A Bittersweet Garden

by Caren J. Werlinger

  “Copies of baptismal records,” said Fiona.

  “And these are death records.” Nora pointed to another sheet.

  “Anything of Rowan?” Briana asked, sliding one paper near.

  “Yes.” Nora leaned closer, pressing her shoulder to Briana’s. She traced a finger down the faded lines on the page. “She was baptized in 1841, on five September.”

  “So she was probably born in July or August,” Fiona said.

  Sheila set a steaming mug in front of Briana. “The church didn’t have complete birth records. We’re guessing with babies being born at home, and people living too far away to get to church regularly, a lot of them most likely only went for things like baptisms, marriages, funerals.”

  “And remember,” said Fiona, “a lot of babies were stillborn or died as newborns and didn’t live long enough for a church baptism, especially after the first few bad crops of the Famine. I’m thinking the ones that did live were baptized as soon as the parents could manage, in case the worst happened.”

  She leafed through other pages. “We found a record of Móirín and Donall’s marriage, and the baptisms of their other children. It seems Rowan was their second-born, and the oldest girl.”

  “But look at this.” Nora passed another paper to Briana.

  Briana’s mouth fell open. “Holy sh—” She bit the word off. “Beg your pardon, Fiona.”

  “No need. Holy shit, indeed.”

  “But it can’t be.” Briana looked around from one of them to the other. “Aoibheann? Their fifth child was Aoibheann? You’re not suggesting…”

  “We don’t know what we’re suggesting,” Sheila said.

  “That’s why we needed to talk to my grandmother,” Nora said. “But she doesn’t remember anything more than Fiona does about Eve.”

  “I thought on the census forms you brought,” Bri said to Fiona, “it only had four children listed with Donall.”

  “But there were five on the ship manifest,” Nora reminded her.

  “That’s right,” Fiona agreed, sorting through her papers to find that one. “We don’t know what it means.”

  “It’s just a coincidence,” Briana said firmly. “I mean, it’s not a common name, but it’s just coincidence, right? And her name is Aoibheann Ní Mheolchatha, not Heaghra.”

  “Which in America, would be Mulcahy, I think,” Nora said. “Did she marry?”

  “Listen to what you’re saying,” Briana said. “You’re talking as if she could be one and the same.”

  Fiona lifted her hands with a shrug. “I’ve always been intrigued by the stories from my parents and grandparents that Eve never changes.”

  Nora gave a nervous laugh. “This puts her up there with leprechauns.”

  Fiona pointed a finger. “Don’t joke about the wee folk. Or the sióg. ’Tis an invitation for them to work their trouble and mischief. And worse.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “In Irish folklore, the fae and other creatures aren’t cute or kind, like cartoon movies would have you believe. They could be vengeful and possessive of those who crossed their path.”

  “And on that note,” said Sheila, “we need something stronger than tea.”

  Two hours later, fortified by a fine supper of wine, stew and fresh bread, they cleaned up the kitchen. Sheila had scooped enough kibble for Shannon and Rusty’s dinner as well.

  “I’ll keep some stew on the warmer for Quinn,” Sheila said. “Hopefully that man will be home soon, and no new horses with him.”

  Briana grinned. “Don’t count on that. You know him.”

  Sheila sighed. “I do. And I’m not counting on it.”

  “At least they earn their keep,” Nora said.

  “Some of them do.”

  The worry in Sheila’s tone pricked at Briana’s conscience. It had been at her instigation that Quinn had rescued Lizzy and a few other horses that they knew weren’t suited for the riding stable. Quinn’s margins were tight, and what with extra mouths to feed and vet bills for those horses that didn’t earn their keep, it was a stretch for his budget.

  “I should be going,” she said heavily. “Thanks for dinner.”

  There’d been no opportunity to speak with Nora, so now there was that on top of everything else. She patted her thigh for Shannon.

  “Would you mind giving me a ride home?” Nora asked.

  “No.” Briana’s heart lifted. “We don’t mind at all.”

  They said good evening to Sheila and Fiona and stepped outside into the soft rain. Briana loaded Nora’s bike into the boot of the SUV and got in.

