The Ghost of Kathleen Murphy

by Vickie Carroll

  “I’m impressed, Cassie. It took a lot of guts to make such a move; to leave your home, friends and career behind, and your relationship. You said your mother died the year before too?”

  Jacob noticed Cassie stopped to take a deep breath before answering. “Yes, she committed suicide, though they ruled it accidental overdose, which it could have been, I suppose. She struggled all her life with mental illness, and my dad finally got to the point he couldn’t handle it, and he moved out a few years before.”

  “You have had a rough time of it. I’m sorry, Cassie, and I understand how you must have felt. To lose a personal relationship on top of the rest must have felt like the universe was kicking you while down. It is painful to know someone we loved betrayed us, and at the worst possible time.”

  “I put up with a lot for a long time, and I cared for Jed, of course, but once I finally make up my mind, it is done,” Cassie said.

  “I try to be the same way but I am not always so successful.”

  “Jacob, to be honest, I’m starting to believe it was the best thing I ever did.”

  “Leaving the job or the guy?”

  “Both. Jed owes me big time but he will never admit it. I helped him make the company what it is. I wined and dined authors, read crummy manuscripts from new writers, all the time searching for a few good ones we could cultivate because he was too lazy to do it. I worked through holidays and never took vacations. Oh… I’m sorry, I seem to be in poor me mode or doing a rant. It’s over and done and I am glad.”

  “What’s your next step, Cassie, if you don’t mind telling me?”

  “You mean if I get ever get this book written, then what?”

  “Well, that is sort of what I meant. I guess I’m wondering if you might ever consider living here in Ireland. It seems to agree with you and you seem to like it.”

  “Only in my dreams, Jacob. But I have given it a little thought of late, in a maybe-I-could sort of way. One can write from anywhere. But what family I have left and all of my friends and contacts are back in the U.S., so I don’t know. It’s a maybe, I guess, but a big move for me.”

  “Yes, I can see the challenges. Leaving one’s family and country is a big decision,” Jacob said.

  They pulled into Mick’s parking area and Jacob could see it was already filling up, which was not unusual. He was glad he had connections, so no bad table by the kitchen for him.

  Jacob saw a few heads turn as they went in. Cassie didn’t seem to notice the men looking at her but he guessed she was used to it by now. The hostess, Amanda, gave him a wave from across the room and rushed over to greet them.

  “Jacob, so nice to see you again. It has been far too long.”

  “Thank you, Amanda, this is Cassie.”

  “Nice to meet you, Cassie. Any woman who can get Jacob out of the house deserves a medal. He hates crowds you know.”

  “Amanda is one of my cousins, I think. Table please,” Jacob said.

  “Nice to meet you too, Amanda,” Cassie said.

  After they were seated and the waiter poured their wine, Jacob relaxed a little.

  Cassie looked around and sat back. “Beautiful place.”

  “Yes, but the downside of living where one grows up is everyone knows your entire life story and personal business. Take tonight for example, Amanda will tell her sister and her mother she saw me out with you and it will ripple across the miles of Dublin and to Rosehaven before I get home.”

  “Yes, but Jacob, there is some comfort in knowing you can reach out for someone and find they will be there for you and just because you have history. It’s not like in Atlanta. It is huge, sprawling, and transient. People get into their little communities and have to make their life and friends the best they can as people come and go through the years.”

  “I never thought of it that way before. I have always lived here so I have no other frame of reference. Though Dublin is large now too, there are pockets like in any large city where people go to be with their own kind. In Rosehaven, well, it is still a small place and everyone knows everyone.”

  “It is a special place just the same, Jacob. You are lucky to have been raised in such a place. Were your parents born around here too?”

  “My mother was but my father was born in Donegal. They both ended up in Dublin at university in the same English Lit class. Mother said she liked him from the start, but she knew she was in love when he stood up and quoted James Joyce in the pub one night.”

