Re: rory & clementine ; tour
"Honey, don't never let anything my daddy did break your heart. I reckon that man was born breaking hearts, and he kept on doing it until someone put him in his grave." Arm looped in his now, like they were out strolling someplace pretty during a Savannah Summer. "I ain't have the slightest notion how he died. See, one day, I tried calling. Out of the blue like, seeing as I knew he'd be real sussed with me, me not doing what he wanted for the first damn time in all my years. His woman answers. Not my momma, but his wife, and she's wailing like the world done ended, and she says he's dead as doorknobs." Might be she should tell the story with more mourning, but there wasn't even a fake tear in sight at the telling. "Reckon he might could've broke the wrong heart."
She was caught up in her storytelling, and she didn't notice his twitching eyebrow. And then stained glass came into sight, bright in the moonlight night, and she pointed at the real small church standing beyond the field. "There first. I was raised Protestant, but the Catholic church's prettier, and they have all them rituals. It's a big deal in Ireland, ain't it? Protestant or Catholic?" Asked with casual curiosity, and like blood hadn't spilled for lifetimes over that real small issue.
And prayers? She laughed, twinkling bells and her smelling sweet as decaying carnations. "Sugar, do prayers get answered anyplace?"