  “Thanks,” said Nora. “Not a good night to bicycle.”

  “They wouldn’t have let you ride in this.”

  A tense silence filled the car as Briana drove through the murky evening, trying to think of how to broach the thing she wanted to say.

  “Is something wrong?” Nora asked.

  “No,” Briana said quickly. She turned onto the narrow drive to the cottage. “Not wrong. I was just wondering… I asked for Thursday off, if you’ve no other plans, just for a day of rambling about Connemara, since you’ve seen so little of it.”

  Nora’s face, in the lights from the dashboard, broke into a delighted smile. “That sounds lovely. Thank you.”

  Briana braked in front of the cottage and hopped out to unload the bicycle. Under the cottage eaves where they were sheltered from the rain, she and Nora stood awkwardly, neither seeming to want to say goodnight, but neither brave enough to take the next step.

  “Well,” Briana said at last, “I should—”

  Nora’s hand moved. Briana reached out to take it, but Nora pulled her key from her pocket and unlocked the door. Briana took a step back and stuffed her hand in her own pocket.

  “I’ll let you go,” Nora said, but she sounded reluctant. “See you Thursday?”

  “Thursday. Early. And wear your walking shoes.”

  Briana jogged around the car to climb into the driver’s seat. Nora gave a last wave as Briana drove down the lane. Shannon leaned forward from the back seat and nosed Bri’s cheek.

  “I know, I know.” She gave Shannon a rub. “I’m a fecking chicken.”

  Nora paced from window to door and back again on Thursday morning, dressed in her hiking pants and waterproof shoes. Her backpack was stuffed with a rain jacket, an extra fleece, snacks, and bottled water for them. Her camera was charged and packed as well.

  Fiona had left Wednesday morning. “I’ve got to get back or who knows what Jack will have done.”

  She made Nora and Sheila promise to call her if they learned anything more of Móirín and Rowan.

  As soon as they were alone, Nora told Sheila about Briana’s cryptic plans. Sheila’s curiosity had been piqued as much as Nora’s. All day long, she’d peppered Nora with questions as they tended plants in the greenhouse.

  “Do you think she’ll take you to Ballintubber Abbey?”

  “No idea,” Nora said. “I’ve read about it, but don’t think I’ve said anything.”

  An hour later, “Have you expressed any interest in Clew Bay?”

  “No.”

  At one point, Sheila jabbed her trowel at Nora. “I wonder if she and Gran cooked up a plan to visit Clifden?”

  It sounded like something Fiona might do, given Nora’s conversation with her during their research session at St. Mary’s.

  But Nora was as clueless as Sheila. The anticipation was kind of fun. And she knew, though she would never have admitted it to Sheila, that part of the anticipation was the prospect of spending an entire day with Briana. It would be a nice break from the mystery of Móirín and Rowan, which was a constant shadow looming over her lately.

  The dreams had taken a decidedly darker turn in the last week or so. Rowan’s laughter—if indeed it was her—had turned to screams and cries for help. But when Nora tried to call to her, tried to figure out where the cries were coming from, she woke, sweating and breathless.

  When Briana drove u
p, Nora was out the door before the SUV had come to a full stop.

  “Hi,” she said as she opened the passenger door.

  Briana pointed at Nora’s backpack. “You’ve got rain gear, in case we run into a bit of wet?”

  Nora stowed her bag behind her seat. “I do. Plus some snacks and water.”

  “All right, then. We’re off.”

  “Where are we off to?”

  Briana shook her head. “’Tis a surprise.”

  Shannon rested her shaggy head on Nora’s shoulder for a moment, earning a scratch before stretching out across the back seat.

  Nora tried at first to keep track of which direction they were headed and try to guess their destination, but she soon found herself simply sitting back and enjoying the passing scenery.

  “How’s your family?” Nora asked when it seemed Briana wasn’t going to initiate any conversation.

  “They’re fine. We will have to go back to see them before you leave or I’ll never be forgiven. Kieran hasn’t let me forget that we promised to let him read more books to us.”

