Chapter 25

Cathal grappled for the alarm clock. Six thirty? Why did this stupid thing never work anyway?

He bolted upright. “Got to get up.”

“Hnnnrg?” she inquired, raising her head from under a pillow. “Did you just say—?”

“We’ll make it if we hurry. But we do have to hurry.”

“Okay.” She scrambled up to kneeling position, eyes still bleary, hair mussed, lips raw from kissing. A temptress. Her eyes met his for one long moment then she swung her legs over the side of the bed and joined him in racing around the room searching for items of clothing under the bed, the dresser, in the bathroom.

Breathless, they were standing ready at the car ten minutes later.

“Your rucksack!” she said as he fumbled with the keys.

He raced upstairs again. She gave him a stern, piercing look as he came out with it on his back.

Sorry, Father, wasn’t thinking about you there.

They took the familiar road toward the harbor. As usual they met precious few cars, only those on the return trip from the harbor after dropping a passenger off. He felt too keyed up to talk.

“Wow, looks like it might actually be nice for a change.” Avery pointed at the bluish sky and the streak of gold coming up over the horizon. “You know, I think we’ll make it.”

He hadn’t noticed the change in weather. His head was clouded up with panic that she was leaving the country tomorrow. Leaving him this evening.

“Today’s the day,” he said, tersely.

Because it had to be. It was his fault for making everything contingent on this but he’d been so sure they’d make it up that mountain together way before now. He needed the special energy of Skellig Michael on his side when he came clean and asked her what he wanted to ask her. He’d convinced himself it would only work there, and he was clinging to that superstition the way the monastery clung to the side of Skellig’s rock face.

The boats bobbed in the sparkling water when they reached the harbor.

“What is this place?” she said, getting out of the car and doing a twirl. “This isn’t the Portmagee I’ve come to know and hate.”

“Like most of Ireland, a bit of sun transforms the place.”

“It’s beautiful. Please, just a tiny video? Two seconds… just two seconds.”

He wasn’t going to deny her anything today. “Hurry. Do it.”

Avery adopted her theatrical video voice. “And here we are in the beautiful port town of Portmagee. Look at that sky, that water.” She turned in a slow circle. “The mountains. Incredible. And here’s Cathal, the intrepid Farm Boy with his charming sunny smile, all ready to take on the rock. Yes, it’s what you’re all wondering. Will he complete his mission today?”

He flashed a grin at the camera—for her, not her fans. “It’s a day to be remembered,” he said. “Forever.”

She beamed and shut off the camera, marching fast now. “Let’s try Diarmuid over there. I’ve no desire to talk to Father Sean after his sermonizing.”

“God, yeah,” he agreed, following her.

Diarmuid winced visibly even before they’d said hello. “Ah now, lookit, I’d gladly grant you the two places, but we’ve had so many bad days and there’s a backlog. I’m obliged to give the places to them that booked already and missed out. But how long are you around?”

“Just today,” Avery said flatly.

“Ah, Jaysus,” he said. “That’s a shame. But there’s nothing I can do. The people that booked would be up in arms if I didn’t offer them their compensating tour.”

Peadair, the most elderly skipper in his sixties, tipped his felt cap at them. He took the matchstick he’d been chewing on out of his mouth. “Yez don’t give up, what?” he asked in his very slow voice.

“Nope,” Avery said.

“Have you anything for us at all, Peadair?” Cathal asked.

After another round of nos and sorrys, they trailed their slow way back to the car, shell-shocked at the defeat of their plans.

Avery spoke first. “This is the end. I can’t believe it didn’t work out.”

“Maybe there’s a reason for it.”

“No,” she said, impassioned. “I refuse to be some victim of fate. And I’m surprised at you, Cathal Cosgrave. I thought your mission was too important to fail?”

“I don’t see this as failure. And I don’t see this as the end. Come back to Ireland soon.” This was what he’d intended asking her atop Skellig Michael. But it sounded a lot less convincing now than when he’d played it in his head.

She sighed. “Let me get my act together, get some income going, put some substance behind my brand to make it profitable, and you’ll see me jetting back over here as fast as possible. Maybe even on my own private jet.” She laughed, but it sounded hollow.

“I don’t care if you come by sealskin boat. Just get here.”

“Same applies to you. The Atlantic can be crossed in both directions. That’s the nice thing about geospatial physics.”

“True,” he said. “Well, I’ll be over in my sealskin boat to whisk you away when you least expect it. You have been warned.”

She laughed. “Oh yeah, any time, Farm Boy.”

“So, the port is open? Indefinitely?”

She laughed. “Hm, that sounds quite naughty.” Then, when he didn’t react, she added, “I’ll let you know if it closes.”

