What I Wore to Save the World (9 page)

Grandpap waved off Colin's teasing. “Dev, ye should tell Morgan about the book ye're writing,” he urged. “About yer architectural theories. I've heard ye talk about it while we're at cards, and though I confess I only understand every tenth word ye say, it still feels bloody educational.”

Mr. McAlister lifted a silvery eyebrow in amusement. “I would enjoy that immensely. But I'm afraid your guest may have other things to do with her holiday than listen to an old man prattle on about mansard roofs and fluted pilasters. What do you say, Morganne?”

Again with the Morganne. He smiled at me, a sly,
yes-I'm-yanking-your-chain
smile. Or maybe it was a secret,
I've-got-something-to-tell-you-privately
smile.

“That would be excellent,” I said quickly. “I would love to hear about the fluted thingies, and anything else you'd care to tell me.”

“And it's Morgan, Mr. McAlister,” Colin corrected. “Not Morganne.”

“I am sorry; perhaps I will just refer to you as Miss Rawlinson, to avoid confusion! But I do appreciate your keen interest in my favorite subject. Come visit me any time to discuss. My cottage is called Tip of the Iceberg. It's just down the path toward the beach.”

“Great,” I said. “I'll look forward to it.”

“Devyn's quite an intellectual,” Grandpap added. “Why he squanders his time hanging around with us ordinary blokes I'll never understand. The man studied at Oxford! Didn't ye, Dev?”

“I did indeed, William. Dear old Oxford! A school, by the way,” said Mr. McAlister, tipping his hat in my direction, “that I would highly recommend.”

oxford, cute. the guy had something to tell me all right. Getting some private face time with Mr. McAlister definitely belonged on my to-do list—somewhere between food and sleep.

After Mr. McAlister left, Colin fixed lunch in the cottage's tiny kitchen—grilled cheese and delicious sliced apples from the Castell Cyfareddol orchards—accompanied by endless cups of tea and a nonstop monologue from Grandpap. This was despite Colin's protests that the old man “stop bendin' the poor lass's ear with yer creaky old tales.”

I didn't mind the old stories, but maybe that's because I hadn't already heard them hundreds of times, the way Colin had. Grandpap told me the whole saga of how he and his wife, Nancy, had grown up together in a rural town in Ireland, fallen in love as teens, married young and honeymooned right here at Castell Cyfareddol.

“Now it's almost three months already, since me ol' girl's passed on,” Grandpap said sadly. “I miss me Nan every second of the day, but what a grand life we had! When Colin was a wee boy-o, we used to keep him summers on our farm. Ye should've seen him back then! All day playin' and runnin' around the woods like a wild thing.”

“I'm sure it was wonderful,” I said warmly. I
was
sure. I'd once gotten a glimpse of this very same farm in the days when Colin was a “wee boy-o,” thanks to a little faery time-travel with Finnbar. The farm was gone now, though—sold to a real estate developer years before.

“Sweet memories are a priceless treasure, lass. Better than money in the bank.” Grandpap gave me a wink. “If ye've set a good store of those up along the way, ye'll have done the very best job of livin' a person can do. That's my philosophy.”

Colin pushed his chair back from the table. “Well said, Socrates, but speakin' fer meself that's all the wisdom I can absorb in one sittin'. I'll show Morgan to her room now. Leave the dishes, Paps, I'll get 'em when I come back.”

“Five minutes, Colin!” Grandpap wagged a finger playfully. “Yer allowed five minutes and then I'm comin' in after ye.”

Colin rolled his eyes. “Paps, I'm twenty years old.”

“Sure ye are, but she isn't.”

“I'm seventeen!” I piped up. “That's old enough to—” They were both staring at me. “Drive,” I finished lamely.

Colin snorted and got up. “Use the egg timer, then. I don't want to be shortchanged.” Then he picked up my suitcase from the foot of the stairs and carried it up the tiny staircase to the cottage's attic bedroom.

“Trust me, lass, I know what I'm doin',” Grandpap stage-whispered to me as I rose from the table to follow. “A few obstacles here and there never did true love any harm. In fact, it's the best thing fer it.”

 

 

 

the upstairs bedroom was tiny, with a ceiling that peaked in the middle and sloped gently down on each side. This wasn't much of a problem for me, but Colin could only stand straight up as long as he was in the absolute center of the room. And in the center of the room was the bed—a fact we both realized at the same moment.

I started to giggle.

“I'd say it's either the bed, or a trip to the chiropractor,” Colin observed. He held out a hand, and together we toppled onto the covers.

It must have made a mighty thump down below, because Grandpap felt it necessary to bellow, “Four minutes!” from the bottom of the stairs.

We wasted another thirty seconds laughing at that. Then Colin touched my face, and suddenly it was all I could do not to cry. I'd missed him so much, and now that we were together I didn't know whether to make out—only three minutes left!—or pepper him with questions: What was the “weird” thing had happened here at Castell Cyfareddol that caused him so much concern? Where did he think that e-mail could have come from? Most important, had he been seeing anybody else while he was at school in Dublin, and did he still love me like he did before, and what was going to happen with this relationship anyway?

But I didn't ask. Not yet. This perfect moment of us lying snuggled in each other's arms was too sweet to interrupt with anything but a kiss.

