by D. S. Elstad
“Yeah, what city in Ireland?” I rested my chin on his shoulder.
“My folks live near a place called Killarney in the county of Kerry, a few miles outside of town.”
“Do you remember it?”
“Killarney? Yes, I remember it, beautiful place; it’s where my uncle taught me to golf.”
“Tell me about it. What’s it like?” I whispered, leaning in closer.
“You’ll see for yourself soon enough. I’ve got a rental car waiting for us so you’ll get a close-up view of the countryside. We’ll stop along the way, maybe I’ll even let you drive,” he whispered as he nudged me with his elbow. “Your mother made me promise to show you the castle among other things.”
“Castle? Cool, can’t wait. Is Ireland all green and lush, you know, the way it looks in pictures?”
“You’re sure full of questions, Wils. How about trying to get some sleep? We can talk on the drive into town.” Dad yawned, easing himself back into the awkward seat, stretching out his legs.
“Ok,” I said as I looked around, noticing almost everyone else was sleeping. Dad grabbed a small pillow and rested his head against the window, falling asleep quickly. After playing with my phone for a while I decided I did feel tired. I put my pillow close to Dad’s shoulder and lay my head on it. The hum of the plane actually was soothing and before I knew it I was out like a light.
The moon was rising, high in the crisp autumn sky. The sound of the forest filled my ears and smells were everywhere: damp leaves, dirt, moss, the occasional perfume of flowers. A soft breeze blew some of the few remaining leaves from the trees and I watched them dance across the night before landing quietly on the damp ground.
Clouds were quickly moving across the sky, hiding the moon, but only momentarily. It peeked out to illuminate the forest below. Patches of its light made areas come alive and change color, from a dull gray to a glowing blue green. Crackling sounds came from the darker areas, sounds of branches breaking, rocks rolling, and something else farther in the distance. The sound grew closer. It was hard to distinguish what it was at first, but within minutes…the howls, yips, and yelps soon filled my ears.
My heart pounded and adrenaline began to flow. I took a deep breath, stretched my legs, and began to run, all the while looking around to see if I could catch sight of the creatures who owned the howls. As they closed in I felt my legs push for greater stride and my heart pumped almost out of my chest. As before, I zigzagged in and out of the trees, leaping over boulders and catching stray gleams of moonlight on the forest floor.
I found myself in a clearing of the forest and felt compelled to stop, to be covered by the moonlight. As I tried to catch my breath, I felt them surrounding me…the wolves. The pack was growling, ears back, fangs in full view, pawing at the forest floor; it was as though they were getting ready to attack. They circled me, engulfing me with their presence. My eyes jetted back and forth, searching for some sort of escape, then closed in on the single gray wolf. The wolf wasn’t growling. It sat in front of the others, just observing me. As I waited for the attack, I realized the wolves were all taking directions from the lone gray.
My tense muscles began to relax as I studied the gray whose golden eyes almost hypnotized me. With my head lowered, I approached the lead wolf, but stopped when a deafening screech overhead pierced the night. I looked up but was then sent reeling onto my back with two golden eyes staring into mine and two large paws pushing me down.
I woke up with a start and looked around the darkened airplane, panicked, trying to catch my breath.
“You ok?” asked Dad leaning over, a look of concern in his eyes. “Quite a dream you were having there.”
My heart pounded and my palms felt sweaty. Glancing around the cabin, I tried to remember where I was and what was going on. The dream was so real this time, more than any time before. The smell of the forest still filled my nose. The chill of the air was still on my skin. And most of all, the look of that wolf was still flashing across my eyes. Dad grabbed my hand. “Willow?”
“I’m not sure.” I wiped my sweaty palms on my jeans. The woman next to me let out a low snore and turned to her side.
“Did you have a nightmare?” Dad asked, as he pulled a blanket up over my shoulders.
“Yeah, the same one I’ve been having, only it was never a nightmare until now,” I answered, shivering.
“Well, you’re ok now – and good news, we’ll be there in about an hour.”
