A Stewed Observation

by Karen C. Whalen

  “Is that all you’re worried about?” He laughed. “You’ll be seeing the beauty of the cliffs through new eyes with me.”

  She swallowed hard. “I’m a little scared.”

  “We won’t go anywhere near the edge. Only a fool would do that.” He bumped open his door and came around the front of the car to open hers.

  Casting her gaze down, she snagged her hat from the backseat and patted it tight on the top of her head to keep the blustery wind from blowing her hair.

  Griff extended his hand and Jane seized it in hers. They trekked up to the memorial. It read:

  In memory of those

  who have lost their lives

  at the Cliffs of Moher

  —

  I gcuimhne ar na daoine a cailleadh

  ag Aillte an Mhothair

  She blinked back some tears. “Let’s walk over to O’Brien’s Tower.”

  “Don’t you want to take some pictures?”

  “In a bit. This wind’s making my eyes water.” This was a lie, but she didn’t want him to look too closely at the tears welling in her eyes.

  Grateful for the security of his solid, tall physique, she snaked her arm through the crook of his, and they strolled the walkway to the old crenellated observation tower. They were the only visitors going inside; everybody else was gazing over the sea wall. They paid the elderly ticket-taker the €2 to see the viewing platform at the top. Jane’s feet shadowed Griff’s steps as they scaled the spiral staircase to the parapet. A clamorous gale blew even more forcefully at that height. She clasped Griff’s hand harder than ever, while they looked over the capstones to the crashing waves, far, far below.

  His strong voice carried over the roaring cyclone that was the wind. “Look, you can see all the way to the Aran Islands. And at this time of year seabirds nest at the cliffs. It’s the breeding season and thousands of birds come here. Give me your cell and I’ll take your picture.” Griff made to let go of her hand, but she tightened her grip and slid her phone from her pocket with her other hand.

  “No selfies,” she hollered over the voices in the wind.

  “Sure, let me just take some of you.”

  “Then I’ll snap a few of you.” Jane smiled for the camera, hoping she’d been able to wipe the sad, scared look off her face.

  But first, he extracted his fingers from hers. He was standing too close for a picture. Stepping back, he nudged her away, sending her into the hard iron railing next to the stone tower wall. Just then the wind kicked up with more velocity, swirling a piece of trash at their feet and tearing the straw fedora off her head. Her hat sailed on the air, the pink ribbon fluttered, then the hat went over the crenellated stones and out of reach.

  She screamed loud and long as Griff yelled, “Jane! What’s the matter? Jane! Jane!”

  Gasping for breath, she clutched the cold stone wall. Black spots swam in front of her eyes and blood pounded in her ears. She stumbled to the winding stairs.

  “Jane! Wait!” He was right on her heels, she could feel his breath on her neck, his hand grasping for her windbreaker. She skittered ahead, keeping out of his reach. Her feet slipped on the iron steps. She lost her footing and blacked out.

  ****

  Griff cradled her in his arms, smoothing her hair back from her forehead with a gentle touch. “Jane, you all right?” Now he was the one to have the terrified look.

  “What happened?”

  “I think you fainted.”

  A crowd of onlookers peeked around Griff’s shoulder, and the ticket-taker’s wrinkled face entered her line of view. “This young man, here, carried you down from the top. You’d a’ broke your neck if you’d fallen down those steps.”

  “I’ve got you.” Griff hugged her a little tighter.

  “Let me sit up.” Jane inched her way to a sitting position, avoiding the gawkers’ eyes. “I’m fine now.” She was only a little dizzy. Griff hauled her up to a stand. The ticket-taker thumped Griff’s shoulder, then trotted back to the tower, and the nosy crowd dispersed.

  “Are you going to tell me about it?” Griff straightened her coat collar. The fury of the wind had disappeared at the foot of the tower away from the cliff’s edge.

  “I should’ve before. Let’s go and I’ll explain it on the way out of here.” Her cheeks burned as she imagined how weak and squeamish she must seem. What had come over her? At least the fear had receded now, and she only felt foolish.

