by Lisa Cardiff
His lips curved into a faintly dangerous smile, and Avery felt his magnetic pull. Come here, she heard drifting through her mind. Transfixed, she stepped into the street, wanting to talk to him, to touch him. Suddenly embarrassed, she broke eye contact and turned toward the Foundation door. As swiftly as the connection with him had materialized, it disappeared, leaving her feeling alone with a twinge of intense longing.
Blindsided by the encounter, she blinked incredulously. Stealing a glance in his direction again, she discovered he had disappeared as though he had been a ghostly apparition. For precious seconds, it seemed as if she were connected to that man, body and soul, and she couldn’t resist his pull. She knew his every thought, his initial shock at their connection, and then his interest in her. Panicked and unable to make sense of the situation, she cursed under her breath and slammed her hand on the Foundation’s intercom again. Avery kept her eyes focused on the intercom, shoving her hands in her pockets while her heart pound wildly in her chest.
Just as she contemplated fleeing down the street, the woman’s voice echoed through the intercom. “Sorry to keep you waiting, Miss Conner, but I had to wait until Mr. Flannigan finished his phone call to get his clearance to open the door. He’s free to see you now. I’ll buzz you up.”
Frustrated, Avery jerked the door open at the sound of the buzzer, letting it hit the wall behind her with a loud bang. Once inside, a fifty-something-year-old woman greeted her with a warm smile. Her graying hair was styled in a classic bob that brushed the top of her shoulders. The woman dressed from head to toe in black, like she was instructed to blend into the interior design of the office. She had kindly eyes exuding warmth, but Avery still felt edgy about her encounter with the stranger on the street, so she didn’t feel particularly charitable toward the woman.
“Good afternoon, Miss Conner,” she said in a gentle voice. “I’m Mary O’Reilly, Mr. Flannigan’s personal assistant.”
“Nice to meet you,” Avery responded, trying to moderate her caustic mood.
“Can I get you anything while you wait? Coffee? Tea? Water?”
Avery shivered. “Tea, please,” she said, thinking the tea would eliminate the icy chill that had settled into her veins.
Ms. O’Reilly left Avery standing alone in the lobby while she went to prepare the tea. Avery surveyed the stark modern interior that mocked the timeworn exterior of the building. Dark gray slate floors contrasted with the bright white walls dotted with black and white photos of Ireland. Four minimalist black leather chairs surrounded a circular glass tabletop floating on a graying piece of driftwood.
Ms. O’Reilly returned and handed Avery her tea. “Sorry I made you wait on the street for so long. Mr. Flannigan is pleased you stopped by. He wasn’t expecting you so soon.”
Avery shrugged, dismissing the personal assistant’s comment. She concentrated on using the cup to warm her hands. “Is he available right now? I have another commitment, so I can’t wait any longer. If this isn’t a good time, I can come back tomorrow or sometime when it’s more convenient.”
“He’s available. Please follow me.” The assistant walked down a narrow hallway to the back of the building, her heels tapping rhythmically against the floor. Stopping at a pair of shaker style doors, she pushed open the right hand door and motioned for Avery to enter.
Mr. Flannigan’s office offered no more warmth than the lobby. She found the choice of modern décor perplexing given the Foundation’s focus on history. However, she did notice two intriguing iron artifacts hanging on the wall behind Mr. Flannigan’s desk.
The man standing behind the desk in the office was medium height, older, and dressed better than the average Irishman. His thick shoulders were probably muscular in his younger years but seemed to be losing the battle to fat as he aged. Nevertheless, he gave the impression of power and influence. He had a harsh jaw line framed by black hair streaked gray by his temples. She disliked him on sight, but in an attempt to mask her impression of him, Avery smiled brightly and put out her hand. “Mr. Flannigan.”
He nodded, shaking her hand firmly. Avery wanted nothing more than to wipe her hand on her leg and run out of the building, but she resisted the urge and held her forced smile to the point of pain.
