I loved listening to people talk during our layover at Dublin Airport, even when I could hardly understand what they said. I enjoyed the dry, witty senses of humor and openness of the Irish. A few people got excited when they realized we weren’t locals. We went for coffee and tea at an airport café, and when a little boy heard me order my mocha latte he said, “Ooh, say that again, miss!” His mother laughed and told me he fancied my accent. I had an accent!
Our next flight was on a tiny, rickety propeller plane to a smaller regional airport in Sligo where I changed from sweats into something nicer. The temperature was comfortable, and a light rain fell. Dad warned us to use the bathroom before we got on the road because we were heading in a direction that wouldn’t have any rest stops. Cassidy gave me a fearful look. My little city girl.
We crammed the bin into the trunk of a compact rental car and tied a luggage carrier on top before setting out on our journey. I wasn’t the anxious type, but my heart began a steady round of odd palpations. It was going to be a long ride. I clutched my stomach.
Dad caught my reflection in the rear view mirror. “You okay back there?”
“Yeah, fine. Stomach hurts a little, that’s all.”
Mom turned in her seat to look at me, and said, “Most likely the airplane food.”
I nodded, even though we both knew that wasn’t the reason.
“Better crack a window if you have gas,” Cassidy said. “This car’s way too small for that.”
“You would know,” Dad said. “You’re the queen of not cracking the window.”
And then laughing like an evil hyena when the smell hit us.
Cass smiled with pride.
Another spasm wracked my insides and I curled forward. When Cassidy awkwardly patted my shoulder I leaned over and lay across her lap. It felt a little odd since I was usually the one comforting her, not the other way around, but I’d never needed her more. For the first time in my life I wanted to complain about my circumstances—I wanted to scream at Dad to turn around. How could he sit up there looking so calm about driving me to my impending doom?
As if sensing my silent judgment, he reached back without taking his eyes from the road and placed a strong, gentle hand on my arm.
“It will all work out,” he said.
I heard Mom sniffle. Above me I saw Cassidy swipe a finger across her cheeks.
The car hummed with sadness. I squeezed my eyes shut.
“Um, how ‘bout a movie?” Cass asked, her voice thick with emotion. She struggled to get the laptop out of her bag in the small space by her feet, bouncing my head around in the process. After much grunting and several whispered uses of her favorite word, she finally had it out. We crammed it in the tiny space on the console between Mom and Dad’s arms. My mind was not on the movie, and a few glances up at Cass’s glassy eyes told me that hers wasn’t either. But it filled the silence and passed the time.
After an hour I sat up and looked around.
“We are seriously in the middle of nowhere,” Cassidy said. “Do you know where you’re going, Dad?”
“Of course,” he said, tapping his head. “I’ve got it all up here. One of the few Dightheach who’s been here gave me directions.”
Rolling hills of grass and wildflowers spanned in every direction, with occasional patches of forests and brush. After growing up around the hustle and bustle of D.C., it was serene and even a little spooky to be somewhere so rural and remote. We’d been on road trips before, but even when we passed through croplands there were farms and barns to be seen. Out here, miles passed without signs of homes or life. At least the rain had stopped.
When we went over a particularly large hill and rounded the bend, a giant rainbow appeared, sparkling high in the sky above fields of green grass. I tensed.
Cassidy pointed to it. “Hey, just follow that rainbow and it’ll take us right to them!”
Mom and Dad cracked a smile at each other, but their faces quickly straightened when I didn’t partake in their mirth.
“Where are we, exactly?” I asked, trying not to sound too grumpy.
“County Leitrim,” Dad answered.
“How much longer?” Cassidy squirmed in the cramped seat. “My butt’s asleep.”
“Sit tight, chickadee. Not much longer.” Dad was always so calm. I could see his knees crammed under the steering wheel, but he never complained.
Thirty minutes later Mom pointed to a giant rock up ahead in front of a cluster of leafy trees. Dad slowed and turned directly after the boulder onto a tiny dirt road that cut through the trees.
“We’re coming up to the wards now,” Mom warned.
Sure enough, a shimmery veil revealed itself up ahead and I braced myself as the car bumped along and crept through it. Sudden pressure squeezed my head and my skin burned. For a frightening moment I couldn’t even breathe. When the discomfort eased we all took deep breaths.
The car crept forward into a tunnel of thick trees and it darkened as shade bore down around us. Dusk was beginning to set. Dad had to switch on the headlights.
“I can’t believe we’re here,” I whispered. An ominous quiet fell over the car and all around us. Cassidy took my hand. Mom cast a brave smile at me, but her eyes were tinged with worry.
I’d never been so nervous in all my life. I’m pretty sure even the backs of my knees were sweating, which I didn’t even know was possible.
After five minutes of winding through the trees, we burst out into a vast clearing of grass. Cassidy and I leaned forward with our heads in the middle to see. There appeared to be a faint path in the grass, but we were basically off-roading now. I hoped the car could handle the small ruts. We came up over the largest hill so far, and when we got to the top my sister and I gasped. Mom even reached over and grabbed Dad’s hand as he stopped the car.
In the dim setting sunlight, a medieval-looking village was nestled in the valley below: a large, one-story building with a steepled log roof surrounded by many small structures, like thatched huts. The rumors had been true. This place was definitely not modern. There was even a water-well!
Cassidy’s mouth gaped open. “Holy shitballs. We’re in the Shire.”
“Language,” Mom deadpanned automatically.
On the other side of the village I could make out a clearing right before another forest began. Flickering lights shone through the leaves and around the huts, like fires had been lit.
“Listen,” Dad said.
We rolled down our windows and whimsical sounds spilled in: musical notes, voices and laughter, clapping to a festive tune. Hearing those happy sounds calmed me a little. Cassidy’s fingers wiggled in mine. Our palms were damp, but neither of us let go. Mom turned to me.
“Are you ready, love?”
“No.” I laughed shakily. It took every ounce of my will power to say, “But I’ll be okay. Let’s go.”
Dad shifted back into drive and coasted down the hill. He parked on the closest side of the village, rather than pulling around and driving up to their party, which I was glad about. I’d hate to scare them to death if they’d never seen a crazy vehicular contraption. Surely they’d seen cars with previous visitors, right? After setting sight on this village I had to wonder.
“You’re looking kinda rough,” Cassidy told me. “Do you want to brush your hair or something?”
I patted my crazy waves and shook my head. What was the point? Cass shrugged and applied some shimmery lip gloss. At the last second I snatched the lip gloss from her and swiped some on with a trembling hand.
We climbed out and moaned, stretching and cracking. I attempted to smooth my hands over the wrinkles in my white linen blouse, but there was no use. At least my khaki skirt survived the car trip well. I sighed and tried to relax as Cassidy combed her fingers through my hair, scrunching it a little. Then my parents came forward and simultaneously kissed me—Dad on my temple and Mom on my cheek. They led the way around the village, holding hands, while Cass and I followed close behind, linked arm in arm.