  “I’m sorry about your hat.” Griff propelled her back to the car. “Let’s find a pub.”

  ****

  She rolled down the window to breathe in the fresh briny air, as Griff steered the car along the coastal road. They were at sea level now. Waves crashed around the boulders outside the car windows. They drove on the winding, narrow road through several villages, but decided to keep going as they talked and talked.

  She admitted her second husband, Hugh, had been swept off the high Cliffs of Moher into the sea while taking a selfie photo of the two of them, widowing her for the second time. “I was questioned at length by the police after he fell, though there were too many witnesses for the police to seriously blame me for any fault in Hugh’s death.”

  There was no need to mention she had uploaded the selfie as her profile picture. No need to mention the photo had gone viral. Or that her first husband fell from a cruise ship. Or, as a result of both husbands’ peculiar deaths, she’d been tagged, “widow of the waves,” on the internet. She’d kicked herself for posting that selfie, even though it was her best photo ever. Cheryl and Olivia had laughed at this gross error, and told Jane to laugh it off, too, but she hadn’t reached that point yet.

  “Ah. I see why we have such a kindred spirit. Both of us innocent suspects.”

  She considered him for a few moments. “I talked about my past, now tell me about yours.”

  “Like what?”

  “Like, how do you know Kate?”

  Griff looked at her quickly, then away. “We’ve known each other a long time.”

  “Are you in a relationship?”

  “Not anymore. She broke up with me and moved away, but after a couple of years she showed up again. Wanted to get back together, but it was too late.”

  “Why was it too late?”

  “She’s not what I’m looking for. I want someone who’s kind and, well, faithful. Someone who doesn’t play games. Like you, Jane.” Griff smiled at her, tossing his long, strawberry blond hair out of his eyes and causing her heart to skip. “Kate just came by today to ask if I could refer any more tourists her way. That’s all it was.”

  As they barreled along the coastal road and tunneled through the hedges, they talked about what they were looking for in a mate—that they were of the age to know without a doubt what they wanted. “Did your parents have a good marriage, Griff?”

  “Something like that.” He was staring through the windshield, hands firm on the wheel.

  “It must have been horrible losing them at a young age.”

  His lips curled. “I was old enough to take care of myself.”

  “Don’t poo-poo it.”

  He ran his hands through his hair. “What’s that mean?”

  “Don’t make light of it.” Jane puckered her lips. “Your uncle made you work for your keep, it sounded like.”

  “It was good for me, though. I learned to work hard to get what I want and never give up.” He placed one hand over hers and gave it a small squeeze. “Let’s spend the day together tomorrow.”

  “All right. My last day in Ireland. I need to join the others on Thursday.”

  “I hope not, a rúnsearc. I’m still going to talk you into staying.”

  All thoughts of leaving for Scotland even one day early were erased from her mind. After a bit, they stopped so Griff could call Mairéid to supervise dinner, then they ate a light supper at a pub on the road home.

  Once back at the castle, Griff trailed Jane up the staircase toward her room, but she halted on the top tread. “I’ll see
you in the morning.”

  He gazed into her eyes as her heart beat faster. “I can’t come up with you?”

  “I’m not ready for that.”

  He engulfed her in his arms for a passionate kiss, and she almost changed her mind. She drew in a deep breath when she popped up for air. It was hard to believe this handsome Irishman, the owner of a castle no less, was attracted to her. “See you bright and early then…tomorrow.”

  But Griffin’s eyes turned hard when he muttered, “Tomorrow…Mairéid would like nothing better than to take charge of the castle again tomorrow, I’m sure.”

  ****

  She took a shower and washed her wind-tangled hair under the hot water while her mind went around and around with the day’s events. Glad and relieved to have explained to Griff about the cliffs, she shook off all feelings of foreboding. He’d made her feel safe when they were lost at Cong Village and again today at the cliffs. After climbing into her pajamas but before jumping into bed, she opened her suitcase to stare at Kate’s letters…how did Griff really feel about the younger Irish beauty? Were there any hints of his feelings? He said the relationship had ended, but heck, maybe it wasn’t over. Jane needed to find out. Then she’d figure out a way to sneak the letters back into Griff’s room. He’d never need to know and she would fully trust him from now on.