“And you must be Avery Conner. Please, call me Thomas. I just found out you were coming a few days ago from Peter. If I had known about your visit earlier, I would have arranged a tour of some private collections with some unique manuscripts. Do you think you’ll have some free time? Perhaps, I can still put something together.”
While she would love to get her hands or eyes on some of those manuscripts, it was not at the top of her list of priorities right now. Given all the unsettling vibes from some of the people in Galway, she just wanted to visit with Dierdre and get on the next plane back to New York where she could put this all behind her. She seriously considered shipping all of Dierdre’s personal effects home so she wouldn’t have to spend one more minute here than absolutely necessary.
“I’m not sure I’ll have much free time. Peter may not have told you, but I’m here to visit my mother who is very ill.”
“Right, Peter mentioned that your mom was dying, and that you’d be in town to wrap up some loose ends. May I say, I’m sorry to hear such grave news has brought you to Ireland.”
“I don’t think I’ll stay in town long. I have some pressing research projects at home.”
“There is no need to rush. You’re free to use the empty office here while you’re in town. In fact, Peter sent me an electronic copy of the transcript you’re currently translating, and we received some new manuscripts last week. We could use your help with those.”
“I’m sure you have someone to do that in this office,” she said, prevaricating to the possibility of work. “I don’t want to step on anyone else’s toes.”
Mr. Flannigan sighed. “We lost our translator a couple weeks ago, and we haven’t filled the position, so your help would be greatly appreciated and favorably looked upon by the Board. But of course, only if your schedule would allow for it.”
“In all honesty, I am anxious to get back to New York. I don’t like to be away from home for long.”
Mr. Flannigan paused to study Avery. “I guess I was misled as to your intentions. Peter inferred you had several boxes of your mother’s personal effects to sort, and he seemed to think you would be here for three weeks, at a minimum.”
Indignant and suspicious that Peter discussed her personal life with Mr. Flannigan, she steeled herself to continue the polite tone of the conversation. “Yes, that was my original intention, but I’m not sure that’s necessary now. I can ship everything back to the States and sort through it when I have time.”
“Excuse me for interfering, but that seems like an unnecessary expense when you can work here. I think it would be a good arrangement for this office and the New York office. You could invest a few hours here every day, helping us while working on your current translation. That way, you’ll be able to enjoy a nice vacation in Ireland without getting behind.”
“I guess I’m a little confused. I had the impression I was just making a courtesy call at the Galway office. Does Peter know about this?” When Peter mentioned working for the Galway office, she liked the idea, thinking it would offer an escape from Dierdre and her Aunt. Now that she had spent some time in Ireland, she was not in the mood to extend her visit.
Mr. Flannigan hesitated as though he were not accustomed to argumentative employees. “Of course, this all has been approved by the Board. I presented it to them yesterday, and they agreed to the idea of you working for both offices while you’re in town. You’re free to call Peter to sort through the details if you like before we make the final arrangements. Naturally, you will be compensated 200 Euros a day, in addition to your regular salary, for your work here.”
At the mention of the Board, Avery tensed, feeling coerced into staying in Galway. “That’s generous. It certainly gives me a lot to thi
nk about.” Avery hesitated before continuing. “Still, I’m not sure it will work. I didn’t pack for a long trip and I don’t think 200 Euros a day will cover the costs. Not to mention, I haven’t seen my mother, and until that happens, I truly can’t commit to anything. I’m heading to my aunt’s house after I leave here, so I should be able to give you a better answer within the next few days.”
“I can propose some room and board reimbursement to the Board, if necessary.” His dark eyes became unreadable, and he leaned back in the chair behind his desk. “Don’t misread me, I understand your dilemma, but you will be putting the Foundation in a difficult position if you can’t make this work. I know this is last minute, but if you value your future at the Foundation, you will make this happen.”
“I hope you understand my first priority is taking care of my personal family commitment.”
“Certainly. I think we both understand the situation.”
“No, I don’t understand the situation. I’m confused why I’m being pushed to work for this office during my vacation.”
