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#Post#: 3557--------------------------------------------------
The Sewing Box { Jack & Colleen Donnelly }
DIR By: Maggie Flannery
Date: March 24, 2019, 4:33 am
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This started out as a snippet and turned into this.
The Sewing Box
“Have you heard anything about the horses going to The Curragh
this year?”
“Word has it that Clonespoe’s the one to win. Unless that
American shows up.”
“You mean Man O’ War, Jack?”
“That’s the one. Flannery won’t stop going on about the damn
thing.”
“Well, Considering he was born in America, Jack it makes sense.”
“Then why the hell did he want to come back here to Ireland?”
“Maybe he wanted a change of scenery?”
“My wife the eternal optimist.”
“Indeed, and don’t you dare forget it.”
A rustle of the morning paper and the crackle from the stove the
tidy house they called home sparked to life. It was the quiet
moments that Colleen loved and had dearly missed when Jack has
gone off to war. She still had to remind herself that that was
nearly six years ago and things were never going to go like that
again. Not if she prayed hard enough it wouldn't. Humming to
herself she went about slicing bread for toast and warming the
pot for tea.
She was fine one moment and going about her morning making
breakfast asking Jack how he wanted his eggs ( over easy, as
always ) and the next thing she knew the sight of the raw yolk
and slightly bubbling white in the pan made her stomach
somersault and her gag reflex nearly choke her. Bolting out into
the back garden she ended up heaving into the rosebushes.
Familiar footsteps sounded behind her. The normally subtle scent
of his hair tonic and the gun oil used on his holstered piece
made her gag. Her sense of smell could rival a Foxhound these
days. She knew why of course but she didn't dare jinx their good
fortune. Not after the five losses that marked their family plot
in the church yard. It was rare that God smiled on people like
Jack and Colleen and she wasn't about to laugh in a Higher
Power’s face.
“Ye alright, love?”
‘No, Jack I am most certainly not alright. If I were I wouldn't
be standing in the back garden heaving into the rosebushes.’
She thought to herself as she fought the urge to roll her eyes
she knew his question was well meaning.
“Fine. Absolutely fine. Just taking the time to smell the
roses.”
“You may be an eternal optimist but you’re a shite liar,
Colleen.”
A whiff of acrid smoke hit her all at once as her eyes widened.
“I’ll tell you after I put your eggs out.”
Ten minutes and much compromising on Jack’s part over the fact
that he ended up with fried eggs instead of his preferred over
easy he watched as Colleen went about her daily tasks.
Something, admittedly he had never had the luxury of doing until
this very morning. He busied himself with looking over the
papers one of shop boys had dropped by as Colleen went out to
fetch the morning milk from the milkman. He looked up and saw
her drawing water to wash the breakfast dishes. She hadn't
joined him instead she opted for cup of weak tea and very dry
toast, he found this so unlike her as she was usually the one to
have to shove his morning meal down his throat. The ticking of
the clock in the hallway acted as backing to her soft singing.
She looked quite beautiful with her hair pinned high in the
morning light as soap bubbles floated for a moment around her.
It was almost like she glowed. The gears in his mind whirred for
a moment as it clicked pieces together.
“As merry as a robin that sings upon the tree
The boy that I love they call him a cobbler
But he’s not a cobbler, allow me to state
For Jack is a tradesman and he works in the Boro’...”
His inner Sherlock Holmes halted at the sound of singing. Had
she turned on the wireless? No. He noted her changing of the
name in the song and smiled softly. Oddly enough there had been
a time, right around the time he had met Colleen that he
actually had held a job as a cobbler. Until he fell in with his
uncle who gave him a raise and a leg up in life. She turned and
she startled at the sight of him with his papers spread out on
the kitchen table.
“Oh sweet Jesus you’re still here, Jack? I thought you’d left
already.”
Had she always had that rosy glow to her cheeks or had he really
startled her?
“Working from home today. Noticed you’re unwell, you skipped
dinner last night and breakfast this morning thought you might
need a hand around the house.”
He steals a look at his wife’s waist and silently curses the
latest looser styles of her dress and apron. The first two times
had been when Colleen had still worn a corset and that was the
only tip off he’d been given was when she had asked him to stop
pulling so tightly to cinch her in when she got dressed. The
last three she had been a bit trickier to suss out since she had
thrown out her corset but she had started to show a bit more
each time.
“Well, I suppose I could ask you to go get my sewing basket from
the front parlor. Your socks need darning and Mr. Flannery’s
pants need mending.”
“You mend Flannery’s pants?”
“Yes, I do.”
“We feed him, lodge him and now you’re sewing for him? Colleen
I’m starting to think that you’re sweet on him.”
Rolling her eyes and sighed as she sat down in the chair
opposite to his.
“I’ll have you know his clothes wouldn't need half as much
mending if he didn't feel the need to do his job and keep you
safe. I’m showing him appreciation in the form of ensuring he
has a home cooked meal twice a day and making sure he doesn't
look like he’s the rag and bone man. You’d do the same to say
thank you every now and then, Jack. Now, unless you want to be
completely sock less for the first time in our marriage go get
my sewing basket, please.”
