by Unknown
The B & B was still a few hundred yards up. A light was on in the front room, but other than that, all was dark around her. She stumbled on an unexpected hole in the road, but caught herself before she tumbled. She reached into her pocket, more out of habit, as her cell phone wasn’t there. She’d left it in her room. As it was, she hadn’t been using it much. She’d been making most of her calls through Skype. But now, she wished she had some way of calling for help.
She started to run and so did he. It was foolish, given the uneven terrain and darkness. When a rustling noise seemed too close for comfort, she expected to be grabbed at any moment. Her throat constricted and she wanted to scream but it was like one of those dreams where she tried but couldn’t make a sound. And just when she thought he was at the point of grabbing her, a dog barked from somewhere nearby. It barked again, louder this time. She turned and looked down the road to see a dog, nipping at the man’s heels. The man kept yanking his leg, trying to get away.
He was close enough for her to get a better look. He resembled Raul, but she couldn’t be sure and she didn’t want to hang around just in case the dog took off. She kept going and only checked back once to see the dog still barking and snapping at the man. The dog wasn’t that big but ferocious in his intent. Frisky, like Begley, Martin’s dog. Could it be…? The man was now backing away, heading back towards the main street. She reached the B & B, sweaty and shaking from the ordeal.
Safe in her room, she sat on the bed and considered what had happened. What would the man have done if he’d caught up with her? She closed the blind, just in case he was still out there somewhere. But who was he? Was the man a stranger, or someone connected to Hennesey? Would he have really hurt her, or was this just about scaring her? If it was about getting her to reconsider using her photos, he was barking up the wrong tree. She laughed at that. The dog had come out of nowhere. Whether it was Begley or not, she said a prayer of thanks for her little savior.
She looked at her watch. It wasn’t too late to call Frank. She dialed his number. When he answered, she said, “Frank, I have something to tell you.”
~~~
After she’d sent Frank the incriminating photos—swearing him to secrecy until she was back in New York—she let out a deep breath. She was strangely exhilarated. She was still frightened, but not in the way she’d been before. Why had she ever worried about telling Frank? He was one man she could trust.
Calmed by her decision, she called Alex. Her daughter gave her another glowing report about Monique, who’d bought her a sari in little India. Catherine kept telling herself, only a few more days, only a few more days. It was a short call, because Alex and Kaitlin were in the middle of beading necklaces for their dolls.
Hanging up, Catherine thought about how easily she could be replaced. Monique had weaseled her way in there. She wondered how Richard felt about this French woman. Had he truly moved on? Or did Catherine still have a chance to rekindle the love they’d once had for one another? Funny about love. Before she’d accepted Frank’s challenge, she was content to be alone. Now, she had two men on her mind and with both, she was batting zero.
Lying in bed, her thoughts turned to the Alice O’Meary. Since Daniel had to see Sean off, he wouldn’t be ready to go ‘til near midday. Catherine fell asleep thinking she’d use the early morning time to find the hill mentioned in Liam Athol’s book.
THIRTY-FIVE
Catherine watched Doreen clean up the breakfast table. She considered bringing up the incident on the road. Perhaps there had been a rash of assaults in the area. Maybe she should report it to the police, but what would they do? She couldn’t identify whoever it was on the road. If she did mention it to Doreen, what would she think? Another ghost? Catherine shook her head as she stirred her coffee.
“Is something the matter?” asked Doreen.
Her question caught Catherine by surprise. She realized then she’d been absent-mindedly shaking her head. “No,” she said, covering up. “I was wondering about a book I read. The Curse of the Stones.”
Doreen raised her eyebrows. “So, you’ve stumbled upon that, too.” It turned out she’d read it years ago, when she was a teenager. She knew exactly where the hill was. “When I was a child,” she said, “we used to go there all the time.” She went to her desk and pulled out a map of Killybegs. She marked a spot on the map with an X before handing it to Catherine. “That’s where the cursers stood.”
“Did you look for the stones?”
