by Clare Austin
She reached for the lid of the box and lifted it. “How long do you think this might have been buried?” Muireann looked skeptical.
“What do you say we spread this out and take a closer look?” He removed his jacket and laid it on the hearth stones.
Muireann lifted the pelt and gently unrolled it on the jacket to keep it clean and dry. “This is unusual.” The hide was soft and pliable, as though it had been prepared for storage. The fur glistened with natural oils. “Most harbor seals are tones of grey.” This one had been dark sable with a pattern of speckles across the shoulders. Muireann was reminded of a lace shawl. “I’ve seen a lot of seals, but never one like this before.”
Ty ran his hand across the skin. “Hard to believe this is old at all. Wouldn’t it be rotten, stiff, moldy?”
“I would think so.” Muireann shrugged. “Too bad.”
“Does it matter?” He reached for her hand. “Muireann, listen to me.” Ty’s heart pounded in his head. Time to tell her the truth. “I had a plan. It didn’t include you. Until a few weeks ago it didn’t include Ireland at all.”
“I’ve no idea what you’re talking about.”
“Everything’s changed. My plan had to change…because of you,” Ty confessed.
“No, please. I don’t want anything to change because of me,” she begged.
“It’s too late. I told Feeney I’m not putting the land on the market. Not for him, not for foreign investors.”
A look of worry rose in her eyes. “What foreign investors?”
“It doesn’t matter now.” He glanced overhead. A few stars twinkled in the clear patches between the clouds. “It’s late. We should get back.”
Neither of them moved.
Ty listened to the wind howl across the open sea and up the cliffs. “We’ve no functioning vehicle. How about you wait here? I’ll walk back to Mary’s and borrow her car to come get you and…this.” He nodded toward the tarred casket.
“The rain’s starting again. You’ll get drenched.” Muireann grabbed his hand and stopped him. “I think we could stay warm and dry until this clears.”
Ty shook his head and gave a soft chuckle. “It’s the west of Ireland…it might not clear for weeks.” But he’d take an hour or a night and be happy to be with Muireann for the time it lasted.
She ripped open a bag of crisps. “Dinner then?”
“Pass the potatoes,” he said.
****
They talked deep into the night, until wine and exhaustion garbled her thoughts and her words. Muireann knew she should go home, walk through the rain and wind back to her cottage and settle all the rest in the morning when her defenses would be stronger. But a blanket of peace warmed her even more than the itchy wool cover she’d pulled up to her chin as she snuggled close to Tynan’s side.
She checked one last time to be sure the box with its pelt was truly real and not a figment of her muddled imagination before closing her eyes.
Thoughts drifted and melted one into another until the line between dream and reality blurred.
The footfalls shook her awake, but her eyes refused to stay open. She heard music from across the room.
Through slitted lids she saw a seal woman beat the time with her webbed feet on the stone floor, while she rocked her pup to the rhythm of the sea.
“Who’s there?” she tried to call but Muireann’s lips were unable to form words. Tynan watched them as he played a tune on his mandolin. The melody was familiar, but she could not name the song. He had played the same one for her when they picnicked on the beach. The first day she thought she might fall in love with him all over again.
She would tell him how she felt. Then, before the idea had time to linger, the pluck and strum of strings lulled her back to sleep.
The heartbeat next to her ear was thumping in a rhythm different from her own. It took Muireann a dizzy moment to realize her head rested on Tynan’s chest. The warmth between them felt more intimate than anything they had done in the heat of passion.
She didn’t want to breathe for fear even a whisper would shatter the fragile moment. The gentle rise and fall of his chest sang a lullaby as sure as the pulse of the tides.
The sea surged and receded leaving pastel shells and bright sea grass in its retreat. Her mam’s skirt blew in whirls about her ankles as she bent to pick treasures from the sand. “Mam, what are you doing here? This is my dream.”
“Codladh sámh.” Go back to sleep, my child.
