Bree

It would be easy to stay in the hotel room, mope around like a heartsick teenager, and wait for Owen to come back and talk. But after an hour of waiting, I know I have to get out, to do something to take my mind off him.

I think about renting a car and leaving the city for a couple days, exploring the countryside. But after hearing about Delaney’s experience driving on the opposite side of the road, I figure it’s safer to stick with taxis and bus tours.

In the lobby, I pull out a brochure that has a picture of an ancient monument on it.

“Newgrange Tours,” I mutter. A seven-hour tour from Dublin to the Neolithic tombs at Newgrange and the Hill of Tara.

Exactly what I need to get my mind off Owen, and better than the shopping trip Emer and Delaney have planned. I enjoyed my time with them last night, but I know there’ll be more questions, and more awkwardness, after this morning’s admission. And one of the reasons I came here was to see the country.

To revisit my roots.

Plus, I really hate shopping.

Grabbing a taxi to take me to the tour pick-up, I send a quick text to Emer to cancel and let her know where I’m going.

She calls me back right away. “Do ye want me to go with ye?”

“Seven hours on a bus probably isn’t the best thing for you in your condition.”

“If this is about what happened this morning-”

“It’s not. I just want to do a bit of sightseeing. I don’t know when, or if, I’ll ever be back here.”

Emer sighs on the other end. “I wanted to talk to ye about that.”

I step onto the tour bus and take a seat at the back, away from the families with young children that crowd the front.

“About what?”

“Ye moving here.”

“Oh.”

“Ye said ye didn’t have much to go back to. So, why go back?” Emer continues, rambling quickly. “I was talking to my mom, and she said ye can stay with her until-”

“Emer,” I stop her, tears pricking my eyes. “I can’t just move back. I don’t have a job.”

“Ye don’t have one back in the States, either. Just think about it.”

“I will.” I hesitate before saying, “Emer?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you.”

I swear, I can hear her smile through the phone.

Could I do it? Move back here? There’s nothing stopping me. No one waiting for me back in Michigan. Except for Frank.

I shiver at the thought.

The man has been quiet lately, but that doesn’t mean he’s gone. That he won’t make good on his promise to find me. And there was that letter from his lawyer a few months ago. God only knows what the man is capable of.

Maybe moving here is a good idea. But if Frank does want to cause trouble, I don’t want my family being dragged down with me.

I glance out the window as the bus starts to roll out of the parking lot.

Ireland changes as we leave the city. The bustle of the city streets is replaced by miles of open space, rolling green hills scattered with sheep as we drive north through County Meath.

It’s only an hour from Dublin to our first stop, the Hill of Tara. The seat of the great kings of Ireland.

I was here once when I was little. My Aunt Agnus brought me and Emer when my mom was off on one of her weekend getaways.

Getting off the bus, it feels like I’m in the middle of nowhere, not at one of the country’s most famous monuments. There’s a café in front of the small parking lot, but other than that, there’s nothing but hills, a few scattered farmhouses, an old church, and sheep. But buried in the long green grass and purple heather are remnants of a people that lived here thousands of years ago. My people.

I half listen to the guide as my group walks around. Compared to the towering buildings I’m used to back home, the monuments at first seem almost insignificant. It’s not until I realize how long they’ve stood here, untouched, that the significance really grabs me. Some, almost five thousand years.

A rock is no longer just a rock. It’s a symbol of someone’s belief. Of a people unifying to build something. A wild people who believed in magic, and destiny.

Standing in front of one of the earth mounds, I close my eyes and breathe in the fresh air. The scent of grass is thick, the bleating of sheep and the rustle of wind the only sounds among the awed whispers.

I belong here, my heart beats wildly. This is home.

My tour group moves on, back towards the church, but the last place I want to be is inside.

There are a couple other tours, so I’m never alone as I spend time at each monument. A few nods and polite smiles are exchanged, but everyone I see seems somewhat lost in their own thoughts.

It’s the large hawthorn tree covered in decorations that seems to draw the largest crowd. Adorned with everything from ribbons, keychains, notes, bells, and even baby pacifiers, it seems out of place.

At the otherworldly sound of chimes and tinkling when the wind blows through the branches, a memory tugs at the back of my mind. The memory of being here when I was younger. Of Agnus holding me up to place my grandmother’s charm bracelet on one of the branches.

“Mum, why is the tree covered in garbage?” A little girl with bright red hair and freckles dotting her nose asks, frowning up at the twisted and gnarled branches.

“It’s a fairy tree,” the woman says, crouching down beside her daughter.

“Where fairies live?”

“No. More like a portal. A place that connects their world with ours. Some people believe that if you leave a gift, that the fairies will take it to the other side.”

“I want to leave something.” The belief in magic shines in the child’s eyes as her mother takes something from her purse and allows the little girl to place it on the tree.

There was a time when I believed in all this.

Magic.

Fairies.

White Knights.

Ireland is filled with tales and legends. It’s one of the things that makes it so special.

I lost that part of me when I left. The part that believed in more than what my eyes could see, or my hands could touch. And I wonder if, once you’ve lost it, once the veil has been removed and you see the harsh reality of life, you can ever get that childlike faith back.

