by Nathan Roden
Q shrugged.
“I hadn’t given it that much thought. What do I know about decorating a castle? It wouldn’t make sense to fill it up with a lot of modern conveniences. Maybe this is for the best.”
“You’re pretty good at rolling with the changes,” I said.
“Yeah, it does change things. You know what I need now? I have to hire someone to manage this place. If only I knew someone who was looking for a job…”
I laughed.
“If I didn’t know better I would think you staged this whole thing,” I said.
“If I thought it might work, I would have,” Q said.
Sixteen
Wylie Westerhouse
Branson, Missouri
I groaned when I saw the line waiting for the security check at the airport. I booked a morning flight that would put me in Boston about the same time that my Mother gets home from her office. It’s a good thing I dropped Toby off late yesterday. If I had waited until the kennel opened this morning, I would have missed my flight. The unfortunate side effect of leaving Toby at the kennel was that I found it hard to sleep last night. I was afraid that Toby was scared and miserable. I tried to convince myself that he was going to meet some cool dogs and they were going to party.
I joined a couple of hundred sleepy people as we inched forward in the security line. There were lots of security offenders today—from carry-on luggage that was too big, to people making a stink over being frisked. An entire Oriental family was protesting something loudly in their native tongue. The line got even slower. I figured that the rest of us were being punished for the sins of our fellow travelers.
A fresh batch of inbound passengers passed by in the opposite direction. Their path was just outside the snaking, corded-off area where I stood. One of the inbound travelers caught my eye.
She was deep in concentration and scowling at her phone. That was not so unusual, but suddenly she stopped poking the phone with her finger. She looked at the phone in disgust and started slapping it. She spoke to it in an unfriendly way. Several people snickered at her as they passed.
Her voice was hypnotic. She had a European accent—English, or maybe Irish. I wasn’t sure. But, one thing I was sure about.
She was beautiful—beautiful in a timeless and exotic way. She had short, dark hair. It was incredibly shiny. She had what I refer to as a classic figure—like movie stars used to have back when actresses still ate food. Kind of like a…you know, those girls in the Olympics? The ones that balance on that thing that looks like a sawhorse— and they swing on bars and twist and spin in the air. You know the build I’m talking about, right? The tiniest bit thick, and little muscular. But this girl was pretty tall, maybe an inch and a half shorter than me. She could probably kick my butt in a heartbeat. That wasn’t the most fascinating thing about her, though.
She had impossibly perfect skin. I mean really perfect— like a China Doll. She looked like a girl who breathed the purest air: ate only the purest foods, and drank water from the purest spring on earth. She looked…pure.
There was nothing pure about her language, though. I almost felt sorry for her phone, regardless of what it had done to deserve such treatment.
The restless people behind me began to grumble at me. I had committed the sin of allowing four feet of empty space to grow between me and the person in front of me. By the time I moved myself and my backpack ahead and looked around, the girl was gone.
Forty minutes, and a few more security offenders later, I made the final turn from the maze of ropes. That was when the shouting began.
“Get yer mitts off of me!” the girl yelled.
The China Doll Gymnast was attempting to bypass the security line to re-enter the terminal.
“I thought my luggage would be outside,” she explained. “I haven’t been in an airport since I was a baby, okay? I made a mistake. Let’s all just get over it, eh? I have to go back and get my bags.”
“I’m sorry, Miss,” one of the two security guards said. His partner signaled to a pair of nearby police officers. “You’ll have to pass through security to—“
“Don’t be ridiculous,” the girl argued. She was trying to dodge her way around the security officers. “I just got off of your stupid airplane.”
More security guards were approaching, and talking into their shoulder microphones. The girl was ducking away from the security people, and by every indication, she was getting ready to panic and run. This was bad. They were going to tackle her and arrest her.
“Hayley? Hayley O’Hara?” I said. I stepped smack into the middle of the confusion.
What in the world was I doing?
I felt like I was having an out-of-body experience, but I couldn’t just stand by and let them take her to jail.
Six security staff and two policemen paused to look at me, their jaws dropping slack. They weren’t anticipating any outside involvement.
“Oh my God!” I stepped closer. “It is you. I am a huge fan.” I looked around at the surrounding crowd.
“This is Hayley O’Hara—of The Celtic Angels! We saw you at Carnegie Hall last year, Hayley. You were amazing. Can I have your auto—I’m sorry, you’re a little busy. I can’t believe these people are hassling you like this. Hayley O’Hara. Right here at the airport. You know what? My friend Nate does freelance photography for the news networks. I’m calling him; he only lives, like two miles from here. Oh, man. Hayley O’Hara wrestled to the ground by airport security. Unbelievable.”
I already had my phone out and I pushed Nate’s speed dial number. I hoped he wouldn’t answer, but I wasn’t that lucky.
“Nate! You’ve got to get down here, pronto.”
“Uh, Wylie? What are you talking about?” Nate said.
