Dublin

When Helen said something, it was always likely to happen. She had said that Emmet would be able to cope with his stutter, that he would laugh away the mimicry and criticism. She bad been right. She had said Rita was a bright girl when everyone else had thought the child mentally deficient. Hellen had known that Billy Sullivan was drinking behind the garage doors when no one else knew. And Helen had told him all those years ago that she could never love him totally, but she would love him as much as she was able to. Which wasn't nearly enough, but he knew it was that or nothing.

He had first met her when she was pining for someone else, and she had been open with him It would not be fair to encourage his attentions, she had said, when her mind was so committed elsewhere. He had agreed to wait around. He had made more an more excuses to be in Dublin, to invite her out.

Gradually, they became close. She never spoke of the man who had left her to marry some girl with money. Little by little, the colour returned to her cheeks. He invited her down here to see his place... his lake. his people... and she came and walked with him around the shores.

"It might not be the greatest love the world has ever known for you.. but it will be for me" he said.

She said it was the most beautiful proposal that a man could make. She would accept, she said. She sighed as she said it.

Helen had told him that she would stay with him, and if she ever left she would tell him why, and it would have to be for a very good reason. She said that it was dangerous to try to know somebody too well. People should have their own reserves, she said, the places they went in their minds, where no one else should follow.

He hadagreed with her, of course. It was the price he paid for getting her as his wife. But he wished she didn't go off so often and so far in her mind, and he dearly wished she didn't wander around the lake in all kinds of weather.