Page 9

“What is your name?”

“T-Thomas, my lady.”

At the boy’s stutter, James could practically see Mariah melt, and something within him grew strangely soft in response.

“Thomas, what seems t-to be the problem?” At her own stutter, Thomas’s head snapped up toward hers and his lips tugged slightly.

“It’s this Shakespeare fellow, he’s just a daft Englishman.”

Miss Mason cleared her throat loudly but Mariah’s face transformed into one of delighted amusement. “Is that r-right? And why would you say so?”

“Well, n-no one would actually say this, my lady. No one talks this way.”

Miss Mason cleared her throat once more, the sound sharp carrying over the hum of the looms next door, but Mariah offered the harried teacher a beseeching glance, as though silently urging her to let the boy’s voice be heard.

“That is a f-fair assessment, Thomas. But I want to ask you, did your Da or Ma ever tell you about the Seanchaí?”

“Aye, the storyteller. My da says he tells the story of how D-Dagda would disguise himself as an old man and test kings and lords by how they treated him. Or the B-Bodach⁠—”

“Yes, those are his stories, but think about w-who the Seanchaí is. He is the keeper of people’s stories and history. And sometimes to tell his stories, he must set the scene, to t-tell why he is recounting the event.”

The boy shifted on his feet, but looked back up at her without a trace of fear. “You’re saying this Shakespeare, he was a keeper of stories, aye?”

Mariah’s face broke into a small smile. “Aye.”

“And this…what Miss Mason is asking me t-to say, this is setting the scene?”

“That’s right. M-may I show you?” Mariah glanced back to Miss Mason, whose flat expression told James that she had given up trying for that afternoon.

Mariah stood before the children as a hush fell over the children, who had been conversing amongst themselves while Thomas had been debating Shakespeare with Mariah, the only sound on that side of the room the hum of the nearby looms. Although dread pooled in his gut at the prospect of her reciting Shakespear with her stutter, James was overcome with a strange thrill of anticipation.

“O, for a muse of fire that would ascend

The brightest heaven of invention

A kingdom for a stage, princes to act,

And monarchs to behold the swelling scene.

Then should the warlike Harry, like himself,

Assume the port of Mars, and at his heels,

Leashed in like hounds, should famine, sword, and

fire crouch for employment.”

A wild applause broke out amongst the children when Mariah finished the monologue, but James could hear next to nothing as his vision and hearing narrowed completely on one singular source. While he vaguely recalled the Bard’s words from his salad days at school, Mariah had embedded new meaning, practically conjuring a muse of fire before them. It produced an odd sense of beauty and melancholy within him that reminded him of how he used to dream of travel. Had Mariah possessed such yearning in her soul? How had he missed it all this time?

While he stood frozen, Thomas began the monologue again and Mariah conversed briefly with Miss Mason before returning to James. Once they stepped outside of the door, he rounded on her, wishing to convey this newfound appreciation, to connect over a yearning for beauty and meaning. And yet the only word that came out were:

“You did not stutter once.”

Mariah’s day had not gone as planned.

Her husband was present, for one., then the old assembly hall, which once upon a time she had thought could become…well, that was neither here nor there, for the building was freezing and there were not enough funds to repair it with the need for housing. Yet seeing the hasty canvases covering the walls and roof that had once symbolized dreams of a theater she could revive in town…that struck a rather heavy blow, despite the strange accord she was finding with her husband.

But then she had come to the school and spoke with Thomas. For a moment, she had forgotten about the assembly hall, and the thousand other things that were always at the forefront of her mind. And she allowed herself to do the one thing she loved to do above all others, yet so rarely shared with another soul.