“We need the help.” Flannigan shrugged unconvincingly. “Contact me when you have made a decision either way.”
Angry, Avery struggled to keep her voice neutral so she could get out the door before she said something she might regret later. “Thanks for meeting with me on such short notice. I’ll be in touch after I’ve talked to Peter.”
As she stepped onto the sidewalk in front of the Foundation, Avery cautiously surveyed the street, hoping that the man she had seen while she had stood on the doorstep before her meeting hadn’t returned. She didn’t want to be caught off-guard again. She’d spent the majority of her life avoiding any intimacy with other people. It was easier that way. She never made anyone nervous with her oddities, and more importantly, she wouldn’t feel the sting of rejection again. Sure, Grace had been her friend since college, but like all of Grace’s relationships, her friendship with Avery stayed mostly on a superficial level. Grace never pried or pushed Avery to open up to her. As pathetic as it sounded, that was one of the things she loved about Grace.
Avery walked to the end of the block where she quickly hailed a taxi so she could make it to her aunt’s house by three in the afternoon. Fifteen minutes later, the taxi turned onto a quiet lane enclosed on both sides by an old stonewall. By the time they reached her aunt’s home, the sky had clouded over, and a halo of mist hovered over the house. Avery looked up to the sky and noted that she probably beat a very large rainstorm by a matter of minutes.
Her aunt lived in a traditional white cottage with a thatched roof and a vaulted gray stone addition. Waxy green leaves snaked up its chimney, and thick hedges lined the driveway. When she exited the taxi and walked to the front porch, her Auntie Catherine threw open the front door, a wide smile on her face.
“Excellent timing, Avery. Your mother just woke up.”
“I thought I was running late.” She timidly embraced her aunt, not feeling comfortable showing affection given their tenuous and sometime confrontational relationship. Despite her aunt’s warm welcome, she felt apprehensive about being at her house and seeing Dierdre again. “It’s great to see you again. It’s been a long time.” She released her aunt, following her into the quaint cottage.
“Are you hungry or thirsty?” Her aunt inquired.
“Not right now. Thank you, though.” Avery hated her Aunt’s transparent attempts to act as if Avery being there were completely normal.
“I know you were upset with our conversation last night. I didn’t mean to put you on the defensive. I simply wanted you to be sensitive to Dierdre’s condition. She’s taking a lot of pain medication, so she says things that don’t make much sense. I don’t think confronting her with a long list of grievances will help either of you at this point. Please open your heart and listen to what she has to say and then let it go. It’s the only way to heal both of your emotional scars.”
“You’re probably right. Initially, I wanted answers to the questions I’ve had since she left, but it doesn’t matter anymore. At this point, I just want to make peace with her, and let it all go.”
“I agree with you. There’s no sense in adding to the pain.”
Catherine directed Avery to a small bedroom at the back of the cottage. The room had one dainty chair pushed into the corner, an aged light green dresser, and a brass headboard. Plants lined the small window draped with yellowed lace. As she passed the dresser, Avery stopped to examine some framed pictures of her and Dierdre taken before Dierdre left to live in Ireland. She never imagined that Dierdre was sentimental, but then again, she didn’t know much about her mother.
Dierdre lay on her side in bed with her back to the door. She looked older and thinner than Avery remembered. Brushing by Avery, Catherine leaned over the side of the bed and pushed a few pillows behind Dierdre’s back to prop her up. Dierdre’s formerly silky chestnut hair lay in thick clumps around her shoulders, and it was now streaked with gray. She had always been thin in a regal way. Now with her illness, her weight no longer looked elegant and glamorous; it made her look fragile, her face sunken. Her faded nightgown hung off her shoulders as if it had been washed thousands of times.
“Catherine said you were coming today, but I refused to believe it until I saw you with my own eyes,” Dierdre said with a faint smile. Dierdre’s cloudy eyes wandered over her daughter’s body, from top to bottom, as though she were inspecting an inanimate object.
