The Cork Contingency

by R. J. Griffith

  She pulled out her camera and snapped a few pictures.

  A tunnel woven from willow rods provided shade. The long slender leaves shuddered against the slight breeze. The sun dipped lower.

  Margaret turned back toward the Poison Gardens and hurried along the trail. She wanted to get a few shots of the plants there in the remaining sunlight.

  A black sign boasting a skull and crossbones warned visitors to not eat or touch the plants inside. Margaret ambled up to a plant encased in a wrought iron cage. She took a picture of the plaque first and then the cage encompassing the poison ivy. One year at summer camp, she’d stumbled into those leaves and then spent the rest of the week slathered in calamine lotion.

  Delphinium buds hung from their stalks like grapes. She moved her camera closer and pushed the macro button. Just a little closer…

  “Excuse me, miss.”

  Margaret jumped, choking off a scream. “I wasn’t going to touch the plant,” she said, holding up her hands and turning.

  “Meggy?” The man’s mouth stretched into a broad smile. “You’re here? Are you staying at my aunt’s B and B? I didn’t know if I’d ever see you again.”

  “Donnell? I’m staying at the Blarney bed and breakfast. Why are you following me?” Margaret folded her arms across her chest.

  “My aunt sent me to find a wandering guest. She told me what you were wearing and that you were walking to the castle. I’ve been here most of the day and was about to leave when I saw your jacket.” He looked down at her suspiciously rumpled middle.

  “I stopped at the woolen mill and bought a sweater poncho,” she said trying to smooth out the lumps. She felt a tingle biting her cheeks and looked down to study her watch. “It’s five, already?” she muttered and looked at him again. “Didn’t you say something about visiting your family?”

  “Sure, but they can wait. It’s not every day I get to give a tour to someone under thirty-five,” he said with a wink.

  “All right, Mr. Tour Guide, where’s the bathroom?” she asked, waving her hand in the air.

  “This way, my lady.” He held his elbow out in dramatic fashion.

  My list didn’t include walking off with random men. But I can understand all the words coming out of his mouth. His Irish brogue sounds watered down by something. Maybe he lives in the States. She slid her hand into the crook of his arm.

  Donnell strode forward. “The castle has stood in this spot for somewhere around six-hundred years. It was in MacCarty hands until 1690 when the English disbanded the Irish chieftains of their power.” Donnell explained the history of Blarney Castle all the way to the bathrooms. When she released his arm, a strange emptiness swept over her. Margaret shook the feeling away and pushed through the door. In the bathroom, she stared in the mirror as she washed her hands. Some of her dark brown hair frizzed in a halo around her face, her mascara sat underneath her eyes, and, if she wasn’t mistaken, a piece of breakfast clung to the gap in her front teeth. “I look like a crazed raccoon.” She removed her jacket and smoothed her new Aran knit poncho. The dirty footprint had dried to the cabling. Margaret brushed at the chunks of dirt. It will be a miracle if he’s still waiting for me outside.

  Margaret removed the hair tie from her disheveled bun, smoothed it and coiled it again. She patted the fly-away strands down with water from the tap, dabbed at the mascara smudges, and then removed whatever was between her teeth. Dear Jesus, what am I doing here? She prayed as she shook the remaining moisture from her jacket and folded it into her handbag. She cracked open the door and peered out.

  Donnell had his hands shoved in his pockets and he was kicking at the gravel with his boot.

  “Who are you looking at?” A voice came from behind her.

  Margaret yelped and let the heavy door go. It pinched her nose as it shut. Tears sprang into her eyes. She turned to the elderly woman washing her hands and answered, “No one.” Grabbing her purse, she pushed out the door. I need to figure out how much this tour is going to cost. “Donnell, your aunt told me you run tours as a favor to her, but I’d like to pay you.”

  “It’s already been taken care of.”

  “What do you mean? We haven’t even discussed a price.”

  “What I mean is, Meggy…” he scratched the back of his head and started again. “What I mean is, I don’t discuss prices on the first day. Think of it as a trial run. We’ll figure out the details tomorrow.”

