Lost in Ireland Page 3

  “Help’s on the way!” Piper repeated. “Did you hear that? Help’s on the way. Help’s on the way. Help—”

  “We get it, buttmunch,” Eryn said. “If you don’t shut up, we’ll have them take you to a place where you’ll be locked up in a straitjacket.”

  “Moooooom! Did you hear that? See what she does?”

  Mom said, “Eryn, please.” Tears rolled down her cheeks.

  Eryn said, “Just for the week. Or two.” She walked away from the chaos, still holding the baby away from her body, like embracing her might get vomit on her black denim jacket.

  An ambulance arrived. Shannon was put on a stretcher and lifted into the back.

  The baby cried, and Eryn passed her back to Mom.

  “I’ll go to the hospital,” Dad said. “You take the baby straight to Ballymore?”

  Mom asked, “What about our stuff? I only have one small bottle of formula left. We need our bags.”

  “Okay.” Dad thought some more. “I’ll stay here and fill out the reports. You go to the hospital, and Eryn can take Hope to Ballymore.”

  “I don’t think so,” Eryn said, horrified. “I really don’t do babies.”

  “She’s your sister,” Mom snapped. “Make an exception.”

  The ambulance guy was ready to close the back doors. “We’re heading out,” he said.

  Shannon sat up, wincing. “Just send Meghan with me.”

  “Okay,” Dad agreed. “I’ll get things sorted out here.”

  With that, I was popped into the back of the ambulance. We took off with a jolt. It felt like we were on a fast and wild carnival ride. Did I mention we were on the WRONG SIDE OF THE ROAD?

  The stretcher rolled to one side of the small ambulance, bumped the metal wall, and rolled back over to me. It banged into my legs. “Ouch!” I complained as I rubbed them. Shannon shot me a look. After that I held the gurney as still as I could until I saw the County Cork Hospital emergency room sign.

  A team of nurses took Shannon away. I sat and waited, and waited. I felt terrible that I was the reason Shannon was there. I looked at my watch. It was four thirty a.m. at home.

  I texted Carissa about our fiasco.

  She wrote back right away like she was sleeping with her cell phone—which she probably was. Her text said, “That sux. Sit tight. On my way.”

  I chuckled at her funny reply before moping again. I figured we’d be on the next plane back to Delaware, where Shannon could see a surgeon and I’d be cursed for the rest of my life. I’d be banned from all magic shows, and would probably need to change schools.

  Finally a nurse came out to get me.

  I rushed to Shannon’s side. Her leg was in a cast from her foot to just above her knee. “Are you okay?”

  “I’m fine. I can’t walk for a few days until I get a boot, but I’ll be fine.”

  “I’m so sorry. This is all my fault. What am I going to do? Mom and Dad are going to make us all go home now, and I’ll never find the links to that letter, and the rest of my life is going to be awful like this,” I said, pointing at her leg.

  “I believe you,” Shannon said. “I admit I thought you were exaggerating about the socks, the magic show, and the election. But after the luggage, my leg, and . . .”

  “What?” I asked.

  “You should see your hair right now.”

  My hands flew to my head. Total frizz.

  She touched my hand. “You might really be cursed. You should find the links before someone else gets hurt. I called Mom and told her everything was fine. We’re not flying home. Dad is still looking for our luggage, and people at Ballymore are sending someone to pick us up.”

  I glanced at her superbig cast. “Are you really fine?”

  “Just between you and me, I might need a small procedure when we get home. But no one needs to know that this week.”

  “You lied to Mom and Dad?”

  “It’s more like leaving out a tiny detail. It doesn’t count.” Shannon winked. “Go look for our escort.”

  I went back out to the waiting room and looked for a guy who looked like he was looking for us, although I wasn’t sure what that would look like. The person who approached me was tall, lean, blond, and seemed only a year or two older than me, and he was—how should I say this?—supercute!

  “Miss McGlinchey?”

  “Oui—I mean sí—I mean yes. I’m Meghan.” I was suddenly aware that I was still in the clothes I’d worn on the plane. I was tired, had frizzy bed head, and my breath smelled like—what would be a good word for it? I know—YUCK!

