The Fourth Life of Sean Donoghue by Trish Hanan (children's books read aloud .txt) 📕

Bobby’s had been, so he knew his heart had given out. He sighed and kissed him.
“Ah, lad, you were the last and the best, like my Ryan, I’m really going to miss you, sweet boy,” he whispered and felt suddenly older than his two-hundred and forty-one years.
The next week another grave was dug, hard to do in the snow but they managed. Then Sean gathered his sons, wives, grandchildren, great-grandchildren, everyone and once again, feeling remarkable old and tired, told the family history story, shaved, and washed his hair and became young once again.
“Oh my God, Dad’s dyes his hair,” Bobby exclaimed and all of his sons rushed the sink. Kalin shook his head.
“My God, Dad, you look like my son,” he said with disbelief,” his green eyes hurt and angry. Sean smiled and hugged him. This son would be the hardest to convince.
“You’re two hundred and forty-two,” Ryan asked weakly. Sean nodded and they all looked amazed.
“Did Mom know?” Danny asked. Sean shook his head.
“Claire never guessed, or Bobby, Maggie was the only one who suspected,” he informed them. Zack laughed.
“So what are we going to do now, who are we going to tell people you are?” he asked. Sean grinned at him; Zack was always the one who believed in fairy tales.
“We’re not telling anyone,” He said firmly. They all looked shocked.
“But why?” Bobby asked. Sean shrugged.
“Who would believe?” he asked and they all nodded. “Besides, I’d have to be someone’s bastard child and who’s wife is going to volunteer to be the one who got cheated on?” he asked and all five wives looked askance.
“Not me, Robert Donoghue,” Annie retorted and then grinned. “I’d cut something off that you’re fond of if I ever even catch you thinking about that,” she said and everyone laughed. Sean shook his head.
“I’d imagine you’re pretty fond of that thing too, lass,” he remarked and everyone grinned as the fifty-something woman blushed. She rolled her eyes.
“God, Dad, the things out of your mouth,” Annie murmured and her husband hugged her. Their kids grinned. Jenny, Kalin’s wife raised her hand and grinned, her blue eyes sparkling.
“Me, Dad, I’ll be the cheated wife,” she volunteered as all the other women looked shocked. Kalin laughed and hugged her. Sean shook his head.
“Now why would you want to do a silly thing like that, sweetheart,” he said and she giggled, which at sixty was quite a sound.
“Last week that awful Lizzie Johnson said that half-breeds weren’t that good-looking and that it’s a good thing that ‘plain’ women like me and Annie had married Kalin and Bobby or otherwise they would have had to have been fey,” she informed them. Both men looked amused while Annie looked offended.
“I’m not plain, that bitch,” she spat. All the kids laughed. Sean wagged his finger at her.
“That’s a quarter for the swear jar,” he teased and she shrugged.
“For Lizzie Johnson, it should be free,” she rebuked, “She is a female dog, Dad.” And everyone laughed. He hugged her.
“Okay, for calling you plain and my sons half-breeds, you can get one free,” he consoled and everyone smiled as she looked pleased. They discussed it for two hours and it was decided that Sean would be the bastard child of Kalin and some woman he met in Portsmyth and had a brief fling with when his mother died. In the spring, Sean and his great-grandson Joe, Kalin’s son Kevin’s youngest, eighteen and full of piss and vinegar, reminding Sean a hell-of-a-lot like Ryan which made him both happy and sad, along with a thousand young people left Sweetwater and the Donoghue Valley in a long caravan of trucks, wagons, horses and mules for Las Naga and the west coast. He kissed all of his kids, grandkids and great-kids goodbye and Sean started out for his fifth life optimistic and sad once again. To leave behind all of his family once again, but to take a small part of them with him was over-whelming. But the two-hundred and forty-two year-old man rode at the head of the wagon train on a three year-old black stallion named Sir William and waved goodbye until he couldn’t see anyone. Joe honked his truck horn and stuck his head out the window.
“You don’t have to worry about whales on this trip, granddad,” he teased, his green eyes flashing. Sean laughed until tears came to his eyes.
“No, lad, I guess not on this trip,” he admitted and turned to face the trail. The lad was definitely a Donoghue. He grinned thinking of cannibals, bears, Counts and Donoghues. This was going to be a good trip.


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Text: Patricia C Hanan
Editing: Patricia C Hanan
Publication Date: 09-24-2012

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