Lost in Ireland

by Cindy Callaghan

  “Wait just a minute,” said Mr. Leary. “I have an idea. Why don’t we ask everyone if they want you and your curse to sleep outside? If that’s what they want, you go. If not, you stay. Okay?” He looked over the chandelier around the table at everyone to see nods and one raised hand from Owen.

  Owen said, “I have a question. Would she go outside before or after dessert?”

  “Does it matter?” Finn asked.

  “Why, yes. I believe it does. What’s for dessert?”

  “Bread pudding.”

  “I daresay it matters quite a lot, then,” Owen said. Gene nodded in agreement.

  Mr. Leary said, “As soon as possible we would set Meghan up outside. Now everyone close your eyes.”

  I might actually be spending the night camping out in the rainy Irish countryside. Or worse, in the very small economy car with my legs all folded up. Or even worse still, lying out flat in the back of a hearse. They were all terrible options. I closed my eyes.

  “Okay, everyone,” Mr. Leary said. “Raise your hand if you’re afraid of Meghan’s curse and would prefer she slept outside.”

  Silence and darkness.

  How bad will it be if I peek? I did it really superfast, and I saw Eryn’s hand up, and others—one, two, three—before my eye closed. The other hands were from the ladies, who obviously wanted to complete their silent retreat without a chandelier crashing on their heads. They wanted me outside all alone!

  “Okay, the majority has spoken,” Mr. Leary said. “You may open your eyes.”

  I waited.

  He said, “Meghan stays, and dessert will be served in the parlor. We’ll take care of the mess later.”

  Gene looked up and mouthed “Thank you” in response to dessert.

  Phew! I really didn’t want to sleep outside. And I really, really couldn’t wait until Wednesday to begin my search, which I suspected was going to take more than a day.

  Owen and Gene helped Shannon to the parlor, and Mom excused herself to put Hope to bed. “Not without dessert,” Mr. Leary said. “You can take a piece with you.”

  Mr. Leary retreated to the kitchen to get the bread pudding and new drinks for everyone.

  On our way to the parlor, Finn said to me, “That was close. For a minute I thought I’d be bringing you a quilt under a willow tree.”

  I didn’t smile. As mean as it was for those women to vote me out of the castle, they were the only ones other than me who were taking this full-scale curse seriously.

  Finn followed me. “We’ll have fun in Ballymore Village.”

  “I’m not sure I’m capable of having fun while I’m cursed. I would be too worried something bad would happen to someone. You shouldn’t be around me.”

  He looked at Piper, who was retelling Owen and Gene the story about the magic show, then at Eryn, whose nose was glued to her phone. “I’m not going to be alone with the two of them in Castle Ballymore for two days.”

  Now, I don’t think Finn realized how big a deal the next thing I said was. You see, I’m all about the rules. I follow them, and all is well. But I was cursed, so the regular rules didn’t apply anymore. “I’m cursed, and I have to do something about it. Before Wednesday.”

  “What are you thinking?”

  “Something that will get me in a heap of trouble,” I said.

  “Running away?”

  I nodded.

  “Not alone, you’re not. You’ll need someone to show you around,” he said.

  Before I could answer, someone behind us cleared her throat. I figured it was Eryn and the plan was a bust, but it was Mrs. Buck. She’d heard what I’d said, and she wanted us to know.

  My heart thumped, and I looked at Finn with worry.

  “Don’t worry,” he said. “She’s cool. If she tells our secret, then I’ll tell hers.” She made an angry face when she heard this, and walked away.

  “What’s her secret?” I asked.

  “C’mon. I’ll show you real quick before dessert.”

  Finn led the way back through the dining room, across the foyer, and into a very cold section of the castle. He stopped at a door that blended into the wall—a door that you could pass by easily—and slid it open, revealing a huge library. He lit a candle that gave just enough light for me to see shelves of books lining the walls.

  “Let me guess. You and Mrs. Buck read together?”