A sudden sound like rocks falling startled her awake. Ty was still there. Muireann looked up through the broken roof beams. Silent and still, the Milky Way cut a swath through the canopy of a night black as a raven’s wing. Stars appeared close enough to reach out and scoop up with her hands, the way she might capture grains of sand from her favorite strand.
Ty murmured unintelligible words and his arms tightened about her. Is this what love felt like, the infinite and the finite within the reach of a man’s arms? Then his earlier words clawed at her thin veil of hope for them. I’m done with you, Muireann. I can’t play your games.
Pain cut through her and she knew she would have this privilege only for one night. She would have these few hours, within the broken walls, lying on a tattered woolen blanket with a man’s chest as her pillow. One short night to last the rest of her life.
Muireann told herself it was simple exhaustion that allowed her to think such romantic and irrational thoughts. She closed her eyes to clear her mind.
Nothing changed.
No voice whispered to her that she was a simple fool. No star fell from the sky as omen or portent. Her heart embraced the truth as she listened to Tynan’s even pulse next to her ear and breathed in the scent of him. In the morning she would tell him she loved him. And then, she would say goodbye.
****
“Wake up, Muireann.”
A hand was on her shoulder, shaking her. Muireann’s eyes refused to open. She tried to snuggle closer to Tynan’s warmth, but he’d been replaced by a cold, stone floor. Her fingers felt chilled and stiff as she pulled the itchy wool blanket up to her chin.
“Leave me alone,” she mumbled through tired lips. “I’m having a dream…”
“You have to wake up now.”
It sounded like Ty. She forced herself to turn her head to the voice. “Okay, I’m awake.” Muireann tried to sit up. “Why are we awake? It’s dark.” Logic escaped her.
“I heard your mobile. It woke me.”
“Who was it?”
Ty pushed the phone into her hand. “I didn’t answer it. Maybe there’s a message.”
“Hmm…give me a second.” Her mouth was dry as cotton wool and tasted of crisps and stale wine. She longed to stay cuddled into Tynan’s warm body and return to the dream, the one where he was singing.
Slivers of light crept across the floor from the east side of the fortress. Muireann pushed herself to sitting. “Is it morning?”
The reflection of the sun’s rays off the stone wall lighted his face. Dark bristle shadowed his jaw and his eyes were dilated in the dim glow. He looked a little dangerous, like a pirate come to shore from the sea in search of treasure.
Treasure. She had almost forgotten. The hair on the back of her neck tingled and she gave a little shiver.
Ty reached over, pulled her close and wrapped the blanket tight around her.
“Check your mobile. Maybe someone left a message.”
Muireann flipped her phone open. “It wasn’t getting a signal last night. Looks okay now.” She pushed a couple of buttons on the screen. “Yeah, got a message.” Her father’s number appeared. The mobile rang once and his voice came on. “It’s my da.”
Muireann, where are you? Mam’s missing. We need you. Why aren’t you home? Call me right away. I’ll have my mobile on. Call me!
Nausea rose in her throat. Her da sounded terrified. She’d not heard that quality in his voice since Ronan disappeared. Muireann could feel the blood drain from her face.
�
��What? Muireann, what’s wrong?” Tynan’s hands gripped her shoulders.
Reality was slipping away. His solid hold was the only thing that kept her from sliding into an abyss. “It’s my mam,” she whispered.
Ty took the phone from her hand. “I’ll call him.”
Turlough took only seconds to pick up. Muireann could hear the panic in her father’s voice as Ty held the phone close to both of them.
“Muireann, where are you?”
“Yeah, this is Ty. Muireann’s with me. We got caught in that storm last night.”
“Ty, it’s my wife…she’s missing. She went to let Cú in…said she heard him howling, but she never came back inside.” Terror tinged every word. “Where are you?”
“We’re at the old fortress. The cars are both disabled. Where should we meet you?”
“We’ve looked along the cliffs.” Ty heard a quick intake of breath as though the older man tried not to weep. “Meet me at Mary’s house.”
“We’re on our way,” Ty said and snapped the mobile closed. He turned to Muireann and took her trembling hand in his. “Let’s go.”
