The Wild Mountain Thyme

by Kathryn Scarborough

  Father Timothy consulted the clock on the wall of the kitchen. “Sorry, Mr. O’Flannery, we can’t talk now. We’ll bring this up later. But now, it’s time for vespers.”

  The priests gathered up their plates, bowls, and other utensils and dumped them in the old-fashioned sink filled with soapy water.

  Without saying a word, they led Jim and Megan through a small courtyard and into a chapel.

  It was an ancient place, what had Seamus said—parts of it had been built before the ninth century. There was one stained glass window that looked to have been repaired several times. The cracks in the stonework had been patched with gray mortar giving the walls a sense of impermanence. Some of the ends of the benches were held up with stones and they creaked alarmingly as Jim settled his big frame into one.

  “Now’s the time, boy-o.”

  “Now’s the time for what, Seamus?”

  “To dedicate yourselves. You know you love each other, now don’t you?”

  “Seamus, I’m about to hear vespers and I want to concentrate, now bug off.”

  “Jay-sus, always talking about those insects.”

  Jim choked back a laugh and was rewarded with an elbow in the ribs by Megan. She ducked her head quickly to one side with a “Shh!”

  “I know, but my angel’s giving me trouble,” Jim whispered in her ear.

  She rolled her eyes to the ceiling before she looked down again.

  Sometime during the Agnes Dei, Jim reached over and took Megan’s hand.

  She turned and looked at him, a smile trembling on her lips.

  She was magnificent. He’d been in Ireland less than a week, but now he didn’t know how he could ever live without her. She was a rare woman, indeed. He sighed and continued to hold her hand as they left the pew to receive the Eucharist.

  Father Timothy smiled at them knowingly as they knelt before him and he offered them the host and then the communion wine.

  He blessed them both and it took no stretch of the imagination for Jim to feel like he’d just gotten married. Slowly he said the words in his mind, “I, Jim, take thee, Megan…”

  Seamus knelt next to Jim with folded hands. He had the look of one in devout prayer and his expression was very smug.

  For a moment, Jim looked at him. He turned his head back to the altar and with the back of his hand, gently swatted Seamus off the kneeler. No leprechaun was going to spoil his imaginary wedding.

  Megan looked at the handsome man kneeling next to her and it took so little for her to feel the vows come to her mind. “I, Megan, take thee, James Xavier…”

  ****

  It was well after dark when they finally left the abbey. The priests were wonderful and kind, but they couldn’t house Megan unless it was an emergency. Jim and Megan decided to travel back to the Moffat Arms to get a room.

  Megan let out a huge sigh as they rode along in the dark.

  “So what’s that for?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. I’ve had the loveliest day. Seeing Father Timothy again did me a world of good, and then there was this American that seemed quite taken with our Seven Wonders of Fore.”

  “Yeah, but what does he know?” Jim said, thinking instead of how he was taken by the lovely Megan. Churning-backward streams be damned. He looked at her out of the corner of his eye and noticed a wisp of that lovely hair flutter about her neck in the airflow of the car’s heater. Her skin simply glowed. It occurred to him that it was glowing from the inside, like a candle burning and never going out.

  “I wouldn’t sell the man short, you know. He seems quite on the bright side to me, he does,” Megan said in her singsong lilting way.

  “Glad you think so.”

  He wanted to tell Megan how he’d felt kneeling before the priest in that ancient little chapel. How he’d heard the marriage vows rumble through his head. But then again, perhaps not. One can’t rush these delicate matters. She’d probably throw something at him if he brought up Seamus or marriage or anything more serious than buying a Guinness.

  “I suspect we can have separate rooms this night,” Megan said.

  “Gosh, Megan, I was getting used to you snoring.”

  Megan promptly whacked him with her purse. “I think staying away from each other and temptation is what we should do.”

  “Now who said I was tempted by you?” Jim’s face was of a complete innocent.

  “You did, you silly man.”