“To the airport. Yeah. You’re not gonna believe this. Hayley O’Hara is here. Yes, really; the singer with The Celtic Angels. I’m serious, dude. Hayley O’Hara. Security is getting ready to throw her down and cuff her like she’s some kind of freaking terrorist. Yeah, I’m sure she has a bodyguard; he’s probably in the bathroom. I know, right? This will be all over the news tonight. You’re looking at an exclusive, dude. Get down here quick, before it’s all over.”
“Wylie, you’ve finally lost it,” Nate said. “Are you drooling? Have you soiled yourself?”
“You can thank me after you get the check from CNN. Move it,” I said.
There were now eight security staff and four policemen standing around. They looked at each other and whispered. A man in a suit with a security badge whispered to a policeman as he pointed at me. I gulped as the policeman stepped in front of me. He looked at the girl that had caused the commotion.
“How many bags do you have?” he asked her.
“Seven,” she said.
The policeman looked at me.
“Give me your backpack, and walk through the metal detector,” he said.
“Why do you want my backpack?” I asked.
“You can pick it up when you get back,” he said.
“Uh, get back from…where?” I asked.
“You’re going to help Miss Celtic Angel get her bags,” the officer said. He crossed his arms and smiled.
I shifted my weight back and forth from foot to foot I was trying to think and failing miserably.
“With all due respect, officer, my flight boards in twenty minutes,” I said.
“I can help you with that one, son. That is no longer your flight because you’re not flying anywhere today,” he said.
“But—“
The officer pointed over his shoulder with his thumb.
“You see that angry bunch of people in uniforms behind me? They were having a bad day before you and this young lady decided to turn this airport into your own personal stage. That gentleman right there,” the officer pointed toward the security manager. “He could have told me to put the two of you in the back of a squad car, but he’s a reasonable man with teenagers at home. You will help the young lady with her bags, and maybe
you will think twice before you pull a stunt like this again.”
“Sir, I didn’t mean to—“
“What you did, son was interfere in a situation involving Federal Transportation security. If I were you, I would consider myself lucky today. I suggest you get moving before either of us changes our mind.”
I had to run to catch up with the girl.
“What kind of nonsense was that? Are you off yer head or what?” she said without slowing down or looking in my direction.
“Just made it all up, right on the spot,” I said. “I figured they wouldn’t want to be the victims of bad publicity.”
“Made you look like a lunatic, you know,” she said.
“Won’t be the first time,” I said. “Kept you from going to jail, I would guess.”
She gave me a brief glance.
“How’s it keep me out of the jail, being chatted up by a crazy man?” she said. “We’re lucky they don’t cart the two of us off to the nutter house.”
“Well,” I said, “you’re welcome.”
There were seven assorted suitcases beside the luggage conveyor. The girl went for the bigger ones, and I attempted to get there first.
“Look, thank you, and all that, but I managed to get these bags this far all by myself,” she said.
“Well, I’m not going to let that police officer see me walking back empty handed. He still has my backpack, and I don’t think he likes me all that much.”
She left the three smallest bags for me.
“Suit yourself, then,” she said. She stacked two pieces on top of another that had wheels. She shouldered a fourth piece. She was already moving, and I had to run to catch up with her again. I was breathing pretty heavily, and she was not.
We walked in silence, and I became increasingly sad. I wanted this girl to like me, and she obviously didn’t.
I glanced down at the name tag window on her largest suitcase. At that point, there were very few things in the world that would make me want to open my mouth again. I had just seen one.
“Is your name Holly McFadden?” I asked.
She snapped a look over at me and saw me looking at the luggage tag.
“Yes, it is,” she said, turning to face forward.
I began to slow down.
“Holly Larrimore McIntyre McFadden?”
She stopped, dropped her luggage and was in my face in an instant. I panicked and dropped her bags. I fought to maintain my balance because she had one hand on my chest. She pushed me backward with an incredible amount of force until I crashed into the wall. She leaned toward me, her face inches from mine and said,
“Who are you?”
I was less sure about who I was than what I was. I first saw this girl fifteen minutes ago, and I was in love.
Yeah, we just met. She doesn’t even know my name. But we have a connection.
We’re connected to the diary.
Wait a minute. Why would she write a personal note to two girls that lived five hundred years ago?
My head banged against the wall again.
“Hey! I asked you a question,” Holly McFadden said. Her hand was still firmly planted on my chest. She leaned in even closer.
I felt like I was about to faint. I was dizzy and my vision blurred. In the space around us, there was suddenly a dense crowd of people. They were close and coming closer. I turned my head from side to side—afraid of what was happening to me.
She stepped away from me and jerked her hand away from my chest. Holly McFadden and I were alone.
“Do you see them? Have you seen them?” she whispered as she leaned toward me.
“What are you talking about? See who?” I asked.
She turned to stand against the wall beside me and waved to the people that were staring as they walked by.
“How did you come up with Larrimore McIntyre? Don’t you lie to me. I can make your life miserable,” she said between clenched teeth as she continued to smile and wave.
