Solstice Song

by Colleen Charles

  “Where are yer off to?” Ronan asks, sounding indignant at the prospect of being left alone with me. Hmm…he didn’t mind being alone with me an hour ago.

  “Just errands. Nothin’ to worry yer lunkhead about. Yer just sit here and keep our illustrious guest company, then won’t yer?” Caris doesn’t wait for an answer before swinging a heavy woolen pashmina about her shoulders and exiting out the front door.

  “I expect yer had enough of my company,” Ronan mutters as he turns his attention to his piece of cake.

  I look at the stack of bills still sitting on the bar. I’d put it in his sister’s till myself if I could find it.

  “I’m sure the feeling’s mutual,” I say with a sigh. “But we can call it even if you’d take this money.” I slide the bills toward him. “Seems like you and your sister could use it.”

  His eyes turn to ice. “What’s that supposed to mean?” He spears a fork into his cake. He’s probably imagining it’s my head. I don’t understand why I seem to piss him off so much. “For yer information, the whole world doesn’t dance to yer tune, Miss Savie Starr. We do just fine without yer famous patronage.”

  “Fine. Don’t take it. Excuse me for caring.”

  Ignoring his use of the nickname I reserve only for those I love, I pick up my plate and teacup before heading back to the corner booth to wait for Mel. There’s no point in arguing a futile point with an exasperating man. In a few hours, I’ll never have to set eyes on Ronan O’Farrell or this godforsaken little hamlet ever again. He’ll just be up there on my list of pleasant mistakes that have turned sour like milk in the back of the fridge. I watch from the corner of my eye as he rises from his barstool a few moments later and strides to the door.

  Before he can grasp the handle, Caris bursts in from the street, and to my relief, Mel follows in her wake.

  “And just where do yer think yer off to?” she asks, stabbing an index finger into Ronan’s chest as Mel bypasses her and walks toward my booth.

  “To see to Mateo,” he grumbles and brushes past her to make his exit.

  Good riddance, magic fingers. I’ll never become hypnotized by your tricks ever again.

  “Ach,” Caris says, followed by a string of muttered expletives that aren’t in any vocabulary I’m familiar with. She throws up her hands in defeat. Despite their semi-hostile banter, the brother and sister seem awfully close. She sure wants him to stay inside the pub for some reason.

  “Hey, that looks delicious,” Mel says as he slides into the seat across from me. “Good news. Bleigh’s going to drive our stuff over here in his truck. Don’t worry. Everything’s wrapped up like a Christmas present.”

  I eat my cake, slamming the fork into the rich treat as if I’m stabbing a certain man in his black heart, not at all cheered by Mel’s announcement.

  “Christmas,” I say between bites. “You notice there’s no Christmas trees anywhere? Not in here, in the other shop windows, or the town square, such as it is. I thought Ireland was a Catholic country, at least most parts of it. Can’t I have just one fucking Christmas tree since I have to celebrate away from hearth and home?”

  Mel shrugs. “So, they don’t have the resources for glitz and glitter and strings of moving LED light shows. This isn’t L.A., Savie. They like things simple here. Nothing wrong with that.”

  “Ouch!” I cry as my tooth bites down on something hard. What the hell? I drop my fork to pick out the offending object from my mouth just as Caris appears with another serving of cake for Mel.

  “Oh dear, are yer all right, Miss Starr?”

  I don’t answer as I fish it from my mouth and twirl it around my pointer finger. A shiny gold ring, like a wedding band, has somehow made its way into the cake.

  “What in blazes…?” Mel starts, his jaw dropping open.

  “Oh, my.” Caris laughs. “I should ‘av warned yer. ‘Tis a bit of a tradition, to bake wee trinkets into the Yule barmbrack. What yer get in yer piece tells of yer fortune, so it does. ‘Tis just for fun, for the kiddies mostly, but look at yer, Miss Starr.” Are there dots of glee sparkling through her piercing blue eyes? “Yer got the ring. That means there’s a weddin’ in yer future!”

  I choke down the remains of the cake in my mouth as Mel lets out a guffaw. “That’ll be the day Savie Starr slows down long enough to get hitched. Who’s the lucky man, Savie?”

