The Fourth Life of Sean Donoghue - Trish Hanan (easy novels to read .TXT) 📗

The night before they made Jamestown harbor Sean trimmed his beard and mustache down and shaved them off. Ryan watched and whistled with amazement as his Granddad’s youthful face was revealed.
“I saw the same thing forty-eight years ago and I almost didn’t believe it then and I almost don’t believe it now,” he said with awe and his hand came up to rub the smooth skin. “You look so young, like you’re my grandson instead of the other way around.” Sean smiled at him.
“It doesn’t matter what I look like, Ryan, I’ll always be your Granddad,” he told him and Ryan’s eyes misted over.
“If it wasn’t for your voice, I wouldn’t know it was you,” he said and Sean hugged him.
“Ah, lad, don’t cry, if you want I’ll grow the beard back and keep dyeing it white, I’ll stay old with you,” he said and Ryan shook his head.
“No way, that wouldn’t be fair,” he said firmly, “If you do that then you would have to leave the Ridge right after I died and go back to Hamish or Ennis or someplace else. No, you become young again and you’ll have another sixty or seventy years back on the Ridge before you have to leave it again.” Sean nodded.
“You’re a very generous man, Ryan Donoghue and I love you very much,” he told him and kissed him full on the lips. Ryan laughed.
“Well, it’s the least I can do, after all, you stayed on Topanga for me and Chris so we could have our life together,” he said and Sean sighed. No matter how many times he told him he didn’t stay there for that, Ryan would insist that he did. Just because he didn’t find true love like he had. Silly boy, Sean thought, but damned if he didn’t love him.
The next morning they left the ship bright and early so that none of the other passengers could see Sean’s youthful face. He kept a scarf around it for the crew’s benefit and wore his long hair loose so they could see the white hair. But once they were in the hired carriage on the way to the inn, he pulled it back and tucked it under his hat. Now he was twenty once again, for the fourth time in his life. It was sixteen ninety-five and in reality, Sean Donoghue was a hundred and eighty-three. Sometimes he felt it, but today sitting next to his sixty-five year old grandson, he only felt like he was twenty.
They checked into the inn and made a nice hot soak in the tub their first priority.
“Ah, this feels great,” Ryan sighed as he soaked his old bones. Sean washed the white dye out of his hair before any other guests joined them and then relaxed. He opened his eyes to see Ryan staring at him.
“It’s still me, Grandson,” he said and Ryan giggled.
“It must be feel funny to go from a dotty old man to a goofy young one in a matter of minutes,” he observed. Sean nodded.
“People treat you about the same,” he said. “When you’re young they treat you as if you have no sense, until you get married and have children, you’re not really counted as a man. And when you get white hair, well, you might as well put your diapers back on for they way they talk down to you.” Ryan nodded.
“Chris and I used to talk about that,” he said. “You were the only one who treated us as if we had some sense.” Sean nodded.
“You raised four children each and lived a life, you didn’t get to be old by not having any sense, you would have died long time ago without it,” he remarked and Ryan laughed.
“So would have you, Granddad, so would have you,” he commented and they finished up their baths and went in search of a hot meal, their first one in six months.
Then Sean left him resting while he went out and purchased a nice carriage drawn by two horses, a black stallion he promptly named Sir William and the supplies they would need for the week long journey to O’Brien’s Ridge. He noticed the high taxes on everything he bought and the rudeness of the nobility who sometimes shoved him out of their way as they moved about the city.
“Well, someone thinks her shit doesn’t stink,” he muttered as a Lady obviously by her fine clothes and the man servant pushed past him on her way into a dress shop. The man next to him laughed.
“They’re all like that nowadays, like their shit don’t stink, that’s a good one,” he said and then spat on the sidewalk. Sean tipped his hat and was on his way. Anamylia was getting to be as bad as Hamish with all the nobility thinking they were above the rest of the people. He took his purchases back to the inn and woke Ryan up for dinner. They talked about it over sliced roast beef, mashed potatoes and gravy with snapped peas.
“I heard some gentlemen talking while I was having coffee today that the Hamish are pissed over the Ennis in Andalusia because they’re letting people buy stuff there and not charging them any taxes,” Ryan explained as they ate. Sean nodded.
“You wouldn’t believe the taxes I had to pay for the stuff I bought for the trip home, it’s outrageous,” he told his grandson. Ryan waved his fork, a new invention of the Ennis, a rather clever three-pronged device in which people stabbed their food with. Both men thought it very clever and, of course, it had to be invented by the Ennish. The Hamish would have never thought up anything worth using; Sean had rushed out and bought a whole set of them.