Dejected for a moment he watched his wife wither for a moment
before he turned to go into the front parlor. He hadn't meant to
use such a tone with her surely she knew that.
But you still did you gobshite.
His conscience scolded him as he reached for Colleen’s wooden
sewing box that was perched on the table next to her chosen
chair by the front window. Slumping his shoulders he fixed his
gaze on his shoes when he came back into the kitchen and saw
that his wife had been crying.
‘Oh sweet Jesus, I’m a right bastard. I always promised her that
no harm would come to her when she married me and here I am all
but accusing her of falling for the man that acts like my right
hand.’
"Colly I’m sorry. I didn't mean to make you cry...I’m a right
eejit.”
“No, you’re not. Now, open the box would you? I've got to get
Jackie’s pants from the airing cupboard. I swear he’d forget his
head if it wasn't attached to his shoulders.”
Without another word she got up and went off in her search but
not before giving him a peck on the cheek to show she wasn't
sore at him and left him with the ticking hall clock and the
wooden box that had been part of her wedding trousseau.
Gingerly lifting the lid he expected to see a tangle of his
badly abused socks a sea of black and navy but a spark of stark
white material caught his eye instead. An impossibly delicate
looking article of clothing with equally impossibly delicate
embroidery around the collar, cuffs and hem sat there seemingly
staring up at him. Lifting it to get a better look morning light
filtered through the gossamer fabric and under it he found a
matching bonnet and knitted booties. The gears that once whirred
in his mind trying to fit pieces together as he studied his wife
ground to a halt. Jack Donnelly wasn't a cold man by nature but
his years spent fighting a war and living the life he had after
he’d come back had changed him. He was the type of man that if
they had seen him in public they most likely would have thought
his disposition a sour one. Which was why no one would believe
the fact that he was currently sitting in his kitchen grinning
from ear to ear whilst holding an infant’s baptismal gown.
“I wasn't sure how to tell you but it looks like you've figured
it out all by yourself. I didn't want to jinx it. Just in case.”
Colleen’s voice broke through the halt in his mind as she came
in carrying not one but seven pairs of Jackie Flannery’s pants.
He really did need to apologize to the poor man. By the looks of
his clothing he’d had a rough week. A drink down at the pub
would fix that Jack decided and a pay raise. His heart clenched
at the just in case tacked on at the end of her sentence. Jack
remembered each and every one of them, little spirits robbed of
futures that he and Colleen had thought burned so brightly.
Arthur had been their first child had been born still and quiet
in the summer of 1912 just days before Colleen's birthday.
Evelyn had died of crib death at three months before the War.
Liam was nearly a year when the Spanish Flu took him in 1919.
Anna, tiny perfect Anna had just been born too soon and she had
slipped away quietly from them as they took turns holding her in
1920. James lived to be four months old before pneumonia took
him in 1921. Jack remembered each and every line and curve of
his children's faces and he knew Colleen did too. She still
visited them in the churchyard, talked to them on their
birthdays and at Christmas but deep down in his heart he knew
that this one, this child was going to live. He would do
everything is his power to ensure it. Even if it meant enlisting
young Flannery's help to do it. He got to his feet and gently
pulled Colleen in for a hug before placing a gentle kiss on her
lips and grabbing his coat.
“Where are you off to? Are you alright?”
“I'm grand. Off to the chemist. You’re going to need stock in
ginger syrup and soda crackers. I’m also off to find Flannery
and tell him that he’ll be staying. I’m going to need help
around here and you’re staying off your feet. No arguments,
Colly.”
Biting back a laugh Colleen nodded and waved him on.
“While you’re out do me a favor?”
“Yes?”
“Start thinking of names? I quite like Rose or Violet for a
little girl and Charlie or John for a boy.”
“On it my dear now put your feet up.”
With that the once sour faced Jack Donnelly all but skipped down
the front steps of the house he shared with his wife and down
the street of Quinlan’s Chemist. He even smiled and offered a
‘good morning, glorious day isn't it?’ to some very startled
passersby. His first visit he decided was to be St. Agnes's
Church down the lane before popping in to Quinlan's, he had five
candles to light and a new soul to pray for and thanks to give.
#Post#: 3558--------------------------------------------------
Re: The Sewing Box { Jack & Colleen Donnelly }
DIR By: Wolfy
Date: March 24, 2019, 3:22 pm
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I just noticed that I seem to have the same emotions with all of
the pairings you have for Colleen, but he is definitely in the
number two spot, right after Cage, because since you started
pairing her with Donnelly, it's been a wave of feelings every
single time I get to read a drabble about the two and I'm
smitten with the love they have for each other. It's so horribly
sad to hear that they've lost so many little ones, though. I
hope this baby is perfectly healthly and free from all possible
health risks because they absolutely deserve to be gifted
something so beautiful as raising a child - one that will live a
long and happy life. I adore how Jack has taken time off work to
care for her now he knows this and that he will be enlisting the
help of Jackie, too! I'm excited to read more about Col's
pregnancy and the birth of their baby.. also patiently awaiting
Jack's choices for names as well!
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