While the interior of the house was interesting, it was nothing compared to the grounds. Jill and Tara exited the back of the house through a small set of French doors and were astounded at what they saw. Large beautiful manicured lawns fell away from the house, terracing down to a small lake, which had in the middle of it a magnificent fountain shooting water in every direction. Consulting their map of the grounds, they turned right to go into the English garden and then down into the Japanese garden.
The women chatted as they walked. Tara regaled Jill with funny stories of actors and other clients. She handled a few big stars, but it was the up and coming ones that she loved. They were so willing to do anything to land a part or a contract or whatever it was they were after.
Jill told Tara about her kids, about Martie’s successful career and how Ryan had his own studio. They talked about Mary and laughed a lot at each other’s unique view of their friend and sister.
As they walked, they came upon a small cemetery, marked by a sign that read “Pet Cemetery.”
“No way,” exclaimed Tara, as she ran down the steps leading to the cemetery.
The pet cemetery was built on the side of a hill and contained about fifteen or so small traditional gravestones. As one would expect, there were several dogs buried there, retrievers and dachshunds specifically. The surprise was to see markers for Shetland ponies, horses, and even a cow. Jill snapped a few pictures of the cemetery. There was something so surreal, yet so sweetly human about this burial ground. This family, through the years, had loved their pets like members of the family. It was touching and Jill felt her eyes water up. A tiny prick of homesickness pieced her heart, but it quickly passed as Tara loped back up the steps to continue their tour of the grounds.
After their lengthy hike through the estate, Jill and Tara felt famished. Luckily there was a small café in the house. As they went into the small restaurant, they saw it was more like a cafeteria. Jill thought to herself, oh, great, rubber food. But when they got closer, they could see this was not any ordinary cafeteria. The menu consisted of homemade soups and gourmet lunches. Jill ordered a slice of spinach and feta cheese quiche while Tara chose a large field green salad with chicken. They took their meals and ate out on the veranda overlooking the lake and its fountain. After lunch, they visited the small shops in the house. There were the usually kitschy stuff, handmade clothing, lots of things with shamrocks on them. Jill noticed a small display of CDs on one of the glass cases and went to investigate. Most of the CDs were of traditional Irish folksongs. Jill was looking at them, picking each up and reading the back, when Tara came up from behind her.
“Whatcha looking at?” she asked.
“Oh, I think I’m going to get one of these CDs. The car has a CD player in it, right?” Jill responded. She held a CD in one hand while still flipping through the display with her other hand. She stopped and picked up another CD. “I recognize some of the titles from the pub last night.”
Jill paid for her CDs and they left the house. The women piled back into the small car, consulted their maps, and left Powerscourt behind.
Chapter 10
The lush countryside flew by as Tara raced along the small Irish roads. It was a bit frightening to Jill. The roads were extremely narrow and for much of the way thick brush or short stone fences flanked the sides of the road. She felt like she could reach out and touch the rock as it went by. But after a short time, they reached one of the major highways, the N7, and the road was more like what she was used to at home. Double lanes, good speed, and an occasional highway roundabout, which Tara maneuvered through like a racing pro.
Jill put one of her new CDs in the car’s player. It contained happy, playful songs, and she recognized several of them. The CD played a few times in a row and by the third time it played, she’d memorized the words to most of the songs. Remembering songs had always been something she’d been able to do easily. Not the greatest talent to have, but she had it. She had amazed her kids when they were younger because she knew the words to so many songs and could name songs within a few notes.
After the fourth playing, Tara begged for some contemporary music, so Jill found a pop station on the car radio, which played much the same music she heard at home. The women rolled their windows down in the unseasonably warm April sun and sang the songs they knew at the top of their lungs, laughing all the way.
Consulting their travel guidebook, they decided to veer off south and visit the Rock of Cashel. Finding the town of Cashel, they followed the small signs directing them to the historic location. It seemed like it would be a large place from the books, but they couldn’t see anything at all that looked like the pictures. The signs took them deeper and deeper into the small town. Suddenly, they took a sharp turn and there, looming large on a hill before them was the Rock of Cashel. It was an ancient stone fortress built high on a hill. They parked in a small lot at the bottom of the hill and hiked their way up to the entrance.
The entrance to the compound was through a small wooden door. Once inside, they had to immediately climb a short, but steep set of stairs. Jill paid for the entrance fees and the two of them opened another wooden door and stepped outside. They weren’t prepared for what they saw before them.
The ancient building looked large from the bottom of the hill. Standing at the foot of it permitted the entire impact of their size and magnificence to hit the eyes and senses of the two women. Ranging high above them was what looked to be a cathedral of stone, jutting into the pale blue sky. Even in its worn state, with no roof, windows, or doors, and a floor of gravel, Jill could tell it must have once been an impressive building. It had been, according to the pamphlet she’d picked up inside, the home of the kings of Munster, including Brian Ború, who served as the High King of Ireland in the 10th century. The mottled grey stone walls, constructed piece by piece and by hand, were solemn and quiet. Jill felt reverence for the Irish ghosts of the past that surely floated above as she gazed up at the sky through the open roof.
