus made conversation comfortable. She loved her family to distraction and could blabber about them all day long.

Before she could ask Séamus about his own family, they arrived at the peat lands on the outskirts of Dublin. Dozens of carts and wagons already dotted the hillside. As they approached the thicket, a few brown-speckled meadow pipits burst from the sedge. Tressa screamed and then blushed furiously.

Ye do color easily, her escort laughed as he picked up her dropped basket. Pipits aren’t generally mighty warriors.

She timidly took the proffered basket and headed into the brush.

Tressa picked a berry and held it out for Séamus to see. Bilberries aren’t as good in pies as blueberries, but they are far more plentiful. The more we can pick in the wild, the better our profit.

Séamus took the tiny fruit from her and popped it in his mouth. I like their sweet and sour flavor better than blueberries, however. Why are they yellow on the inside?

Tressa shrugged her shoulders. I dinna know everything!

Wouldna guessed that.

Tressa took in a breath at his tone. Séamus quickly apologized. Now, dinna go clean mad on me. I am teasing, my lassie. Just teasing.

She eyed him and returned to her picking. He teased more than the twins! She would have to keep an edge on her own humor if she wanted to survive this courting. Actually, she wanted to simply survive this outing first.

With the help of Séamus, Tressa soon found hundreds of bilberries in the thick heather bushes, filling their two baskets to overflowing.

Séamus kept her entertained with stories from the brickyards. Tressa actually enjoyed the day and wondered why she had been so fearful of a few hours with a man. Séamus had been a right proper gentleman the entire time.

She didn’t have time to make him a bilberry tart before the dance, but found his bumbling attempts at the intricate steps endearing. Whatever other skills he possessed, partnering to music did not make the list.

***

The next evening, Tressa walked down London Bridge Road to Vavasour Square and delivered the bilberry tart to Séamus’ house. She thought it was the proper way to say thank you for the day before. His mother, Erin, took it from her and shooed her son out the door. Enjoy a nice walk about, ye two.

Séamus held out his arm. She hesitantly hooked her hand in the crook of his elbow as they wandered down the street. She had hoped to drop off the tart and run, but it wasn’t to be.

Yer Uncle Finn’s bakery is mighty fine, lassie. He makes the best breads in Dublin.

And dinna forget the pies and pastries! If Tressa had one fault, it was knowing her pastries were the best in town.

And I willna forget the blueberry pies and other goodies. I ate that pie all by myself on Thursday. Ma was very upset with me.

The whole thing? How does one person eat a whole pie? I imagine. Dinna ye learn to share as a small laddie?

Now ye are teasing me. I knew there was a flirty girl in there somewhere.

Tressa blushed, wishing she had asked Muriel to deliver the tart.

So, did yer uncle start the bakery as a young man? He leaned in toward her. She thought men only liked to talk about themselves, so Séamus’ interest threw her off a bit.

No, Grandda Finnegan O’Daire founded the bakery when Da and Uncle Finn were children, and it became the family business. Da dinna want to be a baker and found work at the docks.

Why do ye work there?

Ever since I can remember, I have loved to bake. Uncle Finn took me on as an apprentice when I was eight. Besides her siblings, Tressa could talk about the bakery forever. She found comfort in the topic. The first time I put my hands in a pile of dough, it drew me in like a bee to honey and I knew I would bake for the rest of my life. By next spring, I should become a master baker, which means I can start training apprentices on my own.

That is unusual for a woman, Séamus carefully expressed, as if weighing his words.

Tressa had heard it all before. She’d made a good name for herself, even though she was a woman. She dreamed of opening a bakery of her own but she didn’t want to tell that to Séamus on their second outing.

Isn’t it rather hard work?

Yes, but I love every minute of it. The young Irishwoman felt the passion for baking all the way to her toes. If she couldn’t bake, she felt life would have no meaning and she would have no soul. It is true that I arrive betimes in the morning to prepare the dough for bread and pastries, work over the hot ovens which are stifling in mid-summer, and stand for hours on end on the hardwood floor, but that isn’t what baking is about. It is about feeling the dough in my hands—the way it forms in all its varied kinds. It’s creating something from nothing, like my pies. I work very hard to come up with the recipes, but it is fun, not drudgery. I am thrilled when a customer enjoys one of my creations. It is about making something delicious to nourish my friends and family.

