A Bittersweet Garden

by Caren J. Werlinger

  He snorted, sounding a lot like Ginger. “You’re right enough there. Jimmie called. Says Princess has come up a bit lame. When you’re done here, can you take William over to the riding stables? They’ve got a group going out at two. Bring Princess back here if she’s sound enough to walk. If not, I’ll drive over later with the trailer. We’ll tend to her.” He turned to go but then paused. “Oh, got a text from Sheila. She wants to have dinner down the pub tonight. Said she’ll stand the first round.”

  Briana grinned. “I’m there, then.”

  “Six o’clock. And be sure to scrape the shite off your boots.”

  She laughed as he walked away. She spread fresh straw in the stall and then wheeled the barrow down the aisle, stopping at the last stall at the rear of the barn.

  She set the barrow down and rested her arms on the stall door, staring at the gray hindquarters being presented to her.

  “Are you going to say hello today?”

  In answer, a hind hoof shot out, striking the door hard enough to make her arms tingle.

  “One day, you will.” With a sigh, she picked the barrow up and took it out to dump on the dung pile.

  Chapter 2

  Nora sat at a table in the Lodge’s parlor, where she could see both the lake and any cars approaching.

  Sheila had insisted on driving her back to the Lodge after their visit. “You’ve walked miles today,” she’d said when Nora tried to protest. “We’ll pick you up this evening to take you to the pub.”

  “You’re sure it’s no problem to cancel the tea reservation at the Castle?” Nora had asked Sarah anxiously when she got back.

  “Not a bit.” Sarah typed a message on the computer. “You have a nice evening in the village.”

  Nora had peeled out of her sweaty clothing and rinsed off in the shower. After drying herself, she succumbed to the lure of her bed for an hour’s nap. She still felt a bit off-kilter with the time change, but that brief rest refreshed her. She dressed in clean clothes and went to the parlor to wait.

  Sheila’s blue Kia SUV pulled up at the circular drive, and Nora jumped up to go out to meet it.

  “Have a good evening, Miss McNeill,” Sarah called from the desk.

  “I will,” Nora said, beaming. “I’m having dinner with my cousins!”

  She hurried out to find a tall, sandy-haired man opening the SUV’s door for her. His freckled face split into a grin. “Hi, Nora. I’m Quinn.”

  He gripped her hand and waved her into the back seat.

  He got in, and Sheila put the car in gear, glancing at Nora in the rearview mirror. “Are you rested, then?”

  “I am, thanks. I didn’t realize how tired I was. Thanks so much for picking me up.”

  Quinn twisted around in the seat. “Sheila said you walked clear out to our place this morning. You’ll put some miles on your legs this summer if you don’t get yourself a car.”

  Nora realized that his pale reddish-blond eyebrows and lashes almost disappeared on his weathered face. “I think I’m safer walking. I’d hate to run someone off the road when I panic and jump back to the right side.”

  He laughed and turned back around. “You may be right.”

  Sheila navigated the winding road into the village and found a parking spot. Nora followed them into the pub, where most of the people sitting at the bar hailed them.

  “I saved you a table,” the bartender said, pointing.

  “Thanks, Andrew.” Sheila left Quinn to order the first round while she shepherded Nora to a table in the rear of the pub near the fireplace.

  “A fire in May?” Nora asked, sniffing at the scent of peat.

  “Nights are still chilly here,” Sheila said. “And the tourists expect it.”

  Quinn was back in a few minutes with three pints of Guinness. Nora took a sip.

  “Oh, that’s good.”

  Sheila passed menus around. While they were looking them over, a shaggy dog head appeared on the other side of the table. Nora looked up to find the rude rider from the morning standing there beside her dog.

  “Bri,” said Quinn, shifting his chair over to make room for her. “Have you met our cousin from America? This is Nora McNeill. Briana Devlin.”

  Briana nodded. “We’ve met. In a manner of speaking.”

  She sat, and their server brought her another pint of the dark beer. Briana smiled her thanks.

  “What’ll you have?” the waitress asked the table, laying a familiar hand on Briana’s shoulder.