“You do that,” he said. Out of sheer habit their legs were taking them toward Skellig Center.

“The fans would love a sequel,” she said brightly. “They’ve really taken to you. Though I might have to squeeze in a few other stories first. I’m storyboarding a new quest in Dubrovnik for the Last Jedi location. And after that, Italy.”

Her face assumed that happy glow she always got when discussing future plans. He wasn’t quite able to match her enthusiasm. “Storyboarding?” he asked. “Out of curiosity, was there someone before me? Another story?”

She flashed him a startled look. “No, you were the first. Our paths crossed organically. I didn’t even know I was looking for an actor.” She inhaled sharply. “I mean, not that—”

“An actor?” he asked.

“I don’t mean that you’re an actor—I just mean, your story is so strange, and so rousing, that… well, people have become addicted to the role you play in my story and that’s the standard of storytelling they expect from now on.”

“You think I’m playing a role?” he asked slowly.

“No…” she faltered. “But you do have to admit that you’ve asked me to believe some pretty strange things. You know, never using a phone or any wifi gadgets? Never contacting anyone? Reading hardbacks? Devoting all your time and attention to me?”

He felt like his world was crumbling.

“Avery, how can you even like me if you don’t trust me? This is insane. You think I’d make this stuff up? Give me your phone. I’ll call Caelan.” He reached for it.

“No.” She pulled back. “Don’t do that. It won’t prove anything.”

“It’ll prove everything.” He grabbed her phone from her and stalked off, typing in the number for home. She made no effort to stop him, just flopped down on the ground with a startled look on her face.

He put it on loudspeaker, watching her face.

The phone rang six times.

“Are you home?” an irritated voice rang out. Caelan. That was weird. Mother usually answered the house phone.

“Not yet. Where’s Mother?”

Caelan grunted something indecipherable.

“Where is she?”

“Calm down, she’s all right.” Caelan paused. “Ah, she couldn’t handle it though.”

“Handle what?”

“Where would you like me to start?”

“What the fuck, Caelan?”

“One hive of bees escaped. The pigs got in the neighbor’s flower garden, and then they got into the garage and went to town on the garbage cans—I swear, it looked like a hurricane in there. They turned over anything with water in it. They were making a mud bath, stupid beasts.”

Cathal strode back and forth, trying to assimilate this and calculate the damage in monetary terms. “Jesus.”

“You didn’t reinforce the fence.”

“I did, many times.” There were more mornings than he cared to remember when the sound of oinking outside his bedroom window meant the pigs had once again torn through his latest attempts to strengthen the fence. What he needed to do was pull the whole fence down and have a modern, super-reinforced one installed, but he didn’t have enough money left for that. This was his nightmare.

“Well, not enough,” Caelan said.

“Where’s Mother?”

“She threatened to kill herself if I didn’t take her to the Hillgrove. So that’s exactly what I did. And now that you’re coming home, I’m off to Dublin to check myself into a hotel too. Don’t forget to collect her and pay her bill. Could be steep because she’s in the junior suite. And don’t give me any lip about that. They had no other rooms left.”

Cathal gasped. “How long has she been there?”

“A week.

“A week?”

“Hey, I couldn’t call you. Next time you decide to leave, bring your feckin’ phone with you. You tricked me into this, Cathal. You didn’t mention the place is held together with string. Or that Mother was turning into a nutcase. Or that you wouldn’t be on call. That wasn’t very nice.”

“You can’t just leave,” Cathal said. “I need more time.”

“Yeah?” Caelan ground out. “Watch me.”

The line went dead.

Cathal stared into space and then at Avery who was sitting still, eyes wide.

“I need to get back there right now—before Mother books in for another night, and before the pigs run riot all over the neighborhood.” He strode away. “This is why I didn’t take a phone with me.”

“And then I stuck my foot in,” she concluded in a dead voice.

“I’m not blaming you. But I do have to get back to Ballybay and sort the mess out before it gets worse.”

She crossed her arms. “They can survive without you a few more hours, can’t they?”

He shook his head resolutely. “You heard Caelan.”

She hissed impatiently. “Yes, I did. Call his bluff. Call him back. Tell him you can’t get there before this evening. Or heck, before tomorrow. It’ll all work out, just wait and see.”

“You don’t know him,” he said. “I’m going.”

“Hmmpf.”

“None of this would be happening if you hadn’t forced the issue,” he pointed out.

“And that’s exactly what I expected you to say,” she shot back.

“Come with me to Ballybay and see the mess for yourself. I’ll take you to Dublin tomorrow. At least it would give us some extra time together.”

She hesitated. The complicated frown crossing her forehead gave him room for hope. She caught his eye. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”