Tangled in Time (The McCarthy Sisters)

by Barbara Longley

  “Aye, she can see me in the void.” Fáelán put his arm around her shoulders. “Regan, this is Jeremy. He’s Jim’s oldest grandson.” He went on to introduce everyone.

  “It’s nice to meet all of you.” Her gaze darted around the circle of curious faces. “I’m afraid it’s going to take me a while to remember your names.”

  “I told you we should’ve made name tags, Da.” A middle-aged woman flashed Jim a reproachful look.

  “Aye, so you did.” Jim gestured toward the sectional. “Have a seat, Regan. Have a seat. Would you care for something to drink? A dram o’ whiskey perhaps, or hard cider?”

  “Cider would be nice, thank you.” As soon as she settled on the couch, Fáelán’s family gathered near her, some dragging chairs from across the room to place around the sectional.

  “So,” Dinah, Jim’s daughter, began. “We’re all grateful you’re here. You’ve given us hope for Fáelán. Maybe you’ll be the one to end his curse at last, Regan MacCarthy,” she said, lifting her glass. “Here’s to an end to the curse.”

  A chorus of toasts ensued, and Regan’s mouth went dry. So it was true. Her boasty ghost was cursed and not a scáil after all? “How many of you are able to see him when he’s in the void realm?” Six hands rose, including Dinah’s.

  “Being able to see him comes to us directly through his four sisters, and it’s always been the way of it,” Jim said. “Thanks to Fáelán, we’ve a family tree stretching all the way back to the year he was cursed. Would you like to see it?” He started to rise.

  “Maybe later, James.” Fáelán gestured for him to sit back down. “I know ye’ll all be wantin’ to hear the tale of how Regan and I met, aye?”

  “That we would,” Jeremy said, working his way into the circle of chairs and people. He placed a coaster and a glass of cider on the coffee table in front of Regan.

  Regan couldn’t help gawking. “You look so much like him.”

  “I do, and that’s a fact.” Jeremy winked. “Comes in handy.”

  What did that mean? Regan took a swallow, hoping it would relieve the lingering dryness in her mouth. The younger children came to sit on the rug at Fáelán’s feet, their eyes sparkling with anticipation. Clearly, he’d told stories before, because the room quieted, and even the adults exuded an air of expectation. Fáelán must have amazing tales to share after being around for so long.

  Her breath caught. He wasn’t a ghost, and maybe, just maybe, she’d have a future with this gorgeous man. She too might get to hang on every word as he took on the role of storyteller at family gatherings.

  He took her hand in his and rested them on his knee. “There she was, standing before Brú Na Bóinne, with her wee foot touching the back of her head, and her back arched. I wondered aloud what the daft lassie was about.”

  Entranced, Regan got caught up in his tale. He had everyone laughing as he related their shared banter, embellishing some things and downplaying others. Fáelán truly had a gift for storytelling. Hadn’t he said to become one of the Fianna, a man had to be a poet in his own right? What must it have been like to sit around a campfire with him and a group of Fenians, each taking their turn to entertain the others?

  After he finished the story, he shared with his family how the two of them had spent their time together since, including his need to go for a run while visiting Kilkenny because she’d vexed him so. “And here we are.” He gazed around at his family. “Tonight, I plan to take her out on the town, and tomorrow we shall return to Howth.”

  “Will you not consider staying here, Fáelán?” Kathryn, Jim’s wife, asked. “After all this time, we’d love to have you with us the day after the curse is lifted. We’ll have much to celebrate.”

  “Nay. ’Twould be better if Regan and I had a bit of privacy.”

  His grip on her hand tightened, and he tensed beside her. Why? What is going through his mind right now? She looked at him in question, but he wouldn’t meet her gaze.

  “What were you doing at Newgrange that morning, Regan?” Jim turned to her, his expression avid. “If you don’t mind me asking.”

  “It’s a long story.” She reached for her cider and took a sip.

  “We’ve time enough, and we’d love to hear you tell it,” Dinah said, her eyes lit with genuine interest.

  “All right, but I’m not as good as Fáelán when it comes to telling stories.”