“That’s good.” I couldn’t wait to get out of the plane. I never had the dream turn on me like that – and at the same time, I wanted to go back to sleep and see what was going on. I cuddled close to Dad, with the images from my dream flashing across my mind, causing me to tremble.
As we exited the plane I looked around the airport and caught a glance of the sun coming up outside of the large viewing windows.
I’m in Ireland, I suddenly realized. There wasn’t a lot of activity in the airport, I guess because of the early hour, but still I lost myself in the clamor of the people who were there. The lilting sound of their voices made me smile. I loved the Irish accent and thoroughly enjoyed when Dad’s would kick in. Unfortunately that was usually when he was mad at me about something.
“What time is it, Dad?”
“Hm, about six-thirty in the morning, I think. Need to change my watch,” he said, glancing at the ancient timepiece hanging on his wrist, the one I gave him for Father’s Day when I was six.
“Over this way, Wils.” We hurried to the baggage claim, grabbed our bags and made our way to the car rental counter. After Dad finished filling out all the paperwork we went to the parking lot, jumped into our rental, and headed to Killarney.
“That is really weird, having the driver sit on the right side,” I said as I fidgeted with my seat belt.
“Eh, you get used to it. I’ll let you drive later so you can get a feel for it.”
I wasn’t sure I wanted to but nodded. As we drove along I noticed the sky was pink and orange and covered with billowy swift-moving clouds. The air had a damp chill to it so I pulled up my hoodie and zipped it closed. “You know where you’re going, right?” I asked, throwing my pack in the back seat.
“Of course. I did live here, you know, even though it’s been years since I’ve been back. Some places just don’t change that much.”
“Just like some people, right?” I had no idea what possessed me to say that and judging by his expression neither did Dad.
“How far away is Grandma and Grandpa’s house?” I wiped my foggy breath off the window with the sleeve of my hoodie and watched the landscape flash by.
“About ninety miles, but we won’t be staying there. I’ve booked us a hotel nearby.”
“Oh, will we be seeing Grandpa today?” I hesitated to even look but slowly turned my head to see his reaction to my question. Nothing–no reaction and no response.
As we drove along I noticed how beautiful the Irish countryside was. Mom had told me to take it all in, that she’d never experienced any place quite like Ireland and I was seeing firsthand what she meant. I quickly lost myself in the verdant green landscape. The rolling grass-covered hills, the blue sky, the lakes scattered throughout, were all breathtaking; along with the buildings, cottages, castles, and houses that looked as though they’d been there forever. Living in New Mexico, we didn’t see much territory like this. Sure, we have our lush areas, but it’s an arid climate and has a desert feel to it, completely opposite of the scene that was racing by my window.
I must have snapped a hundred pictures in a matter of a few minutes. I quickly sent one to Mom with a message that we were on our way to the hotel and we’d call her once we got there. Dad pointed out some special sights along the way and promised me we’d come back to take a closer look.
One in particular he told me about was Killarney National Park, that it was home to a wide variety of wildlife, castles, lakes, and that we’d go there and explore. I was becoming so excited I could barely spe
ak. I even forgot why we were there; the beauty and excitement of the place took me over.
After driving for a couple of hours we pulled up to our hotel. It was one of those hotel chains that you can find anywhere which kind of disappointed me, especially after seeing all the unique inns on the drive. But I figured we wouldn’t be spending much time there anyway.
“Ok, Wils, let’s go check in, then we’ll come get our suitcases.”
We quickly got our key and found our room on the fourth floor. I loved it, but… come to think of it; I love any hotel room–something exciting about going away and staying somewhere new and different. When we opened the doors I was pleasantly surprised. The place was charming. It was a large room with two queen-sized beds covered in emerald green and red plaid comforters with red flannel pillows. In the corner sat a table and chairs with a lamp and lampshade matching the comforters. One painting hanging on the wall was of the gorgeous Irish coastline, and another was of the town of Killarney. Sliding glass doors opened onto a quaint little balcony with another table and chairs.
“Not too bad, eh?” asked Dad as he looked around the room.