  She plumped the pillow and adjusted the blankets, then opened the next letter in the bundle from where she’d left off. But instead of romantic words, she read in Kate’s handwriting, “Your only interest is in the castle. You said, if only your uncle was dead. Then you would have what you want, and I could move into the castle with you. I could help with that.”

  The words made her catch her breath. Griff appeared to be telling the truth. Kate sounded like she was pleading to get back together, and Griff was not interested in her. But more importantly, why would Kate wish Alsander dead? Was it possible she was the one who gave the old man the amphetamines in some sickened belief if Griff reached his goal of owning the castle he would turn to her?

  Chapter 19

  Her last day in Ireland. The ten days had flown by as vacations always do, although this one had not been the typical R&R.

  Not that they were trying to top one another, but Cheryl texted that they were visiting the Royal Yacht Britannia and they were going to have cullen skink, a fish chowder, for lunch, and Jane texted back that she’d spent the day before with Griff and she’d made plans to spend this day with him, too.

  Right after breakfast, Griff and Jane climbed into her rental with a brand new tire on the front. They reached Galway in an hour and a half. Griff parked Jane’s car near the pedestrian streets in the old part of the town.

  He opened the car door for her. “I’m glad you didn’t mind coming back here. It’s my favorite city.”

  “It’s mine, too.” She walked beside him in a rosy glow. They strode across the uneven cobblestones to the bay. They sat on the sea wall, listening to the waves playing on the rocks like a soothing melody, watching the Bádóirí an Chladaigh Regatta with the unique Irish boats.

  After a while, they rose from their perch, and Griff held a palm against her back as they strolled through the open market in the Latin Quarter with loaves of fresh bread, clams in the shell, and a briny scent in the air. Jane stopped to watch a street musician playing an Irish flute as Griff kept going. Unlike the usual fighting or dancing music, the tune was somber and haunting. Once she’d captured a quick video on her cell, she found herself on the opposite side of the road from Griff.

  A parade of sorts was marching down the street, and it became nearly impossible to cross. She elbowed her way into the boisterous crowd, and strangers jostled into her, jarring her left and right. She struggled against them, but was carried farther away by the wave of people. A tall, witchy woman with long, black tangled hair was a few feet away, facing the other direction…but Mairéid was supposed to be in Limerick taking care of business. Jane wheezed, incapable of catching her breath in the claustrophobic crush. Unable to see Griff’s tall frame above the heads in front, she spun around, and someone trod on her foot. Her breathing came out in rasps as she clawed through the rowdy mass. Her heartbeat thrashed in her ears.

  Then Griff’s hand clasped her arm. She hung onto his big bear of a frame, and his arms engulfed her in a safety zone as he led her away from the horde. “You’re trembling, Jane.”

  “Silly of me. I kinda panicked in the crowd.” Her imagination was going wild. Nothing could happen when she was safe with Griff. “Thank you for taking care of me once again.”

  “I like looking after you.”

  Once her breathing resumed its normal rate, she felt small for being scared and imagining Mairéid following her. They went in search of a pub. Jane kept her eyes open for the bookstore where she’d purchased the excited delirium book, but they hadn’t traversed the same streets as she and Dale had before. Griff took her to a restaurant, and although too early for lunch, they ordered smoked salmon as a snack. They watched the rest of the parade through the safety of the window.

  “That was so funny to see you get carried away by the crowd. The people in Galway like a party.” Griff laughed until his eyes crinkled at the corners, and Jane laughed with him. There was nothing to be afraid of.

  They finished their salmon and returned outside to find it raining. They stood under a store awning waiting for the squall to end. After the cloudburst passed over, some young people splashed in the puddles while Griff and Jane window shopped along the old pedestrian way. One store featured Celtic rings. She confessed she’d thought Dale was going to buy her an engagement ring while they were in Galway, and again in Limerick, and they laughed together at her assumption. Yes, she’d expected Dale to ask her to marry him, perhaps in this same spot, but he was busy posting pictures with Polly on Facebook now.