  Nora smiled, but then the smile faded away. Before you leave. Her summer was flying by way too fast.

  “How about you?” Briana asked.

  “What do you mean?”

  “How are your family and friends in the States?”

  “They’re fine. Got a chance to catch up on the news when we talked with Mamma the other evening.”

  “Anyone planning to visit?”

  Nora bit back a laugh. “Very subtle. No. At least I don’t think so.”

  Briana cast her a quick sideways look. “You haven’t answered her.”

  “No.” Nora let a guilty sigh escape. “I figure no reply is as good as a ‘no’, but… no.”

  Briana drove with her right hand on the wheel, her left resting on her thigh. For a moment, Nora thought about how nice it would be to reach over and take it. Do it.

  She was just reaching over when Briana’s hand moved back to the steering wheel.

  “What is it?” Briana asked, her attention caught by the movement.

  “Nothing.” Nora quickly reached back to retrieve two bottles of water from her backpack. She loosened the top on Briana’s and set it in the drink holder. “How long till we get there?”

  Briana grinned. “A bit yet.”

  She kept glancing at Nora, looking more concerned.

  “Do I have something on my face?” Nora reached up self-consciously to make sure she didn’t have any leftover breakfast on her mouth.

  Briana shrugged. “You look tired, that’s all. More dreams?”

  Nora tried to decide whether she should be offended. “You could say that,” she said with a scoff. “Almost every morning, I wake up feeling as if I’ve been running through the woods all night long. Sometimes…”

  “Sometimes what?”

  Nora ran a hand through her hair. “A couple of times, I’ve have mud or dirt on my hands, leaves in my hair. And wet clothes in a pile on the floor.”

  Briana nearly drove off the road. Correcting the car, her hands gripped the wheel tightly. “You’ve been walking in your sleep?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe. I don’t know how else to explain… but I don’t remember doing it. I mean, I’m running through the woods in most of my dreams. Rowan is crying out for help now.”

  “Nora, this is getting ridiculous.” Briana reached over and gripped Nora’s hand. “You have to get out of that cottage.”

  Nora stared down at her fingers, intertwined with Briana’s—exactly what she’d hoped for just moments before. “I can’t.”

  “Why can’t you?”

  “I told you, they need me.”

  “But this is crazy,” Briana insisted. She seemed to realize what she’d done and released her grip on Nora’s hand to put her own back on the wheel. “If you’re being dragged out of your bed in your sleep, who knows what else could happen to you?”

  Nora couldn’t deny the same thought had occurred to her, but she felt this irresistible compulsion to find out what happened to them.

  They rode in silence. Nora wished she still had Briana’s warm hand in hers.

  Towering hedges of fuchsia flashed by, their red flowers brilliant against their dark green leaves, turning the road into a kind of tunnel. It was hypnotic. Nora felt her eyelids grow heavy. Despite her attempts to stay awake, she fell into a deep sleep.

  Briana pulled to a stop next to a couple of other cars. She reached over to wake Nora, but hesitated. Biting her lip, she watched Nora sleeping. It was God’s truth, she looked more than tired; Bri had actually been a bit shocked upon seeing her this morning. The dark circles under her eyes made her look as if she hadn’t slept for days. She could probably use several hours of sleep outside that blasted cottage, but the entire day was planned around an itinerary.

  “Nora.” Briana nudged her shoulder gently. “Nora, we’re here.”

  Nora jumped and her eyes fluttered open. She sat up, rubbing her eyes to wipe the sleep out of them. Briana waited as Nora frowned in puzzlement at the landscape before them.

  “Where are we?”

  Waves washed up onto a broad sandy beach. Grassy hillocks pushed up here and there, and the sun slanted through fast-moving clouds.

  “Come and see.”

  Briana got out, holding the door for Shannon while Nora took a minute to get her camera out of her backpack.

  “Do you recognize it?” Briana asked.

  Nora turned in place. “It looks kind of familiar.” She walked toward the water, looking up and down the beach. “Is this…?”

  She turned to Briana. “Is this where they filmed the horse race?”

