Chapter Four
The next morning, after another shitty, restless night, Lassi awoke to rain battering the window, like a full-on machine gun assault.
“Christ on a cracker,” she muttered. “Does this place ever dry out?” Still dressed in yesterday’s jersey and panties, she threw back the covers, desperate for some tea. Her breath emerged in clouds of white while her skin peppered with gooseflesh. “Let me guess.” She rolled from the bed and scurried toward the wall light switch. Nothing happened when she flicked it. “Wonderful. No power. And no power means no tea. And no tea means I’m pissed and off to another fecking day in Bally-kiss-my-ass.”
Shivering, she felt around for yesterday’s jeans and socks from the floor, hoping not to be surprised by more dead cats. When she only found fabric, she sighed, lifted her Levi’s, and tugged them on. Then, she searched for her wooly jumper and pulled it over her head. Lastly, she grabbed the faded blue chenille bedspread and wrapped it tight around her.
The rooms of the house were dark from lack of lighting and outside gloom. She stumbled her way into the shadowy kitchen, kicking crap out of the way as she went, and retrieved the candle and matches she’d left on the table. After lighting the candle, she sauntered into the front room.
“Feel like pulling wallpaper in the dark, Lassi Finn? No? I didn’t think so.” That settled, she curled up on the lumpy couch next to the box of papers.
She moved the candle to her left hand and peered into the box. At the bottom, it looked like one of the pieces of parchment had affixed itself to the wood. Gently, she picked at it with her short fingernails, prying it free. She managed to unfold it without tearing it— much. After spreading it on her lap in a one-handed maneuver, she lowered the candle close enough to study it.
“Hmm. Looks like a map to me.” Unable to make anything discernible out, she twisted it back and forth. Then, she lifted it directly in front of her face.
Her heart drummed with excitement as she read, Strongbow’s grave. Final resting place of Maggie Strongbow.
“It’s right down the way, like Aengus mentioned. Cool. This calls for an outdoor adventure.” She glanced out the window.
Trees bent and swayed in the howling wind. Rain pattered against the window pane.
“But later.” She placed the map in the box, blew out the candle, and tugged the bedspread around her. I hate this fecking place. She lay her head on the hard arm of the sofa, wishing she were back in Dublin. Her eyes fell shut. There are babies to be birthed. Moms to be consoled. Pubs to visit which don’t look like the kind of places zombies frequent. Fun to be had.
A sharp rapping shook her from her reveries. She sucked in spit dripping from her mouth. Shite. I fell asleep. She pushed her way to upright and stumbled across the room toward the front door.
Through the little eye hole she made out the face of Liam. She let out a disgusted sound.
He pounded the door. “Lassi! Are you there?” He hefted a paper sack as if he knew she stood a door-width away. “I brought some food. And I came to check on you.”
Torn about opening the door or slinking back to the sofa, she hesitated. Her stomach let out a grumbling song. She sighed and twisted the antique glass doorknob.
“Hey, Liam,” she said woodenly.
“Lassi. There you are.” He held up the bag of food. “I thought you might be hungry. Have you got any power? Half the town is out.”
“Yeah, I’m in that half.” She reached for the paper sack. “Thanks.”
“You’re very welcome.” He grinned.
She crowded the doorway, not wanting him to enter.
“It’s pouring out here.” His grin widened.
“It is. You’d best get back and out of it.” She started to close the door.
His hand shot out and slammed against the wood, blocking its closure. “Let me come in and warm my bones.”
“It’s freezing in here. See?” She blew out a white puff of air.
“Just for a moment. I won’t be long.” He pushed past her and stepped inside.
“I’ve got a lot to do today. Peeling wallpaper and the like.” She gestured toward the walls, her gut clamped tight in annoyance.
“I wanted to fill in the story of Strongbow.”
“You want to get inside my pants. Let’s be honest.”
His mouth dropped open. Then, he laughed. “Now why would you be thinking that? I’m married.”
“Oh, because you can’t keep your eyes off my cleavage. I know your type.”
He scowled.