  Quinn and Sheila both ordered shepherd’s pie, while Nora opted for fish and chips.

  “I’ll have a burger,” Briana said.

  The server left to place their orders.

  “How’d Princess go?” Quinn asked.

  Briana took a long drink before saying, “Her off foreleg. It’s warm and a wee bit swollen. I walked her back and rubbed it down.”

  Nora had no idea what they were talking about, but took advantage of the opportunity to study Briana more closely. Without her riding helmet on, her short hair shone a vivid red in the firelight. Her eyes, now that they weren’t scowling in Nora’s direction, looked to be blue or gray. It was hard to tell exactly.

  Sheila, apparently not interested in stable talk, turned to Nora. “Tell us more about your family.”

  Nora quickly gulped the mouthful of Guinness she had just taken and wiped the rich foam off her upper lip as Quinn’s and Briana’s attention turned to her. “Um… well, our family is mostly settled in Virginia. Near DC. A town called Fredericksburg.”

  “And you’re one of four girls?” Sheila prompted when Nora paused.

  Nora nodded. “Number two. My sisters are all married. The oldest has two children, and the others have one each, and one is expecting. I work at a university. In the library.”

  “And you were able to get the entire summer off?” Sheila asked in surprise.

  Nora shrugged. “I’ve worked there for thirteen years and have never taken more than a couple of days off. When I asked, my supervisor said yes.”

  Quinn leaned his elbows on the table. “So what do you want to do with your summer in Ireland?”

  Nora opened her mouth, but Briana said, “Wait. She’s come here to write a book.”

  She chuckled at her own joke, but Nora felt the heat rise in her cheeks. Quinn gave Briana an elbow in the ribs.

  “I know it sounds silly,” Nora stammered.

  “No, it doesn’t,” Sheila said, shooting a harsh glare in Briana’s direction. “Tell us about it.”

  Nora gave a quick shake of her head, fighting a sudden sinking feeling in her belly. “It’s just something I’ve been toying with for a while. It’ll probably turn out to be nothing. I didn’t have any really firm plans. I’ve just always dreamed of coming here and decided this was the time to do it.”

  “Well, good for you.” Sheila raised her glass. Briana and Quinn followed suit. “Welcome to Cong. Sláinte.”

  Their dinner arrived, and Nora busied herself eating as Sheila and Quinn chatted. Apparently, in addition to the greenhouse and nursery, they owned a riding stable that catered largely to tourists visiting Cong and Ashford, and it seemed Briana worked for them.

  As she ate, Nora watched them, their easy familiarity with one another. Quinn stabbed all of the carrots from his shepherd’s pie, depositing them on Sheila’s plate while Briana passed over almost half of her chips to Quinn.

  She glanced up and saw Sheila focused on something behind her. Nora twisted in her seat to see a family seated at the adjacent table, a proud grandmother bouncing a baby on her lap. She turned back around, but Sheila’s eyes were downcast, her long lashes veiling her gaze. Under the table, Quinn reached for her hand. Briana caught Nora’s eye for just a second, glaring at her as if she’d been caught intruding on something she wasn’t meant to see.

  Confused, Nora blinked at her plate while Briana asked Quinn another question about one of their horses. When Nora looked up, everything was normal, the moment passed so quickly that
Nora wondered if she’d imagined it.

  They resumed eating, and Nora surprised herself by finishing her fish and chips. All that walking had made her ravenous.

  After a second pint that Briana insisted on buying for the table, Nora was pleasantly full and relaxed. A heavy weight settled on her thigh, and she found Shannon’s large head plopped there as she leaned against Nora.

  “She likes you,” Sheila said.

  “She startled me this morning; she’s so big.” Nora laid her hand on Shannon’s head, and the dog closed her eyes contentedly.

  “She doesn’t do that with many,” Briana said.

  Nora glanced up to find Briana eyeing her as if she were reappraising her. She gave a half-shrug. “I’ve mostly been a cat person, but I love dogs, too. I guess I’ve always gotten along with most animals better than most people.”

