He knew what she saw and it pleased him to display his good taste. Redecorating had been pricey but worth it, in his opinion. The ambience seemed to calm some of his more agitated patients too.
“This is a very nice office. I’ve never been in one half so nice.”
He smiled. “Thank you.”
She fell silent, rubbing the heart-shaped locket around her neck. A nervous gesture. She’d been doing it since she arrived. Besides the necklace, she wore two silver chain bracelets on her fragile-looking wrists and a claddagh ring on her left hand ring finger. Diamond-cut silver hoops sparkled in her ears.
“You like silver jewelry,” he observed.
She nodded in agreement.
From the little he knew, he thought her an interesting case. Certainly far more interesting than his usual clientele of bitter first wives dumped for trophy spouses by middle-aged husbands who then ran to him fearing the loss of potency in the bedroom as well as the boardroom. They were closely followed by the spoiled resentful offspring of the bitter first wives and their executive exes, kids dabbling in drugs and sex, wondering why designer clothes and Lake Louise ski trips didn’t fulfill them like the glossy ads promised.
Well, that’s what you get when you’re in private practice, he thought, mentally shrugging off his well-heeled clients.
But she’d be an interesting addition to the book he was writing on delusions and mind-over-matter. He wondered if she might be an entire book herself. For a moment the doctor drifted off in a pleasant fantasy… The Globe and Mail’s bestseller list, an “Oprah” appearance. Then he returned to reality.
He tried another tactic, speaking soft but brisk. “I understand two people are missing, one of them your own sister. I would think that you would want to help find them.”
She hung her head for a moment then defiantly raised it. “Telling you what happened won’t change anything. It won’t help anyone.”
“It’ll help you.”
She sighed. “I don’t know where to begin.”
“Begin at the beginning.”
“What, like David Copperfield? I was born, I was raised?”
“If you like.”
“But that will take ages. It’s Halloween. You’ll miss all the little trick-or-treaters tonight.” She smiled a little. It was the first time she did that since she entered the office.
“And I’ve got a lot of candy to give out.” He smiled back. “Just begin where you think your story really starts.” He leaned back in his leather chair, making himself more comfortable. She was his last client of the day and he knew she’d have a long story to tell.
If she told the truth.
****
Well, you know my name, Ranalt Fitzgerald. I know, it’s an unusual name. Ranalt was a 12th century princess of Conmacne who married the last king of Connacht so there’s some Irish history for you. I turned twenty last month. My sister—who’s two years older—has my mother’s family name: Lacey. I guess Daddy and Momma wanted their girls to stand out from all the Emilys, Madisons, and Sarahs in our generation.
My parents, Joe and Sheila, owned a farm with a good spread of land just outside the town of Westmeath in Carrick County. Our farm was one of the few good ones that Patrick Phelan hadn’t gotten his paws on. Yeah, that Phelan. Phelan Dairy... I bet you’ve splashed some of their milk in your morning coffee, Doctor.
Every once in a while old Patrick would drop by to ask if my parents’ farm was for sale. He’d always bring a bottle of good Bushmills whiskey with him and he’d always leave it behind when he left.
It was one of those lazy warm summer days when all you want to do is sit on the porch swing and drink lemonade with lots of ice. Which was exactly what Lacey and I were doing when Patrick Phelan’s big black Cadillac rolled in. Twist, our German Shepherd, started barking his head off.
“Your turn,” my sister said. “I did it last time.”
I sighed and got off the swing.
Twist stood stiff-legged in the middle of the driveway, his lips drawn back, showing his teeth, growling softly. He hated Patrick Phelan.
“Twist, stop that,” I said. “You should know the old man’s car by now. Come on.” I grabbed his red collar and dragged him to the barn. Once inside, I tossed him one of his favourite rawhide bones from the bag on the shelf. He looked resentfully at it and resumed barking as soon as I shut the door.
