She was sleeping, curled like a cat beneath the comforter, the armoire door open, the window closed. He undressed and crawled in beside her and was out like a light.
He woke when he heard her cry out in her sleep, and rolled over and put his hand on her shoulder. ‘It’s all right,’ he said.
She turned to him; he was alarmed by the look on her face.
‘The man…’ She covered her face with her hands.
‘It’s all right, it’s okay. It won’t happen again. Would you like to get out of here? Just say the word. We can take a hotel in Sligo.’
‘It was only a dream, I’ll be fine.’ She shivered a little.
‘You always say that when something goes wrong.’
‘And, of course, I’m always fine.’ She sat up and rubbed her eyes and squinted at his watch. ‘I’m hungry as a bear, and it’s time for you to eat something, too. Did you take the raisins with you?’
‘I did not.’
‘Did you smash into anything?’
‘I did. Tore off the driver’s-side mirror. But I think I got the hang of it.’ He told her about the bike rider he’d seen on the highway, which made her mildly anxious, then reported his phone call to Walter. Her relief was as palpable as his own.
‘I asked the operator for charges,’ he said. ‘Sixty bucks.’
She wasn’t currently into finances. ‘I missed you,’ she said.
‘You did?’ He was a sucker for being missed.
‘I was stuck with Bella as my caregiver.’
‘Tell me everything and I’ll bring our lunch up.’
‘The little wretch. Needs a swift kick in the pants.’
‘On the order of what you used to give Dooley.’
‘Yes, and of course it worked; they beg for it, I think. Needless to say, she’s starving for love-and since I’ve nothing better to do, I’ve decided to give it to her, though she’ll put up a terrific fight.’
‘You’re amazing.’
‘She’s very bright. I asked why she chose the butterfly tattoo, what it means to her. She opened up a little, then, but only a little. The butterfly, she said, has a very short life span. I took that to signify her teenage angst, which can definitely have a suicidal edge.
‘She’s partial to the monarch, which flies from Canada to Mexico, covering two thousand miles in two months-isn’t that amazing?-but only when conditions are perfect and against the most terrible odds. So maybe she’s thinking to fly the coop when the timing is right, and the further away, the better.’
‘How do you know these things?’
‘Very simple. I was a teenager. She did something I wouldn’t have expected. She recited two verses from Frost, from his poem My Butterfly. She seemed to… grow softer, somehow, when she spoke the lines.
‘There’s a collection of Frost poems in the library, so I wrote down the verses.’
She took her sketchbook from the bedside table, and read aloud.
‘It seemed God let thee flutter from his gentle clasp / Then fearful he had let thee win / Too far beyond him to be gathered in / Snatched thee, o’er eager, with un-gentle grasp.
‘And so in the poem, the season ends and the flowers die, and the butterfly, too, and she quoted this:
‘Then when I was distraught / And could not speak / Sidelong, full on my cheek / What should that reckless zephyr fling / But the wild touch of thy dye-dusty wing.’
The sound of a power saw keening beyond the window.
‘Such a sorrowing in her,’ she said.
He saw the sorrowing reflected in Cynthia’s face. If there was ever one to say, I feel your pain, and mean it, it was his wife. ‘Lunch!’ he said in what she called his pulpit voice.
‘Yes. Well. Any sort of sandwich on soda bread with a bit of fruit and tea, and I’ll be your slave.’
‘You’ll forget that heedless remark, but I’ll remember it.’
He pulled on a pair of jeans, a shirt, tennis shoes. ‘Back in a flash,’ he said. ‘And by the way…’ He flipped the light switch at the door-on, off, on, off.
‘Hooray!’ she said.
‘The hot bath you’ve been dreaming of.’
He knocked on the kitchen door. Bella opened it, but said nothing. Lunch wasn’t usually served at Broughadoon, but Anna had made special arrangements for the Kavanaghs.
‘If we could get a couple of sandwiches? Anything on soda bread, with fruit and tea.’
She stared, cool.
‘Thank you,’ he said.
She closed the door. Robert Frost or no, it would take more than a swift kick to get that job done.
He sat at the table and looked out to the view, noted the faint scent of insect repellent, and remembered hearing that all fishing lodges smell that way, especially in August when the midges are out.
Tonight he would finish the letter-find an envelope large enough for the drawing to be mailed flat, take a wild guess at the weight, put stamps on the whole business, and sayonara. No wonder the postcard was such a popular item when traveling.
Bella entered the dining room with the tray. ‘Shall I take it up, then?’
‘Many thanks, but no, I’ll take it.’ He was pleased to return her attempt at being civil. ‘Mrs. Kav’na loves your soda bread.’
‘Is there anything Mrs. Kav’na doesn’t love?’
Her tone was chilling, he felt the venom in it. ‘Men jumping out of cupboards would be one,’ he said, seizing the tray.
In their room, he set the tray on the foot of the bed.
‘Love her if you like, but leave me out of it.’
She was clearly amused. ‘She’s a terrible pain.’
‘Man,’ he said, quoting Dooley. He needed to get out of here-be a tourist, see a castle, anything. ‘Are you sure you don’t want to get a room in Sligo? We can call Aengus Malone to drive us.’ He’d be happy to dodge running up the hill tomorrow to the den of a fire-breathing dragon who devours Protestants and sucks the marrow bones.
‘Calm down, sweetheart. She’s testing us. She’d be thrilled to know she’s upsetting you like this.’
‘What happened to her, anyway?’
‘There was a divorce years ago. She lived with her mother until she was twelve, then went off to Dublin to her dad, a very famous Irish musician. Apparently, his influence hasn’t been the best; she was quite free to do as she pleased, and now his new girlfriend has moved in. It’s someone Bella despises, and so she’s back to her mother after six years.’
‘Eighteen, then.’ His heart was oddly moved, if only a little. He’d been through this himself, through years of Dooley’s arrogance and rage-and then the miracle issuing forth, albeit slow as blood from stone. ‘How do you know this?’
‘Maureen.’
‘She volunteered it?’
‘I asked her.’
‘When it comes to meddling, my dear, you make clergy look like amateurs.’
‘Maureen believes in her. I think Maureen is the unofficial grandmother-Anna’s mum, she says, died in childbirth. Oh, and Bella’s Irish name is K-o-i-f-e, pronounced Kweefa…’
Two castles. A ruin, even.
‘Eat something,’ she said, laying into her sandwich.
Yes. He didn’t want to rile his diabetes, anything but.
He was washing up when the knock came.
Liam’s piercing blue eyes were gray. ‘Corrigan would like us to come to the station at Riverstown. They want to hear what I know about Jack Slade, and what you saw on the highway.’
Come here, go there, do this, do that. ‘What I saw could be told on the phone.’
‘Aye. Of course. I’m sorry.’
He couldn’t tolerate another apology, from himself or anyone else.
‘If they want to talk to me in person, I’d be glad to do it here.’ He would mention the business of his cell phone then.
‘I’ll see to it,’ said Liam.
‘Before dinner, please.’
How simple it was to say no. And it had only taken seventy years.
‘I have an idea,’ he told Cynthia.
‘I love ideas.’
‘After dinner this evening, I’m taking you out.’
‘Where are we going?’
‘It’s a surprise.’ They would have daylight until nearly ten o’clock.