  Quinn clapped Briana on the shoulder. “Well you two have that in common.” He drained his glass. “Come on, Nora. We’ll give you a ride back to Ashford.”

  The fires in the great hearths are banked for the night. By their glow, he can see that a few of the stable lads have snuck into the kitchen to sleep near the warmth, lying on their thin blankets for a bit of cushion from the flagstones. His own hands ache from hours and hours at the forge, but work was work. Take it and thank the gods.

  The wooden tables along the walls are laden with food: baskets of apples; loaves of soft white bread; other baskets filled with onions, carrots, turnips, parsnips; tubs of creamy yellow butter; crocks of buttermilk. There are barrels of freshly ground flour and barley and oats, waiting to be baked into fresh bread and cakes and rolls.

  Quietly, he creeps through the kitchen to a corridor down which is a room lit by flickering candlelight. There, her dark head bent over her work, sits a woman who leans near the guttering candles, her nimble hands sewing tiny stitches in the yards and yards of heavy satin lying upon the table.

  Startled at his entrance, she nearly knocks a candle over when she jumps.

  “Christ Jesus, you scared me, Donall!”

  He kneels before her, grinning. “I hope I do more than scare you.” He leans in for a kiss.

  She playfully slaps him away, but not before she returns the kiss. He lays a gentle hand on the swelling of her belly.

  “You’re working too hard.”

  She sighs. “Ah, well. ’Tis feast or famine when the family come to Ashford.”

  His expression darkens. “Speaking of famine, have you seen all the food in the kitchen? It’s a sin, the way the English hoard while our people can’t dig a bloody potato from the ground without it’s black and rotten.”

  “Shhhh.” She looks fearfully over his shoulder toward the corridor lest they be overheard, but all is still. “They bring us work. I’ll have weeks ahead, trying to finish these gowns for the Yule ball.”

  He sits back on his heels. “And I only now finished shoeing the last of the horses for the hunt tomorrow. And there’s more needs mending. Some of the wagon wheels. Saddles and bridles and harnesses. We’ll be fine. But others won’t, Móirín.”

  She presses her forehead to his. “I know. We can’t take care of everyone, mo grá.”

  He takes her by the hand. “Come now. You need to rest. You and the wee one you carry.”

  She blows out the candles and allows him to help her to her feet. “We’ll leave the children with your sister for the night. No sense in waking everyone to take them home and put them back to bed.”

  He wraps her cloak around her and guides her back through the kitchen, snatching a couple of rolls for the walk to their cottage.

  Nora made the most of her next couple of days at Ashford. She walked the extensive grounds and gardens of the castle, using her camera for better photos of the formal gardens and the walls and arches separating them. She got views of the castle from every angle and could see slight variations in the stone and the architecture of different wings that had been added over the centuries.

  Rob, the uniformed guard at the gate to the castle bridge, waved as she came and went. She saw Craig a few times, ferrying guests in the castle’s Land Rover, and waved to him as well. She took his advice and had a wonderful lunch at the Thatched Cottage.

  She learned that it was a good idea to have an umbrella or rain jacket with her at all times. The showers came and went quickly, leaving a wet gleam on the ferns and flowering shrubs that lined the groomed walks, enhanced by the slanting sunlight that peeked through gaps in the clouds. She toured Lough Corrib, enjoying the boat captain’s descriptions of all the little islands that dotted the lake.

  She’d never walked so much in her life, but she loved it. She hiked the footpath along the river from the castle to the village, where she toured The Quiet Man museum and wandered the little shops, taking tons of photos to email back home.

  She had her tea at the castle, pausing to snap a few more photos of the stone hounds flanking the entrance. Inside, she was unable to stop grinning as she sat in the midst of the rich paneling and opulent furnishings. She caught her rippled reflection in one of the glass cupboards, and her grin faded for a moment as her distorted face stared back at her.

  She’d done it. “No-nonsense Nora”, the serious, studious one who never went anywhere or did anything exciting, she’d managed something none of her sisters had done. She shifted her chair so that she didn’t have to see herself and savored her tea.

  By her last morning, though, she was itching to be in her own place. She enjoyed her last breakfast at the lodge where outside, a steady rain was pouring from leaden clouds.