As she turned to follow him her eyes caught the tarred box and her heart leapt. The top of the box was ajar. She knew they had closed it tight.
“Ty, wait.” Muireann leaned down and lifted the lid. She shook her head to clear it. She must be in some nightmare where nothing makes sense. “The pelt—”
Ty came up behind her and looked in the now empty vessel. “Did you put it somewhere? Did you move it?”
A scream caught in her throat. Fear, confusion and a dizzy feeling of foreboding welled up and gripped her.. “Oh, God, no,” she gasped. “I heard something…I thought it was a dream.”
“What? What did you hear?”
“I thought she was here, with Cú and the selkie woman. You were playing music…I…it seemed so real.”
Ty lifted her face, forcing her to look at him. “Are you telling me your mam was here? Last night?”
Tears sprung to her eyes. How could she have been so irresponsible? Why hadn’t she realized it wasn’t a figment of her unconscious? The wine and closeness with Ty blinded her to reality. “She must have taken it.” A ball of raw fear formed just below Muireann’s ribs. “We’ve got to find her. Ty, she really believes—”
“Muireann, listen to me,” Ty insisted and grasped both her hands in his. “I will find her. I promise you. Everything is going to be all right.”
A shudder of uncontrollable sobs shook her. “This is all my fault.” Visions of the night they lost Ronan accelerated her heart until she felt faint. She’d lost focus again and now must pay the consequences of her foolishness.
“Muireann, I never make promises I can’t keep.” He put his hands on her shoulders to steady her. “You’ll have to trust me.”
Chapter Twenty-Five
Don’t look down. Tynan gritted his teeth. As though ignoring a gorilla in the room would make it go away. Just one peek.
The sea churned. Its grey, cold mass surged forward with each pulse of the incoming tide. Fingers of icy foam reached for the bottom steps of the Monk’s Ladder.
His stomach lurched and he immediately regretted his weakness of will. The nanosecond of lost concentration resulted in a slip and he caught himself by slamming his chest against the rock.
“Ugh.” The wind punched out of his lungs hard enough to make him question his sanity.
But the look of complete despair in Muireann’s eyes pushed him to traverse the rain-slicked cliff edge toward the beach. She trusted him. It wasn’t love. Her heart hadn’t opened to him the way he had hoped. They had no future. Still, he would not or could not let her down. Ty needed to do this on his own. If he had told Muireann where he was headed, she would have insisted on being the one to take the risk.
In many ways, that would have made sense. She was a strong swimmer, familiar with this sea, the rocks, the eddies. Ty, admittedly, did not like cold water, swam like a penguin flies, and was unfamiliar with the lay of the land.
All his lack of confidence as a swimmer aside, he was certain Dervla would be in the cave cut into the rocks at the bottom of the Monk’s Ladder. If his instincts were true, she would not leave her sanctuary willingly. As strong as Muireann was, it might take more than physical strength and ability in treacherous waters to cajole a confused woman from her shelter.
The moment Ty and Muireann had found Turlough O’Malley, the fear in the old man’s eyes and the set of his jaw made obvious he would only slow Tynan down. The older man was broad of shoulder and had always had a presence of control about him, but today he looked defeated and tired. Beads of sweat glistened on his brow, he was pasty pale, and his breathing was labored.
O’Malley and his daughter agreed to search the southern stretch of shoreline and near the harbor where Dervla often went to wait for the fishermen to come in with their catch. Tynan and Simon would drive north, park the car, and walk along the paddocks between Muireann’s cottage and the cliffs.
Ty removed his shoes and socks, put them on a ledge above the tide line, and slipped his mobile into one shoe.
Now, as his feet found solid ground beneath them, Ty hoped he was up to the task he’d set for himself. He took the same path he had walked with Dervla two mornings ago.
A sound like the keening of a mourner rose above the cry of the wind. Cú, fur soaked and tangled with sea weed, howled and paced the rocky shoreline, eyes focused on the foamy waves.