  “But...”

  “You must have gotten lost at the woolen mill at some point today, and let me guess, stepped on a poncho and bought it.”

  Margaret stepped back. “You have been following me.”

  “No need to get flighty.” He strode forward. “It’s just plain deduction,” he said pointing to the hazy footprint on her poncho. “Plus, there’s a tag stuck to the back.”

  Margaret moaned and put her hand over her face.

  “No need to get scarlet about it. Turn around and I’ll cut it off for you.”

  “Thanks,” Margaret said when he handed her the tag. She choked at seeing the price once more. “I’ll take you up on your offer as long as you follow the list.”

  “A list?”

  “Yes. It’s here in my purse if I can just…aha!” She pulled it out and handed it to Donnell. “It’s my only copy so I’ll need it back when you’re done with it.”

  Donnell glanced at it, folded the paper and tucked it into his jacket pocket. “I’ll look at it later.”

  “If you’re not going to look at it now, you might as well give it back.” Margaret held out her hand expectantly.

  An impish grin settled on Donnell’s face. “You can come get it, if you want it.”

  “Urgh! Are all Irishmen as infuriating as you?”

  “Most,” Donnell replied in an easygoing voice. “Now, do you want to finish the tour of the castle before it closes?”

  She looked up at the keep, now illuminated in green lights. “I didn’t get to see the inside of the castle yet.”

  “You can’t leave without kissing the Blarney Stone,” he said, pointing toward the top.

  Margaret choked off a twittering laugh. “All the way up there, huh? Let’s save that for last.” Margaret kept her pace slow.

  They walked through the rooms of the castle.

  Donnell pointed out what each had been used for, his voice going in and out of his native accent.

  The man at the front said they close at dark. It’s not like I’m afraid of bending over backwards to kiss a stone hanging from the top of a building. I need a little more time to get use to the idea. “Donnell, I haven’t eaten since breakfast, and I can catch the rest of the castle on a different day.” Her stomach rumbled. “I remember seeing a snack stand near the entrance.”

  After they got a snack, they exited the grounds together and walked toward his car.

  Margaret unwrapped her sausage pastry, took a bite, and swallowed. “Thanks for the tour,” she said, giving him a wave. She started walking back to the bed and breakfast.

  “Wait,” Donnell said, catching up with her. “I’m supposed to drive you home.”

  6

  “It’s been a nice night, Donnell. You sure know your history about this place. But I can walk back to the bed and breakfast.”

  “You’ll never make it heading that way.”

  Margaret frowned and turned the other direction.

  “Look here, Meggy, my aunt lent me her car. I have to return it anyway so you might as well ride back with me. Plus, there’s wild otters roaming around at night. I wouldn’t want you to stumble across one. They have very sharp teeth.”

  “You’re making that up.”

  “Am I?”

  Margaret stopped walking. A light mist gathered on the front of her poncho. She thought about her cozy room, a warm bath, another tray with tea and bread, and no more soggy sneakers. “Fine, just this once. Next time we take my car.”

  “Next time,” he repeated. He opened the passenger door.

  She
could just make out the Blarney B and B logo sticker on the window. The heater poured out warm air and Margaret settled down into the leather seat.

  “So what brought you to Ireland, Meggy?”

  “Well, my sister bought me the tickets as a gift. She thought I needed a break.” Margaret yawned. “I take care of my dad full time. I use to work in surgery as an RN, but when my dad had a stroke,” she paused and watched light fade from the horizon. “I couldn’t just leave him in a facility,” she whispered.

  “So you’re mad at your sister because she thought you needed a break,” he said.

  Margaret bristled. “No, I…I just think it’s the right thing to do, you know, take care of your parents.”

  “So why did it take you leaving the country to let your sister do some of the work?”

  “I don’t know.” Margaret crossed her arms and stared out the window.

  “I’m feeling generous today. Why don’t you ask me a question?”

  “How’d you get to be so nosy?” she asked. The pang of regret hit her and she dropped her hands into her lap. “Here’s one. Why don’t you live in Ireland full time?”