She stopped abruptly, embarrassed at how open she was being with Seamus. Stop talking about yerself, girl. Yer boring him! Tell me about yer work at the brick factory. I have heard ye are very successful.

Aye, that I am. Pride flowed from his voice. I hold all the current records at the factory, ye know.

Tressa nodded at his boastfulness. But she didn’t hold that against him. Their work filled all men with pride just as her work satisfied her own needs. She was happy to walk along and let him tell her more about the brickyards. Amazingly, he didn’t repeat any stories from the day before. She could probably spend a few weeks telling funny stories about the customers she served without repeating a single one as well. Such was her life as a baker.

***

As the fall and winter progressed, to Tressa’s chagrin, Séamus visited the O’Daire Bácála daily to flirt with her. She stood on the opposite side of the counter from him as he extolled her virtues. She turned red as a cloudberry and bashfully dipped her head, unsure of what to say or do. Séamus did nearly all the talking, telling her stories of his fellow blokes at the brickyards or of his own escapades. Muriel encouraged the behavior, asking the virile brick maker to be sure to return on the morrow.

Séamus bought something which Tressa made every visit. Every Sunday he drove her home in the brickyard owner’s borrowed carriage or if the weather allowed, took her on a nice walk through the near empty streets of southeast Dublin.

She only really opened up to him if he asked about the bakery, the real love of her heart.

I am only a few months away from perfecting my master baker skills, she told him one clear February noon as he escorted her home. I only need to show Uncle Finn that I can do every bread, tart, and pie without his watchful eye, then he will declare me a master baker.

Ye know most businesses dinna allow girls to be apprentices, he pointed out, so ye shouldn’t even be laboring away from yer father’s hearth.

Laws permit businesses to employ family members, so Muriel and I have worked our way up from apprentice to journeyman. We are just as good as a man, and maybe even better. She pouted a bit, but the sentiment he expressed was not new to her.

I do love yer breads and pies, he admitted. So, what will ye do as a master baker? Toil away at Uncle Finn’s forever?

I want to own my own bakery. She flung her arms out to the side. I have dreamt about it my entire life.

A moment later, Tressa realized Séamus no longer walked beside her. She turned to see him standing several paces behind. Why did ye stop? she asked.

Ye surprise me, girl, he revealed carefully. Very few women own businesses unless left to them by dead husbands. I dinna think that is a good idea.

I know that it is tough for a woman to own a business, but lud, Séamus, this is 1801! It is time society recognized women for the hard work they do.

I recognize ye for the hard work ye do, as my appetite for yer pies can confirm. He patted his flat stomach. I dinna think Dublin is ready for a woman to own a business her dead husband dinna leave behind.

Well, ye watch, Séamus Bannon, ye jes watch!

***

Tressa stood outside her house on Darrynane tapping her foot. Séamus was late again for a walk with her. She finally spotted him wandering down the lane, his steps tentative and his gait uneven.

Séamus Bannon. Some of her shyness diminished in her anger. Have ye been to the pub again?

A man deserves a spot of beer now and then, lassie.

Ye seem to deserve more than a spot on a rather regular basis. This was a side of her beau she didn’t like. He seemed to spend more and more time at the pub and less with her.

Séamus pushed his way past her and opened the door to her parent’s house. She followed him inside and he dropped heavily into Brigid’s favorite leather-strapped chair.

Got any pie? I’m hungry.

Tressa crossed her arms again, exasperated.

Brock and Calvagh rushed into the room. Aye, Tress. We want pie, too. They plopped down on a bench at the kitchen table and stared at her expectantly.

And if I say no? She was about to say no just on general principles. Tressa didn’t understand a man’s proclivity toward drink. It did little good for his disposition and wasted hard-earned money giving nothing in return. Saying no to the twins just felt right.

Then ye’ll have to make us some. The bricklayer burped loud and long, enough to make the boys break into laughter.

Tressa pursed her lips and went to the cupboard to pull out the leftover apple pie she’d brought home from Uncle Finn’s that afternoon. Dark thoughts of shoving it down all three male gullets crossed her mind.

That’s a good girl. Séamus tried to get out of the low chair but failed miserably. Tressa thought about dumping him out of it but she would never do anything so bold. Instead, she cut three slices, plated them, and handed them to the boys and her besotted date.