“I love it. Is that the town right over there?” I asked, pointing out the window.
“Yep, sure is. Let’s get a bite to eat and then have a look around. Sound good?”
“Perfect.” I felt excited at the idea of exploring the town of my father’s childhood. We decided to eat at the little diner at the hotel with Dad promising me that we’d step it up the next day and experience more authentic Irish cuisine.
Later, we strolled along the winding streets of Killarney, laughing and joking with each other. It felt wonderful. Lately Dad and I had kind of drifted apart. I guess because I was getting older and he was busy with his landscape company.
He pointed out some of the town’s historic places and we even went into a few of the shops – something Dad was never a fan of, shopping. We then went to a pub where he had a beer and I had a cup of tea. The atmosphere was rich with people from all over the world and their different accents and free-flying conversations. The sense of happiness was contagious and I even saw it on Dad’s face. A smile crossed his lips that hadn’t been there for a long time.
When we stepped outside, the weather had changed to cloudy skies with cold drizzling rain. I pulled up my hood and shivered at the sudden drop in temperature. Dad suggested that we call it a day and turn in early because tomorrow would be busy. Part of me wanted to hang out in town but my sense of comfort overtook my sense of fun, so I agreed.
The next morning I woke up hungry and full of energy. I watched Dad sleeping and quietly rolled out of bed, slipping in between the two curtains covering the balcony window and opening the sliding door. I had to make sure I hadn’t dreamed everything and wanted to see if we were still in Ireland.
Looking out on the street I saw groups of people rushing about. Walking, riding bikes, jogging, they all looked so happy. Dad had told me that Killarney was a big tourist destination, so that explained the happiness all around; plus, the very nature of this country seemed one of joy.
When I spoke to Mom the day before, she asked for my thoughts on Ireland…it was just too difficult to put into words. The place was beyond beautiful; it truly was like nothing I’d ever seen before. We’d traveled around the western United States a lot and I always thought it had the most beautiful scenery but now, being here, it was just so different. The old buildings, the small-town feel, and the almost melodic sound of Irish voices had me a experiencing a most welcome form of culture shock. It not only felt different, and sounded different, it even smelled different. The aroma of flowers and other plant life transported me back to the Botanic Gardens near our home with its huge array of plant life. Plus the air itself felt soft and damp – not wet, just soft, unlike the dry air at home.
“I sure hope that’s you there behind those curtains, Willow,” grumbled Dad.
“Nobody here but us leprechauns,” I laughed, trying out my pitiful Irish brogue, peeking in between the drapes.
“Well, ya best have brought me a pot of gold then,” Dad replied, in perfect Irish rhythm.
I laughed and jumped out from behind the curtain and plopped on his bed. “Dad?”
“Wils?”
“How come you barely have any accent? I mean, you did live here until you were eighteen, right?”
“Yes.”
“Well, shouldn’t you still have an accent?”
“I’ve lived in the US for over 30 years; people tend to pick up the dialect of where they live after that amount of time,” he answered, yawning.
“Too bad, I love the Irish accent,” I noted rubbing my fingers across the plaid pattern of his comforter.
“It’s not the Irish who have the accent, it’s the yanks.” And with that he pulled back the blankets and climbed out of bed. “You hungry?” he asked, stretching out his arms.
“Starving!” I answered simultaneous to my stomach rumbling.
“Well, let’s get a move on, lots to do today.”
After stuffing ourselves with a huge breakfast consisting of Irish sausage, potato bread, scrambled eggs, pudding, and tea, we jumped into the car and headed a few miles outside of Killarney. The plan was to visit Dad’s uncle Eagan and his family. Still no word on when or if we were going to visit Grandpa.
“Here we are,” he smiled, pulling up to the old farmhouse. “The place hasn’t changed in thirty years.” He climbed out of the car and stepped up to the gate, staring at the house, lost in his memories.