  His smile said it was more exciting than reading. Then, like in a spy movie, he pulled a book off the shelf, and it triggered a hidden door to crack open. Finn pushed it aside and gestured for me to go in.

  “No, you first,” I said.

  I walked really close behind him with one hand on his back, so that I could tell where he was. Because it was so dark, I couldn’t see until he tapped a switch. The room lit up, and I gasped. It was like we’d entered a different world. There were lights hanging from the ceiling over a pool table, a Ping-Pong table, and a foosball table. Arcade games were blinking and dinging along the walls. The machines played their theme songs loudly—an alien game, Ms. Pac-Man, and pinball, the old-fashioned kind like from the Donut Hole.

  “What is this place?”

  “The men who ran the orphanage stashed these donations away. It was like a special secret place for the boys. Since it doesn’t go with the atmosphere of the rest of the castle, we keep ’em hidden away. No one but me comes in here, except when Mrs. Buck visits. She’s a closet gamer—these kinds of games, not the handheld ones. She sneaks down here, and we play all night sometimes.

  “She doesn’t really like the other ladies in her club very much,” Finn continued. “So she came up with the idea of a silent retreat so she wouldn’t have to talk to them. Then she sneaks down here and plays these old games that you can’t find anymore. But she never breaks her vow.”

  “Ha! That is funny!”

  “So, she won’t tell anyone our plan. But she will be very bored without me.”

  Finn turned the lights off, and we returned to the parlor just as Mr. Leary was bringing out the bread pudding.

  We all ate quietly. Slowly the ladies retreated back into their rooms. Mrs. Buck was the last to go, and before she did, she gave Finn and me a long stare.

  Mr. Leary said, “You’ll find gobs of history and lots to do in Ballymore Village. It isn’t more than a stone’s throw away. Finn knows all of the most interesting people there.”

  Piper said, “I love interesting people. And actually, they like me too because I’m interesting. Right, Dad?”

  “Yes, you are, sweetie.”

  I smiled. “Here’s to a great week for everyone.”

  13

  The rest of the night was—how can I explain this?—awful! It was pitch black in my room. Every creak of the castle reminded me of curses and ghosts. The last time I’d woken up to look at the time on my phone, it had read two thirty. Finn and I had agreed that he would let me know when he thought the coast was clear.

  “Are you ready?” I heard in my ear. I jumped. My first thought was that it was a ghost, but it was just Finn.

  I said, “So ready.”

  “See you outside in five minutes.”

  • • •

  The floorboards creaked as I padded down the stairs. I stopped because I thought the sound would wake someone up, then realized the whole place was creaking. The chandelier had been cleaned up (I assumed by Owen and Gene), and the massive table was set with new mismatched china for breakfast. I wondered what my parents would do in a few hours when they sat there and realized I was gone. One thing was certain. I’d be in major trouble. But I didn’t change my mind. This was something I had to do, and if that meant I’d be punished—well, that was the price I was willing to pay.

  I sat by the fire, where a few embers remained, and put on my sneakers. Then I pulled the heavy wooden front door open. Just a speck of sun rose over the horizon.

  I’m really doing this, I thought.

  Finn held the door to the soup can open and waved me in. Mrs. Buck was behind
the wheel.

  “What’s she doing?” I asked him.

  “It’s perfect. She wanted to get out for a while, and now we also have an adult with us, so you can’t get in trouble. She doesn’t talk, so it’ll be like she isn’t even here,” Finn said. “I call that a win-win.”

  I guessed it wasn’t a completely bad idea. She seemed like a nice enough lady—a weird, silent, and caped lady, but nice enough.

  “All right.” I got into the backseat. Finn climbed in next to me.

  “What are we telling our parents?”

  “Mrs. Buck left a note that we’re looking for links on the way to visit her brother for dinner. And she gave them her cell number.”

  I had to admit, it really did sound perfect. Then Finn asked, “So, what’s the plan?”

  “I’m going to call my newly found aunt Colleen and ask her if she knows Clare. I mean, they have the same last name. How else would Clare have gotten my address?” I fiddled with my phone. “The letter was postmarked from Limerick. There are fifteen Colleen Gallaghers there. I’ll start calling them, I guess.” I let out an excited laugh.

