A CRY FROM THE DEEP (28 page)

When Daniel came around the front of the car to join her, she said, “It’s like finding a chapter that’s been ripped out of a book. A book you’d need to read in order for the chapter to make any sense.”

He looked at her oddly, “Is this about the ring?”

She gave him a half-smile, “Maybe.”

~~~

They ordered lunch in the tearoom, and while Daniel returned a call from one of his co-workers back home, Catherine browsed the crafts by the cash register. She returned to the table waving a brown bag. She sat down and took out a small cloth doll in an Irish dress. “This is perfect. Alex will love it.”

“It’s cute,” said Daniel. “Like her.”

“It is, isn’t it?” She looked at the doll again before returning it to the bag. “I’m so pleased with the carpet I bought. I just wish it wasn’t so expensive sending it to my farm.”

“If you like it and you can afford it, why not? You did say it was hand knotted. If I remember,” he added, teasingly, “it’s the only place in Western Europe they’re being made.”

“Very funny. It’ll remind me of my stay here. If I can’t bring back the beauty of the country, then I can at least bring back a beautiful carpet.”

“There you go.”

She loved the fact he was so encouraging. No questioning about her purchase, not that he would, given the short time they’d known one another. Besides, it wasn’t his money. Still, it was hard not to compare him to Richard. When she’d bought her ring at the flea market, Richard had asked, ‘
Do you need it?’.
Well, she didn’t really need a carpet. Not as expensive as this one, but once in awhile it felt good to splurge.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked, his warm eyes on her.

“Nothing. It’s just nice being here. Away from all the tension on the boat.” She wanted to add,
nice being with you.

That thought hung in the air while the waitress placed their barley soup and soda bread on the table. Buttering her bread, Catherine said, “You’re staying a week longer than me, right?”

“If Sean had her way, I’d be back right now. I had to remind her of my contract. Even without one, I wouldn’t have wanted to leave early.” He then looked at her in a way that suggested she was the reason he wanted to stay.

Then thinking she could be wrong, she avoided his look and slurped some soup. After a moment, she said, “It’s a lot of work planning a wedding.” The word
wedding
stuck in her throat.

“She’s running into one problem after the other. First the caterers, and now there’s some problem with the musicians. I never realized there was so much involved.”

“Depends on the size of the wedding. Now that you’re marrying into royalty,” she joked, “you have to realize the underlings can rise up and make things difficult.”

“Royalty,” he snorted. “She’s hardly that. Her parents are well-heeled, but she’s, well she’s...” He coughed. “She’s not a diva.”

From the way he said it, Catherine wasn’t convinced. But maybe she was hoping he’d find fault with his fiancée. “Since she’s grown up with wealth, she’s probably used to telling people what to do. Servants and all.”

“Exactly.”

“Leadership qualities, huh?”

He chortled. “You might say that.”

She watched him wipe his mouth—maybe to stop from going further. “When’s uh, ... the date again?” Her words came out in sputters, as if she’d suddenly developed some swallowing problem.

He looked at her inquiringly. “August fifteenth.”

“A little more than a month.” It was sooner than she thought. “Shouldn’t you be home getting ready for a stag party with your friends?”

He laughed again. “There’ll be time for that.” He scooped some soup with a piece of bread.

“My father used to do that. It drove my mother crazy. She said it was uncouth.”

“And what do you think?”

She grinned. “It’s very European. I don’t have a problem with it.”

He swiped the remaining soup with another bread chunk. “Sean doesn’t like it. She’s threatened to send me to charm school.”

“Ha!”

“Yes, I’m not blue blood enough for the family.” When Catherine raised her eyebrows, he added, “My folks are from the mid-west. They’re not in the Hampton Blue Book.”

“Oh. La dee dah.”

He frowned and finished eating his bread.

She wanted to ask more, but didn’t want to pry. The lunch hour traffic had petered out and only a few customers were left in the tearoom.

When she’d finished eating, she said, “You seem deep in thought.”

“I’m thinking about this place and what I’m going back to.”

“Is that good or bad?” Now she was prying, but it was too late to take it back.

He shrugged and looked at her intently. “It depends on how everything goes here.”

She nodded as if she knew what he meant. It looked like he was going to say something else, but then the waitress came back to clear the table.

“Will there be anything else?” she asked. “We have Irish coffee.”

Daniel asked Catherine, “What do you think?” He looked at his watch. “It’s too late for Hennesey to call us now.”

“I guess it won’t hurt.”

It didn’t take long before the waitress returned with their special drinks. Nor did it take long for the Irish coffee to have its effect. Catherine said, “That put a glow on the day.”

“You mean my company wasn’t enough?” His eyes glinted with mischief.

Smiling, she said in an Irish accent, “Why Daniel Gallagher. You’ve got a lot of blarney in you.” As soon as she’d spoken, she realized she’d called him by some other surname, and in a dialect she hadn’t used before. She sat there, momentarily stunned. 

He looked at her oddly “Why did you call me Daniel Gallagher? And that accent? You sounded like some of the people here.”

She laughed to cover up her embarrassment. “I don’t know. I don’t know why I called you that. I must’ve rubbed shoulders with some of the old souls here.” Again, she was taken aback. Why did she say old souls? And where did that name Gallagher come from? And that dialect. He was looking at her as if she’d grown horns.

She twisted her lips and said, “It was probably the alcohol. Brought out the Irish in me.” She picked up her bag from the floor. “Are you ready to go have a look?”

~~~

Relating her strange behavior to the liquor seemed to do the trick. He didn’t pursue the matter as they walked towards the row of traditional stone cottages.

