Page 11 of The Scald Crow
My mood lifted, and relief buoyed my spirits. My new guest, Calla Sweet, seemed unassuming and easy to talk to. She had an aura surrounding her—a dark energy. I wondered if she would be friends with someone like me.
What were the chances an O’Donnell would rescue her? And Colm O’Donnell, at that. His stony face glared at me at his brother’s wake. Seven long years ago, the love of my life, Ciarán O’Donnell, of the O’Donnell clan, disappeared without a trace. They said time would heal the pain. But for me, time stood still. The day Ciarán disappeared, Saoirse Dunne died.
“Be on with you, Saoirse. You need some secrets of your own.” I talked to myself, freely engaging with the earthly spirits. I noticed one lonely beer keg standing outside the pub’s back door. “Who put this here?” I huffed with displeasure, shoving the keg to one side, the metal rim scraping the paver stones, screeching in my ears. “Where are you, Ciarán?” Saying his name brought a brief respite to the pain. The Otherworld. Summerland. How often did I argue one side over the other? I dwelled on his absence every day. Sometimes, when I looked in the mirror, he stared back, and his sweet tenor voice rang out, “Saoirse, I’m here.” I closed my hands over my ears, shutting out the voices.
The door slammed, leaving me disoriented. Dust motes lingered in the half-light, leading me through the storage room and into the main hall. The lover’s alcove, a stone archway nestled into the side wall where lovers held hands and promised the night away. Envy filled my being every damn time.
The dust motes gathered shape, the apparition taking a ghostly form. When its cold hand touched mine, darkness choked the light, and the floor rose to greet me. I threw myself into the alcove, gripping the bench seat with whitened knuckles. “Breathe. Breathe. You’ve seen this before.” I lit the stubby candle from last night’s lover’s rendezvous. Closing my eyes, I visualized my connection to the soil beneath the stones. I slowed each breath, and one by one, my thoughts cleared.
I smoothed my palms over the oak table, whispering silent words. “Within me, strength abides. Guide me through life’s changing tides.” I focused on the reservoir of strength hiding from me. I left that place and found another. My quiet place. My happy place. I stared at the glassy water at a cloud-covered mountain, where one solitary sunbeam peeked through thick clouds. The light enveloped me in a protective aura of inner strength, sending me a message. “I am enough. I am enough.” I resided in the quiet moment, stating my intention clearly. My heartbeat slowed, and warmth radiated from within. I thanked the goddess for sharing her strength and assisting me once again.
“Is that you, Saoirse?” Orlaith’s voice startled me, taking me away from Ciarán.
Dear Goddess, he’s all I thought of.
Because you wouldn’t let him go. Face the facts, girl. He’s gone. He’s dead. Dead. Dead. Dead. I pictured all the horrible ways Ciarán could have died. Left to rot in the boglands? Thrown from a cliff into the sea?
No. No. No. Not dead. Not dead. He ran from the promises he made. You pushed him too hard. He didn’t love you. No one loves you. You’re a stupid, stupid girl, and now you’re alone.
My mind crowded with unwanted thoughts.
“Saoirse? Did you remember the potatoes?” Orlaith stirred the stockpot with a long wooden spoon, and the aroma of her world-famous chowder wafted through the kitchen.
“There’s some right there, Orla. In the cupboard.” I opened the lower pantry, heaving the bag from underneath. “Do you want me to peel?”
“Dear gods, luv. Did you see a ghost? You’re fair pale, dearie.” She beamed over the steaming pot.
“I did, Orlaith. You know this place is haunted.” I pinned my lips together, attempting to hide my smile.
“ ’Twas it the wee girl? I swear she’s an odd one, the poor thing.” She tsked.
“No, not this time. It was a man. Hunched over with bugged-out eyes.” I chuckled despite myself.
“Be off with you now. Is the new guest settled in?” She dabbed her eyes with her apron.
“I think so. The poor thing crashed into the bog. The car’s banjaxed. Ach, I hope the cistern doesn’t act up again. I promised her lots of hot water.” I reached for the water jug, filled a tall glass, and handed it to Orla.
“The bog? Oh my. How did she get here, then?” She looked up, her face flushed pink.
“Colm O’Donnell drove her into town.” I bent over the sink, skinning the potatoes and tossing each one into a large stockpot filled with cold water.
“Did he? Now, there’s a man who would look good on ye. That he would.” She pursed her lips.
“Orlaith, please. Don’t start.” I gathered the peelings and threw them into the composting bin.
“He’s returned home to find a proper wife. It’s plain to see.” She clucked her tongue.
“Oh dear, I forgot to show her where the laundry machines are.” I gazed at the dishes piled high in the sink.
“Is this the jumper ye made?” She picked at the sleeve of my sweater. “Ye have a talent for everything, luv. Look at the time. Those lads should be arriving any minute now.”
“What, lads?” I squared my shoulders.
“Wee Jimmy’s bringing Niall to see the place. A wonderful fiddle player, Niall, is. Be off with you, and I’ll tidy up. Where are the potatoes, dearie? Ach, now, would you look right there? All peeled and ready to boil.” She lifted the heavy pot, placing it on the hob.
“What are we serving tonight, Orlaith? Should I drop by the market?” I surveyed the scene. Orlaith, my chief cook, came to me from a competing hotelier. They gave her the boot because her memory failed once too many times. For me, she was a forgetful godsend and the best cook in the parish. When funds allowed, I would hire another person to help make life easier. But until then, my alarm clock rang every morning at five a.m. My scarred fingers were evidence enough of my lack of skill with a kitchen knife.
“I’ll get out of your way, Orlaith.” I walked into the storeroom, closing the wooden door behind me. Why did I feel like crying? I was one of the lucky ones. How many women owned their establishments? Okay, Da helped me—for the bank. But every penny I’d saved went into refurbishing this old building and returning its former glamor.