  Briana grinned. “Yeah. Lettergesh Beach. I looked it up.”

  Her grin faded as the surprised expression on Nora’s face disappeared and her eyes filled with tears. Flummoxed, Briana stood there watching Nora walk away from her.

  “What the—?”

  Shannon looked at Bri for a second before trotting after Nora.

  Briana’s heart, so light a moment ago, was now in the vicinity of her stomach as she followed. If this was Nora’s reaction to their first stop, this was going to be a hell of a day.

  Miserably, Briana followed and stood beside Nora, her hands in her jacket pockets as they watched the waves for several minutes. Shannon chased some gulls, splashing through the surf.

  “Did I do something wrong?” Briana asked at last.

  Nora shook her head, but still couldn’t look at Briana. She wiped her sleeve across her eyes.

  “This is the nicest…” Nora sniffed. “No one has done anything like this for me. It means a lot.”

  Briana stared at her in bewilderment. She gestured. “So these are good tears?”

  Nora half-laughed. “Yes. These are good tears.” She reached for Briana’s hand. “Thank you.”

  She gave Bri’s hand a squeeze and let go. “Let’s walk.”

  Briana followed her down the beach, wishing she were brave enough to take Nora’s hand again and hold it as they walked.

  Nora stopped, frowning. “Are you limping? Your leg is bothering you, isn’t it?”

  Bri shrugged. “It comes and goes, like the weather in Ireland.”

  “We don’t have to wander.”

  “We came here to wander,” Briana insisted. “And walking is better than sitting.”

  They explored the dunes, climbing one of the taller hills to get a better view. Nora lifted her camera, snapping dozens of photos. Briana studied her as she climbed the tussocks, squatting to take a shot from a low angle with beach grasses in the foreground. There was something different about her now—a grace in the way she moved, unlike the clumsiness she’d exhibited when she first arrived.

  They spent the better part of an hour exploring. Nora insisted on a few photos of Briana and Shannon, framed by the ocean or the dunes.

  Nora sighed, strands of her blonde hair blown about by the stiff breeze coming in off the water. “This was great. Thank
s again.”

  “We’re only getting started,” Briana said. “If you’re ready to move on…”

  Nora’s face lit up. “What’s next?”

  Briana shook her head. “You’ll have to wait and see.”

  They hurried back to the SUV.

  “This feels like a scavenger hunt,” Nora said with a giggle.

  “It kind of is.”

  Briana followed the Connemara Loop signs, stopping a few places so that Nora could take more photos. At Letterfrack, she headed west on N59.

  Nora’s head swiveled as she took in the scenery. When they saw the signs for Clifden, she asked, “Are we going to see Fiona?”

  “Yes and no. We are having lunch with her and Jack at their B & B, but first…”

  She drove into the town center, around the roundabout, and found parking. Nora gaped as they got out.

  “This was… It looks a little like… was this Castletown?”

  “That’s what the guidebook said.”

  Nora’s face lit up, and she snapped several more photos before they got back in the car. “Do you know the way to the B & B?”

  “Fiona gave me directions. Ready?” Briana shifted into drive, checking her mirror for oncoming traffic.

  Nora wriggled into her seat. “Ready.”

  A couple of hours later, Fiona and Jack waved them off. Their B & B was charming—an old farmhouse with five comfortably furnished rooms in the main house, a large stone fireplace in the parlor, which Jack kept stocked with peat in the cooler months, and a rustic dining table big enough to seat twelve comfortably. They’d built an addition off the side of the original house so they could have some private space, but still be close for guests. The farmhouse overlooked Clifden Bay, though heavy clouds had moved in, bringing a steady rain and fog.

  Jack kept them entertained as they ate a wonderful lunch of homemade soup and brown bread, followed by scones with strawberry jam Fiona had put up the summer before. Nora was hit hard with a pang of homesickness, what with Jack cracking up at his own bad jokes the way Pop always did, and Fiona looking so like Mamma.

  She caught Briana watching her closely a few times, and forced herself to snap back to the present. But she couldn’t quite shake a feeling of melancholy as they drove away.