“Aye. We all did. We found some and thought they were the original ones. We even play-acted, pretending we were the cursers.”
“Huh. What do you think about the author’s conclusion there was nothing to the curse?”
“There are lots of folks around here who wouldn’t buy that story at all. They’d go with the curse.”
Puzzled, Catherine said, “Why do you say that?”
Resting her hands on the table, Doreen said, “We Irish are a superstitious lot. For every man who denies the power of cursing, you’ll find another who’ll go to his grave believing it. There’s as much credence in cursing as there is in blessings. Can’t say any more than that.”
“But it says in the book, that even Martin didn’t believe in it.”
“Maybe he didn’t, but maybe he did.” She picked up the dirty dishes and carried them to the kitchen. She returned moments later and asked, “Will you be wanting any more coffee then?”
“No thanks.” Catherine rose from her chair. “I was wondering, what do the Irish do if they’ve been cursed.”
“Not much you can do except pray. Some believe you should perform a ritual during the waning moon.”
“Sounds like witchcraft.”
“It may sound strange, but …” Doreen hesitated and then said, “I remember me mum, someone had put a curse on her. She went to see a fortune-teller in the village who told her to take a fresh egg and put it in a bowl. She then told her to pray and ask for help.”
“What do you mean? Like from God?”
Doreen shrugged. “She had to light a candle and ask for the curse to be transferred to the egg. She was then to rub the egg all over her body and after that, put it back in the bowl. The fortune-teller also suggested she pick up a good luck charm.”
“There’s a lot involved.”
“Aye. There’s more. She had to ask that the good luck charm keep the curse away forever. Then thank whomever she believed in and put out the candle. And lastly, bury that egg in the ground. She was told, ‘When the egg rots, so will the curse.’” Doreen took her apron off. “You’ll find the walk up the hill a pleasant one.”
~~~
The grey sky and light rain did nothing to deter Catherine from setting out. She drove a few kilometers from town towards Kilcar, the same route she and Daniel had taken days before on their way to the folk museum. Still uneasy from the night before, she looked back from time to time, checking to see if she was being followed. There was no one in sight.
She found the hill easily. It was the same one she’d seen in her vision, the one where she’d stood dressed in a dark dress searching the seascape. She parked the car near the base and found the opening to the path, framed by clumps of heather on each side. From the moment she began her climb, she had the impression she was treading on familiar ground. As it was a moderate hill, it took about twenty minutes to reach the top with its magnificent view of the sea and harbor.
Her pulse quickened at the sight of a few large round stones lying on the ground. Were these the ones? There might’ve been more, but over time locals could’ve carried some off or thrown them away. She picked one up. It was grey, smooth and worn with the years.
She remembered in the book there’d been an altar of some sorts. She turned round and looked in every direction. The hill was overgrown with wild flowers and weeds. Anything like a boulder would’ve been well hidden by now. She walked carefully through the tall brush and was about to give up when she spotted what looked like a big rock. The long gras
ses had kept it out of sight. It had to be the one.
As she came up to the boulder, she couldn’t help but shiver, as if she’d been struck by a blast of frigid air. Pulling her jacket tighter, she recalled the story of the villagers trooping to the top of the hill with Barnaby. Maybe they’d agreed to the deed to escape his wrath or maybe their decision was a mercenary one. Who could blame them if they had families to feed? It was the time of another potato famine, on the heels of the one that had killed thousands and forced others to escape to America.
As Catherine stood there overlooking the ocean, she thought again of Margaret and how she’d met her fate with James in these waters. How short their married life had been. A matter of hours. Margaret’s candle had hardly been lit before it was snuffed out.
Catherine hadn’t been standing long before the wind started to blow. She thought she heard voices and glanced around, but there was no one there. She had the sense that the past was trying to break through to tell her something. She took one last look before heading down. It was time to find out what the spirit of the Alice O’Meary had in mind.