This time the old man wasn’t alone. He’d brought two of his boys with him, the eldest and the youngest. I wondered if Patrick bringing them was a subtle hint to my father; you have no sons to help run the farm so why not sell it? Patrick was old-fashioned like that. His wife Mary was a colourless woman who’d done her duty pumping out four strong sons for her husband: Rory, Sean, Hugh, and Liam. All of them were tall, black-haired, dark-eyed, and handsome. You could tell their father, though weathered around the edges now, had been a hottie back in the day.
I didn’t know Rory; he’d graduated by the time I got to high school but Liam and I had been in several classes together. They stood on the verandah holding glasses of lemonade, trying their best not to ogle my sister’s bra-less breasts under her light blue t-shirt. I, on the other hand, wore a bra under my tee but my shorts displayed a lot of leg and I was vain enough to hope they’d notice me too. Both of us girls had the same green-blue eyes and long gold-brown hair but Lacey had all the curves I sadly lacked.
“Oh, there you are,” Lacey said. As if she didn’t know where I’d gone. “Mr. Phelan brought Rory and Liam to keep us company while he visits Momma and Daddy.”
“Hey, Liam,” I said, catching him in the act of checking me out.
“Hey, Ranalt,” he mumbled, blushing.
“Hi, Rory. Pleased to meet you.” I held out my hand, hoping it wasn’t too sweaty.
“Hi there. My grand-da once told me the fairest colleens back in County Kerry, Ireland were Fitzgerald girls. And the genes run true.” Rory seized my hand and actually kissed my fingertips. “If I’d known there were two such pretty Irish flowers here, I would have insisted Da bring Runt and me sooner.”
Lacey giggled. Liam rolled his eyes. I admit I felt a little rubbery in the knees. Like I said, the Phelan boys were good-looking and the eldest was a lot smoother than the youngest. But then Rory had had more practice.
“Ah, would you like some more lemonade?” I stammered before noticing his glass was still half-full.
“No, thanks.” Looking faintly amused, he drained his glass and placed it on the rail.
I felt like an idiot.
“Hey, we all share the same first initials,” Liam announced with the air of someone making a big discovery. “R and L. Ranalt and Lacey, Rory and Liam.”
“Sounds like we should pair off then,” Rory said. He turned to my dazzled sister. “I’d rather you be my ‘L’ than Runt here. Why don’t you show me around a bit?”
Lacey hopped off the swing pretty fast and the two of them strolled off toward the barn.
Liam and I sat down and sipped our lemonade. Though we had been classmates at St. Aidan’s High School for four years, we’d never said much more to each other than “Hi” and “How’d you do on the test?”
“Asshat,” he mumbled under his breath.
“What did you say?” I asked, offended.
“No, not you,” Liam hastily said. “My brother. Thinks he should have anything he wants ’cause he’s the oldest.”
“What do you mean?”
“Nothing. Forget it.” He was back to mumbling again. “I just get sick of being called Runt all the time. I—”
The screen door banged open and Patrick came out, followed by my grim-faced father. He glared at Liam until he joined Patrick beside the steps of the verandah.
Patrick Phelan, twelve years my father’s senior, was a massive six-foot plus and still unstooped. Daddy was a small man and his hair already heavy with silver though he was barely in his mid-forties. Standing on the step though gave him some advantage: he could look the other man
in the eye. “The Phelans have been land-grabbers and worse even before you got off the boat. I know what you are. I know what all of you are.”
“Easy now, Joseph,” Patrick said mildly. “Don’t be saying things you’ll regret.”
“I’d be damned from here to Sunday dealing with the devil!” my father sputtered. “You’re mad if you’d think I’d give—” He broke off and turned to me. “Where’s your sister?”
I shrank under his hard gaze and shook my head.
“Daddy, I’m right here!”
Lacey and Rory appeared from the same direction they went off in. She hurried toward the house. He followed at a more leisurely pace, despite my father’s glower.
The atmosphere crackled as my father grasped Lacey’s arm and hauled her up the verandah steps.
“Daddy, you’re hurting me!” she cried.