  “Oh, okay.” Tempted did not have the right connotation for the way he felt about Megan. He’d have to get out his thesaurus and try to match a word about how he felt. His feelings for her raged like a wildfire that he didn’t want to quell.

  The wind and the rain battered the little car as they slowly drove down the rural, one lane road. They were alone in the car; so alone that Jim felt that he and Megan were the last people on earth. It was as though this little city on the Atlantic was at the ends of the earth.

  Chapter 23

  The drive back to the Moffat Arms was smooth and uneventful. Even the rain that had pummeled them mercilessly for the past ten miles began to cooperate. For once it came straight down and not sideways. Neither of them felt the need to speak, wrapped in a soft cocoon of silence punctuated only by sudden gusts of wind and the rain on the roof.

  Jim took the next curve in the road smoothly, when he noticed someone coming up behind them. The car following them accelerated until its bright blue LED high beams pierced the darkness of the one-lane road. He frowned; he and Megan were not the only ones on this lonely, desolate bit of country byway.

  The other car swerved to the right, almost colliding with their rear bumper before it moved behind them. Jim jerked the car to the left and lay on his horn. Maybe it had all been a terrible mistake. Maybe the other guy would leave them alone. But their pursuer rammed into their rear bumper with tremendous force. Megan was thrown back against her seat and then forward with the impact. She gave a sharp yelp, righted herself, and then clung to the dash and door handle.

  “My God, what is happening?”

  “I think somebody’s trying to kill us.” Jim had to get them away from the other car. He stomped on the accelerator, but he couldn’t outrun their pursuer. On the attack, the assailant rammed into their rear bumper, throwing them back against their seats. Megan grunted in pain as her shoulder hit the door frame.

  “Megan, hold on!”

  Jim had nowhere to go. He glimpsed the front and the side in the small periphery of the headlamps. On either side of the narrow lane was at least a five foot drop, a sheer fall into gullies that ended in piles of rocks and mud. If their car was forced off the road, they could easily be killed. Jim’s mind flashed through scenarios and possible resolutions. There were damn few.

  Jim glanced in the rear view mirror. The lights from their assailant very quickly inched closer and closer. He floored the car, urging the small engine to go above and beyond. He took the next curve so fast; it felt like they’d gone up on two wheels. But the car’s rear stayed on the road.

  There was no time to be afraid, no time to do anything but work the problem.

  The road straightened and the lights from their attacker shone brighter and more intensely. Jim saw nothing but the lights almost blinding him.

  On the straight of the road, the more powerful car gained speed and again inched closer and closer. Jim stomped down on the accelerator and they pulled away, but only in feet, and then only in inches. The next turn came up fast. A sharp curve to the left. Jim tried to tap the brakes before the turn. But as he slowed, their pursuer accelerated and crashed into them. Jim and Megan were thrown back in their seats and then forward into the dashboard. Jim pushed down on the accelerator for all he was worth. This time he slid sideways into the sharp curve in the road and he began to spin. The front end whipped around, just missing their assailant’s front bumper. Jim tapped on the brakes and turned the wheel sharply to the right. They floundered and continued to slide sideways. Seconds ticked by. Each second stretched out, feeling
like years before Jim was able to get the car pointed forward. The other driver struggled to maintain control on the muddy road. He wasn’t giving up.

  Megan jerked her head around for that split second, and tried to see who was in the other car.

  “Who the bloody hell is it? Why are they doing this?” She yelled above the rain and the tires squealing.

  Suddenly, the next sharp curve emerged in front of them. With slow, smooth movements, Jim slowed the car into the turn and then hit the accelerator, tearing down the road, attempting to outrun the other car.

  The rain poured down, sheeting the windshield, but he had no clear line of sight. Jim pushed the wipers on high over and over but rain blurred across the windscreen and obstructed what little he could see. He strained forward and stared through just the few square inches to the left of the steering wheel. His breath came in a quick, sharp tattoo and oxygen was a commodity he could not bargain for.

  He slowed his breathing. Don’t lose focus. Keep us in one piece until you can find a way to escape. He had to save Megan.