“Hello, Dierdre,” Avery said. She couldn’t think of anything else to say.
“Mom,” Dierdre corrected. “I know you like to pretend like it’s not true, but I am your mom.”
Catherine gestured to the chair in the room and said, “Please sit and visit with your mom. I’m going to let you two chat while I make dinner. I’m making roast beef, roasted potatoes, and vegetables. I’d love for you to stay for dinner.”
“I’d like that. It’s not much fun eating every meal alone.” Catherine nodded and left the room, closing the door softly behind her.
“Look at you,” her mother said, breaking the awkward silence. “You look just like your father.”
“I wouldn’t know,” Avery replied, her voice flat.
Dierdre smiled humorlessly. “I guess I deserved that.” She looked away for a moment, then turned back to face Avery. “It probably would have been easier on both of us if your father had been part of your life, but I tried to make the best decision for both of us at the time. I felt like your father used me and I was desperately in love with him at the time. As pathetic as it sounds, you were the only weapon I had to use against him.”
“You’re right. That does sound pathetic, but you were never one to put your daughter above your own needs,” Avery responded sarcastically.
Dierdre exhaled loudly. “That wasn’t the only issue, but I think it led me to make the decision to hide you from him.”
“You always speak so cryptically about him. Why don’t you say what you mean for once?” Avery could barely contain her growing frustration. She desperately wanted Dierdre to offer any concrete information about her father, but Avery sensed that Dierdre intended to dance around the facts again. She always felt as if she were drowning in a sea of deceptions around Dierdre. It was part of the reason she didn’t want to go to Ireland.
“It is not an easy explanation. I don’t think I fully understand everything. It doesn’t make any sense. To start, I should explain I thought I was protecting you from him and his life. I’m not entirely selfish. I was so young and incredibly naïve, but I did think about you.” Dierdre dabbed her eyes with a tissue crumbled in her hand, wiping away the tears that formed in the corners.
Avery nodded, encouraging Dierdre to continue.
“I don’t know where to start. It’s such a fanciful explanation…” Her voice trailed off, her eyes shadowed, and it seemed as though she wouldn’t speak again.
“Just tell me what you can,” Avery prompted.
“I don’t even know wha
t the truth is anymore. Your father claimed to be of the old race, whatever that meant. He told me you were special, powerful, destined for things the mortal world could not imagine. He wanted me to leave you with him because he said I could never protect you from things I didn’t understand and couldn’t see. When he told me these things, I doubted his mental stability. I was confused and angry. I wanted to hurt him when I realized he didn’t want me, only you. I was just a means to an end. So, I left, and I took you with me.”
“But you came back.”
“Yes, when it became apparent you were different, I came here to find your father and get some answers. I never found him, or he never let me see him. I knew I needed you to find him, but your so-called grandmother wouldn’t permit me to bring you with me.” Dierdre paused momentarily and then she asked, “Has he found you yet? I don’t think it will take him long. I’m sure he knows you’re in Galway.”
Ignoring the comment about her grandmother for the moment, Avery concentrated on the other revelation. There was always an undercurrent of anger between her grandmother and Dierdre, and she didn’t want to discuss that right now. “Found me? Did you tell him that I was coming?”
Ignoring Avery’s questions, Dierdre continued with her train of thought. “For all I know, he probably knows I have been looking for him and he refused to talk to me out of spite. I don’t know why I thought he would come to me again. I told him you were dead, and I was of no further use to him.”
“You what?” Avery whispered harshly, pain and betrayal ripping through her.
Dierdre’s eyes became distant. “Your Auntie Catherine and I staged an accident with the help of a friend. For all intents and purposes, you were dead. We changed your name, and I took you to the States. We moved frequently, so he could never track us. I don’t know if he ever looked for you, but I sensed he wouldn’t give up on you easily. By the time you were ten, I realized I should have listened to your father. You were different just like your father said you would be.” Dierdre shifted in her bed and grimaced in pain. “You know the rest.”
