The Hunter

“No change there,” Lena says, stooping for another armful of clothes. Mart Lavin has never called round to her before, even when Sean was alive.

“Tell me, now,” Mart says, arranging himself comfortably on his crook and smiling at her. Kojak settles himself at Mart’s feet and starts nipping through his fur for burrs. “What’s this I hear about you getting yourself engaged to the one and only Mr. Hooper?”

“That’s old news,” Lena says. “I thought you’da heard it days ago.”

“Oh, I did, all right. And I congratulated your fiancé properly, although I’d say he’s recovered by now. But I haven’t seen you to felicitate you, and it came to me today that I oughta do that. Seeing as we’ll be neighbors now.”

“We might be,” Lena says, “or we might not. Myself and Cal haven’t decided where we’ll live yet.”

Mart gives her a shocked look. “Sure, you couldn’t ask the man to tear himself outa that house, and him only after putting in all that work getting it the way he wants it. Not to mention me putting in all the work getting him the way I want him, give or take. I couldn’t be doing with starting all over again. Likely enough, with house prices the way they are, I’d be stuck with some fool of a hipster that’d live on flat white craft beer and commute to Galway every day. No: you’ll haveta bite the bullet and move down our way. We’re great neighbors to have, myself and P.J. Ask your fiancé; he’ll vouch for us.”

“We might keep on both places,” Lena says. “One for the winter, and one for a holiday home. We’ll be sure and let you know.”

Mart giggles appreciatively at that. “Sure, there’s no rush,” he acknowledges. “I wouldn’t say you’d be in any hurry to the altar. Am I right?”

“When we set a date you’ll get your invite. Fancy lettering and all.”

“Show us the ring, go on. Amn’t I supposed to give it a twist on my own finger, to bring me luck in love?”

“It’s in getting resized,” Lena says. She’s had this conversation with every woman in the townland, and has decided that if she ever gets an impulse to make another snap decision, she’ll have herself committed. She digs a few more clothes-pegs out of her bag.

Mart watches her. “ ’Twas a good move, the aul’ engagement,” he says. “A wise move.”

“Funny,” Lena says. “That’s what Noreen told me. The two of ye have a load in common.”

Mart raises an eyebrow. “Did she, now? I wouldn’ta thought she’da been in favor. Not right now, anyhow.” He shifts his weight to pull a tobacco pouch out of his pocket. “Have I your permission to smoke?”

“The air’s not mine,” Lena says.

“Personally,” Mart says, propping his crook carefully against her fencepost, “I’m all in favor of you putting a ring on that fella. Like I said, I’m after rubbing the corners off him, but he’s got a little way left to go; he doesn’t always heed me the way he oughta. It’s been a worry to me, the last while. Now that he’s your responsibility, we can discuss the problem together.”

Lena says, giving a T-shirt a neat flick to straighten it, “I’ve got nothing to say about Cal to anyone.”

Mart laughs. “God almighty, you’re the same as you ever were. I remember one morning—you were a wee bit of a thing, only this high—you came marching past my gate wearing your First Communion getup, veil and all, and a pair of welly boots. I asked you where were you off to, and you stuck your chin up just like you’re doing now, and you said to me, ‘That’s classified information.’ Where were you headed, at all?”

“Haven’t a notion,” Lena says. “That’s forty years ago.”

“Well,” Mart says, sprinkling tobacco into his rollie paper, “you’re the same today, only now you’re no wee bit of a thing. You’re the woman of the house now, is what you are—whichever house ye settle on in the end. If there’s trouble with the man or the child, you’re where people will come. And you’re where I’m coming.”

None of this is surprising to Lena; it’s what she bargained for. She’s having second thoughts all the same.

“Lucky for me,” she says, “neither one of them’s the type to make trouble. Unless they’ve no choice.”

Mart doesn’t answer that. “I like your fella,” he says. “I’m not the sentimental type, so I don’t know if I’d go as far as to say I’ve got fond of him, but I like the man. I’ve respect for him. I wouldn’t want to see him come to any harm.”

“ ‘Nice fiancé you’ve got there,’ ” Lena says. “ ‘Be a shame if anything was to happen to him.’ ”

Mart, tilting his head to lick his cigarette paper, glances at her. “I know you’re not mad about the idea of yourself and myself being on the same side. But that’s where we’ve landed. You’ll haveta make the best of it.”

Lena has had enough of Mart’s sidelong ways. She leaves her washing and turns to face him. “How did you have in mind?”