  The rain lashed down. Where was the curve? Was it left or right?

  The headlights from the other car flooded the inside of the cabin with harsh glaring blue light. Their tormentor was still gaining on them. Jim hit the accelerator again. Maybe his little box of a car could still outrun whatever was behind them.

  Jim could see so little. All of his concentration, all of his energy focused on one task; he must stay on the road. The thought flitted through his mind; we are going to die right here. We are going to die before…but he put the thought away.

  He glimpsed it ahead through the sheeting rain; a little grassy area on the right-hand side of the road. Sensing the shoulder was wider than it appeared, he raced onto what he hoped was grass, and slammed on the brakes. The car skidded. The rear end whipped out and a portion of the left rear tire spun in the air at the lip of the gully.

  Their assailant flew past in a blur of water and mud.

  The engine sputtered and died.

  Rain lashed at his face from the half opened window. He laid his head back. He had to slow his breathing and heartbeat; he had to think.

  He leaned forward and with stuttered motions, closed the half open window. He laid his head back again, trying to control his breath and clear his mind.

  Two seconds passed and then three. He opened his eyes.

  The rain beat against their roof and hood, drowning out every other sound. He didn’t hear the other car and he could see nothing in the blacker-than-black rain.

  He put his hand on Megan’s shoulder and shook her gently. She turned her head but said nothing. He squeezed her shoulder briefly, letting his arm fall back down into his lap.

  “We have to leave. He may come back looking for us. We have to leave.”

  She nodded and said nothing.

  Jim re-started the car and with a little bit of persuading, the still-spinning tire made purchase with the ground, and the car slowly pulled out onto the one-lane road.

  Chapter 24

  It was another twenty minutes before they reached the Moffat Arms. Jim parked, pulled on the emergency brake, killed the engine, and laid his head on the seat back for a moment of peace. He turned in his seat to face Megan.

  “Are you okay?” He waited for her to respond, but she only nodded.

  “I don’t know who it was, or why. All I can think of is, well, I don’t know.”

  “Maybe the killer knows we’re getting close, or thinks we are,” Megan replied. “We’ll have to head off to Dublin tomorrow. Maybe something has happened on the city front that we’ve not learned about. I’ll have to phone in to the night desk when we get in.”

  Megan’s voice sounded distant and reedy. The impact of the attack, like a thing, crowded through their minds. Her voice trailed away in the swell of the gusts battering the car. Leaves and twigs rustled and scraped against the tarmac of the parking lot. They waited, each lost in their own thoughts. The weather began to calm: the wind seemed to blow itself out, the rain slowly stopped, and a heavy mist clung to the windshield in great drops and rivulets.

  The intermittent gusts whined and pushed between the cracks of the doors and windows. Still, they didn’t move, but looked at one another, just visible in the street lights outside the hotel.

  Their breathing had slowed to normal when Jim leaned toward Megan and their lips met. His tongue followed the curve of her mouth and she trembled at the intimacy of his touch. His hand came up and stroked the side of her face. She slowly moved her arms around his back and pulled him forward.

  “Megan—” Jim broke off the excruciating kiss. He sat back, his head against the seat.

  “No, it’s all right.” She touched his cheek once and then turned, opened the car door, and got out.

  Jim slammed his hand against the steering wheel. It was getting to be too much. Frustration mounted each and every minute. Not only frustration, but the attack, Seamus, seeing the priests, and all the dreams; it was too much to digest.

  In that split second alone in the silent car, he realized that he need not be torn by indecision. No, he knew now more than he ever had that he would stay with her and make her his. Maybe it was the terror of their close brush with death, or maybe Seamus had finally gotten to him. But he knew as well as he knew there was a backward running stream, that he loved her and wouldn’t be able to return to his old ways, back to his old safe life with no complications and no commitments. Megan was his commitment now.

  He had to convince her of that.

  He left the car and retrieved their suitcases from the back before slamming the door.

  Megan walked so quickly toward the hotel that he had to sprint to catch up with her. She was already at the desk checking in before he reached her side. She turned, and with a too-bright smile, held out a key to him.