  He gripped the steering wheel tighter and Margaret knew she’d hit a soft spot.

  “How about I answer that one tomorrow?” he asked in a low voice.

  The B and B came into view with the walkway lights illuminating the path to the door.

  “Tell my aunt that I’ll be back in the morning for a chinwag and to drop her car off. I’ll pick you up, then.”

  “What’s a chinwag?” Margaret asked.

  “A chat. My aunt can outtalk any Corkonian I know.” He glanced at the dash clock. “I’ve got to be somewhere tonight.”

  “Oh.” Margaret grabbed her purse and opened the door. “Thank you for giving me a ride. I may have been a bit rude back there…and I’m sorry.” She placed a hand on his arm.

  “No bother.” The cocky grin returned as he gave her another bold wink. “See you in the morning.”

  Margaret withdrew her hand, hopped out, and ran to the door. “He is the most infuriating man I have ever met.” How does this guy stay so unfazed all the time? She pulled off her wet shoes at the door and carried them to her room upstairs. The thick, carpeted floor oozed warmth into her icy toes. She shed the rest of her soggy clothing, pulled a thick robe over her shoulders, and laid out fresh pajamas.

  She poured herself a cup of tea from the tray on her nightstand and watched the steam curl from the cup. I nearly forgot Janet. She’ll want to know how my day went.

  Margaret picked up her cell phone and dialed Janet’s number. It would be a little after 2:00 PM. She counted out the rings.

  “One, two, three, four…hello, Janet.”

  “Hello?”

  “Hi, sis. How’s it going?”

  “Margaret! Are you having the best time in your life?” The elation in her sister’s voice rang through the phone.

  “It’s very green and wet here,” Margaret replied, looking at her sodden clothes hanging from the chair.

  “You don’t sound happy, Margaret. Aren’t you having fun?”

  Margaret hid a sigh behind her hand. “I just meant it’s so beautiful, I wish you were here to see it.”

  “The whole point of sending you to Ireland was so you could relax and go on an adventure.”

  “I met a man,” Margaret blurted, regretting the word choice.

  “You met a man! That’s wonderful! What’s he look like, Margaret? Is he Irish? How did you meet? When will you see—”

  “Hold on, sis. I said I met him, not read him his rights. Plus, I don’t think I like him very much. He’s scruffy and aggravating and…it’s a little early to tell, but I’m pretty sure he’s unorganized.”

  “Really? Unorganized?” Janet burst into a fit of laughter.

  “It’s getting really late here, sis. I need to turn in soon. I just wanted to let you know I made it here all right. I’m super tired from exploring the city. I’m going to turn in for the night. Love you.”

  “I love you, too, Margaret. Call me again soon when you can tell me more about this mystery guy. Bye.”

  Margaret signed off and tossed the phone into her purse. She reached for her computer and logged into her video chat account. She’d installed it on her father’s home computer so she could check on him from work. With his slow recovery, going back to working in surgery seemed like a far off dream. She clicked on the picture of a house and waited. She missed talking to her dad. Even though he couldn’t answer back, he showed how much he cared through his eyes.

  “Hello, this is Mr. Smith’s house. I’m filling in for his daughter while she is away. Are you calling for her?”

  “No this is Margaret, I was calling to check up on my dad and to chat with him.”

  The woman tucked her long gray hair behind her ear and leaned closer to the computer. “Oh, Margaret, I’m sorry! I didn’t recognize you. I’m Charlene,” she said with a wave to the computer. “Your sister hired me while you’re away. Rolland is doing great. We’ve been working on saying a few words. If you’ll wait, I can go get him.”

  “OK.”

  The slim woman left to get her father.

  Margaret thought about all the speech therapy she’d tried.

  The doctors said that with the type of stroke he had, speech and mobility would eventually return.

  Had she given up too soon? She struggled with her feelings until she saw the fragile frame of her father being pushed through the doorway.

  “Hi, Dad, you look good today.”

  “Ma-ret.” His speech was slow and drawn out.

