by Denise Calaman

Created on: April 03, 2009   Last Updated: May 14, 2009

I

"Oh Bridget Mc Nolan! Where ya been fer all these years? I dare say you get prettier every time I see ya lassie!" Jamie O' Shay sprung from behind his grocery counter as soon as Bridget stepped through the door. His eyes twinkled with pride as he looked over the young girl that he knew since her birth 28 years ago. Jamie asked as he stood at arm's length studying her. It had been 12 years since she left. Studying her, it was striking just how much she looked like her mother. "What brings you back to Ireland?" he asked.

"Father Bailey wants to give me Auntie's personal belongings. You know, her bible, any personal documents, letters. Stuff like that."

Jamie put his hands in his pockets as the conversation turned solemn. "Say, Bridget, I'm sorry to hear of yer auntie's passing. Such a terrible tragedy but she lived a good life indeed. Devoted her life to the Lord she did, and the Catholic Church and father above will reward her surely."

Bridget studied the floor as Jamie O'Shay offered his condolences. Bridget was ashamed that she wasn't able, or rather she didn't try, to make it home for her aunt's wake. The day that she turned 16, Bridget Mc Nolan fled Ireland and never looked back. She made a nice life for herself in the US. She was a successful chef at one of the trendiest restaurants in New York, had a rolodex the size of Queens with many famous friends and clients, and she had a handful of close friends who had become her surrogate family.

"I ah, I was busy with work when I heard of the news. I couldn't get away or I would have come," she explained.

"Of course lassie," Jamie said, knowing very well it was an excuse. He was one of the few people in town who understood her reasons for not wanting to come home. "Ya know I saw yer pop just the other day. Coming outta St. Andrew's."

"Coming out of the church? It couldn't have been my father. That man would have set the place on fire." Bridget picked up a brown woven shopping basket and began searching for some of the few Irish treats that she enjoyed while growing up that weren't available in the US.

Jamie walked behind the counter and climbed to the top of the stepstool and pulled a yellow box down from the shelf. "Got a new shipment of Flake bars in just yesterday." He sat them on the counter.

"Mr. O'Shay, I've been gone for over 12 years! How in the

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