  “Makes no difference,” a young woman assured her, one of the cousins whose names she couldn’t recall. “Go on.”

  “All right. I come from a family of Irish descent, and many of us are born with . . . certain gifts. My sister Meredith and I can see and communicate with ghosts and other spirit beings. Meredith can also sense things that are happening to those close to her—family mostly. Then there’s my sister Grayce.”

  Swallowing against the tightness in her throat, she took her hand back from Fáelán to run both sweaty palms down her jeans. Fáelán’s family had been nothing but accepting, but old habits died hard, and revealing so much still made her nervous. “Like my dad, Grayce has visions and premonitions about things to come, and she’s also an empath.” Fáelán put his arm around her shoulders, and she leaned against him.

  “There is a story that has been handed down through our family about an ancestor, a woman who helped one of the fae,” she said. “I guess faeries can be bound by iron, and he’d been trapped. She set him free, and the faerie bestowed the gift of sight to the woman, and the abilities have been passed down one generation to the next.” She gazed around the room, seeing nothing but acceptance and interest.

  “I came to Ireland hoping to trace my family roots to that ancestor.” She shrugged. “And maybe to find a way to give the gift of sight back, or at least to learn how to shut myself off from the ghosts.” Trying to find a way to close herself off from the world of spirits had been at the heart of her attraction to yoga. When she meditated, she came close.

  “Hmm.” Jim frowned. “More than likely, the fae did not bestow the gift, but passed it along through the usual way. The two must’ve had a child together.”

  “Is that what happened with your sisters?” she asked, glancing at Fáelán. “Did they have children with one of the fae?”

  “Nay, whilst your kin’s gifts vary, and are passed down through your DNA, the ability my kin carry never changes. They see me. None have visions or see ghosts. Fionn’s fae cousin, Alpin, described what he did as an opening of the mind for the sole purpose of helping me. He said the enchantment would follow only the direct bloodline of my sisters, and that it would echo through the ages.”

  Jim nodded. “I suspect the enchantment is triggered by a specific genetic marker passed on to a few us with each new generation.”

  “Aye, ’tis certain, though of course Alpin made no mention of DNA.” Fáelán shrugged. “I see it as similar to the way Fionn became enlightened after he caught and ate the salmon of knowledge.” He took her hand back. “Are ye familiar with the tale?”

  She nodded. “I read about it when I did research on the Fianna.”

  “Why would you want to give your abilities back?” a boy of around twelve asked.

  “’Tis a heavy load she carries, Michael,” Fáelán said. “To see ghosts, and to be expected to help them depart this world, is no easy task. Imagine the toll it would take if ye were expected to deal with the dead day in and day out.”

  “Have you ever seen or felt a ghost’s presence?” she asked the boy. He’d been one to raise his hand when she’d asked who could see Fáelán in the void.

  He shook his head. “But I see Fáelán, and so do you. If you didn’t have the sight, you wouldn’t be able to help him.”

  “As far as helping him goes, there’s really nothing I can do other than spend time with him,” she said. “Even so, there’s no guarantee that . . .” He’ll fall madly in love with me. The words carried far too much weight, and pressed too heavily upon her hopes and dreams, to be spoken aloud. “Just because I’m with him doesn
’t mean his curse will end.”

  “True, but we’ve eyes enough to see he can’t keep from touching you. We all see the way he looks at you,” Jeremy added. “That’s what gives us hope, Regan, not your presence or your ability to see him when he’s in the void.”

  She risked a peek at Fáelán. His expression had closed, and his answering glance was brief but intense. Again, she wondered what might be going through his mind.

  “Would you like a tour of the house, Álainn?” he asked, rising from his place beside her.

  “I would.” Grateful for the change of subject, she stood up.

  He put a hand over his chest and faced his family. “As always, it does my heart good to see all of ye. Thank ye for coming today, and thank ye for your warm welcome toward Regan. We’ll be back shortly, and ye can bring me up-to-date on all of your news.” He took her hand and led her to the foyer.

  His family hadn’t shown any fear or repulsion after she’d told her story, only curiosity. In fact, more than a few heads had nodded when Jeremy wondered why she’d want to give back her giftedness. Their acceptance warmed her heart and soothed her nerves. “I like your family.”