  “I’ll be checking out today,” she told Sarah, who was again working the desk.

  “And moving into Sióg Cottage,” Sarah said.

  Nora stopped abruptly. “How did you know that?”

  Sarah smiled. “Word gets round a small village. Especially when someone lets a haunted cottage.”

  “Haunted?” Nora choked off her laugh, remembering the face in the window.

  “Sure not everyone believes that. ’Tis just the stories of unexplained lights and noises. You’ll have to come back and tell us if you met the sióg, the fairy that lives there.”

  Nora went back to her room to pack. She’d looked up the meaning of “sióg” and knew that it meant “fairy” in Irish, but she’d assumed that was just a fanciful name to lure gullible tourists to rent the place.

  “Don’t be silly,” she told herself, but a little shiver crept down her spine.

  By the time she had showered and repacked her bags and backpack, the steady rain had turned to a downpour. She weighed her options as she wheeled her bags toward the lobby. She’d be soaked through trying to slog through this to the cottage. Maybe a taxi…

  “Good morning, Miss McNeill.”

  She entered the lobby to find Craig standing there wearing a rain jacket, the Land Rover idling outside the door.

  “We can’t send you off to walk in this wet,” Sarah said.

  “Thank you so much.” Nora let Craig take her bags. At the door, she paused and turned to Sarah. “I’ll let you know how it goes with that fairy.”

  Sarah grinned. “You be sure to do that.”

  Craig drove carefully through the puddles. “Have you had a good time here at Ashford, then?”

  “I really have,” Nora said with a sigh, as the castle’s turrets seemed to disappear into the heavy clouds.

  Craig had to drive the long way around. He glanced at her quizzically. “What prompted you to rent this cottage, if you don’t mind me asking.”

  “The owner is an old friend of my grandfather’s. A Mr. McCarthy. He said the key would be in the door today. Seems kind of funny to leave the key in the door. Isn’t he afraid someone might just let themselves in?”

  Craig burst out laughing. “Not feck— Beg pardon. Not likely, Miss.”

  She frowned. “You don’t believe the stories about the cottage being haunted, do you?”

  He just shrugged. “We’re Irish. We believe all kinds of t
hings.”

  He turned down the wooded lane that led to the cottage. Wet tree branches scraped the windows. “Well, here we are. Sióg Cottage.”

  He retrieved her bags from the back of the Land Rover while she splashed through the rain to find the key right where Mr. McCarthy had said it would be. She turned it and pushed the door open. Craig brought her bags to her, but didn’t set foot across the threshold.

  “Here you go, Miss McNeill.”

  She tried to hand him a five-euro note, but he shook his head, his boyish face splitting into a grin.

  “No money between friends. It’s not good craic. Have a grand summer. We’ll see you about, I’m sure.”

  He jogged to the vehicle and backed it around to face the lane, waving as he drove away.

  Nora stood in the doorway, peering into the dark interior.

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” she said sternly and, taking a deep breath, stepped inside.

  She stood still, waiting… for what, she wondered. Everything was quiet. There was no repeat of the strange dizziness she’d felt the last time she was there. The sheets covering the furniture stirred a bit at her entrance. She moved her bags to a corner and shrugged off her backpack.

  At the base of the stairs, she found a basket filled with clean folded sheets and towels.

  She inspected the cozy cottage, chuckling at the little two-burner cooker and miniscule oven set into what looked like an old fireplace in the kitchen. Upstairs were two bedrooms and a bathroom—tub, no shower.

  “Well, that’ll be interesting.”

  But it was hers. Hers and hers alone. Perfect.

  “You’re leaving? Just like that. For the whole summer.”

  Amy’s accusing words still rattled around in Nora’s head, stirring up all kinds of guilt.

  “I’m not the one who should be feeling guilty,” she reminded herself, trying to shrug off the memory like an annoying fly.

  She tied her hair back and gathered the sheets covering the furniture, sneezing at the dust she raised. She paused in the front bedroom, the one from whose window she’d seen the pale face. Nothing in the room seemed to have been disturbed.