The Emerald Isle (6 page)

And thank you, Aunt Kizzie, for convincing me to come
.

“Kathy, are you going to stand there all day?”

My eyes flew open at the sound of Taylor’s voice, then I hurried to join him. Maddie’s short legs were moving like pistons, and she and Taylor had almost reached the terminal already.

I ducked my head into the wind and hurried to catch them.

Ballyshannon was a working farm, Maddie informed us when she
hung up the pay phone, and her dad wasn’t able to take the time to fetch us from Shannon. So we would take a bus from Shannon to Ballinderry, where Maddie’s parents would meet us.

I must confess, I was so entranced with the sights of Ireland and the Irish that I scarcely heard what Maddie was saying as we went through customs. I walked slowly through the airport, listening to snatches of delightful lilting conversation while smiling at fresh-faced youngsters, curly-haired men, and more shades of red hair than Clairol ever imagined.

On the bus, I took a seat across from Maddie and Taylor and didn’t even think about intruding in their conversation. While Maddie pointed out landmarks, I sat facing the window, delighted by the unusual aspect of riding on the left side of the road. As traffic signs, other vehicles, and landscapes whizzed by, I wondered if everyone who came here felt as though they had fallen asleep and awakened in some sort of parallel universe. Everything was similar—people wore pretty much the same kinds of clothes you’d see in rural America, and for the most part they spoke English—but everything seemed delightfully skewed.

Some of the traffic signs made me smile: Mind Your Windscreen, Road Calms Ahead, and Dead Slow Turn. I laughed aloud when I saw one that read Acute Bend Ahead, then leaned over the aisle to nudge Taylor. “Look at that,” I pointed to the sign. “Do you think they’d point it out if it were an ugly bend?”

Taylor laughed, but Maddie only frowned in exasperation.

Shrugging, I left Taylor to explain the joke and turned back to the window. Irish roads are amazing—they twist and turn according to the impulsive lay of the land, and the native drivers plunge fearlessly over them with little regard for speed limits, turn signals, or the right of way. We drove through small villages with colorful names like Bunratty, Castleconnell, and Birdhill, then we left the four-lane highway and moved out into even twistier narrow lanes that took us through the villages of Puckane and Borrisokane. We stopped in many
of the settlements to accept or disgorge passengers, and finally the diesel bus churned and choked its way into Ballinderry.

I don’t know how I got the impression that Maddie hailed from a bona fide city—perhaps from her sophistication and the carefree way she handled the challenges of New York. But Ballinderry was definitely a village. Two main streets intersected at the heart of the town, and two colorful pubs stood kitty-corner from one another. Stucco-faced buildings housing a food store, a bank, and a half-dozen homes crowded cheek by jowl together on what appeared to be the main street, and a black-and-white sign pointed the way toward Saint Jerome’s Church.

“We’re home!” Maddie squealed in delight, threw her arms around Taylor’s neck and kissed him, then practically pushed her way over him in her hurry to get off the bus. I waited to let Taylor gather their things, then I picked up my small bag and followed, amazed that Maddie O’Neil had found her way from this quaint village to the city that never sleeps.

I couldn’t help but admire the picturesque town. Bright shades of green, blue, and red adorned the plastered buildings, and the streets were clean and swept, even if people tended to park their cars helter-skelter on both sides of the road, on the curbs, even on the sidewalk. Several faces peered through windows at us, and I felt the scrutiny of curious eyes as I collected my luggage from the belly of the bus and thanked the driver. He tipped his hat, murmured something too fast and fluid for my tourist’s ear, then climbed back aboard the bus and left us standing in a blue-gray cloud of diesel fumes.

Maddie moved toward one of the pubs, her high heels clicking over the stone sidewalk. “I’ll call Mum,” she said, smiling at us over her shoulder. “She’ll be but a minute—the farm’s not far. I’ll have you home and in my kitchen before you know it.”

Taylor leaned toward her as if he would follow, then he thrust his hands in his pockets and looked out at the village. I waited until Maddie disappeared into the building, then I grinned up at him.

“Is it what you expected?”

Taylor drew a long, deep breath. “Well, she said it was small.”

“It reminds me of EPCOT. I expect Mickey and Minnie Mouse to come around the corner at any minute singing ‘It’s a Small World after All.’”

Taylor shushed me as a pair of women approached from a small house. Overcome by an inexplicable wave of friendliness, I nodded at them and smiled. If I had been wearing a hat, I would have swept it off in greeting—not exactly a New York thing to do, but I was feeling a little giddy.

Did Ireland affect everyone this way?

The women nodded back and moved on without speaking. Taylor was still staring at the main street, probably wondering if he would be able to hang on to his sanity in this quiet place for two entire months.

“What did she tell you about the farm?” I asked, hoping to divert his dark thoughts. “Is it a big place?”

His watery eyes held absolutely no expression. “Ballyshannon is a hundred-acre dairy farm. Not big by Irish standards, really. Nothing but cows and hay and green hills.”

I tilted my head. “Perhaps there’s a library nearby. I’m sure there’s one in Limerick, which isn’t too far. And I read that Waterford and Cork are really big cities, and they’re only a few hours drive to the south.”

Taylor sighed again, then gave me a rather sad smile. “I just hadn’t realized it would be this…archaic. Maddie’s been encouraging me to begin work on my doctoral thesis, but without a decent library at hand.…”

He drifted off, and I gaped at him, surprised by this unexpected bit of information. Taylor had never mentioned getting his doctorate before. I had always thought he was content with his master’s degree and his work at the college, but apparently Maddie had ambitions for him.