Catherine stopped outside the first cottage and referred to her brochure. “It says here, these roofs are constructed in the distinctive rounded Donegal style.” She looked up at the roof and pointed to the ropes. “See those ropes tied to the stones at the eaves level? They keep the thatch from blowing away in the strong winds.”

“It’s brilliant.” He said with an Irish lilt and then winked.

“Are you making fun of me?”

“No of course not, lassie.” He kept a straight face but spoke in an attempted Irish accent. “Now, why would I do that?”

She laughed as he followed her to the door.

“So, which one is this?”

“Nineteenth century. It must’ve been terrible during the potato famine. The Irish peasants weren’t allowed to own land.” She opened the traditional half-door. “This was a good idea. You opened the top half to let the fresh air in or to greet visitors to your home. By keeping the bottom closed, you kept the animals out.”

“This would be good in New York.”

“No kidding.” She opened the other half and said, “Shall we?”

They entered the living room, sparsely furnished with a table and chairs. In the center, there was a simple stone hearth and chimney and a metal cauldron with pots and utensils on a stand nearby. Catherine had no sooner stepped into the room when she heard a haunting cacophony of sounds, like echoes of Gaelic voices. She was about to ask Daniel about them—thinking it might be a recording—but then the voices faded away. After her strange utterances in the tearoom, she decided to keep her mouth shut. It was bad enough seeing things; she didn’t want to be accused of hearing things, too.

Her pulse quickened as she and Daniel went into the bedroom and took in the iron bedstead, washstand with basin, and chamber pot on the earthen floor. It was all so familiar. She gasped at the sight of a brown wool dress hanging in the corner of the room.

“What is it?” Daniel asked, turning to her.

“Nothing,” she said, covering up her reaction. “I’m just struck by how simple life was back then.” The dress was smaller than anything she’d wear, but then women in those lean times were thinner. As she took in the details—a simple peter pan collar, tiny buttons down the front, and long slender sleeves—she was reminded of the image she’d seen when they left town that afternoon. The woman sitting on the hill staring out to sea. Only this time she made out the face.
It was her own
.

~~~

Daniel and Catherine took the sea route back, past stone walls adorned with fuchsia on one side and ocean views on the other. They passed through Malinbeg and stopped briefly to view Silver Strand beach, a secluded stretch of sand in an inlet. On the road again, they drove past ring forts, Celtic crosses and standing stones, evidence of the various religious groups—the Druids, the Protestants and the Catholics—that’d populated the land. When they got to Slieve League, one of the highest sea cliffs in Europe according to Catherine’s guide book, Daniel pulled over and parked the car.

The winds were still fierce as they walked to the trail overlooking the steep rock face leading to the water. There they stood on the cliff’s viewpoint, protected only by a guard rail. The reward for battling the elements was the extraordinary outlook over the indigo sea. Hundreds of meters below, waves crashed on the horseshoe-shaped rocky shore, adding their notes to the blustery weather’s symphony.

Daniel said, “Any dive today would’ve been impossible.”

“The power of nature, it keeps us humble.” A few hair strands blew across her face and Daniel tenderly pushed them back, tucking them behind her ear.

“Thanks.” She teased, “If you think this is going to win you any favors…” Her voice petered out as he continued to gaze at her.

He smiled. “I was thinking something like that.”

She laughed.

Just then, a rogue gust of wind pushed their backs. Although there was a fence of sorts, the thought of falling down the steep slopes was enough to make them both step back.

“Scary,” said Catherine.

“It’s not for the faint hearted, that’s for sure.”

“Standing up here, you get some idea of what the seas must’ve looked like when those ships went down. Reading about it doesn’t do justice to their stories.” She watched another wave hit the rocks, sending a plume of water at least a storey high into the air. “I can’t imagine how horrible it must’ve been battling the storms that took those men. The women and children, too, on those immigrant ships. It must’ve been terrifying.”

He put his arm around her shoulders. It both surprised and comforted her. It wasn’t that cold, but she shivered as he held her tightly. She glanced at him, but he remained focused on the drama below. They stood like that for awhile, the wind playing with their hair and senses.

Daniel faced Catherine and cupped her chin. The light played with the flecks of warm greens in his eyes as he said, “Catherine, are you her?”

“Who?”

He then leaned forward and kissed her gently. Desire shot through her like lightning and she pressed her body against his. She returned his kisses with a fervor she’d never experienced before. And then, as quickly as a storm dies down, she willed herself to pull away.

“Daniel…,” she said softly, leaving his name suspended between them. She wanted him to know the only reason she stepped back was because he was engaged. But she said none of this.

“I know,” he answered as if he knew what she wanted to say. He held her from him at arm’s length, and studied her for a moment before kissing her again, this time lightly and with less urgency. He then said, “I guess we should get back.”

Her legs felt weak as she walked back with him to the car. She longed for more. She wanted to forget there was another woman waiting for him. She wanted to forget she had a child and a life back in Provence. She wanted to throw herself at him and see where fate would take her.

Daniel put the keys in the ignition and was about to turn it, when he suddenly sat back. He turned to her and said, “Catherine…” He looked into her eyes as if some answer he needed was there. And before she could say anything, he leaned in and kissed her lightly at first. His lips were soft, inquiring. She found herself responding again, feeling his warmth, his hunger. His musk scent aroused her senses even more as his mouth touched her neck. When he kissed her behind the ears, she moaned with pleasure. He kept kissing her, arousing her, as he helped her take off her jacket and she did the same with his. He then lowered her seat back, pressing his taut body against hers. With their bodies wet with desire, she was swept along like a raft on a rushing river.