“I believe you,” I said.
“I found the diary.”
I was staring straight ahead, but after a few moments of silence, I stole a peek at her face. Her lip was trembling.
“How…?” she said, “How did you find it? Where is it? Do you have it?”
“No, I didn’t take it. I put it back, behind the loose stone just above the floor. That’s where you found it, right?” I said.
Holly McFadden seemed to relax a little.
“So the tower is reassembled?” she asked.
“No. It was still on the trailer when I…well I spent the night in that room…the top part.”
“So you broke into the castle. Now I’m supposed to believe that a common burglar found a diary that is hundreds of years old and didn’t steal it,” she said. She turned toward me again with her fists clenched.
“Hey! I’m not a burglar. I was supposed to meet the new owner of the castle to have a look at that room, but he didn’t show up until the next morning. I… I got trapped inside. It was an accident.”
“Well, if you aren’t a walking, talking calamity, then I’ve never seen one,” she said. She shook her head.
“Why did you write that in the back of the diary? It was like you knew those girls, but that’s impossible,” I said.
“Well…of course it’s impossible,” she said, but she didn’t meet my eyes.
“You want to know what I think?” I asked.
She rolled her eyes. Why do I have this effect on women?
“Of course, I want to know what you think. Nothing in this world is more important to me than that,” she said.
“I think there is some thi…someone, in that castle. Someone…invisible.”
She crossed her arms and turned to lean against the wall again.
“Are you just begging to go to a mental institution?” she asked.
“Inside of that room there’s this picture—a painting of a little horse and a big horse,” I said.
She didn’t say anything. I sneaked a peek at her. She raised a hand to her mouth and looked like she was going to cry.
“That painting was floating—floating in mid-air,” I whispered.
Holly McFadden let out a tiny sob. I thought I saw relief— even joy, in her eyes. I heard her whisper,
“Charlotte.”
“Well, I do thank you for your help, but I’m suddenly very tired,” Holly said, reaching for her bags. “I’ve spent twenty-four hours in the air, plus this latest bit of madness.”
Rushing to get to her before she could grab a handle, I stuck out my hand.
“I’m Wylie. Wylie Westerhouse.”
She giggled a little, but only glanced at my hand.
“Aye, that’s right. In all of this madness, I never knew your name. So, where are you from, Wylie Westerhouse?”
“I’m from right here, in Branson. Well, for now, I am. I was on my way to Boston, where my Mom lives; where I used to live.”
“Okay. Let’s be going.”
We arrived back at the security station. I was pleasantly surprised to find that the officer not only had my backpack, but he had the duffel bag I had checked, and a credit voucher to cover the cost of my ticket. I must have looked as surprised.
“Believe it or not, kid, this must be your lucky day,” the officer said. “The security supervisor ran your name, and he said that he thought you looked familiar. He saw you on TV, and he’s a big Hank Williams fan.”
Holly had managed to load up all seven of her bags and was hurrying toward the exit.
“Thanks, Officer. Holly! Wait up,” I yelled as I ran to catch up with her.
“I thought her name was Hayley,” the officer was laughing as he yelled after me.
“Hey,” I said as I ran next to Holly.
“Do we have unfinished business, Mr. Westerhouse?” she said without looking over.
“What are you doing here? Something to do with the castle, right?” I asked, trying to catch my breath.
“The castle was my ho
me since I was six years old. We had no idea that it would be moved half way around the world. It was like…I never had a chance to say goodbye.”
“Your uncle sold it to Quentin Lynchburg, right? Is he here?” I asked.
“My Uncle Seth passed away two weeks ago,” she said.
“Oh. God, I’m sorry, Holly,” I said.
“I just didn’t…I had no real reason to stay away. There’s no more family at home.”
“So you’re more connected to this castle than…your country? That’s a little unusual,” I said.
“And what if it is? Are you writing a book or just taking a survey, Mr. Westerfield?”
“It’s Westerhouse. Where are you staying?” I said, without thinking.
She gave me a funny look.
“You ask a lot of questions about things that are none of your business, Wylie Westerfield.”
“Westerhouse,” I said.
“Whatever,” she said.
“Are you going to…are you moving here permanently? You have a lot of luggage,” I said.
“Much of that depends on your local Universities, and the availability of classes that can be scheduled around a job, Mr. Wester…house. My Uncle was insistent that I attend University, but first, I’ll have to find work. When my plans are firm, I’ll be sure to provide you with a written account of my intentions,” she said.
“I could give you a ride to wherever you’re staying. I have a car and no other plans for today. I hadn’t planned to be here.”
“Okay, then. Might there be a dealership in the area for Vespa motorbikes? I sold mine, and I’ll be needing another one.”
“Broadmoor Cottages, that’s not far from the castle,” I said, as I started the car. “Do you want to swing by there on the way?”
“If it’s not too much trouble,” Holly said.
“No trouble at all.”