“Well, there’s the Internet,” I pointed out. “And I’ll be going to lots of libraries to research my Cahira project. You’re welcome to come along.”

The line of his mouth tightened a fraction more. “I don’t know if Maddie would exactly approve of that. You were right about one thing, Kathy—she doesn’t seem as enthusiastic about our friendship as she once did.”

I looked away, not knowing how to respond. Part of me wanted to proclaim indignantly that Maddie was behaving like a jealous child, but another part of me knew I’d feel the same way if the situation were reversed.

“Well, let’s not borrow trouble,” I said as the pub door opened and Maddie made her way out into the sunshine. “Let’s just take each day as it comes, okay?”

“Right.”

Five minutes later, a small blue sedan coasted into town, straddled the curb, then braked to a halt. Almost immediately three doors flew open and an enthusiastic trio fell upon Maddie en masse, welcoming her with bear hugs, tears, and squeals of congratulations.

James, Maddie’s father, was the first to detach himself from his daughter’s side and shake Taylor’s hand. He was a short man with lively blue eyes, ruddy cheeks, and dark hair that gleamed in the sunlight. He greeted Taylor with sincere warmth, slapped him on the shoulder, and welcomed him to the family. He appeared to be in his middle fifties, and though I looked for some sign of weakness caused by the cancer, I saw none. For a man who might soon be on his deathbed, James O’Neil looked surprisingly fit and trim.

Finally, he turned to me. “Sure, and you’re the friend,” he said. I put out my hand, intending to spare him the awkwardness men sometimes feel when first meeting a woman, and he shook my hand with gentle firmness. “I hear you’re the one who brought these two together.”

I gave him a careful smile. “Something like that.”

“Well, you’re a bonny thing yourself, so why didn’t you nab him?”

Maddie turned on her father in a rush. “Dad, what a cheeky thing to say!”

The Irishman didn’t apologize, but lifted a brow and grinned at me. “Is he not your type then? Or is there something wrong with the fellow?”

“James O’Neil, I’ll thank you to keep a civil tongue in your head!” Maddie’s mother whirled on her husband, then turned directly to me—a rather odd move, I thought, considering that so far she had ignored Taylor altogether. Her dark auburn curls were windblown, and her bright blue eyes stared out at me from the face of a determined middle-aged woman. “So, you’re the lass who wanted to come to Ireland and work on a book. I think it’s wonderful of you to come along with these two.”

I murmured something like a thank-you, then watched Mrs. O’Neil reach out and take Taylor’s hand. “The name’s Fiona, love, but you can call me Mum, just like Maddie does. ’Tis pleased and happy we are to welcome you to the family. We’ve been so eager to meet you.”

Coloring fiercely, Taylor bent to accept the woman’s embrace, and I stepped back, allowing more room for the intimate family scene. Standing across from the O’Neils, Maddie and Taylor endured a barrage of questions about the flight and the bus ride, while the third passenger in the car, a very pretty girl of seventeen or eighteen, stood aloof and silent.

I felt her eyes upon me even before I turned, and when I smiled at her she neither blushed nor looked away. As slim as a pleat and fragrant in her summer dress, the girl favored neither Mr. nor Mrs. O’Neil, but that wasn’t surprising since Taylor had told me Maddie had no sisters, only a brother.

“Erin, ’tis good to see you.” Maddie pulled out of the family clique and moved to embrace the willowy beauty. “Were you at the house when I called?”

“Of course.” The girl gingerly accepted Maddie’s hug, then stepped back, apparently as reluctant as I to intrude in the intimate family gathering. “Your dad said I could ride along.”

“Want to see the new brother-in-law, aye?” Maddie grinned,
and an answering smile found its way through the girl’s mask of uncertainty. “Well, we’ll be sure to find a place for you at the wedding. We can’t have our favorite neighbor just sitting in the church when we could use you for something special.”

Maddie slipped an arm around Erin’s waist and drew her into the family circle. “Speaking of Erin, what’s the latest word from Patrick? Is he coming home this weekend?”

Mr. O’Neil’s mouth took on an unpleasant twist. “Not this weekend, love. He says he’s working on a big project. But he’ll come home to meet your Taylor, never you mind. We’ll get him home if we have to send Erin to Limerick to fetch him back!”

A deep flush rose from the neckline of the girl’s sundress, and Mrs. O’Neil turned on her husband. “Hush with that talk, James. We’ve had enough matchmaking for one day. Help us get these bags in the car, will you? There’s no way we can take all this baggage at once, but we’ll do what we can.”

I had been wondering how six people plus luggage would fit into a sedan built for four, but within a minute Mrs. O’Neil turned me to me and announced her plan. “We’ll take Maddie and Taylor first, then come back for you and Erin and the bags.” An expression of pained tolerance crossed her face. “I hate to leave you here on the stoop, but there’s Erin to keep you company. We’ll just be a bit.”

“I don’t mind,” I lied.

So while Maddie and Taylor slipped into the backseat of the car like a pair of newlyweds, Mr. O’Neil and I piled luggage into the trunk. Then I stood on the curb next to the silent Erin as the burdened car roared to life and rattled away.

I sank to the edge of the curb and rested my crossed arms on my knees.

“So,” Erin said, gracefully lowering herself to the curb beside me, “have you a boyfriend in America? I hear American men are real dotes.”

“I have no boyfriend.” I propped my chin in my hand and gave her a benign smile. “And what’s a dote?”

Erin’s eyes widened in surprise. “Why, it’s someone to dote upon, a real love.”

“Oh.” I looked down the road, where the sedan had just disappeared behind a tall hedge. “Well, some American men are dotes, I suppose. But the good ones are getting harder and harder to find.”