  “I’m Finn. Welcome to County Cork, Miss Meghan. I hope you’re finding it likable,” he said with an Irish brogue that was adorable

  “Very much, yes. I like it very much. Very much.” Going to an all-girls school hadn’t prepared me well to interact with boys my age. I watched Carissa talk to boys at the Donut Hole, but I rarely participated. “I mean, except for the luggage thing, and the broken leg. Besides that, things seem likable.”

  A big wind blew a branch of green leaves into the window of the waiting room. It was followed by a huge burst of rain.

  “And the monsoon,” I added.

  “Monsoon? This is a normal day for us. Just wait. As sure as it gets dark, it’ll be sunny in a few hours.”

  A nurse brought Shannon out in a hospital wheelchair. Finn took the chair from the nurse. “That’s some cast,” he said. “Let’s go, shall we?”

  8

  We went to Ballymore in a very tiny car. It was so small, if we’d stood it up on its trunk, it could have been a soup can. I sat in the back with Shannon. We tried to stretch her leg over my lap, but that didn’t work, so we extended it and the ginormous cast over the center console. It hit the dashboard. We might’ve been able to stick it out a window, but it couldn’t get wet. Finn held her heel up so that it wouldn’t bounce off the dash. The soup can driver, an elderly woman who didn’t speak, drove much more slowly than the ambulance, but every turn made me jump because it felt like she was going the wrong way by driving on the wrong side of the narrow street.

  “Hang on. We’ll be at the castle in just a minute,” Finn said.

  “Castle?” I asked.

  “Yeah. Castle Ballymore. That’s where I live.”

  A castle? Dad had left out that little and very important detail. I was going to stay in a castle, like an Irish princess.

  “Are you . . . um . . . I mean, you said you live there, so are you, or were you . . .” How could I ask this?

  “She’s trying to ask you if you’re an orphan,” Shannon finally explained.

  “Oh. No, I’m not. Ballymore isn’t an orphanage anymore, hasn’t been for years. Now it’s a bed-and-breakfast that my father runs. Besides my da, there are two men from the old orphanage who live there and help maintain the castle.”

  We drove down a bumpy road that wound through thick greenery. It had a going-to-the-Bat-Cave feel to it, and for a second I considered that they could be taking us to an actual cave. I might have been able to get away, because I’m a fast runner, but Shannon would have been a goner. Maybe I should’ve asked these people for some ID. With my luck recently, getting kidnapped seemed like the next natural step.

  I checked out Finn’s reflection in the side mirror. He wore a well-worn flannel shirt, the sleeves folded up above his wrists. There was nothing I saw that screamed, Weirdo!

  I relaxed a bit and thought about the shower I couldn’t wait to take at the castle. The bathroom at the castle was probably marble with multiple jets to spray hot water on me. The towels were probably plush and white. Oh, and I really hoped my private room would have a robe, slippers, and a huge canopy bed. I was dying to change into one of my travel outfits from Banana Republic and re-straighten my hair—then I remembered that all my clothes and my beloved flat iron were lost. But surely a castle would have a spare gown I could wear just for tonight, until my stuff arrived.

  The rain lightened up, but the sky remained dreary. Shannon ask
ed from the backseat, “So, Finn, what grade are you in?”

  “I’m thirteen, but I’m not in a grade. I get tutored at the castle by the two live-in helpers. Oh, by the by, my da is fixing you a wonderful dinner tonight. He’s a great cook.”

  “And what do you do for fun?” she asked.

  “Well, my da and me, and the men from Ballymore, we help a lot around town. Like with the poor or the elderly. It can be pretty fun.”

  “That’s so nice of you,” Shannon said admiringly. “Not enough people volunteer anymore.”

  “We do, all the time.”

  I supposed that was good. But not exactly my idea of fun. Carissa probably would have said something that was borderline insulting, but I just didn’t say anything. I had never met a real, live do-gooder before.