~~~
Catherine stopped by the Golden Eye to pick up her diving equipment. Daniel was already there, picking up his. He looked tired. Selfishly, she hoped his fatigue was from his conflicted feelings over Sean rather than from any prolonged lovemaking.
They were about to leave the boat, when Catherine spotted Raul coming up from the galley. As Raul stepped on to the deck, a sliver of white bandage was visible on his left ankle just above his shoe. He didn’t see her at first. He limped towards the wheelhouse, where Hennesey was bent over his instruments.
When Raul noticed Catherine, he stopped for a moment, nodded, and then walked deliberately, as if he had no problem at all. His jaw was set, but she saw him cringe when he stepped.
“Wait a second,” said Catherine to Daniel. “I have some unfinished business.”
Daniel looked perplexed but she didn’t hang around to explain. She followed Raul to the wheelhouse, with Daniel close behind.
She found Hennesey at the helm and Raul standing awkwardly nearby. Hennesey said, sarcastically, “Well, if it isn’t Miss Sunshine.”
She ignored him and said to Raul, “You look like you’ve had a nasty accident.”
Hennesey turned to Raul. “What the hell…?”
She said to Hennesey, “I just want you to know, if you intended to scare me, you failed. But thanks to you, I got some wonderful photographs and I’ve sent them all to Frank.” She threw her hands in the air. “What’s a photographer to do?”
“I don’t know what the fuck you’re talking about.”
“Yes, you do.” She glared at him and was surprised she was no longer afraid.
He scowled. “You’ve got nothing on me.”
“Don’t be so sure.”
After a moment of staring one another down, he said, “You bitch!”
“Yep. Just one of many.” Pointing to Raul’s foot, she said to Hennesey, “You tell your diver he should get that checked. I hear rabies can lead to death if left untreated.”
Raul hid his face, wouldn’t look her in the eye. Hennesey stood there, his mouth agape.
She left with Daniel, grinning like a Cheshire cat. His reaction mystified her.
~~~
As they walked to the dive boat that Daniel had hired, Catherine filled him in on her fright the evening before. “I have no proof,” she said, “but I’m not going to let Hennesey bully me.”
“I’m glad you’re okay. I’m not sure Raul would’ve done anything, but then again, I don’t know.” He looked at her admiringly. “Crazy dog, huh?”
“My hero,” she said, smiling. She still wondered about Daniel, but if he was in cahoots with the captain he was hiding it very well. “So, you’re fine about me emailing the photos?”
“Absolutely. At first, I wasn’t sure. But given what’s happened, you made the right decision.”
She was surprised by his answer. Twice now, he’d reacted as if they were on the same page. It pleased her, but not enough to let her guard down.
They found the small dive boat at the end of the dock. She hefted her gear on board. “What do I owe you for the boat?”
Before Daniel had a chance to answer, Olaf came out of the pilothouse, bellowing in his Swedish accent, “Are you ready?”
Astonished, Catherine said, “I didn’t expect you here.”
Daniel said, “Hennesey insisted on getting us a boat and having Olaf drive it.” She must’ve looked confused as he added, “Since you found the barque on his time, he figured this was the only way.”
Olaf scratched his chest. “He wants to keep it in the family.”
A control freak right to the end. She hoped this was all there was to Hennesey’s arrangement. An uneasiness settled in her gut as she climbed on board.
Olaf said, “Hennesey’s already applied for a license to salvage the Alice O’Meary. He’s expecting approval any day now.”
Another surprise. It bothered her that the British barque was going to be open for salvage. Since she’d become intimate with the history of its demise, she thought anyone tramping upon its remains —other than herself—would be trespassing. It was an irrational thought. The only excuse she had was her relationship with the spirits. And yes, that was mad, too.
Daniel and Catherine stood on the starboard side while Olaf steered the boat out of the bay. The inlet was hopping with every type of fishing boat on the market. Much as she was anxious to go home, she was going to miss this maritime circus.
