They stopped at a village pub, and the barman told them that a man named Thomas Foley was the only person who went out to Skellig Columba. Captain Foley rarely answered his telephone, but he was usually home in the evening. Vicki arranged for rooms at the pub while Gabriel and Maya walked down the road. This was the first time they had been alone together since meeting in London. It seemed natural to be with him again, and Maya found herself thinking about the first time they’d met in Los Angeles. Both of them had been wary of each other and uncertain about their new responsibilities as Traveler and Harlequin.
Near the outskirts of the village, they found a crudely drawn sign that announced CAPTAIN T. FOLEY-BOAT TOURS. They walked down a muddy driveway to a whitewashed cottage, and Maya knocked on the door.
“Come in or stop knocking!” a man shouted, and they entered a front room filled with Styrofoam floats, discarded lawn furniture, and an aluminum rowboat on a sawhorse. The cottage appeared to be a sinkhole for all the trash in West Ireland. Gabriel followed Maya down a short hallway lined with stacks of old newspapers and bags filled with aluminum cans. The walls squeezed inward as they reached a second door.
“If that’s you, James Kelly, you can bugger off!” shouted the voice.
Maya pushed the door open and they entered a kitchen. There was an electric stove in one corner and a sink filled with dirty dishes. An old man sat at the center of the room repairing a tear in a fishing net. He smiled, revealing a crooked set of teeth, stained dark yellow by a lifetime of smoking and strong tea.
“And who might you be?”
“I’m Judith Strand and this is my friend Richard. We’re looking for Captain Foley.”
“Well, you found him. What do you want him for?”
“We’d like to charter a boat for four passengers.”
“That’s easy enough to do.” Captain Foley gave Maya an appraising look, gauging the amount of money he could charge. “Half-day trip up the coast is three hundred euros. Full day is five hundred. And you need to pack your own bloody lunch.”
“I’ve seen photographs of an island called Skellig Columba,” Gabriel said. “Think we could go there?”
“I take supplies to the nuns every two weeks.” Foley rummaged through the clutter on the kitchen table until he found a briar pipe. “But you can’t put your foot on that particular island.”
“What’s the problem?” Gabriel asked.
“No problem. Just no visitors.” Captain Foley opened up a cracked sugar bowl, took out a pinch of black tobacco, and stuffed it into his pipe. “The island is owned by the Republic, leased to the Holy Church, and chartered to the Order of the Poor Sisters. One thing they all agree on-government, church, and nuns-is that they don’t want strangers tromping around Skellig Columba. It’s a protected area for seabirds. The Poor Clares don’t bother them because they spend their time praying.”
“Well, perhaps if I just spoke to them and asked for permission to-”
“No one gets on the island without a letter from the bishop, and I don’t see you waving one.” Foley lit the pipe and puffed some sugary smoke at Gabriel. “And that’s the end of the story.”
“Here’s a new story,” Maya said. “I’ll pay you a thousand euros to take us out to the island so that we can talk to the nuns.”
The captain considered her offer. “That might be possible…”
Maya touched Gabriel’s hand and pulled him toward the doorway. “I think we’re going to look for another boat.”
“It’s more than possible,” Foley said quickly. “See you on the wharf at ten tomorrow morning.”
They left the house and walked outside. Maya felt like she’d been trapped in a badger’s den. It was close to nightfall and patches of darkness had appeared-tangled in the bushes and spreading beneath the trees.
The villagers were safe within their homes, watching television and cooking dinner. Lights glowed through lace curtains, and smoke came up from some of the chimneys. Gabriel led Maya across the road to a rusty park bench that overlooked the bay. The tide was out, leaving a strip of dark sand covered with driftwood and dead seaweed. Maya sat on the bench as Gabriel walked to the tide line and gazed out at the western horizon. The setting sun touched the ocean and was transformed into a hazy blob of light that flowed across the water.
“My father’s on that island,” Gabriel said. “I know he’s out there. I can almost hear him talking to me.”
“Maybe that’s true. But we still don’t know why he came to Ireland. There has to be a reason.”
Gabriel turned away from the water. He walked over to the bench and sat down beside her. They were alone in the gloom, close enough so that she could feel him breathing.
“It’s getting dark,” he said. “Why are you still wearing your sunglasses?”
“Just a habit.”
“You once told me that Harlequins were against habits and predictable actions.”
Gabriel reached out and removed her sunglasses. He folded them and placed them beside her leg. Now he was staring straight into her eyes. Maya felt naked and vulnerable, as if she had been stripped of all her weapons.
“I don’t want you to look at me, Gabriel. It makes me uncomfortable.”
“But we like each other. We’re friends.”
“That’s not true. We can never be friends. I’m here to protect you-to die for you, if that’s necessary.”
Gabriel looked out at the ocean. “I don’t want anyone dying for me.”
“We all understand the risk.”
“Maybe. But I’m connected to what happened. When we first met in Los Angeles and you told me I might be a Traveler, I didn’t understand how it was going to change the lives of the people I met. I have all these questions that I want to ask my father…” Gabriel fell silent and shook his head. “I never accepted the idea that he was gone. Sometimes, when I was a kid, I would lie in bed at night and have these imaginary conversations with him. I thought I’d grow out of that when I got older, but now it’s even more intense.”
“Gabriel, your father might not be on the island.”
“Then I’ll keep looking for him.”
“If the Tabula know you’re searching for your father, they’ll have power over you. They’ll put out false clues-like bait for a trap.”
“I’ll take that chance. But that doesn’t mean that you have to come along. It would destroy me if something happened to you, Maya. I couldn’t live with that.”
She felt as if Thorn were standing behind the bench, whispering all his threats and warnings. Never trust anyone. Never fall in love. Her father was always so strong, so sure of himself-the most important person in her life. But damn him, she thought. He’s stolen my voice. I can’t speak.
“Gabriel,” she whispered. “Gabriel…” Her voice was very soft, like that of a lost child who had given up hope of ever being found.
“It’s all right.” He reached out and took her hand. Only a sliver of the sun remained on the horizon. Gabriel’s skin was warm to the touch, and Maya felt as if she would be cold-Harlequin cold-for the rest of her life.
“I will stand beside you no matter what happens,” she said. “I swear that to you.”
He leaned forward to kiss her. But when Maya turned her head, she saw dark shapes moving toward them.
“Maya!” Vicki called out to them. “Is that you? Alice got worried. She wanted to find you guys…”
IT RAINED THAT night. In the morning, a thick bank of fog lay on the ocean just outside the bay. Maya put on some of the clothes she had bought in London-wool pants, a dark green cashmere sweater, and a leather coat with winter lining. After eating breakfast at the pub, they walked over to the wharf and found Captain Foley loading sacks of peat and plastic storage boxes onto his thirty-foot fishing boat. Foley explained that the peat was for the convent’s stove, and the boxes contained food and clean clothes. The only water on Skellig Columba came from rain that trickled into rock catch basins. There was enough water for the nuns to drink and wash themselves, but not enough to wash their black skirts and veils.