  A tear dashed down Margaret’s cheek. “Dad, I’m so proud of you. It looks as if Charlene is doing a good job taking care of you.”

  He reached his working hand out toward the computer. “Wuv voo.”

  “I love you, too, Dad.”

  Margaret’s plans to spill out all her worries and frustrations about her trip seemed out of place. Instead, she chatted a little longer with her father about her trip to Blarney Castle and the woolen mill. “Charlene, can I talk to you before I sign out?” Margaret asked.

  “Sure. After I help Rolland back into his chair, I’ll come right back.” She said something to Margaret’s father, and then pushed his wheelchair from the room.

  “I’m back. What did you want to tell me?”

  Margaret fought back her pride. “Thank you for staying with my dad and taking such good care of him.”

  “My pleasure. Call back soon.”

  “I will.” Margaret clicked the hang up button on the screen. No one seemed to need her at home, but at least Dad was in good hands.

  Could it really be 10:30 PM here? She didn’t feel tired, but she still felt chilled from spending the day in damp clothing. I think a bath is in order.

  Lavender-scented soap frothed on the surface as she poured it into the water. I can’t believe I hired Donnell. Wait, did I hire him? She sank down and let the heat soak into all her pores. She finished, slipped into fresh pajamas, and hopped into bed. I wonder what time Donnell meant when he said, “I’ll see you in the morning.”

  Margaret woke to the thudding of construction work. “No sane person does road work at this time of day.” She rolled over and pulled the down comforter over her head. I don’t remember buying a down comforter. She groaned. “That’s right, I’m in Ireland.” She rubbed her eyes and tossed her pillow at the door. “Be quiet,” she said before drifting back to sleep.

  The banging started again, but this time much louder.

  Margaret yawned and rolled to the edge of the mattress. Whoever chose to knock on her door at this time of the morning would regret it. She grabbed the poncho next to the bed and threw it over her pajamas. The hall light blinded her vision.

  “Ah, Meggy. As bright as the sunrise,” Donnell said. He held up a steaming travel cup.

  “Ug.” Margaret shut the door. She opened it again, took the travel cup, and then closed the door.

 
“We’re doing some walking today,” he said from behind the door. “You might want to wear something more practical than that bubblegum-colored sweater thingy.”

  She imagined gift wrapping the poncho and leaving it for his payment. “I don’t remember the list I gave you saying anything about early wake-ups.”

  “Now, bird, if you want to see Ireland using the internet, you could have stayed home. I’m here to show you the real Cork County, Ireland, but we have to get going.”

  Margaret looked over at her warm bed and then the glowing red numbers on the clock. “It’s not even daytime, yet. Go away.”

  “Meggy,” his smooth voice coaxed her.

  She imagined him leaning against the door.

  “I’m not going away.”

  “Fine, give me a minute.” She flicked on the lights, shoved her legs into a pair of dark wash jeans, tossed the poncho into her suitcase, and pulled out a long sleeved shirt. She ran a brush through her hair and pulled it up in the usual tight bun, swiped mascara onto her lashes, grabbed her jacket and purse, flicked the lights off to her room, and then opened the door.

  No Donnell.

  Had she dreamed the whole thing? Margaret rubbed her eyes and glanced down at the travel mug in her hand. “Donnell?” Her voice echoed in the empty hallway.

  “Right here.” His voice came from beside her ear.

  She jolted. “Don’t do that.” She pushed his broad shoulder.

  He furrowed his brow.

  “Sorry, I’m not really a morning person. You’d better drive.” She fished the keys out of her purse and handed them to him.

  The tips of his fingers brushed across her palm and she shivered

  “Are those the only shoes you brought?”

  “No, I had a pair of heels. Do I need to wear heels?” Margaret grimaced when she recalled throwing them out at the airport.

  “No.” He chuckled. “I just remembered those leaking water yesterday.”

  “They’re dry now.” Margaret wiggled her toes to make sure. “I’ll be fine unless you’re taking me to ford some river that’s infested with killer otters.”

  “I didn’t see that one on the list.”