Not wanting to let it go, she asked again, Why do ye visit the pub so often, especially since we planned to meet this evening?

The drunk first shoved the pie into his gullet, not stopping until every bite had disappeared. He burped loudly again. She cringed at his lack of manners.

Lovely lady, he pronounced loudly, handing her back the plate, I’m only going until ye agree to marry me, and then my life will be perfect, and I won’t want to go anymore.

Before the red-headed baker could respond, Séamus promptly fell asleep.

In disgust, Tressa left him to rot and wandered off to help her mother with chores. I dinna understand men, she complained.

"There is nothing to understand, mo ghrá, her mother replied, as she handed her daughter the opposite end of the sheet she was folding. Men are simply men."

Tressa took the sheet and helped fold it. Séamus is in the other room, full of pie, mead, and slumber.

He is young and a bit spoiled, admitted Brigid. But he will settle down with age and experience.

Was Da young and spoiled when you met him?

Lud! He was as loud and stubborn as they come.

He’s still loud and stubborn, Tressa pointed out. Her father could be heard from one berth to another. That is probably why they made him the dock master.

A nod is as good as a wink to a blind horse. Brigid was a dictionary of Irish proverbs and her children had to learn them just to understand her.

I know. You can't judge what you can't see.

He has many fine qualities, I am sure. Such as his ability to earn a good wage at the brickyards, and a well-turned leg.

What does his handsome face have to do with anything?

"Is minic a bhí fear maith i seanbhríste," she replied as she handed her eldest child a shirt to fold.

Good men can often be found wearing worn britches, sighed Tressa, makes no sense to me.

Good men can also be attractive.

I think you are all addlepated by Séamus’ face. The young baker pursed her lips in frustration. Many a red apple is rotten to the core.

"Daor amháin, her mother encouraged, I am just saying to give him a chance."

Tressa carried the clothes to the room she shared with her sisters and put them away in the dresser. She rolled her eyes at Anya’s half of their drawer. It looked as drunk as Séamus.

***

By early spring, Séamus finally won her over by promising the world, and that he’d change his drinking ways.

I will grab the stars and the moon for ye, he promised, as he took to his knees in front of her and the whole staff at the bakery. I will set them as jewels upon yer breast.

Tressa put her hand to her chest and blushed at his words.

Ye will be my queen and I will take care of ye. He kissed the back of her hand as royally as a prince.

She glanced at her cousin. Muriel raised her eyebrows in a big smile and nodded her head. Tressa turned back to the man at her feet. Yes, Mr. Bannon. I will marry ye.

He stood up and gathering her in his arms, put his lips on hers in a warm and passionate kiss that promised good things to come.

***

Tressa’s wedding day finally arrived. She wore her grandmother’s wedding gown, altered to fit her rounded frame. Its deep red hue set off her hair well, its embroidered dainty flowers added an air of sophistication to the linen, the finest material her simple merchant family could afford. Her friends and family surrounded her on this beautiful June day to witness her marriage to a handsome and successful man. She had never felt as happy.

Tressa glanced over at the family members gathered around her. Her six siblings played and laughed, enjoying the day’s festivities. Tressa inwardly smiled. Her family was everything to her and she was about to expand it by one. In just a few minutes she would be Mrs. Bannon and on top of the world. She reached out to hold her father’s arm as they walked down the aisle toward her handsome groom.

***

Seamus threw his jacket into the corner of the pub, rolled up his shirt sleeves, and happily joined his family and friends in celebrating his marriage. Everyone at the reception was drinking or dancing, full of life and merriment. The groom drank his share of mead and whiskey and moved from female guest to female guest dancing in wild abandon, his dark hair flying and his grey eyes sparkling. He didn’t care if they were old or young, married or single, although when he grabbed the priest’s housekeeper and sister, more than one tongue wagged in disapproval. He smiled as Tressa took her own whirlwind tour around the floor with various partners. When Brock grabbed Tressa and twirled her too fast, causing the two of them to fall, Séamus stopped his own shenanigans to laugh at the sight of his new bride in a heap with her brother. He fell to his knees as the laughter took his breath.

Brock and Tressa also laughed so hard they could only lean on each other. Tressa O’Daire Bannon! Yer grandmother’s gown is not to be used as a mop, Brigid admonished. Pick yerself up at once. And Brock, that is enough mead for ye for one night.