“Well, it looks as if a trip to Portsmyth is in our future, lad,” Sean said slyly and winked at Ryan who grinned.
“Going to get back into smuggling are you?” he leaned forward to whisper. Sean nodded.
“I’m not paying these outrageous taxes; the Hamish don’t deserve my hard earned coin,” he told him.
The next morning they left for the Ridge, Sean riding Sir William and Ryan riding in comfort in his new carriage.
“This is grand, Granddad, but you could have just bought me a wagon, I could have made due with that,” Ryan protested. Sean shook his head.
“A wagon, Ryan Donoghue does not return to O’Brien’s Ridge after forty-nine years in Topanga riding in a wagon,” he informed him. “He comes back in style in a carriage.” Ryan laughed. And they made better time in a carriage pulled by two horses than they would have in a wagon pulled by two mules. The road was nicer too, and wider. Some improvements had been made in the forty-nine years they had been away.
They noticed some right away when they found the road that led up to the Ridge. Instead of just the road leading up, there were houses, a few stores, one of them another general store called Gleason’s.
“This is all new,” Ryan remarked as they rode past it. Sean nodded.
“Another store, I wonder how the Stones are doing,” he asked. Ryan shrugged. When they got to the top of the Ridge they found out, it was still there but it had changed and now it was something called a Five and Dime. And the O’Brien house was a store and so was the Stone’s. And where Susan’s art studio had been, that was now the new Post Office. Jefferies was still a tavern but it was twice as big and there were a dozen more stores. It had grown considerably.
“Looks like a different town doesn’t it?” Ryan asked as they rode past. Sean nodded, he was anxious to get a look at his cabin, would it still look the same and who was living in it? If they didn’t want to move, where would he and Ryan live until they built another cabin? Ryan noticed his worry.
“Don’t worry, Granddad, no one is living in your house, Lizzie wrote to me that it was empty and they’re keeping it for you if you ever come back,” he assured him. Sean nodded. But that was a year ago she wrote that he wanted to say, what if someone got married and needed a place to live?
Then they were on the rise and over-looking the cabin and it was a beautiful sight. Sean felt tears come to his eyes. He reached over and took one of Ryan’s hands.
“Ah, lad, it’s good to be home,” he said and heard his grandson sniff.
“I wish Chris was with us, Granddad,” Ryan said and Sean nodded.
“Ah, lad, so do I, so do I,” he agreed and they rode up the slope and to the barn. Sean helped Ryan down and put him on the porch to sit while he unloaded the carriage. They had two precious paintings as well as the jar.
“Be careful with Chris, Granddad,” Ryan warned as he carried the blanket wrapped bundle containing the jar and laid it down gently next to him. Sean smiled and he ruffled his hair.
“I’ll be extra careful, darling,” he assured him and Ryan grinned. Next came the two paintings, both boxed in wood and wrapped in blankets. One was of Sean, around twenty-eight holding his two great-grandsons, Sam and Mickey on his lap. And the other was of Chris and Ryan, around twenty-six, sitting side by side holding hands and smiling. Sean went back for another load. When he returned there was a boy about thirteen years of age standing next to Ryan and staring at them. Ryan introduced them.
“Sean Donoghue meet Sean Donoghue,” he said with a big grin. Both Seans looked at one another and then the oldest held out his hand.
“Pleased to meet you, Sean,” he said and grinned. The younger Sean shook it and grinned.
“Except for missing the mustache you look just like the man in the paintings that are inside this house,” he informed him. Sean nodded.
“That’s because I am the man in the paintings that’s inside this house,” he informed him. The lad stared at him and snorted. Sean looked at Ryan and grinned.
“So whose lad are you and who’s your Granddad?” Sean asked him. The young Sean grinned.
“My dad’s Douglas Donoghue and his dad was Brian Donoghue and his dad was Sean Donoghue who built this house in fifteen eighty-nine,” he informed them, beaming with pride. Sean nodded.
“So that would make you my great-great grandson, but you can call me Granddad like all the other kids, on account that great-great-Granddad is going to be hard to say all the time,” he said and Ryan laughed. The boy looked confused. Sean shook his head.
“Do you know Daniel Donoghue and Annie Donoghue Richards?” he asked the boy. Young Sean nodded.
“Sure that’s my cousin’s Bobby’s grandfather and my cousin’s Tommy’s grandmother,” he informed them. Sean and Ryan both nodded.
“Listen carefully, this is important, I want you to take them both this same message,” Sean instructed. “Tell them both that their brother Ryan and their