street.
We piled into Paul’s truck, and Mike and I had a brief, silent struggle for the
front seat while Paul headed toward the driver’s side. Mike won.
Paul had to start and stop several times as oblivious
pedestrians wandered into the streets before us. He didn’t speak. Mike didn’t
speak.
So of course I did. “So your aunt says you live in Paris?”
“That’s right.” He looked at me in the rearview mirror. “You
been?”
“No, but it’s on my list. Do you travel a lot, out of
Paris?”
He slowly grinned at me in the mirror. For a moment, he looked
shockingly like his cousin, despite the lack of blood between them, and the
darkness of Paul’s looks compared to Mike’s brightness. He nodded. “A bit.”
I kept babbling. “I’ve never been to Paris but I did a whole
circuit of Eastern Europe—Prague and Istanbul and Croatia...”
A spark of genuine interest lit, and some of the tension
drained from the car. “You ever get to Dubrovnik?”
“I loved Dubrovnik.” I turned to
Mike. “It’s this gorgeous walled city with red roofs and these winding
streets—”
Paul interrupted. “Did you walk the walls? See the Old
Town?”
I nodded. “Oh yeah, of course. Did you go out to that
island?”
“With the monastery?”
“Yeah. Okay, listen to this. We met the weirdest old man on the
ferry...”
Mike didn’t seem to like the conversation going on without him.
“We might go to Paris later this summer.”
Paul switched his attention to Mike as though I hadn’t been in
the middle of a sentence. “You and her?”
Mike shrugged non-committedly.
Please. Though if Mike’s family invited me to go to France, I’d
have a hard time resisting. Think of all the croissants!
Still, I didn’t really appreciate Mike using me as a chew toy
to make Paul jealous.
I looked back at Paul. “Are you from Dundoran originally?”
“From Dublin. Came down to take care of my aunt since my mum
couldn’t get away from work and I have the summer off.” His accent was gentle
and lulling. “Came for the funeral and everything too.”
My hands twisted in my lap. In front of me, I caught a quarter
of Mike’s profile as he looked toward Paul. A muscle pulsed in his cheek. “Look,
man, I don’t know what your problem with me is. Did you want Kilkarten to be
left to you?”
Paul scoffed. “What do I want with a heap of grass? Not like
there’s anything interesting there.”
I leaned forward. “I beg to differ. There’s a whole freaking
harbor.”
Paul glanced back. “Sorry, love. Forgot about that.”
My lips twitched at the endearment. Mike let out an unimpressed hmph .
The ride to Kilkarten had taken us out of the village and
through rolling hills. The sun glided over the land, picking out a dozen shades
of green, so many that I found my brain stunted by color and the inability to
think of anything new to say. We passed a turnoff for someone else’s farm and a
few sheep watched us go. A handful of miles later Paul took another turnoff, and
the road rambled upward before leveling out. Green and blue stretched out before
us, the water a flat line in the distance.
Paul threw the truck into park in a dirt lot next to the dead
remains of a building. Ah, the O’Connor farmhouse, burned years ago when Patrick
and Mike’s father were boys. “Here we are. Good old Kilkarten.”
A chill of anticipation swept through me, and I fumbled for the
door and fell out of the car.
The air caught in my chest. This land was everything. Ivernis’s past, my future, Jeremy’s redemption. My eyes
scanned as far as I could see, and I knelt and threaded my fingers through the
grass. Here had been dark blue water. A calm bay; a drastic change from outside
the cove, from the great Atlantic waves crashing against the shore, whipped by
frenzied winds into white foam and spray. Here—right here—the water had only
rippled, surrounded on three sides by land. Small ships sailed from Ireland to
Britain. Traded for iron,
We piled into Paul’s truck, and Mike and I had a brief, silent struggle for the
front seat while Paul headed toward the driver’s side. Mike won.
Paul had to start and stop several times as oblivious
pedestrians wandered into the streets before us. He didn’t speak. Mike didn’t
speak.
So of course I did. “So your aunt says you live in Paris?”
“That’s right.” He looked at me in the rearview mirror. “You
been?”
“No, but it’s on my list. Do you travel a lot, out of
Paris?”
He slowly grinned at me in the mirror. For a moment, he looked
shockingly like his cousin, despite the lack of blood between them, and the
darkness of Paul’s looks compared to Mike’s brightness. He nodded. “A bit.”
I kept babbling. “I’ve never been to Paris but I did a whole
circuit of Eastern Europe—Prague and Istanbul and Croatia...”
A spark of genuine interest lit, and some of the tension
drained from the car. “You ever get to Dubrovnik?”
“I loved Dubrovnik.” I turned to
Mike. “It’s this gorgeous walled city with red roofs and these winding
streets—”
Paul interrupted. “Did you walk the walls? See the Old
Town?”
I nodded. “Oh yeah, of course. Did you go out to that
island?”
“With the monastery?”
“Yeah. Okay, listen to this. We met the weirdest old man on the
ferry...”
Mike didn’t seem to like the conversation going on without him.
“We might go to Paris later this summer.”
Paul switched his attention to Mike as though I hadn’t been in
the middle of a sentence. “You and her?”
Mike shrugged non-committedly.
Please. Though if Mike’s family invited me to go to France, I’d
have a hard time resisting. Think of all the croissants!
Still, I didn’t really appreciate Mike using me as a chew toy
to make Paul jealous.
I looked back at Paul. “Are you from Dundoran originally?”
“From Dublin. Came down to take care of my aunt since my mum
couldn’t get away from work and I have the summer off.” His accent was gentle
and lulling. “Came for the funeral and everything too.”
My hands twisted in my lap. In front of me, I caught a quarter
of Mike’s profile as he looked toward Paul. A muscle pulsed in his cheek. “Look,
man, I don’t know what your problem with me is. Did you want Kilkarten to be
left to you?”
Paul scoffed. “What do I want with a heap of grass? Not like
there’s anything interesting there.”
I leaned forward. “I beg to differ. There’s a whole freaking
harbor.”
Paul glanced back. “Sorry, love. Forgot about that.”
My lips twitched at the endearment. Mike let out an unimpressed hmph .
The ride to Kilkarten had taken us out of the village and
through rolling hills. The sun glided over the land, picking out a dozen shades
of green, so many that I found my brain stunted by color and the inability to
think of anything new to say. We passed a turnoff for someone else’s farm and a
few sheep watched us go. A handful of miles later Paul took another turnoff, and
the road rambled upward before leveling out. Green and blue stretched out before
us, the water a flat line in the distance.
Paul threw the truck into park in a dirt lot next to the dead
remains of a building. Ah, the O’Connor farmhouse, burned years ago when Patrick
and Mike’s father were boys. “Here we are. Good old Kilkarten.”
A chill of anticipation swept through me, and I fumbled for the
door and fell out of the car.
The air caught in my chest. This land was everything. Ivernis’s past, my future, Jeremy’s redemption. My eyes
scanned as far as I could see, and I knelt and threaded my fingers through the
grass. Here had been dark blue water. A calm bay; a drastic change from outside
the cove, from the great Atlantic waves crashing against the shore, whipped by
frenzied winds into white foam and spray. Here—right here—the water had only
rippled, surrounded on three sides by land. Small ships sailed from Ireland to
Britain. Traded for iron,
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