  We approached a building that was obviously a castle, but not the Cinderella kind. It was the horror movie kind. All the vines were overgrown and crept up to the roof. Many of the stones in the walls were inched out of their original places, and moss stuck out between them, and the roof sagged in some places. Finn said, “Here she is. Castle Ballymore. Built in 980.”

  Nine hundred and eighty? As in, over a thousand years ago? I figured the stones had every right to inch out after holding up walls for more than a thousand years.

  I said, “That was hundreds of years before Columbus even sailed the ocean blue and discovered America.” The thought gave me goose bumps.

  Standing to the side was a sign that read, CASTLE BALLYMORE. There was a sign next to it that had once said, HOME FOR BOYS, but some of those letters were gone.

  The driver parked the car and took off very quickly into the barn. I called out a “Thank you,” but I don’t think she heard.

  Finn and I realized pretty quickly that we weren’t going to be able to get Shannon into the castle without a wheelchair, which we didn’t have.

  Finn put two fingers together, put them into his mouth, and let out a screeching whistle into the rain. Two big men in sandals and overalls came out. Both held a biscuit in each hand.

  “Hello!” they called. First one, then the other, enveloped me in a bear hug. They smelled like a combo of burlap and cinnamon sugar. With little talk they lifted Shannon, while still holding their biscuits, and brought her inside.

  Finn closed the car doors. “That was Gene and Owen. They’re my tutors. If you didn’t notice the resemblance, they’re brothers.”

  “Twins?” I asked.

  “Actually, yes,” Finn said.

  “They do look a lot alike,” I said.

  “They act a lot alike too.”

  He gave me an After you gesture, and I proceeded toward the grand tall double doors, the wood patterned with knots. The doors were very heavy and creaked when I pushed them open.

  If you imagine a castle as bright and sparkly with glass slippers, singing mice, and servants with white gloves, this was the opposite.

  Gene and Owen had sat Shannon in a droopy armchair in front of a fireplace. A fire was already roaring, making the room cozy. They propped her foot up on a stool and rested a knitted blanket on her lap. In a moment she had a scone in her hand.

  “Your luggage?” Owen asked.

  Gene quickly explained that he’d already spoken to Dad, that the luggage was lost and the airport would call when they found it. “Can you take a peek in the community closet?” he asked Owen. To me he said, “We have lots of good stuff in there. Donations mostly. We share them with the needy, and I guess you’re needy.”

  Owen retreated.

  Donations? I didn’t love the sound of that compared to a ball gown or my new jeggings. But I had nothing else, and I was touched by their willingness to share with a complete stranger.

  A gray-haired man in jeans and an old T-shirt covered by an apron came out. He looked at me, and his eyes filled with tears. “Oh, my dear goodness,” he said with a heavier accent than Finn had. “You look just like your da.” He put his hands on my cheeks, and it was obvious that he’d been cutting onions.

  “This is my father,” Finn explained.

  “I’m Den Leary. Call me Den or Leary, I don’t care much. I’m just so happy that you’re here.” He removed his hands and sniffed back his emotions. “We’re goin’ to have a delicious feast tonight,” he said. “Your da and I were boys here together. He left for America, and I stayed.” When he said “I,” it came out like “oy.”

  Den (or Leary) explained, “Your mum and Hope are napping, and Da is on his way here from the airport. He hasn’t found your luggage, I’m sorry to say. The sister who talks a lot—”

  “Piper,” I offered.

  “She is in the kitchen preparing a snack,” he said. “The other sister. The one with the thick head on ’er—”

  “Huh? Head?” I didn’t understand.

  “The one that’s in a bad mood . . .”

  “Eryn.”

  “I think she’s gone for a walk in the rain.” He added, “I thought that was strange.”

  “She does that,” Shannon explained. “She isn’t good at regular human interaction. Don’t take it personally.”

  “I see,” Mr. Leary said. “For you McGlinchey girls, you can have anything you want. Just ask. It’s no bother.”

  Shannon and I thanked him before he returned to the kitchen.

  Then Owen came back with baskets of stuff for Shannon and me.

  “I’ll show you to your room,” Finn said. “You can take a nap before an early dinner?” He said it like a question, with his Irish accent.

