The Witching Hour: 11 Enchanting Novels Featuring Witches, Wizards, Vampires, Shifters, Ghosts, Fae, and More!, page 133
“Your mam was the same,” he said. “She liked those places.”
“Oh?”
We stood in silence for a moment, neither of us knowing what to say. I was never good at small talk, which was probably why I’d always had small friendship groups. All my friends had been Alex’s first, so when we broke up the other day, I assumed I would never hear from them again. They knew him longer, so that’s how it usually went.
“You and Aileen,” I began.
Boone sprang to life. “Ah, I was homeless, you see, and she offered to help me get back on me feet.”
“Really?” I tilted my head to the side.
“Aye, she offered me a room in her home, and Derrydun offered me as much work as I was able to accept.”
“Okay.”
“When she passed… I moved to a little place of me own a mile down from the village center,” he went on. “It’s a little rough around the edges, but it’s comin’ along. I like it.”
Yeah, I reckon I was right taking back my earlier assumption of him. He seemed genuine, and I felt bad for giving him a taste of my trademark sass.
“It feels so long ago,” I muttered, sitting on the fence.
“What does?”
“The day I found out… It was only last Monday. That means…” I sighed. No wonder my inner bitch was raging. “A month ago, I lost my job. Then my boyfriend dumped me last Sunday night, and Robert turned up on Monday telling me about Aileen. Two days after that, I was on a plane to the other side of the world, and then yesterday, Saturday, I buried the mother I never got to know. For the first time, I’m completely alone. That’s my life in a nutshell.” I glanced at Boone nervously. “I’m sorry, I’ve been mean to you this whole time.”
“Don’t mention it,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I figured it would be a lot for you to take in. No offense taken.”
“Nothing seems to faze you, does it?”
“There’s always worry in life, that’s how it works, but you cannae let it stop you from bein’ happy.” He sat beside me and cast his gaze over the field. “Your boyfriend is a fool if you ask me. Lettin’ a pretty thing like you go?” He shook his head. “Cic maith sa tóin atá de dlíth air.”
I narrowed my eyes, trying to ignore the part where he said I was pretty. “What does that mean?”
“It’s Irish for he needs a good kick up the ass.”
I laughed, slapping my hand over my mouth. “In Australia, we would say he needs a good kick up the clacker.”
His smile widened, and he shoved his hand through his wild hair. It was a full-on modelesque pose, and my insides began to quiver. His T-shirt didn’t leave much to the imagination, which didn’t help, either. Realizing I was staring and developing a crush on the poor guy, I turned my attention to the sheep in the field. They were white with black faces and feet, and every single one had a line of brightly colored paint on their backsides. I wondered what it was for.
“Why are the sheep painted all different colors?” I asked.
“Ah, it’s so everyone can tell which one is theirs,” Boone replied. “They put them all into the same field, which is our way of sayin’ we were too lazy to put up a fence.”
I smiled, counting four different colors. There wasn’t much artistic value in their markings, just a line of paint haphazardly slapped on each rump. Blue, red, green, and orange.
“Then there’s Albert,” Boone went on as a ram came into view. Well, I was fairly sure it was a ram since it had horns on its head. “He’s a special sort around here.”
I snorted as Albert’s back end came into view. His backside had been painted in black and white stripes.
“Sligeach,” Boone declared in Irish. “County Sligo Football Club.”
“You painted a sheep’s ass in football colors?” I asked, my mouth dropping open.
“Nay, I didn’t,” he said, trying to hold in his laughter. “Roy did.”
I shook my head, knowing the more I was going to see of Derrydun, the stranger it would become.
“Do you like it here?” I asked, the question coming out of the blue.
Boone shrugged. “It’s as good a place as any. People have accepted me here, I enjoy me work, and I suppose I’ve helped in me own way.”
“Helped?”
“Small places like this, they thrive on community,” he explained.
“I see.” I stared down at the village, wondering what it would feel like to be part of something bigger than myself. I’d floated for so long I wasn’t sure what it would look like.
“Whatever you choose, Skye, you’ll always be welcome here.”
My gaze snapped up and met his, surprised at the accuracy of his declaration. It was like he could read my mind or my emotions or whatever. Either that or I was transparent as hell. My heart was stapled to my sleeve, or whatever the saying was.