  Cassie laughed. “The Irish and their pubs! I’ll bet a lot of people fall in love in the pubs.”

  “I’m sure. At least they fall in love for the night.” Jacob watched the candle light play around Cassie’s face and he wondered how he could let her go.

  After dinner Jacob took Cassie to Mandy’s Tavern, the place Tommy suggested. They were having a fiddling competition, and those always brought down the house. Two hours later they emerged into the night air with the fiddle still ringing in their ears.

  “How about back to my house for coffee, Cassie?”

  “Yes, a great idea.”

  Jacob put his arm around Cassie and gave her a kiss on the cheek. He closed her car door and looked up into the night sky; and for the first time in decades he sent up a prayer to his favorite saint. He was sure Cassie would find it funny if she knew. It almost made him laugh…almost.

  Chapter 8

  By the time they reached Jacob’s house Cassie was turning her ring around and around on her finger. This belonged to his wife. That was the main thought in her head as she and Jacob walked in the front door. As she looked around the house, she found nothing feminine at all. She wondered if Jacob removed everything that reminded him of Lydia. The house was filled with books, maps and heavy furniture. It was neat and tidy, but it looked masculine with its earth colors and straight lines. There were no pictures except landscapes and sail boats and ships.

  Jacob took her hand. “Come on in the kitchen with me and I will make you some real Irish tea like it is supposed to be made.”

  “Why do the Irish and English think they are the only people on this side of the planet who know about tea?” Cassie followed behind him into a huge rustic kitchen.

  “Sit, and please take off your lethal looking shoes. Tea will be ready in a minute. And to answer your question about tea, well, we think we know how to make and serve tea because it is true. Though of course we do give the Asians some credit. Americans have ruined tea in two ways.”

  “Oh, do tell me.” Cassie sat down at the table and discarded her high-heels.

  “First, Americans have to have instant everything. Good tea takes a little time. Second, Americans have no appreciation for the process of making and serving tea. They don’t understand the importance of making it an event to be appreciated. Look at the amazing Japanese tea ceremonies. They know how to do it too.”

  “I suppose you are right. I won’t argue with you tonight, Jacob. I am too full of Irish food and Irish music.”

  “I’m happy you enjoyed tonight. I hoped you might see part of the real Ireland. After all, you are from Irish stock yourself, right, Miss Malone?”

  “True, but as you noted, I am polluted by the American way.”

  “Cassie, I want to say…” Jacob was interrupted by the whistle of the tea kettle.

  Cassie waited for him to get through his tea making ritual and tried hard to be quiet and still. Yes, it was true; Americans didn’t like to wait for anything. She thought it telling that a big masculine guy like Jacob could care about making tea the right way and sharing it with her. She wasn’t used to this kind of treatment.

  “Here you are, now try to relax and enjoy this, taste the tea, and inhale the scent of it. Try to pick out the different notes in the plant itself.”

  Cassie couldn’t help but smile as she reached for the cup. “Only the Irish can get poetic about tea.”

  “Maybe, but I can bring out your Irish side with a little cooperation, if you like.” Jacob put his hand over hers. />
  “Meaning what?”

  “Meaning, if you like it here, and you say you do, maybe you’ll consider staying at least long enough to see the country and settle in a bit. You can’t get a feel for the country by staying a few months in just one area.”

  “Oh, Jacob, I don’t know. I haven’t thought about it in a serious way. I can only think about six months ahead right now. To leave my country…we’ve talked about this. I don’t know how I begin such a thing—the logistics alone!”

  “You could be a dual citizen, and of course, there are these things called jets that allow you to fly back and forth pretty easily I hear.”

  The idea of it made her anxious but she wasn’t sure why. “I will think about it. Let’s change the subject.”

  “Very well, how is your book idea coming along and your research plans?”

  “Oh, yes, Jacob, I finally have a great book idea! It is about the ghost-child. Can you tell me about what Lydia experienced in the monastery?”