Tara motioned her to walk through another doorway and they stepped out into a graveyard on the other side of the buildings. The wording on some of the gravestones had worn away, but on many of them they could read names, dates, and sometimes-short inscriptions of motherly dedication, a good soldier, a beloved child. Whole families had laid to rest in the past thousand years in this holy place. A few of the stones were fairly recent. Jill wondered who you had to be to find a final resting place in this lovely and sad burial ground.
Tara was standing on the side of the grounds, snapping pictures of the pastoral scenery that spread out from the hill opposite the side they’d come up, and of a dilapidated abbey that had once been used by the clergy of the kings of Cashel. Jill continued to read headstones, until she came up to one that read “Sean Flanagan.” She had no idea if she was related to this Flanagan; there had to a million Flanagan’s in Ireland. Still, it struck her to the core to see her family name on this headstone. She looked up from the headstone, slowly gazed all around her, taking in the green countryside dotted with white sheep and small country houses. Jill took a deep breath, and then exhaled. She felt like she was home.
It was getting late, so they decided to stay in Cashel, easily finding a bed and breakfast in a small quaint house at the edge of the town. Jill fell into bed, exhausted, but feeling very happy. She thought about Scott and wondered what he might be doing right then. It would be morning in Phoenix right now; maybe she should call him. She laid there, considering it, then her thoughts shifted to what she had felt and seen in the past two days and instead she drifted off into a peaceful sleep.
Tara woke her by lightly knocking on the door.
Jill got up and opened the door.
“Good morning!” Tara chirped, already dressed and ready for the day.
“Good morning,” Jill said, letting her in. “Wow, you’re chipper. So what’s on tap for today?”
“Well, I couldn’t let you come to Ireland without visiting the Blarney Stone.�
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Jill laughed. “So we’re going to be total tourists today!”
“Pretty much.” Tara clapped her hands. “Get dressed and we’ll go down for our Irish breakfast, then we’ll get on out of here.”
The Blarney Castle and the famous kissing stone were a bit touristy, but Jill and Tara enjoyed it anyway. Both of them climbed the one hundred and twenty steps to reach the castle battlements to reach the Blarney Stone and they both leaned backwards to kiss the stone for good luck and magic.
The castle itself was mostly in ruins, however the grounds were beautiful and the women walked and talked for a while before leaving to take a short trip south to Kinsale, a small fishing town on the south shores of Ireland. They ate fish and chips in a quaint restaurant on the harbor and shopped in the small stores set along the narrow streets. Finally, they realized they needed to get going; they were expected in Killarney later that day.
After leaving Kinsale, Tara drove the small Honda through the expansive green scenery. As they finally arrived in Killarney, Jill was delighted with the small city, its neat lawns and colorful shops everywhere she looked.
“We’ll go check in at the hotel, then we need to go over to Aunt Bridy’s house,” Tara told Jill. “There will be something going on there tonight, before the festivities start at the hotel tomorrow.”
Jill nodded at her and turned to look out her window. One of the things that really amazed her about Ireland was the number of churches. They were everywhere. As they skirted the town to drive towards the hotel grounds, Jill saw a huge Catholic church that was surrounded by scaffolding.
“That’s the church the family usually attends.” Tara pointed at the church. “It’s under renovation and completely closed, which is why Teagan is getting married at the hotel. Besides, her intended, Sean, is Protestant. A huge deal here in Ireland, a Catholic marrying a Protestant. I don’t think they could have gotten married in the church anyway.”
They drove along a narrow but well-tended road through a wooded area. Everywhere they looked, something green and blossoming sprouted from the ground. Rounding a bend, a magnificent white house appeared, with a grand drive leading right to the front door.
“Wow,” Tara said, her jaw dropping.
“Wow is right,” Jill agreed, blinking. The house was unbelievable, the grounds around it perfect.
They parked the car in the unloading area in front of the hotel and stepped out of the car.
“Wow.” Jill said again. She turned slowly, full circle, and took in all the incredible scenery. The house was white and light grey, with turrets, flags ruffling in the breeze. It was a mansion, really, even though they called it the Muckross House. The grounds were part of a national park and Jill knew she was seeing only a small part of it. Opposite the house was a grand view of Muckross Lake, one of the three lakes of Killarney. It was all thoroughly unbelievable.
A thin young porter came out of the hotel to gather their bags out of the back of the car and led them up the stairs into the lobby.
“We’re here for the Shanahan wedding,” Tara explained to the rose-cheeked girl behind the counter.
They checked in and the porter took them upstairs, reaching Tara’s room first. She and Jill agreed to meet back up in two hours so they could go to her aunt’s house for the evening activities.
The porter then led her to another door and let her in. He brought her bags in and left quickly without waiting for a tip. Jill felt bad, then remembered that tipping in Ireland was not a common custom. She moved from the small entry way and into the room. The large room, its antique furnishings, the sheer elegance and richness shocked her. The massive windows were covered by sheers, the actual curtains having been pulled back. Jill found the pull string for the sheers and gave it a yank. The sheers came open, revealing an astonishing view of Muckross Lake through a large picture window.