As for Daniel, it was hard to believe how much had changed. Ever since their brief interlude on the cliffs had been spoiled, their relationship had gone into reverse and stalled. Sean’s pregnancy announcement hung like a clothesline with the day’s wash between them. He talked, she listened. He told her he might return the following summer to continue working on the Spanish wreck, that is, if he and Hennesey were still talking to one another. She wanted to say—who was he kidding? She’d seen them in a cozy twosome, talking like long lost buddies. Instead, she said nothing. She stared at the ripples in the sea and thought again about how much had changed between them.
~~~
It was still early in the afternoon when they got to the dive site. As both had had a hearty Irish breakfast, they decided to dive first and eat the lunch Daniel had picked up at a local market later.
Before putting on her gloves, Catherine looked at her Claddagh ring. She’d decided to wear it, as it had once been on the Alice O’Meary. Up to now, she’d been diving without gloves. It was easier to take photos that way, but now with the ring on, she didn’t want to attract any fish that thought her gold ring was their next meal.
Already suited up, Daniel came over and fixed the position of her regulator. “Just want you to know you’ve been a great buddy.”
Squinting in the bright daylight, she said, “You’re spooking me. We’re going down and coming up together, right?”
He smiled. “You can count on it.”
Catherine’s stomach was jittery. A dark thought crossed her mind. There were no other divers with them. It was just her and Daniel. No one else to witness anything. And he was the one who’d suggested they should dive that day. He was the one who’d arranged the boat, a boat indirectly controlled by Hennesey. She searched Daniel’s eyes for some sign of deceit, but found nothing but warmth, the kind that had seduced her on the cliffs. She cautioned herself not to be fooled again. She then reminded herself, she’d already sent the photos. There was no longer any reason for Hennesey or his cohorts to threaten or harm her. Or was there?
She tried to put her fears aside as she flipped backwards into the water. Once under, she relaxed. Water was the balm she needed. On her way down, she took some photos of orange sea urchins, and a neon pink starfish clinging to a ledge. She even smiled at a pollack staring at her, as if she was some strange species.
The Alice O’Meary was there, as before, scattered across the sand and s
eaweed covered rocks. A school of mackerel swam in and around a rusted-out container of tea from India. Daniel pointed out a few iron drift pins sticking out of the sand bottom and pieces of hull lying on what looked like a length of mast.
He said, “This is an early example of an iron or steel hull. Either way, these are hard to conserve.”
He wasn’t telling her anything she didn’t know. After they’d found the capstan, she’d read about the construction of the Alice O’Meary on the web. She also knew that iron and steel disintegrated quickly when any ship’s parts were brought up to the surface.
Further on, wooden timbers lay about, badly broken and damaged by Teredo worms. As she snapped photos of the beams, she recalled her dream of the young woman running on deck, her boots slipping on the wet surface.
She looked over at Daniel, his bubbles obscuring his face. He dove deeper towards what looked like the stern of the barque. He hadn’t been there long when the young woman in the white dress came into view, floating above him. For a moment, Catherine was too startled to speak. She cleared her throat and said, “Daniel, can you see her?”
Daniel turned to her. “Who?”
“She’s behind you now.”
Daniel turned around. “No, I can’t. What’s she doing?”
“She wants me to follow her.”
“Then do it. I’ll stay right behind you.”
Catherine swam over to where the phantom was directing her. She wished the visibility was clearer as she couldn’t make out the spirit’s face. The hair, however, was very much like hers—long, wavy and auburn. The spirit pointed to a spot between some worm-eaten boards. “She wants me to look over here.”
She turned to see Daniel’s reaction, but he wasn’t there. She called his name, still nothing. She swam back to where she’d seen him last, but he wasn’t there. She started to panic, and her breathing quickened. So, this is how it was going to happen. He was abandoning her. It was part of his and Hennesey’s plan. Seduce her into believing and then, wham, some accident. So, Frank had the photos. Without her input, Hennesey could come up with some believable story. Especially if Daniel corroborated it. And just as she was thinking she should go up, he appeared.