  He grabbed her bag, and they climbed the stairs to the second floor. “Aye, ’tis blessed I am to have them.” Slinging the strap of her bag higher on his shoulder, he took her elbow. “They’re right. I cannot go a second without touching ye.”

  “Sure, but when’s the last time you had a woman to touch?” She arched a brow. “It doesn’t necessarily mean you’ll fall madly in love with me.”

  “Nay, it doesn’t,” he said, his tone tight. “I’m still hoping the fae princess has forgotten all about me. The curse will lift, and naught will happen to test anything. Let us not think upon it overmuch today.”

  He led her to a door at the end of a long hall on the second floor. “I love this wing of the house, for ’tis mine and mine alone.” He opened the door for her and stepped back.

  Her curiosity piqued, she entered a large living room. Tall windows faced east and west, letting in plenty of light and fresh air. Regan moved to the eastern window and looked out at the expanse of land between the house and the rugged cliffs overlooking the ocean.

  “’Tis a wonderful view.” He came to stand behind her. “There is an identical suite at the opposite end of the hall, and four other bedrooms besides. James and Kathryn have lived and raised their family here, as prior generations have done afore them. My family maintains this home well, and for my part, I’ve done what I could for them. ’Twas the only way I could show my gratitude for their help over the years.”

  A large TV stood on a very antique-looking wood-and-iron trunk. A plush couch and two comfortable upholstered recliners had been arranged to face the makeshift entertainment center. “Is that a Sony PlayStation? You play video games?”

  “Nay. My younger cousins, nieces and nephews like to play, and I have it here for them. I’ve never acquired a taste for video games. Having fought in real battles where real men, many of them my friends, bled and died, I find I do not enjoy pretending.”

  Regan wandered around the room, stopping now and then to study a painting, or to get a better look at the objects displayed on the built-in oak shelving. She picked up an ornate clock with gold edging and turned it over in her hands. “Is this an example of stolen treasure?” She held it up.

  “Nay. I paid for that piece after selling a more ancient treasure I’d . . . er . . . collected long ago.”

  “Collected.” Regan snorted. “Meaning pilfered, purloined, lifted, pinched—”

  “What would ye have done if the accursed shoe had been on your wee foot?” He walked across the room and opened another door. “Come see the rest, oh judgmental one.”

  She followed him into a luxurious bedroom with a hearth identical to the one downstairs only smaller. This room faced south, and sunlight poured in through the windows. Fáelán obviously favored bright colors, because the room was done in crimson, gold and hunter green. It fit his bold personality.

  An enormous four-poster bed dominated the room. “That is some bed,” she said. “How old is it?” She ran her hand down one of the intricately carved wooden posts. It had a frame for a canopy, but no curtains hung from the top. Was this piece stolen? How did one whisk away a heavy four-poster bed to the void, then bring it back again to the material realm? She grinned, trying to picture Fáelán stealing this particular antique.

  “Sixteenth century, and don’t think I can’t see plainly on your face what’s going through your mind. Not everything I own has been pilfered. This bed came to me through my family.”

  “OK. If you say so,” she teased.

  He dropped her bag upon the mattress and drew her into his arms. “Would ye like to test the mattress, my beauty?”

  Her heart turned over, and desire coursed through her in a flood of heat. More than anything, she wanted to make love with him again . . . and again. “While twenty of your family members continue to party downstairs, waiting for our return? Maybe later.” She ran her hands up and down his chest and stepped out of his embrace.

  “Maybe later, ye say?” He did that chin-lowering, peering-at-her-from-beneath-his-brow thing she found so sexy.

  “Exactly. We need to pick up some protection if we’re—”

  “Protection?”

  “Condoms,” she said. “Haven’t you ever—”

  “Nay, nor do I wish to.” He crossed the room to yet another door. “The loo is through here.”

  “Now that I know for certain you aren’t a ghost or some other kind of spirit being, we’re going to have to use some form of birth control, whether you wish to or not.”