The sun, which has been hiding most of the day behind a cloud, peeks through, warming my cheeks and making the landscape look like a thousand shades of green. I walk the countryside, taking in the different standing stones, and reading the short descriptions in my pamphlet.

It’s not until clouds darken the sky with impending rain that I realize how much time has gone by and how few people are left.

An unsettling feeling sinks like a stone in my stomach as I tread back across the fields towards the parking lot.

I’ve always been one to get caught up in my head, to forget about time. While many kids I knew had trouble focusing on a task, I tended to hyper-focus, so much that I lost track of the world around me. Especially when I was playing the piano.

Being able to block out the world seemed like a blessing when Frank and my mom were fighting, when he’d come home in one of his moods, and when nothing she did was good enough. I’d sit in the basement and play the old, out-of-tune piano until my fingers ached, and my heart bled out on the keys.

Until the night she didn’t come home.

“Where is she?” His angry words sliced through the music I’d been playing.

But I didn’t stop. Not out of defiance, but because once I was in the trance, nothing, not even Frank, could pull me from it.

“I said, where the hell is she?” I didn’t see the bat, until it smashed down on the keys, narrowly missing my hand.

Most people would have jumped back, ran, done anything to protect themselves. But my first instinct was to protect that damn piano. It was the only thing I had. The only thing that could transport me across the ocean. Make me feel like I was home.

“I don’t know,” I’d cried out, splaying myself across the keys as his bat smashed down on the top, sending tiny splinters of wood flying. “Please, don’t.”

“She’s gone. Her clothes. The money. She took it all.”

I’d looked at him, horrified, because she wouldn’t leave me. Not here. Not with him. I knew that she’d begun to hate him as much as I did. But she would never go without me.

“I don’t know.” My voice was a pitiful cry, but it didn’t stop him from taking his anger out on the piano.

The bat smashed down, over and over again, breaking the ivory, cracking the wood. I screamed, and my heart shattering with every blow.

Frank shrieked, his eyes wild, unseeing as he took all his frustration out on the piano.

I should have stepped away.

He didn’t mean to hit me.

The bat slammed down on the top of my hand, and I felt the bones crack as easy as the wood and ivory had. I crumpled, bile burning a path up my throat.

I didn’t cry.

The pain was so severe it blinded me. Numbed me. Broke me.

A shiver races down my spine at the unbidden memory.

I haven’t allowed myself to think about that night in a long time. And I’m not sure why I let the darkness creep in now, other than the trembling and throbbing in my right hand. But that never really goes away.

I shake away the dark thoughts and make my way back down the path, praying that the damn bus is still there, but knowing, with my luck, it’s gone.

A hysterical laugh flutters up in my throat when I see the empty parking lot.

“Perfect,” I mumble. “Absolutely perfect.”

The café is still open, and I go inside to figure out what I’m going to do, because as amazing as the Hill of Tara is, it’s in the middle of freaking nowhere.

“Is it possible to get a cab to drive me back to Dublin?” I ask the young woman at the souvenir desk.

“That’s an hour away,” she says, her expression deadpan.

“I know, but the tour bus left without me-”

“Ah, ye’re the American they were looking for. Ye need to stay with yer group.”

“I realize that,” I say, trying to keep the frustration out of my voice. “But that doesn’t help me now.”

She shrugs. “It’ll cost ye about a hundred euros, maybe more.”

Shit. I can afford it. But barely.

I chew on my bottom lip. I could call Emer, see if Aiden can pick me up. But I hate asking anything of anyone. And I’d really like to not have to explain how I missed the stupid bus.

Swallow your pride for once in your life, my head—or rather, my wallet—begs.

Emer answers on the first ring. “How’s yer tour? Are ye regretting not going shopping with us?”

“Actually, yes.”

I swear, I hear her frown on the other end. “What happened?”

I squeeze my eyes shut and wince before admitting, “The bus left without me.”

There’s a short silence, then she chuckles. “Ye haven’t changed. Ye always were one for getting into trouble.”

“You have no idea,” I mutter. “I wouldn’t ask, but-”

“Tell me where ye are, and I’ll send Aiden to get ye.”

“Thank you.”

After I end the call, I sit down at one of the small tables to wait.

“Sorry, but we’re closing to the public,” the girl from the counter says apologetically. “We have a special event in here later, and-”

“It’s okay. I have a ride coming.” Although, as I leave the shop and look up at the dark clouds forming above me, I realize that it’ll take Aiden a good hour to get here.

It’ll be just my luck if it starts to rain.

I mutter a curse as the first drop hits the tip of my nose.

Wrapping my arms around my chest, I lean against the stone wall that separates me from a dozen cows, munching lazily on the grass, and they let out a series of dissatisfied moos as the rain starts to fall harder.

I’m soaked and frozen when the car Shane was driving the other night pulls into the parking lot. I start to run towards it, then stop when I see who’s driving.

Owen.

The passenger side window rolls down, and he frowns at me. “Are ye just going to stand there and freeze, or are ye going to get in the car?”

Freezing sounds like the better option when I catch the scowl that tugs at his lips.