  “If I need my fortune read, I’ll go find a gypsy. They’re supposed to be hanging around here somewhere,” I say, losing my appetite. I hand my half-finished plate to Caris. “Thank you, but I’ve had all I care for.”

  “All right, let me know if the pair of yer need anythin’ else,” she says, still smiling as she walks away from our table.

  Mel pokes at his cake with his fork. “Hmm, wonder what’s in my future? I hope it’s a big, fat raise from my surly employer.”

  “Hopefully there’s a matchbox car in there, portending our imminent escape from this place,” I say, leaning back in my seat. I feel tired to the bone. Waiting is going to be torture. I grab the key Mel gave me earlier. “I think I’ll take your advice and have a rest, if you don’t mind?”

  With his mouth full of cake, he just smiles and points. “Top of the stairs, first door on the left.” I turn in the direction he indicates when he calls me back. “Wait, don’t forget your wedding ring, bride-to-be.” The beloved asshole holds out the little gold-colored plastic band.

  I flip him the middle finger salute. “Just call me the second that damn escape route gets here,” I reply, not even recognizing myself and my new rude and entitled attitude. Sick of myself and everything else, I proceed to trudge up a set of narrow and worn wooden stairs that look ready to give way at any second.

  Definitely not up to US building code standards, but I’m beyond caring. All I want is to close my eyes and shut off my racing mind for a few hours. Maybe I can forget about this place, this shitty situation, and the nagging memory of a man’s huge and talented hands that keep swirling through my mind.

  Later, I wake up to the cozy trappings of Mel’s little room. It has only one twin bed, so bunking with Mel wouldn’t be an option even if I walked into town with him last night unless he slept on the floor. With a start, I wonder about the time. There’s darkness outside the only window. Why hasn’t Mel come to wake me? I sit up and put on my hopelessly fucked-up shoes, remembering I left my phone on charge down at the bar.

  I walk downstairs to see Mel sitting at one of the central tables with an older gentleman, both of them watching some kind of sports game on a tiny TV screen mounted high in a corner of the room.

  “Mel! What are you doing?”

  He turns to the sound of my voice, one hand resting on his stomach. He looks pale. “Just resting a bit.”

  “I’m calling Preach.” I spin on my one good heel toward the bar, only to see Caris and Ronan engaged in a secretive looking conversation at the far end of it. “Excuse me,” I say, moving closer. “My phone?”

  Caris looks up and springs to attention. “Ah, there yer are, Miss Starr. Trust yer had a nice rest? Yer mobile’s right here, love.” She hands the device and its cable to me.

  “Thank you.”

  A barrage of emails, posts, and tweets fill the screen, and the clock has switched to the new time zone of six p.m. Damn! I slept all afternoon. I punch my manager’s number, hoping the two network bars will be enough to get through. After a long pause, a ring tone finally sounds, and then Preach’s voice.

  “Savie. Everything all right?”

  “We’re fine, Preach. How long until our ride’s here?”

  Another pause. “Aren’t you on your way? The service says it was dispatched hours ago. Should have been there by now to fetch you and Mel.”

  It takes all my willpower to stop from screaming. “Would I be calling you if I were on the road to my own salvation?”

  Jerry swears up a blue streak, blistering my ears. “Sorry, kiddo. I’ll check on it and send another if I have to. Sit tight, okay? It’ll proba
bly roll up any minute. Probably just delayed since it’s snowing again.”

  “Okay,” I say on a lingering sigh, hoping he’ll get the message without me losing my shit. “I’ll call you when it does.”

  I hang up and join Mel at his table. His gray-haired companion smiles and nods in greeting. “Preach says he sent a car hours ago. What gives?”

  Mel winces, and a spiral of worry passes through me. “I don’t know, but worrying won’t help. Why don’t you have a drink with Mr. Bleigh here?”

  “Hello.” I use my nice voice before lowering myself into one of the chairs. “You’re the mechanic, right?”

  Bleigh nods. “Sure, that I am. Declan Bleigh at yer service, miss. Dreadfully sorry I couldn’t fix yer motor coach. But I’ve brought yer things just as I promised, so I did.”