Brock finally pulled himself together, stood up, and chivalrously helped pull his sister off the ground. Séamus hauled himself back to a standing position and watched with amusement as female onlookers scurried to dust off the precious wedding gown.

Brigid put her hands on her hips. It is time to calm things down a bit and have the newlyweds open their gifts, she announced in a loud voice, but no one heard her above the happy chaos in the room.

After several minutes of trying to catch everyone’s attention, Brigid finally corralled the guests, along with the dirt-smudged bride and besotted groom, at the table piled high with presents.

Séamus sat in anticipation. Opening gifts was one of the best parts of an Irish wedding, as lots of catcalling, oohing, and aahing accompanied the unwrapping of each present.

Tressa tore the brightly colored paper and ribbon off the first box. Inside was a baking pan shaped for oblong bread loaves. Séamus raised an eyebrow. He loved Tressa’s baking, but he certainly didn’t think a pan for her was an appropriate gift. He was the husband and he believed all gifts should be items Tressa would use to cater to his whims and meet his needs. He burped loudly when Tressa passed it to him. Everyone laughed heartily. That one is for beer-batter bread, obviously! yelled one of Séamus’ cousins from the back. That sent the guests right back into tittering and caterwauling.

Tressa handed Seamus the second gift to open. He quickly reduced the paper and bow to shreds and pulled out a cylindrical wooden object that supported some kind of mesh. He eyed it quizzically.

Oh, Uncle Tassach and Aunt Éanna, this tamis is beautiful and will be perfect for making jams and pie fillings, Tressa gushed. The Sullivans, Tressa’s aunt and uncle, beamed as the other guests acknowledged their fine wedding gift.

Séamus grumbled. He didn’t think it was so fine.

The next package was quite large, and Tressa gave a little shriek when she saw the spice box inside. She pulled the wooden chest from the package and held it close. Holy Mother!  Uncle Finn and Aunt Myrna, this is too much!

Don’t worry, my dear! It is empty of spices. Yer gonna have to pay for those with Séamus’ wages! laughed her uncle good naturedly.

It is beautiful, Uncle Finn. We love it! Tressa hugged the spice box once again before handing it over to her husband.

Séamus crossed his arms, refusing to take it. He earned his wages and damned if he was about to let them go for ridiculous spices. I don’t love it.

Ye will when she bakes yer bread, heh-heh. Another of Séamus’ cousins, Oillín Gowan, made the ribald comment. Séamus scowled, his face reddened not from embarrassment at the remark but in irritation. This was his wedding and she was receiving all the gifts.

The next gift was a lemon squeezer. Tressa demonstrated its use, pretending to cut a lemon in half, place it into the cup-shaped receptacle, and squeeze together the two long handles attached. She then drank the lemon juice as it dripped through holes in the receptacle. Everyone laughed except Séamus whose pulse rate quickened with mounting anger.

Come on! Don’t be a sourpuss, husband, teased Tressa as he refused to play along.

Yeah, Séamus, old boy, Kenneth O’Daire, Finn’s seventeen-year-old son, yelled out. Wait until she squeezes yer lemons!

Kenny! admonished Myrna, Keep yer vulgar comments to yerself! But the crowd drowned out her remarks with the loudest laughter of the evening.

The next gift was a gem pan. Séamus usually loved Tressa’s gems, as she sprinkled molasses-soaked sugar on top before baking, which resulted in a delicious, sticky glaze. However, his alcohol induced resentment kept him from seeing how he would benefit from such a gift.

Hey, Séamus! called out yet another drunk male guest. Wait until she bakes yer gems!

As Tressa continued to open gifts, Séamus became more and more sullen, the happy drunk turning into the dour drunk. Even the bawdy jokes didn’t lighten his mood, though he was usually the first to dish out the naughty statements. Sweat began to pour down his back, soaking his shirt. He loosened his tie.

As Séamus became surlier, he watched Tressa become more and more overjoyed. The guests must know of her dream to open her own baking shop and had obviously worked together to ensure she had a good start. He was not at all happy with the fact she had asked all these people to take care of her and not him.

She handed him bread pans, tin measures, and other assorted unrecognizable items, all which he tossed into his cart without regard for them.

He perked up a bit when his parents announced they paid two weeks’ rent on the flat where Séamus and Tressa would live. Séamus had actually moved in a week before and thought it right his folks should