  “Wait a sec,” Finn said. “It’s not even seven o’clock in the morning.”

  “Fine. I’ll wait till eight.”

  “Umm, maybe nine.”

  “Eight thirty,” I compromised.

  Mrs. Buck drove down the bending road and passed Ballymore Village, which was as quaint as they’d said it was. If I hadn’t been cursed, it would’ve been a cool place to spend a few days.

  “Do you know how to get to Limerick?” I asked Mrs. Buck.

  She gave me a thumbs-up.

  The arch of the sun showed bright green fields, broken up by low rock walls that acted like fences. Some squared sections of the fields were a deeper, richer green than others. The pattern of oddly shaped squares continued over the low hills and as far as I could see.

  At the sight of the sun, Mrs. Buck pulled goggles over her head and slipped on black leather driving gloves and gigantic headphones. From the nod of her head, it seemed that she liked what she heard.

  We drove through Cork City and saw its colorful four-story row homes. “Why are these houses painted different colors?” I asked.

  “The story goes that it’s for men when they come home after a night at the pubs. The colors help them know which house is theirs.”

  “You’re making that up,” I said.

  “I’m not,” he said. “Apparently, after stumbling into the wrong home several times, someone had the idea to paint theirs a distinguishing color to make it easier to find. I don’t know if it’s true, but that’s what I heard. And it makes sense.”

  As we left the city, we drove by pastures, each a darker and more brilliant green than the last. Sitting in some of the fields were chunks of crumbling stone wall that looked Gothic and ancient.

  “What’s that?” I asked, pointing at the rocky rubble.

  Finn said, “This entire city was once surrounded by a tall stone wall. The people of Cork didn’t venture out, and outsiders weren’t allowed in.”

  “Why?”

  “There were medieval battles for land and power. Vikings came from Scandinavia and would ruthlessly smite entire villages.”

  Smite? Not a Delaware word. Oh, I love Finn’s accent.

  He continued, “People who ventured to marry outside the walls were banished.”

  “Being banished is a little extreme, isn’t it?”

  “I don’t know. They must’ve been very afraid of whatever was going on out there. I’m thinking dragons,” he said. I didn’t think he was serious, but I wasn’t sure.

  Driving in Ireland felt bizarre to me. Mrs. Buck drove on the opposite side of the road. Little cars whizzed by us, fast, like there weren’t any speed limits. If there were, they weren’t really laws. They were more like suggestions.

  Suddenly I remembered Carissa. I hadn’t texted her since the hospital. I typed a very quick text: “The mission has started. All ok.”

  14

  Sometimes, out of nowhere, a random sheep would just walk out into the road. As we kept driving, I figured with my current bad luck it was only a matter of time before we hit a sheep or a shepherd, or a car, or a building, or—

  “What’s wrong?” Finn asked.

  I cracked the window open and took in a breath of fresh air. “I think riding on the wrong side of the road is making me a little carsick,” I said, and put a hand over my stomach.

  “Ever think you’re the ones who drive on the wrong side of the road?” he shot back. “Do you want Mrs. B. to pull over?”

  “No, I’m fine.” But I wasn’t fine; I was panicking a little. I mean, what if something cursed and terrible happened out here on the road? I reached into my pocket and palmed my rabbit’s foot, which wasn’t my favorite good luck charm, because I couldn’t get over the fact that it had been very unlucky for the rabbit.

  I sucked in the cool morning air until exactly eight thirty, when I dialed the first number for Aunt Colleen. It was wrong, but the woman was nice and told me who to call next. She was also the wrong one. I continued calling. Mostly they didn’t answer the phone. Finn kept telling me it was because they were still asleep. I left messages on answering machines.

  “I’ll call them again in an hour.” But we arrived in Limerick before that.

  “The first thing we’re gonna do is get us a burger,” Finn said.

  “It’s early for a burger.”