Ty’s first instinct was to call out the hound’s name but caught himself when he remembered Cú wouldn’t hear him. The presence of Ronan’s dog reaffirmed Tynan’s belief that Dervla was here. A chill of fear passed through him as he watched the frantic pacing and listened to the plaintive baying of the hound.
Was Muireann’s mother already out in the roiling sea?
“Mrs. O’Malley…Dervla,” he shouted, but the wind pushed his voice back down his throat.
The incoming tide had washed clean any footprints that might give a clue to the path Dervla may have taken. Each surge of water brought the sea inches closer to the shore and, Ty knew, would fill the cave with dark and frigid water. He had to act now or admit defeat. Random flashes of fear were fought back by practicality. The tide is surging. I need to go now.
Cú howled in distress, but did not follow him over the rocky outcrop that masked the entrance to the monks’ cave.
Grey-backed gulls circled overhead. Ty thought they might be seeking cover from another storm surge as they lit on crags and huddled beneath outcrops of limestone. He’d give anything to be huddled in a warm bed right now with Muireann snuggled into his embrace and not scrambling over these jagged rocks.
Though the sound of pounding surf was deafening out on the rocks, as he entered, the cave was quiet and, to his distress, reminded Ty of a tomb.
“I knew you’d come.” Dervla’s voice was calm and welcoming.
Ty held his breath. Don’t scare her. He pushed down the urge to grab her and rush her out onto the safety of the shore.
The cave was in deep shadow and Tynan’s eyes took several moments to adjust to the dim light. She sat on a ledge, a seal pelt clutched in her arms like a newborn child to her breast.
“Mrs. O’Malley,” he whispered. “The tide is coming in. We should go. Muireann is waiting for us.” He stepped across the distance to her. The floor at the back of the grotto was still dry. They had little time. Soon the sea would fill the entrance.
“They all said you were gone, Ronan. But I knew you were just waiting. Mothers know these things.”
Ty knew now he should have thought about this. She was confused. She thought he was her son. To deny her would only make things more difficult.
“I’m here,” he said and reached out his hand. “I’ve come to take you home.”
She gazed down at the pelt, stroking it. “This will take us wherever we want to go.” Her eyes, dark replicas of Muireann’s own, lacked the clarity of reality.
A sharp
shard of pain cut into Tynan’s heart. Dervla had the same wistful timbre to her voice that he remembered from his own mother when she was close to death. No way. He wouldn’t lose this one. He’d promised Muireann and he never made a promise he didn’t intend to keep.
Dervla started to hum. The tune was familiar to him. Ty searched his memory for the words.
“Trasna na d’tonnta, dul siar, dul siar.” Crossing the waves, going west, going west. Yes, that was it. The first song his mam had taught him in the Irish.
Dervla stopped humming and smiled. “You played this on your harp for me,” she said.
Ty nodded assent and took her hand. “Slán leis an uaigneas is slán leis an gcéan.” Goodbye to the loneliness, goodbye to the sadness.
Dervla joined him with a harmony as they stepped toward the arched entrance. She clutched the pelt to her heart. Ty thought about asking her to leave it behind so that she would have her hands free to steady herself on the rocks, but he didn’t want her to become upset. He continued his song and encouraged her to sing with him.
“Geal é mo chroí agus geal í an ghrian.” Bright is my heart and bright is the sun.
A cold gust of wind slapped Ty’s face as he stepped beyond the shelter. Dervla pulled back. She looked at him, her face a mask of bewilderment and, something else, something familiar—defiance. The same fiery insolence he had seen the first time he’d met Muireann, the night in the pub when she’d virtually hung Ian Feeney’s arse out to dry with her sharp words.
“What are the rest of the words?” he asked in a vain attempt to keep her calm.
She shook her head, and her hair whipped about her. “Ronan knows the words. I’ll wait here for him.” She started to turn to the back of the cave.
Ty had to make a quick choice. There was no time to humor her. He swept her off her feet and carried her to the exit.