  He gestures to a corner of the room where my wardrobe cases stand in a row, taking up almost a quarter of the room. Helen lays propped next to them in her own case. Seeing her brings a momentary smile to my face.

  I turn to Mel. “What if the car can’t make it through this snow? What if we don’t get out of here tonight?”

  Did he just roll his eyes? “Relax, Savie. It’ll be here.”

  Caris appears at our table. “Pardon me, Miss Starr, but the roads are still quite a fright, so they are. Wouldn’t surprise me at all if yer transport’s been turned back by the local authorities. When the weather gets right frightful, the highway closes. But yer needn’t fret about stoppin’ here a bit longer. Me brother’s agreed to ‘av yer stay at his cottage for as long as yer need, and Declan can give yer a lift there with yer gear.”

  The mechanic flashes a toothy smile. “Be pleased to see Miss Starr to Ronan’s place, so I would.”

  This gets Mel’s attention, and he leans forward with another wince. “Hold on a minute. Whose cottage? The owner would have to have security clearance. With her regular security detail already in Scotland, I’m responsible for this young lady, so I can’t leave her in the custody of strangers without a background check. I need to know she’s safe at all times. She can have my room. I’ll stay with the locals.” Mel is beginning to sweat by the time he’s finished.

  I lay a hand on his shoulder. “Are you okay?”

  Caris steps in. “Aye. Yer not be lookin’ too spry, if yer don’t mind me sayin’.”

  Mel clutches his stomach again. “I’ll be fine. Just need—”

  “Yer just be needin’ a wee bit more rest, is what yer be needin’,” Caris says, and as I look at my driver and friend, I can’t disagree.

  Mel lifts a hand. “But—”

  “I can see Miss Starr needs quite a lot of space for her pretty things.” With fluttering hands, Caris waves toward Ronan. “My brother is the rock of our community, Mr. Tobin, I assure yer. He’s our Bard, yer know. Yer needn’t worry about her safety. Look at him. Strappin’ fellow.” The pride rings clear in her voice. “He could qualify for security any day of the week.”

  Mel looks back and forth between me, Caris, Declan, and Ronan, whose hulking form still lounges at the end of the bar. He shakes his head. “I’m sorry, but I can’t allow—”

  He’s so pale, and he’s clearly in pain. “It’s all right, Mel,” I hear myself say. “You should stay here and rest. I need my best man to be healthy for the next leg of our journey.”

  As worried as I am about Mel, my words are accompanied by a racing heart that wants nothing more than to jump on Ronan’s lap and beg him to take me back to his prehistoric ways. What the fuck is wrong with me? I hate his guts and his provincial life. My tongue seems to have a mind of its own. “Mr. O’Farrell and I are already acquainted. It’s where I stayed last night. He’s…very capable. Of protecting me, that is.”

  Mel glowers at me like a disapproving parent. “I don’t like it, Savie. But I can’t tell you what to do. One hour…” He lifts a lone index finger. “If the car’s not here by then, I guess it’s up to you where you want to lay your head.”

  Chapter Eleven

  Ronan

  Caris has seriously flipped her lid this time, but I have to admit that my elder sibling is a master manipulator and resourceful to no end. In the space of a few minutes, she alerted the entire town to be on the lookout for any kind of unknown vehicle approaching Wintervale, and to stop it by any means necessary. Fallen logs, rocks on the road, whatever it took to turn it around. She even has the local law enforcement in her back pocket. The only thing necessary is one of her winsome smiles and some of her homemade food and Guinness, and men fall at her feet in puddles of rapt appreciation.

  Would she go so far as to feed bad food to Savie’s driver? At least a wee bit?

  Her duplicity doesn’t please me, but I also know there’s no stopping her once she’s set her mind to something.

  And all because she thinks that vexing woman is my soul mate. Bollocks!

  Her manipulations don’t end there. She wheedles it out of me, the one thing I’ve been stubbornly denying since yesterday, to myself as well as to her. I can’t take my eyes off Savie Starr. With all Caris’ blathering about the prophecy, images coalesce in my mind. The face I saw in the cauldron at Samhuin is Savie’s. The more I look, the more I’m convinced it’s true.

  But that doesn’t fecking mean I accept it.