“Get off my land, Phelan,” my father said fiercely. “Don’t come back because I know what to do with the likes of you. And if I find any of your pups sniffing around my girls, I won’t hesitate to blow their heads off and tack their hides to the barn wall.”
Lacey trembled beside me. We had never seen our father act like this. I glanced at Liam, who minutely shook his head. I couldn’t tell if it was an apology or a warning.
Rory touched his father’s shoulder. “Da, it’s all right. It’s going to be all right.”
The old man nodded. It felt like some unspoken message passed between them. I glanced at Liam again but he wouldn’t meet my eyes.
“Peace, Fitzgerald,” Patrick said. “I won’t be coming by your farm again.”
“At least not until after you’re dead,” Rory added.
Lacey and I both gasped.
My father’s face turned purple-red. “Get the hell off my property!” he yelled.
As one the Phelans turned and headed for the black Caddy.
My father grabbed my sister and shook her. “Where were you? What were you doing with that boy?”
“Nothing, Daddy. We were just talking. I showed him the barn,” she protested.
My mother finally emerged from wherever she’d been. “Joe, what are you doing? Stop it right now!”
He let Lacey go and took a deep breath. “I’m sorry, Lacey. You, too Ranalt.” He sagged against the wall and wiped his glistening forehead with the back of his hand. “But you two stay away from Rory and Liam. You stay away from all the Phelans. They’re trouble. You have no idea how much.”
“Everything all right here?” asked a cautious voice.
None of us had heard Colin Sweeney drive in. Now I knew where my mother had been during all the drama: phoning him to come over. Colin and his little girl Juniper lived next door. I sometimes wondered if Daddy thought of Colin as the son he never had. His late father Brian and my father had been friends for years. When Colin got his college girlfriend pregnant and eloped with her, only my daddy could convince Brian to forgive him.
I had been upset too when I heard the news but I’d never told anyone that. I was thirteen years old and in love with Colin. He was eighteen and if he had ever thought of me at all it was as the little sister of the hot girl next door.
“Everything’s good now. They’re gone,” my mother said. “Thank you for coming over, Colin.”
“Damned Phelans,” my father muttered. His colour was still high. “God-damned Phelans.” He and Colin went to the far side of the verandah to talk.
Lacey took the opportunity to vanish into the house. I walked over to Colin’s pickup to say hello to Juniper, who was waving at me.
“When are you coming over, Ranalt?” she asked. “You haven’t been over for ages and ages. I miss you. So does Meg.” Juniper held up her doll and smiled, displaying a missing tooth.
She had her father’s big blue eyes, wide mouth, and square chin. I had never met her mother but I always figured Colin’s daughter inherited her light blonde hair and snub nose from Megan. Colin’s hair was nut brown and his nose hawkish.
When Brian became sick two years ago, Colin returned to help run the farm equipment business and I fell for him all over again. He was already a widower by that point. Megan had died in a car accident six months earlier. Colin dated Lacey for a little while but the romance never really took off, to my utter relief. I admit the only reason I began babysitting Juniper was to be near him in some small way. Now I love her as much as if she were my own.
“Ages and ages? Junie, I was over last week! Don’t you remember who took you to your swimming lesson at the municipal pool?” I gently pulled her pigtail.
“Oh, that. I mean coming over to my house for fun, like playing Old Maid.”
“Wasn’t going to McDonald’s afterwards fun?”
“Ye-es,” she hedged. “But Papa would like to see you more too. I know ’cause I asked him.”
“He does?” I tried not to read too much into that.
“We could go swimming in our pool and you could wear that turquoise swimsuit with the flowers on it. He likes you in that. I saw him looking at you the last time you wore it,” Juniper said in a smug voice.
“Oh. Well, we’ll see.” Now I had a six-year-old matchmaker on my hands.
“Why is your face so red, Papa?” she demanded suddenly. “Are you getting a sunburn?”
I jumped. I hadn’t known Colin was behind me. It must have been a short talk he had with my father.
“Something like that,” Colin muttered.