Somewhere downstairs a cuckoo clock went off.
Cuckoo—cuckoo—cuckoo—

“We're running out of time,” I whispered, only half-kidding. My fingers crept under the bottom of his rugby shirt. His skin was impossibly, deliciously warm.

He kissed me again, the kind of careful kiss that said,
Let's not get too crazy right now.

“I know yer probably wonderin' what I was talkin' about earlier,” he said softly. “And I want to take a look at this mysterious e-mail that pretends to be from me. But the Q&A portion of our program can wait until after yer nap is complete.”

I lifted myself up on one elbow. “Colin, I'm fine. There's so much I really want to know—”

“Eh, no arguments!” he said, placing a finger on my lips. “It's fer yer own good, darlin'. Ye've been up all night. What if I told ye something that made it hard for ye to sleep?”

“What does
that
mean?”

“Time's up!” Grandpap yelled from downstairs.

“On my way, Admiral!” Colin yelled back. Then he kissed me on the forehead and slipped out the door.

 

 

 

the attic room was too small to be crammed full of fish tchotchkes like the rest of the house, but there was a small painting hanging above the dresser. It caught my eye when I rolled over in the bed. Something about it made me get up and take a closer look.

The painting was of a mermaid, but not your typical Disney mermaid with a flipper instead of legs and a pink clamshell bra. This was more what I would call an accurate depiction—two strong legs, webbed toes, seaweed hair, a little red cap on her head. It was a merrow, the kind of Irish mermaid I'd actually met once. I recognized her face, in fact—

“Fek!”
I yelled without thinking.

“What?” Colin stuck his head in so fast it was as if he'd been sitting outside guarding the door.

I turned, instinctively blocking the painting from his view. “I just realized, I-I-I forgot my—toothbrush.” I flashed a weak smile.

“No worries, luv, I'll find ye a spare.” Colin looked at me quizzically. “Why so jumpy? Are ye all right?”

“I'm fine. Just tired.”

“Morgan's nap, take two.” He smiled and pulled the door almost shut, but not all the way. “Sweet dreams.”

Sweet dreams?
Not likely, with Queen Titania's cold, snarky face staring down at me from the wall.

She made an ugly mermaid, I had to admit. Before I got back in the bed I dumped out my suitcase and found a gray sweatshirt hoodie to throw over the picture frame. It helped, a little. And it gave me real satisfaction to drape such an unflattering garment over the vain and fashion-conscious queen.

Morgan's nap, take two.
The bed had two pillows on it. I put my head on one, and hugged the other one close to my chest. It smelled faintly of Colin's aftershave. Yum.

If I'm lucky I'll have no dreams at all,
I thought, as I sank into an exhausted sleep. If Titania was anywhere close by, any dreams I'd have would probably be extremely unpleasant.

i came to hours later, completely disoriented. was I in my room in Connecticut? Or dozing on an Irish beach?

Or was I waking up in a tidy Oxford dorm room, just in time to get ready for my campus tour?

Oxford. My parents. Mr. Phineas—

That's all it took to snap me wide awake.

I sat up. The merrow painting was still covered by my hoodie, and the door to the bedroom was fully shut. Colin must have closed it after I'd fallen asleep. It was sweet that he'd been checking on me. But why had he been so worried?

My room had its own “lavatory,” a tiny room with a toilet and sink, but no tub. I grabbed my toiletry bag from my suitcase and went in, brushed my teeth and washed my face. I ran my damp fingers through my hair, but it was still a post-nap mess.

“Mor?” Colin cracked open the bedroom door. “Are ye awake?”

“In the bathroom, I mean the lav,” I called.

“I brought ye a toothbrush. I heard the water running, so I figured ye might need it.”

Right, the toothbrush.
As he handed it through the bathroom door I sucked in my breath so he couldn't smell that it was already minty.

“Perfect timing, thanks.” I left the bathroom door open and made a big to-do about brushing my teeth, even though I'd just done it. When I came out, I saw Colin staring at the hoodie-covered painting.

“Not a big fan of art, then, are ye?”

“It has spooky eyeballs,” I said sheepishly. “It made me feel like I was being watched.”

I held my breath as he peeked underneath the hoodie.

“Whoa! I see yer point; that's bloody hideous.” He let the hoodie drop. “But those spooky eyeballs are nothin' compared to Grandpap's ears. The man's a medical miracle; four score and two with perfect hearing on both sides of his thick Irish head. And not one ounce o' shame about lis tenin' to other people's conversations, either.”

“Are ye talkin' about me, lad?” Grandpap yelled from downstairs. “Speak up! The kettle's on, I can barely hear ye over the whistlin' of me tea water!”

“No trouble, Paps!” Colin shouted back. “I was just tellin' Morgan how ye're much too much of a busybody to go deaf; think of all the scuttlebutt ye'd miss.”

Then Colin lowered his voice to a whisper. “Up for a walk? I thought we could take a stroll to the beach. This way we can talk in private. Bring that e-mail with ye too, I want to have a look at it.”

I just nodded. Between Titania's eyes and Grandpap's ears, I was afraid to say a word.

nine

the path from the cottage to the sea led us gently downhill the whole way, but I hadn't realized how far down we'd gone until we were on the beach and I looked back. We stood on a crescent of sand at sea level. The water glittered in front of us, while far above and behind a steep curved bluff perched the wacky skyline of Castell Cyfareddol, like a theme park tottering on the edge of a cliff.