  Cassie knew she made a mistake. She saw the change in Jacob’s face and felt the joy go out of the evening as he put his cup down on the table and stood.

  “I don’t want to talk about it, Cassie, now or ever.”

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to bring up bad memories. I just find the story of the child fascinating and plan to research it more. Maybe there was too much wine and excitement tonight and I am not thinking straight. Again, sorry for my bad manners.”

  “Look, Cassie, you can choose to do anything you wish about the story, but leave me out of it, and Lydia too. I don’t want anything to do with it. Dredging up all those old rumors, those tall tales again, will only hurt people. You have no idea how much trouble and pain that silly story caused.”

  “At the risk of ruining our evening, I do want to make it clear, and so there is no misunderstanding, finding out what happened to those two girls is important to me. Putting the story to rest is a good thing, Jacob, or at least finding out the truth. I’m sorry this causes you pain or bad memories, but this was something Lydia seemed to believe too. Don’t you wonder about it at all?”

  “No, I don’t, Cassie. I only wonder how two seemingly intelligent women can believe in ghosts. That’s all I wonder. Well, and how you can exploit this for your own agenda, to write a book.”

  “Hey, wait a minute, here. I have no intention of hurting anyone, but I know when secrets are exposed, there can be fall-out. I didn’t start out to exploit anyone or anything. I ran across this story by accident and now I am invested it in. There are a lot of things in this world we can’t explain but we still know to be true. I thought the Irish were a bit more mystical and open to this sort of thing than most.”

  “Not this Irishman. I’ve seen what getting too close to this kind of thing can do. Leave it alone, Cassie. Leave it for your sake, and for the sake of—-just leave it, please. “

  “I can’t leave it now. I have seen too much and learned too much. Something happened to those girls, something bad, and I want to know the truth. I think it is only right. I will go forward with this, and I will do my research and I will write my book.”

  Jacob’s face was flushed and he clenched his fists. “You have the right to do as you please. Maybe we don’t know each other very well after all.”

  “Don’t make this so personal, Jacob. Can’t we just take it slow and see how things go as we do get to know each other better? You might end up wanting to know more about the story yourself. You don’t know what else I might find or what I will write in the end. Don’t be so quick to judge me.”

  “I don’t know what you will find or what you will write, that is true, but I do know some things are better left alone. I’m not sure I want to go forward with this thing between us. I feel I will end up waving goodbye to you at the airport in a few months anyway. Maybe we are just too out of sync, and have too many obstacles in the way now.”

  “Oh, Jacob, you are acting like a spoiled child; and why are you so quick to write this off? Why are you so afraid?”

  “We are just too different, Cassie, and I have no patience with all this ghost talk. I think I have been clear enough.”

  “You don’t have to participate in my research, Jacob. It has nothing to do with you anymore. Why can’t you just believe in me a little and see how things go?”

  “Easy for you to say. You are holding all the cards. I think you know how I feel, but you have said very little. You are the one with the power here, Cassie.”

  “I don’t want any power. I just don’t want to rush into anything. Like I said…”

  “Yes, yes, I know, you just got out of another relationship.” Jacob ran his hands through his hair.

  “Exactly, and I can’t help that, or how I feel. I do like you, a lot, and you must know I do, or you don’t know me. Why can’t you be happy with what we have right now and leave the rest alone to work itself out?”

  “I don’t know, Cassie. I’ll take you back to the retreat center now. I think we need some time apart. Or at least I need some time to think.”

  “But Jacob…”

  “Let’s go, it’s getting late.”

  ****

  The drive back to the retreat center was torture. Cassie didn’t know what to say to him and was stunned by his stubborn attitude. She didn’t try to make conversation because she got angrier with every mile. How dare he give her some kind of ultimatum this early in their relationship? How dare he suggest she give up her country? Who does he think he is? His good looks may get him everything he wants, but not this time. She was sick and tired of letting a man call the shots in her life. It was like Jed all over again. No, never again. She stared out the window, willing the miles to go by faster.