  “You’ve got room 3B, and I’m in 2C.”

  “Does that mean we’re not even on the same floor?”

  “It does.”

  “Megan,” he said as he pulled her toward him and away from everyone within earshot. “Are you all right? I think we need a strong drink to ward off the shock we had.”

  “I think you’re right. Let’s leave the suitcases here and we can pick them up when we’re ready to go to our rooms.”

  “Okay, sounds good.” Jim didn’t like the way his hands trembled and the way his legs felt, as though they might fold right under him, but Megan managed to turn smartly and walk to the pub.

  They sat at the bar and Jim ordered. He took off his coat and looked at the mud on his right sleeve, shrugged his shoulders, and downed the whisky as soon as the glass touched the bar in front of him. He ordered another.

  They drank in silence, not looking at or touching one another. The close call and their close proximity began to overwhelm them both. They left the bar, not touching, but walking close together. When they reached the desk, Jim retrieved their luggage and they walked the two flights of stairs to 2C.

  Jim took Megan’s key, unlocked the door, and ushered her in.

  He turned to her, helping her with her overcoat and then her blazer. He took off his tie and jacket and with trembling fingers, took the combs from her hair and pulled her into a close embrace.

  “To think I almost lost you,” he murmured into her hair. His kiss was long and slow, filled with desperation and promise.

  She was more beautiful than he could ever have imagined. A rosy flush tinted her almost translucent skin; the veins below her ear pulsed rhythmically. He would never tire of the sight of red-gold hair falling across her white shoulders.

  He looked deeply into eyes that never wavered from his own.

  “I know I love you. I’ll always love you,” he said, his lips barely touching hers as he pledged his love, as his hands moved to caress and honor her.

  She sighed and ran her hands gently down his face, into his hair, and down his back.

  He pulled his head back to gaze at her and watched as her eyes fluttered o
pen. “Megan,” he whispered. And the name was a pledge more than a plea.

  “Oh, Jim,” she breathed the words, her sweet breath coming out to flutter on his cheeks. His kisses drifted between the valley of her breasts.

  ****

  A niggling thought pushed and prodded to the front of her mind. She pushed it aside, but still the thought took hold and would not let go; he will leave, go to America, and you will be left behind. But the all-encompassing emotion, the passion, and the pleasure that filled her soon pushed the thought aside.

  Chapter 25

  Megan slept deeply, her breath puffing out rhythmically. Jim rested on a pillow, inches from hers and watched her sleep for a very long time.

  Quietly, he got up to go to his room. He had to think. The relationship with Megan, the stories they were writing, their near miss in the car; it was all happening too fast.

  He unlocked his room door to find a double bed, dresser, and a sink with a mirror flush against the far wall. He threw his suitcase and jacket on the bed and crossed to the window. There was little available light to see anything distinctive, but the impressions were of a road in front, a field, and tiny lake on the other side of the road. Jim could see the unmistakable outline of a wooded area that flanked the building on either side.

  The cold and the urgency to get to the church had kept him from even looking at the lake that afternoon. Maybe he’d have a chance before he left the next morning.

  He couldn’t really care less now. His lips curved in a smile. He hadn’t thought he’d come to Ireland and get a bride to go along with his newly acquired leprechaun. His heart felt light and warm. It had been so long—no, he’d never experienced this contentment before. The elation bordered on giddiness. It was Megan. Megan—and he’d never tire of her. It was as though they were made for each other. She was a rare woman, a rare woman, indeed.

  Wait…Seamus! It had to be. Seamus had told him from the beginning that he needed to fall in love, to settle down, and then all would be right with Jim’s world. But even if it was Seamus’s doing, the end result was the same; he loved Miss Megan Kennedy and intended to wed her as soon as the law would allow. He already believed he was married. The Vespers service at the abbey had been the real thing between him and Megan, a dedication, a marriage. Was it only a week ago that Jim would have railed against such a notion? How did that old song go?