She stood there shaking her heard. She couldn’t believe she was here, in Ireland, in this beautiful mansion, being pampered. Just a week ago she had felt lost, unloved, bored, and lonely. She still felt a little lonely, but the feeling was fading.
Jill glanced at the black phone sitting on the small writing desk on one wall. Maybe she should call her husband. It would be about ten in the morning; maybe he’d be in his office. She dreaded the thought of calling him, but she guessed she owed him at least a phone call.
Sitting at the desk, Jill considered how she should call Scott. She had her cell phone, but she hadn’t found out if she could even use it in Ireland and had let the battery die. Digging her credit card out of her purse, she decided it would be best to use it for the call; the instructions for credit card calls were on a card sitting next to the phone. Knowing Scott, there was a good chance he cancelled the card in anger. Crossing her fingers that he hadn’t, she dialed his office number.
“Jackson, Wiley, and Owens. May I help you?” a female voice answered.
“Hi Shelly. It’s Jill Owens. Is Scott in?” Jill asked.
“I believe he is, hold on.” The phone went quiet and Jill wondered how much Scott had revealed to others about her disappearance. Shelly didn’t sound surprised to hear from Jill, so Scott had probably kept it all to himself. Wouldn’t want to embarrass himself in front of his partners. A wife on the lam would certainly be an embarrassment.
“Jill, where are you?” Scott demanded to know the moment he got on the line.
“I’m in Ireland.”
“I know that. Exactly where in Ireland?”
“Killarney,” she said. She’d hoped that he would at least be happy to speak to her, but he only sounded angry. As usual.
“What makes you think you can just up and leave like this? Without asking me?” he asked angrily.
“Scott,” she started to explain, but he cut her off.
“What makes you think you can handle traveling alone any where, let alone a foreign country? Christ, you have trouble finding my office, how can you manage a whole new country?” he asked, ranting at her.
Jill held her breath for a moment, waiting until he was done. She’d dialed the phone in a conciliatory mood, but now she was mad, hopping mad.
“First of all, Scott, I am not your property. I can make my own decisions. And I am capable of taking care of myself. And it’s not like I’ve gone to Bangladesh or somewhere they don’t speak English. Good God, do you really think that I’m such an idiot?” she asked, furious at him.
Now it was his turn to be quiet. Jill could tell she’d surprised him. In the past, it was always easier just to let him win the arguments, let him make all the decisions. But look what good it had done her. Now he saw her as an incompetent buffoon. Well, maybe not anymore.
“Jill,” Scott said more softly. “You’re not an idiot. I’ve never said you were an idiot. This was just so out of character for you.”
“I don’t think you really know what my character is. Over the years I’ve let you mold me, make my decisions, tell me what to buy and what to wear and how to raise the kids… a lot of what you’ve seen these past couple of years is not really me.” Jill lowered her voice to match his.
Scott sighed heavily. “I know, Ryan told me about all the music and singing lessons, about the karate classes.”
“Oh.” Jill wasn’t sure she was ready for him to know everything, but there it was.
“Jill, you know I love you. I’m sorry if I haven’t always been the best husband. I’ve tried; it’s just hard with the firm and becoming partner,” he said, trailing off. “Just come home so we can talk about this in person.”
Jill felt her heart beat quickening. He was trying to tell her what to do again.
“I’m not coming home yet. I’m here to attend a wedding and it isn’t until Saturday.”
“Fine, then,” Scott said curtly, his old self again, stiff and demanding, not understanding and kind as he had moments before. “When are you coming home?”
“My flight is on Monday. I’ll be back in Phoenix late that afternoon,” Jill told him her
plans.
“Monday then. I’ll try to be home early that night so we can talk,” Scott said, brusque now. “I’ve got to go. Kevin has some clients waiting for me. See you Monday.” Then he hung up.
Jill slowly set the handset down on the receiver. She knew two things now. She hadn’t even thought about telling him she loved him. And she was thinking about not going back. At all. That would serve him right, wouldn’t it? A slight smile came to her lips.
Chapter 11
Tara drove them back into Killarney to her Aunt Bridy’s house. Bridy was Teagan’s mother and was hosting most of the festivities, except for the rehearsal dinner, which would be hosted by the groom’s parents. Tara pulled into a wide gravel driveway and turned off the car. Jill looked out the window, wondering what was in store for her. The front door to the large house stood open, streaming light out into the yard. People stood around holding beer mugs and wine glasses, chatting, laughing.
“Welcome to Aunt Bridy’s,” Tara said. “Land of drunken people.”
They both laughed, as they got out of the car. Tara greeted a few people by name as she and Jill made their way into the house. Inside, it was even more crowded, men and women animated talking and kids running through the house.
They made their way into the kitchen, where they found a beautiful dark-haired young woman with fair skin and rosy pink cheeks. Tara introduced her as Teagan, the bride to be.
“Jill, so glad that you could come. Mary talks about you all the time, has for years. I almost feel like I know you,” Teagan said, as she hugged Jill. She tugged at the arm of the man standing next to her.
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