  She joined him to take a peek. An elegant marble floor, a shower and an equally elegant vanity filled the large bathroom. And even better, there happened to be an old claw-foot tub, which would be a great place for one of her nerve-calming soaks. “I can’t take another chance like we did earlier today, Fáelán.”

  “Do ye not want children, Regan?”

  “Sure I do. Someday.” How would she bear it if he disappeared after his brief reprieve? “But being a single parent doesn’t appeal to me, and—”

  His jaw tightened. “Aye, we’ll pick up protection in town. Would ye like to put your things away, or would ye rather return to our guests? And we’ve much to face afore we can even speak of such things.”

  Her heart thumped, and icy fingers of dread laced her stomach into a tight corset. If Fáelán did fall in love with her, what would the fae princess do to test his willingness to give his life for Regan’s? At the moment, she wished she had her sister’s ability for precognition. A vision would come in handy right now. But she didn’t, and she doubted anything Morrigan might do could possibly end with “and they lived happily ever after.”

  “I don’t have much to put away. It can wait. Let’s go back downstairs and spend time with your family. I want to get some pictures of you with them, and of you and me in front of the fireplace. You can show me the rest of the house tomorrow morning.”

  Fáelán gazed at Regan across the linen-covered table as he took another mussel from its shell and popped it into his mouth. “Mmm.” He winked at Regan. “Delicious, aye?”

  She nodded while buttering a piece of the rosemary-garlic bread. “Really good.”

  “My cousin Daniel went to Ballymaloe Cookery School in County Cork. He worked for a restaurant in Shannon for several years before coming home to Waterford and opening his own place. We should take a tour of Ballymaloe sometime.”

  Fáelán had financed his cousin Dan’s ambition to open this restaurant, and he was deeply gratified to see it doing so well. Earning a tidy sum from his investment didn’t hurt either. “The school is quite impressive,” he continued. “They’ve their own organic gardens, and, of course, there’s a castle. I know how much ye love castles.”

  “I’d like to visit Ballymaloe,” Regan said around a mouthful. “The sauce on these mussels is amazing.”

  F�
�elán left the last mussel for Regan and tore off a piece of the fresh warm bread to soak up some of the buttery white wine sauce she’d mentioned. Gods, but she looked lovely in a dress. She wore her hair swept up, showing off the graceful curve of her neck and shoulders. Other men had ogled her as the two of them were led to their table. Ah, but she was here with him, and seeing all that admiration turned her way filled him with pride. Thankfully, they’d had the good sense to stop at a pharmacy on their way to the restaurant because thoughts of making love to her consumed him.

  Regan pried the last mussel from its shell and put it in her mouth. The pink tip of her tongue darted out to catch a drip on her lower lip. She sighed and half closed her eyes. His blood rushed to his groin. The hint of cleavage peeking from the V in her dress wreaked havoc on his self-control, and the memories of making love to her earlier that day flooded his senses. He was supposed to be impressing her with his good manners and charm, and he was finding it difficult even to speak.

  He’d always been lustier than most, but he’d also prided himself on his self-discipline. Searching his mind for something to say, he tried to clear the haze of lust enough to start a conversation. Thankfully, their waiter came then, refilling their wineglasses and clearing the appetizer away.

  “Shall we share our entrées?” Fáelán placed his elbows on the table. “I’d love a taste of the lamb ye ordered.”

  “Absolutely. It was hard to decide, everything sounded so good.”

  “The musicians are beginning to set up.” He tipped his head toward the bar area, where a small stage stood before a dance floor. Brilliant conversationalist he turned out to be. “Will ye dance with me after supper, Regan?”

  “I will, but I can’t guarantee I’ll be any good.” She glanced at him from beneath her lashes. “I haven’t done a lot of dancing.”

  “Ye’ll do fine, for I’ll be leading.” He leaned back and sipped his wine, pleased when his boast brought forth her laughter. “Music to my ears.” Fáelán couldn’t keep his eyes from her, no matter how hard he tried. The candlelight brought a sparkle to her fine eyes, and her skin glowed in the soft light. “Tá tú go hálinn, mo a grá, so very beautiful, and being with ye this eve . . . well, ’tis proud I am to have ye by my side.”