“Wait here. I’ll put this on a plate and you can tell me whatever you want to tell me in the front room. And then you’ve got to leave so I can get to my wallpaper task.”
He nodded.
She turned to trek down the hallway.
He followed close behind.
Fecking bastard. She checked her temper and held back from picking up a stack of commemorative plates and hurling it over her shoulder. In the kitchen, she set to slamming a plate on the table and dumping the contents of the sack onto it. Mmm. Fish and chips. Her mouth filled with saliva. When she turned to exit the kitchen, she shoved Liam aside.
“Thanks for the grub,” she mumbled as she stomped into the hallway.
Another knock came from the front door.
What now?
“Are you expecting visitors?” Liam asked, as close to her back as a collie on a leash.
“No more than I was expecting you.” She wrenched open the door knob. A dark-clad figure stood on the porch. “Oh! Father Ward.”
Warmth filled her insides, fending off some of the chill in the house.
“Hello, Miss Finn. I was in the neighborhood and wanted to see if you needed any help.”
Lassi lifted an eyebrow. This cottage is at the edge of town. It’s bordered by wild land. How could you be ‘in the neighborhood?’ “I’m trying to finish my breakfast, then set to wallpaper peeling.” She hefted her plate in the air.
“Looks like you haven’t even started.” Father Ward smiled.
“I haven’t. I’d invite you in but I have no power.” She returned the smile, welcoming his appearance.
“I see you already have company.” He directed his gaze behind her. “Liam.” He nodded.
“Father Ward.” Liam spoke from behind her back.
“He’s just leaving,” Lassi said.
“If the good Father is staying, I don’t mind.”
Lassi shook her head, whirled, and pushed past him. “I’m eating. And then getting to work.” And later looking for a grave, but never mind. “Suit yourself.”
She stomped into the front room and settled onto the sofa again.
Father Ward and Liam entered and each took a seat opposite her.
No one spoke.
She peeled off the lid to a container of tartar sauce, picked up a golden-brown piece of fish, and dipped it. Then, she took a bite. Cold, but delicious.
Dim light filtered in through the windows.
She peered through the grimy glass, noting the rain had ceased.
She broke the silence, speaking through a mouthful of food. “Is it a religious phenomenon, Father, you always bring a bit of the dry with you? The rain seems to stop when you arrive.” She smiled, swallowing the cold, breaded cod.
His face grew stony. “No, it’s merely luck.”
His gaze lowered to his clasped hands.
“I like your kind of luck.”
He seemed to relax. “Thank you, but...”
“How do you know it wasn’t me?” Liam asked. He leaned forward in his chair. “Maybe I have a ‘luck on delay’ device inside my soul. It comes, but not as quickly.”
“Right.” Lassi rolled her eyes and took another bite.
Liam’s head whipped toward the window.
“What?” Lassi said, chewing.
“It’s Ailis coming up the walk. She’s a wonder, isn’t she?” He shook his head. “You shake her and the cocks fall out.”
Father Ward coughed.
“Sorry, Father,” Liam mumbled.
“Is yours one of them?” Lassi flashed him a saccharine smile.
“What?” Liam scowled. “No. I wouldn’t do her if I had a bag of dicks. I’m married.” He leaped to his feet. “I’ll see to the door. You finish your meal.” He scurried toward the foyer.
“Good Christ, I need some peace. I’ll never get this place cleaned up,” Lassi said.
“I’ll help.” Father Ward cast another one of those electric gazes her way.
She swallowed, hard, and not from the lump of cold, chewed cod. “Would you, Father? That would be most kind.”
He nodded, smiling, and rose to his feet. “Let me see what she wants. Maybe she’s looking for me to go over the real estate transaction. You can eat in peace.”
“Thank you, Father.”
When he left the front room, she let the moment of no-people settle over her shoulders, picturing what it would be like if he managed to rid her of Ailis and Liam. Then, it would only be her and Father Ward, and God as their witness. But, Hell have her, she didn’t believe in God.
Her mind drifted toward the map she’d discovered. She needed something to distract from her wanton thoughts. Perhaps she’d seek out the grave—if only I can get rid of the endless interruptions.