  “His loss, my gain.” Griff gave her a sideways glance. “You’re beautiful, Jane. Everything about you. You even have a perfect smile.”

  “Braces as a child.” She couldn’t help smiling.

  “But, your teeth are so white, too.”

  She ran her tongue over her teeth. “Whitening at the dentist.”

  He rolled his eyes. “O-kay. Shot down by a compliment swat.”

  “What’s that mean?”

  “That’s when someone compliments you and you say, I’m not pretty, or whatever.”

  “Well, now.” She waved away his comment.

  “I want to buy you a Celtic ring.” Griff returned his attention to the shop window.

  “No, Griff, I can’t let you do that. I should never have told you I expected Dale to give me a ring. I’m embarrassed now.” She gazed at her shoes.

  Griff raised her chin. “It’s just a gift. I want you to remember this day always.” He directed her into the store and insisted so much that she agreed, but stood firm on the price. Even so, the Celtic ring with an emerald stone cost more than she would have spent on a souvenir for herself.

  She regarded the ring, twisting it around so the emerald caught the light.

  What would Dale think of this? And what about Kate?

  She gazed into Griff’s aqua blue eyes, the color of a tropical ocean. Everything about him was so Irish. His strawberry blond hair, his peaty fragrance, even his name, Griffin O’Doherty. She furrowed her brows trying to remind herself his name was on the suspect list in her purse, even though she trusted him and didn’t believe he could harm anyone.

  When Griff entered one of the public restrooms, Jane rested against a light post and punched in Cheryl’s number.

  Her friend picked up. “Jane, I’m so glad you called.”

  “How was the royal yacht?”

  “Amazing…a palace, but on the water. You’re catching the ferry in the morning, right?”

  Jane hesitated, her chest rising and falling with rapid breaths, her eyes staring at her new ring. She didn’t want to leave. Was the relationship blossoming because of the crazy, dangerous circumstances? Like a war
-time romance?

  “Jane! Are you going to make me come back and get you?” Cheryl’s voice rang out over the line.

  “No, of course not. It’s just that I’m having a great time here. And, I have to tell you what happened today. Griff bought me a Celtic ring with an emerald stone. I told him not to buy it, but he insisted. You should see it.”

  “You let him buy you an expensive gift?”

  “I guess I did.”

  “Are you telling me you’re staying in Ireland? You aren’t going to join us?”

  Jane gave over to her thoughts for a couple of moments too long. “I coming, but I’m not sure which ferry I’ll be on.”

  “You’re scaring me,” Cheryl snapped. “Be on the early ferry tomorrow morning.”

  “I’m not sure which boat yet, but I’ll let you know. By the way, Ryan’s mad you left without saying goodbye.” Jane looked over her shoulder to find Griff outside the restroom, glancing around. “Hey, Griff’s here. I’ll call you later, okay?” She disconnected as he spotted her and walked over.

  ****

  The return drive to Limerick took the rest of the day because they drove the long route back, going out of the way along the coastal road, halting to eat, and stopping at half a dozen beauty spots so Jane could take pictures. They’d left Galway in the afternoon, but didn’t arrive in Limerick until the early evening. After getting out of the car to stretch, they ascended the steps through the double doors of Lomán Castle. At the reception desk, Fiona rammed the end of a pencil through her dreadlocks and scratched her scalp.

  Griff said to Jane, “I should check on the state of the kitchen.”

  “All right. I’ll see you later.”

  She dragged her feet up the stairs to her room where the letters were waiting to be dealt with. Should she smuggle the letters back or just confess to Griff that she’d read them? How could she even bring them up after having spent the day together and never mentioning it? Even though dreading the thought, she should encourage him to turn the letters over to the police. This was evidence.

  She looked in her suitcase, under folded jeans, beneath shoes and socks, lifting out her sacks of dirty clothes…but the letters were not there.