  Rest sounded good. It had been a long day. Between the long flight and the traumatic, unexpected detour, I was exhausted.

  “Meghan?” Finn asked me. I hadn’t realized that I hadn’t answered him.

  “Yes.” I snapped out of it. “A nap is exactly what I need.” I looked at Shannon, who now had a mug of something hot in her hand. She didn’t look tired at all.

  Owen stoked the fire. “She can’t go to her room without a snack,” he said. “We don’t nap on an empty stomach around here.”

  “I think I’m too tired to eat,” I said. “Besides, I don’t want to spoil my appetite for that feast.”

  “Oh-ho.” Gene laughed. “That’s right. Our dinners are wonderful. We eat well round here.” He patted his belly. “In case you can’t tell.”

  The flames lit up Shannon’s face.

  Owen and Gene each sat at her side, and the three of them talked and laughed like they’d known each other forever.

  9

  I followed Finn up a dark spiral staircase. About every third step had a pot or pan catching raindrops that seeped through the ceiling. The stained-glass windows lining the walls were streaked with rain.

  This place was run-down for a bed-and-breakfast that people would pay to stay at. I wondered if they had other customers staying here this week. It was so quiet, I assumed they didn’t.

  Finn asked, “What are your plans while you’re here?”

  I didn’t think it was a good idea to tell him his guest was cursed.

  “We’re going to meet with my dad’s long-lost sister. At the Spring Fling.”

  “That’ll be fun.”

  The hallway was very dark. Finn took a lighter out of his pocket and lit candle sconces on the wall as we approached a door. He pushed it open. It was black inside. Finn went ahead of me and pulled heavy drapes to the sides, letting in the only smidgen of light outside that wasn’t blanketed by clouds. Then he lifted a big glass globe and lit an oil lamp. The whole thing felt très romantic.

  The amber light of the lamp captured Finn’s face like a close-up in a vampire movie, except his cheeks were rosy, not pale. He was actually cuter than I’d originally thought. Maybe he was cuter than the guys in my town, or maybe the fact that he was a mysterious foreigner in a candlelit castle made him more appealing.

  “Meghan?” he asked. “What’s wrong? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”

  He’d caught me staring. Ugh!

  He added, “Whi
ch is possible, because most of these old castles are haunted, and Castle Ballymore is no exception.”

  “Ghosts? No, I didn’t see any ghosts. I’m just very tired, jet lag. But thanks for the tip. I’m sure the haunting info will help me sleep tonight.” I put the basket of donated clothes down on the thin rag carpet. “I was just wondering if you had electricity. It’s fine if you don’t. I was just wondering.”

  “Nope. We don’t have indoor plumbin’, either. If you want to get an umbrella, I’ll show you the outside toilet, or I can just bring you a bowl for . . . you know.”

  What!

  I must’ve had a horrified expression on my face—an expression that I hoped wasn’t rude—but I couldn’t find a single word to respond.

  After an awkward pause Finn said, “I’m kidding. But you should see your face.” He laughed. Then he pointed to an outlet. “We have electricity. We try to keep our bills down because business hasn’t exactly been booming.”

  “You don’t say.” Who would want to stay in this place? A castle sounded glamorous, but after a thousand years—blah!

  “It seems everyone wants to stay in fancy hotels. But we do have a group of women staying with us now. You’ll meet them at dinner. I’m sure the conversation will be very interesting.”

  “Why? What do they talk about?”

  Finn smiled. “You’ll see.”

  I looked around the room for the bathroom. “And the . . . toilet?”

  “Down the hall and to the right. We have hot and cold water and we try to conserve. There’s a tank in the shower. All you have to do is pull the string for the water. Help yourself,” he said. “Oh, I know you said you weren’t hungry, but I brought this in case you changed your mind.” He set a banana on the nightstand, then moved toward the door. “If I can’t get you anythin’ else, Meghan McGlinchey, I’ll see you at five o’clock for dinner?” Finn began to close the door, but he stopped before it shut the whole way. “Meghan,” he said. “It’s nice to have you, and your family, here.”

  He started to close the door again, when I said, “Finn.” He stopped.

  “What?”