It was cottage-like, white with red trim and a dark roof. Ivy grew along the house and well-manicured evergreens stood on either side of the gate leading to the front door. It was starting to rain which gave the house a sparkly and misty appearance, like something out of a Charlotte Bronte novel. The front door opened and a tall man with gray hair appeared, wearing a driving cap and smoking a pipe. He held his hand over his head to block the rain and rushed to the gate.
“Get yerself in here, Jack, m’boy, you’ll be soaked to the bone,” he chuckled as he reached out, motioning for us to come in. “And who might this lovely lady be?” He put his arm out for me to take hold of.
“This is Willow, Uncle E,” Dad replied as he patted Uncle Eagan on the back.
“Pleasure to meet you miss,” Eagan said with a bow. The sweet smell of tobacco circled out of his pipe and wafted straight into my nose. Usually I can’t stand tobacco smell but this was different – sweet, fruity smelling.
I bowed. “Pleasure to meet you sir,” I giggled, then wondered what the heck I was doing. So not like me to be all cute and giggly, but something about Uncle Eagan made me feel like I was in a different time, and I sure was in a different place.
“After you, m’lady,” Eagan motioned for me to go ahead.
I giggled again. For Pete’s sake, I thought, get a hold of yourself Willow, and stepped up the stairs and through the front door. The first thing I noticed was a delicious smell that filled the air. I couldn’t tell you what it was; all I knew was that something was cooking and it smelled heavenly.
“Meriel must be doing some baking.” Dad observed it as well taking in a deep breath.
“You know Meri, once she learns of guests coming, she’s in the kitchen. Best go see her, Jacky, I’ll bring Willow in momentarily,” said Eagan as he put his arm around my shoulder. “Come this way, darlin’, I’d like to introduce you to my grandchildren.”
Eagan led me past some stairs into a hallway where I could hear the sounds of music and laughter. “Young people need other young people. I think you may enjoy the company of these two,” smiled Eagan as he opened the door to a music room. Sitting at the piano were two kids about my age. They were playing a song, singing and laughing hysterically.
“Hey, you two hooligans, meet your second cousin Willow, from the US of A,” Eagan boomed, shouting over their laughter.
Both kids spun around in their seats. The boy had red hair, bright blue eyes, and a very friendly fa
ce. He immediately stood up and came over. “Hello there, Willow, I’m Quinn, ‘tis a pleasure, and this is my sis Kelleigh.” He took my hand and led me over to where Kelleigh was sitting at the piano.
“Hi, Willow,” Kelleigh stood and extended her hand. She had green eyes and brownish red hair, similar to my hair color. She looked sort of like Quinn but definitely had her own look. Quinn looked like my idea of a typical Irish kid –red hair, freckles –but Kelleigh…not so much. She had a darker complexion and actually reminded me of Moms’ cousin who used to come to visit, kind of a Native American look about her.
“Take care of Willow for a bit, you two. I’m going to show her Dad about, then I’ll bring him back here for you to meet,” Eagan said ruffling Quinn’s hair.
“Fine, Grandpa,” they said at the same time, looked at each other, and laughed.
“Come, let’s have a seat, shall we?” said Kelleigh as she took hold of my hand and led me to a nearby sofa. After we sat down Kelleigh immediately began the task of sizing me up, not indiscreetly I might add. When her eyes finally made their way back to mine she smiled a one sided smile. “Well I must admit, we do look like we’re related!” She snickered, “Which is a bit of a surprise, don’t you agree, Quinn?”
Quinn smoothed back his hair then returned to the piano, grabbed a cell phone and joined us on the sofa. “No, considering we’re all Whelan’s. Anyway, never mind her, Willow, how are you enjoying your time here?” he asked as he sat next to me.
“So far so good,” I said, watching him text away.
“Put that away, Quinn.” Kelleigh reached over me and tapped her brother on the arm. “Now is not the time.”
“But I need to check in with the lads,” Quinn replied with a whine to his voice.
One look from Kelleigh was all it took and Quinn quickly tucked away his prized possession. “You’ve become quite power hungry lately, Kell. Not very attractive.”
“Ha, and neither are you when you’re on that phone all the time,” she replied, her green eyes squinting.