  By the time they reached the retreat center Cassie was convinced their relationship was over. As soon as the car stopped she jumped out, slammed the door, and never looked back. Jacob did not follow.

  April left her a note on the door to come to her room when she got back if it were not too late. Cassie knew it was too late to disturb April, but she could have used someone to talk with about all this. She knew April was not the right choice because she was too young to understand this particular situation. She was glad she and April had set the meeting with Professor Roland for the following day. She needed another view point from someone with more experience with this kind of thing. This was an invaluable opportunity to pick his brain and get the research material he gathered for her. Also, something other than Jacob in her head might help.

  Even though it was late, Cassie was too wired to sleep. She read through her notes and worked on her outline for her book, the book that was taking shape in her mind, a book about a ghost child. She went to sleep thinking of the spirits that were not resting in peace all around her, and tonight her spirit was not at peace either.

  Cassie woke from a dreamless sleep; and against all odds, in a good mood. She had slept longer than normal. The sun was well up and the sky was clear. Breakfast service was soon but she wasn’t hungry. She took a quick shower, pinned up her hair, pulled on her jeans and her oldest sweat shirt, and plugged in her little tea kettle. The tea kettle made her think of Jacob. She called April to let her know she was not going to breakfast because she wanted to write. She dug out another protein bar from her suitcase, made her tea, and went out to the balcony. She and April were to leave after lunch to meet Professor Roland and she wanted to make some notes for the meeting.

  Cassie was happy with the progress on her book outline. It gave her hope and purpose, and she was grateful. She just finished when the first bells started to ring out the notice for lunch. Since it was Sunday, she put on a dress. She looked at herself in the mirror and was surprised to see the usual circles under her eyes were gone. She looked more like her old self than in a long time. “Welcome back, Cassie,” she said aloud. Ireland was agreeing with her, problems and all. April tapped on the door and she grabbed her key, ready to go.

  “April, cross your fingers Jacob won’t show up for lunch w
ith Bernadette this Sunday. Things got a bit tense last night.”

  “Oh, Cassie, sorry. If you feel like talking about it, here I am. What if he does show up?”

  “I don’t care. I’m not about to hide out. Those days are over. I missed one meal with the group already and don’t want to appear anti-social.”

  “I understand, Cassie.”

  “If Jacob does show up, I don’t want him to think I’m acting like a pouting child. Especially since I accused him of acting like one last night.”

  “Oh my, it does sound as if things got tense. But I know your students will like seeing you outside the classroom, so I’m glad you decided to show up for lunch.

  To her relief there was no sign of Jacob in the dining room. She was able to relax and enjoy talking with some of the ladies from her writing class. She did notice Emily and Rose glance her way more than once and they were not smiling. What could they possibly know? Maybe it was her imagination making her think they did suspect something. She could live with it.

  April leaned in to whisper as their table-mates rose to go get dessert. “I checked out the car for you already, and if you want to leave a little early we can see the old church in the village before we see the Professor. It has an ancient cemetery there you might like to visit.”

  “Perfect, April. I’ll run back to my room for my purse.”

  “I’ll meet you out front, Cassie. Go ahead and get the car. I need to feed Shamus and give him a minute outside.”

  They were on the road by twelve forty-five. That gave them almost an hour to visit the church before their meeting with the professor. Cassie brought her camera and April busied herself with the instructions while they drove along in compatible silence.

  They took photos of the cemetery and then spent some time with Professor Roland. They were both fascinated by his quick mind and appreciative of his knowledge. Cassie found herself telling him almost everything, all their encounters and thoughts. Instead of being skeptical or patronizing he asked if he could come to the retreat center to get a reading. April almost fainted at the thought, but the three of them hatched a plan. Cassie would officially invite him to talk to her writing students about Irish writers. When the students and staff go into Dublin afterward for their outing after lunch, he will stay with them and investigate, or at least look around. He seemed interested and excited about their story.