  “Well, we have to eat something,” he pointed out. “And we can try a local custom for finding someone.”

  “What?”

  “We ask around and see if anyone knows them. It’s low-tech, but it works more often than you would think.”

  “Ha-ha,” I said. I got what he was saying, but I had my doubts.

  Limerick bustled in the mid-morning. Both sides of the cobblestone street were lined with two-story shops and restaurants with wooden tables and chairs set up outside. “Let’s go in here.” He pointed to a busy place called Kelleher’s.

  We sat at a mahogany table that had enough nicks and dents to be an English muffin. I wondered for a sec if the Irish called them English muffins or something else. Mrs. Buck made a funny movement with her thumbs and disappeared to a pinball machine in the corner. She kept on her goggles, headphones, and cape.

  We ordered Cokes. They arrived in tall, slender glasses. The Coke was warm. “Finn?” I asked. “Do you think I could have some ice?”

  He called to the waitress. “Some ice for the American, please.”

  She frowned but brought a glass of ice and asked me a hundred questions. What was my name? Where was I from? Was I related to Liam McGlinchey? Who’d made my scarf? Where were we staying?

  Finn said to her, “We’re looking for Clare Gallagher. Do you know her?”

  To my surprise the waitress nodded. “Sure I do. Which one?”

  15

  “There’s one-armed Clare; she lives on Post Street. And old Clare, who is in the nursing facility around the bend. Clare the baker. Clare the maid; she’s nuts. And young Clare.” She looked at the clock. “Young Clare should be here any minute for the Commencement.”

  “I think we’re probably looking for young Clare,” I said. “Although, I suppose she could have one arm. How old is that one?”

  “About your age, I guess. They should both be here soon.” She put a bowl of nuts on our table, and Finn ordered a sandwich. I got another Coke.

  Finn said, “I guess we’ll meet two of the Clares soon. My money is on young Clare, because how could one-armed Clare write the letter?”

  “She could write it with her one good arm,” I said.

  “Fifty percent chance that she can’t.”

  I sipped my Coke, which was so much better cold. “Finn, you’ve gotta try this.”

  He took the straw out of his glass, put it in mine, and sipped. He winced at first, then tilted his head. “Not too bad.” He put his straw back into his own glass.

  “What
’s the Commencement?” I asked.

  “It’s the official start of the sheep hunt.”

  I was still confused.

  He explained, “Every year right before the Spring Fling one sheep is marked with a big red bow around its neck. He wanders around the countryside. If you find him, and claim the ribbon, you get to be the guest host of the Spring Fling. It’s an honor. The Commencement is when everyone starts looking for the lost sheep. It’s also an excuse to have a street party. We do that a lot.”

  Within the next ten minutes the pub was packed. People of all ages, shapes, and sizes introduced themselves to me. These were really friendly people. I met a lot of girls named Clare—all of them had two arms. None was referred to as “young Clare” and none of them had sent me a letter.

  Soon there was a ruckus out in the street, and before I knew it, Finn was pulling me outside to the cobblestone sidewalk, into the thick of this Commencement.

  Music started, people clapped, and I heard the sound of rhythmic clicking that I knew oh so well. I climbed up onto the base of a streetlight to see six girls Irish dancing—right there on the street. Their legs flew so fast, they were a blur. Their matching curls bounced as they slip-jigged from one side of the street to the other. I’m a really good Irish dancer, but these girls were great. Their ornate sequined dresses sparkled in the sun, making them look almost like magical . . . What are those forest fairies called? . . . Pixies! The dancing went on and on until in one perfect stomp they stopped.

  Everyone cheered.

  One man, an announcer of some kind who had a megaphone, went on to explain the rules for the sheep hunt, which Finn had already covered.

  Then he introduced Kaitlyn, Sophie, Kiera, CiCi, Liadin, and Clare. Wait, could this be “young Clare”?

  I inched my way through the crowd to get to her, and grabbed a sequined shoulder. “Clare?”

  The girl turned around. “No, I’m Sophie. Clare is over there.”