  Her coal black hair, flashing green eyes, and voluptuous curves have pulled me in from the start. I honestly only meant to help her out—she’d seemed so terrified and alone on that bus. But deep down I know there are other forces at work. Forces of nature. And I’ve lived my whole life respecting those forces, along with generations of O’Farrells before me.

  The ancient druids of County Meath never truly left. They live on in their descendants. My parents, Caris, and me. The entire village of Wintervale, in fact. We’ve chosen to live in isolation, and to carry on the traditional practices of druidry, away from prying eyes and the intrusion of technology and commercialism.

  Well, for the most part. I glare at my sister again.

  But with isolation comes loneliness, and a shrinking gene pool. Our beliefs might shield us from materialism and the politics of organized religion but can’t protect us from biological fact. As the leader of our grove, I have a double responsibility. What’s the point of practicing the old ways if there are no new people left to carry it on? I’m a practical man, and certainly not uninitiated in human sexuality, as many of our rituals involved symbolic sexual acts. But I want to choose for myself who will share my bed, my home, and my way of life. Who will bear my children if I am to be so blessed. I want to feel more than the natural urges of my body. I do really want a soul mate, as the Cailleach predicts.

  But could my world ever mix with the blatantly crass and money-driven one of someone like Savie Starr? It’s not even possible. It has to be wrong, somehow.

  “She said aye,” Caris whispers excitedly as she returns to the bar. “They’re goin’ to wait one more hour for their transport to show up—which it won’t—and Declan can take yer both back to the cottage along with her things.”

  I glance over at the row of wardrobe cases stacked against one wall. “All of ‘em?”

  Caris nods. “He can fit it all in the back of his truck, and yer lot can ride in the front.”

  “What about Mateo?”

  “I’ll ride him out tomorrow, see how yer getting’ along. He’s fine where he is. Yer put him out back, didn’t yer?” I nod. Since he’s my only mode of transportation, Caris keeps a sheltered stall for him behind the pub. “Right. ‘Tis settled then,” she says with a wink and a clap of her work-worn hands. “This is all comin’ together, just as the prophecy foretold. Isn’t Yule magical?”

  I watch Savannah’s arse walk up the stairs and grunt. “Magical.”

  * * *

  Savie sits sandwiched between Declan and me on the lumpy bench seat, not saying a word on the drive out to my cottage and round two of our budding relationship as host and guest.

  Caris treated us to a fine supper at the pub, so at
least I didn’t have to cook anything until morning. She’d actually seen to that as well, loading me up with food enough to last through a military siege. Milk, eggs, butter and biscuits, porridge and fruit along with hefty portions of ham and sausages. Vegetables I already have since I like to put them up for the winter after the harvest.

  Declan and I move Savie’s cases into the main room just outside the bedroom and loft. I can’t imagine what’s contained inside them or why anybody, even an entertainer, would need so much gear at their fingertips. With a smile and tip of his tweed cap, Declan leaves us alone. The old bugger is in on Caris’ scheme, I’m certain.

  I stoke up the fire good and hot. The night promises to be a cold one. If not from the weather, then from the frosty countenance of my new roommate. I might even have to admit that I liked her blathering better than this silent treatment.

  “I expect yer be more comfortable this go ‘round, ‘avin’ all yer things at hand,” I say, avoiding her cold glare. “If yer just give me fair warnin’ when yer be wantin’ to take a shower, I’ll make sure there’s hot water in the tank and nay beasties in the vicinity.”

  “I’m sorry about all the fuss I made.” She settles herself regally in the wide armchair I left in place by the hearth. “I appreciate it’s not easy living here without conveniences and…creature comforts.”

  “Creature comforts?” I ask, poking the logs. “I know ‘tis different here than what yer used to, but I don’t find it difficult in the least. In fact, I’m the most comfortable I can be when I’m here. In the woods, away from lights and noise and the…complexity of the rest of the world. Just me and me music.”

  The fire crackles to life, and I stare into the flames, keenly aware of Savie’s eyes on me. Under all her haughty rage and name calling, I wonder what she really thinks of me. Of Ronan O’Farrell, the man. Of my appearance, my lifestyle, of shattering her into shivering pieces of feminine release like I did on a simple whim. There’s more where that came from, woman.