I smothered a grin. Colin’s face really was scarlet. That gave me a little jolt of pleasure.
“Here, Junie.” He handed her a plastic baggie filled with homemade chocolate chip cookies. “Auntie Sheila wanted you to have this. You can have one while I talk to Ranalt. Now just one,” he cautioned. “Remember, we’re going out for supper tonight and I don’t want your appetite spoiled.”
“Yes, Papa.”
We walked a few feet away.
“What exactly happened here, Ranalt?” Colin asked in a low voice. “Joe was a little vague.”
I told him.
Colin shook his head. “I went to school with Rory. He was an arrogant prick even then.”
“I always thought old Patrick’s visits were more social calls than anything else, to be honest. But this is the first time he’s brought any of the boys. I figured he meant it as a slap in the face for Daddy, since all he has are Lacey and me. But I don’t know now.” There was something that disturbed me but I couldn’t grasp the threads. “Whatever it was Patrick said in the kitchen changed everything.”
Colin glanced back at the pickup. “I better go before Junie eats the whole bag. Call me if...well, if anything happens.”
“Like what?”
He shrugged. “I don’t know. I confess, I just have a bad feeling... You know nobody likes to cross the Phelans. They’ve got a lot of money and power in this community.”
Later that night, upstairs in the big bedroom I shared with my sister, Lacey had a confession too. As soon as they were out of sight of Liam and me, Rory had pinned her to the wall of the barn and kissed her. She said he had some nerve and she didn’t like it but I knew she was lying. I could hear the smile in her voice.
****
A week after the Phelans’ visit, my father found a hole in a fence and three cows with their guts torn out. He and my mother had a big argument out on the verandah about whether or not to call the Ministry of Natural Resources about it.
“If the wolves are coming out of the provincial park then Don Perkins has to know,” she said. “Our neighbours have livestock too. They—”
“Oh, don’t be a fool, Sheila,” my father interrupted wearily. “You know damn well what happened.”
She said nothing after that, just came back into the house and started punching bread dough in the kitchen. My father got into his old pickup and drove off. Lacey had gone into town; she had a job waiting tables at the Bonanza Grill. I wished I’d gone with her. Other than babysitting Juniper when she wasn’t at the daycare, and helping Momma with her litt
le soapmaking business, I didn’t have a real job that summer. Truthfully, I hadn’t looked very hard. I wanted to be free for Colin, whenever he needed me. But today wasn’t one of those days.
I told my mother I wanted to get some books at the library. The big metropolis of Westmeath, population twelve thousand, was just three miles away. An easy bike ride, even in the heat.
I was chaining my bike to the rack outside the library—yeah, there are thieves in small towns too—when Liam Phelan suddenly showed up.
“Thought that was you, Ranalt,” he said easily, like the last time I saw him had never happened. “You look thirsty after that long ride. I’ll buy you a Slushie at the Ice King.” When I hesitated, he added, “I have to talk to you. It’s important.”
“All right,” I said, “but it better be a big Slushie.”
He laughed at that. We walked down the street, making small talk about the weather when he suddenly grabbed my wrist and pulled me behind a hedge.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing?” I demanded, pushing at him with my free hand. “Let me go or I’ll scream bloody murder!”
Liam dropped my hand. “Take it easy, Ranalt. I think Sean saw me with you so I don’t have much time. Anything... weird been happening at your place lately?”
I shoved again at his broad chest and he moved back a couple of steps. “What do you care?”
“Cows with their bellies ripped open?”
I stared at him. “Yeah. How did you know?” Daddy had taken care of the dead animals himself, burying them at the far end of the north pasture.
“I just know.” Liam sighed. “You tell your da to make sure none of the fences need mending or have a weak spot anywhere. Tell him to reinforce with lots of barbed wire. Iron’s as good as silver. And a helluva lot cheaper.”
“What are you talking—?”
I never finished my sentence because Liam’s mouth descended on mine. It was a hard passionless kiss, not the least bit romantic.
Hauntings in the Garden, Volume One Page 11