“That seems rather farfetched,” I said, making a face. “You’ve known me for five minutes. Are you sure you want to invite me into the clubhouse?”
Boone laughed, his roguish smile making my heart flutter.
“Of course,” he said. “McKinney blood runs in your veins. You’ll always be a part of Derrydun, no matter where you are.”
As we sat there on the fence overlooking the village, I couldn’t help the feeling of hope that tugged at my heartstrings. It would be nice to belong somewhere even if it was only for a moment.
6
That night, the tabby cat came back, and by the time I’d woken the next morning, he’d disappeared again.
This went on for a few more days, and each time, I would search the house to find the spot where the little Houdini had wriggled out of but never found a crack big enough for a cat to shimmy through.
As for the cottage, I slept in the main bedroom, but I never ventured further, let alone opened the silver box on the nightstand again. I needed to make a choice, and knowing Aileen wouldn’t make it any easier, so I decided not to know her at all. It would be easier that way.
I spent another few days in Derrydun, sitting in Irish Moon with Mairead and getting to know the lay of the land before I made my decision. The longer I stayed, the further away I floated from the life I knew. The familiar was blurring, and nothing felt like home anymore.
I thought about Boone and his scruffy handsomeness and Yodaesque philosophy on life. I thought about Mairead and Maggie, the two unlikely friends I’d made since being here. Then I thought about Robert O’Keeffe, the lawyer, and his dry sense of humor. He seemed to have disappeared after the funeral, and I wondered where he’d scurried off to. He probably had another orphan to deliver an inheritance to.
I thought about everything that had happened since I’d arrived, and it wasn’t enough.
I woke up on the morning of my seventh day in Derrydun and decided I was going to sell.
When I arrived at Irish Moon, Mairead was waiting for me outside like she did every morning. Rattling the keys, I picked the right one and shoved it into the lock. Twisting, I heard the mechanism click, and I shoved inward, but the door didn’t budge. Trying again, I swore under my breath. I didn’t need this today.
“Stupid door,” I cursed, kicking the doorjamb.
“That’s never happened before,” Mairead said, looking just as puzzled as I felt. “Let me try.”
Taking the keys from me, she rattled them in the lock and pushed inward, but the door was stuck fast.
“Don’t push too hard, or the glass will break,” I said, watching over her.
“I know. I’m tryin’.”
Elbowing her out of the way, I grabbed the door handle, turned the key, and shook. “Open,” I commanded. “I said open!”
Abruptly, the door swung inward and crashed against the wall with a bang. Luckily, the glass didn’t break, but Mairead and I stood there for a full minute with our mouths hanging open.
“Well, that solves that then,” I declared, dusting my hands. Mairead just stood there, so I added, “C’mon. Get inside.”
Mairead went in and started turning on all the lights on her way to the storeroom at the back where she usually dumped her bag. The displays full of crystals began to shimmer and sparkle, and the stand of Irish themed wind chimes rattled musically as the outside breeze came in with us.
Closing the door, the bell rattled, and I rounded the front counter.
“I’m going to sell the business. Just so you know,” I said, retrieving the laptop from the shelf under the till.
“No! You can’t!” the girl exclaimed, emerging from behind the bookshelf.
“I’m sorry, but I have to.” I thought about rattling off all the reasons I’d used to convince myself last night but shook my head. I didn’t need to explain myself.
Mairead pouted and turned her back on me. Ignoring her, I fired up the laptop. I knew she was counting on the extra money, but I couldn’t put my life on hold so I could do a girl, who I didn’t really know, a solid.
Connecting to the shop’s Wi-Fi, I opened a browser, typed in a search term into Google, and waited for the results to come up. The arrow turned into a colored wheel and started spinning as the laptop began to think a little too hard. There was a reason people had dubbed it the spinning wheel of death. Moving my finger over the trackpad and clicking, I knew the whole thing had frozen. Seriously?
Holding down the power button, I restarted the laptop and tried again, but the same thing happened. Kaput the moment I fired up a web browser.
“It keeps freezing!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands into the air. “How am I supposed to get anything done with this piece of rubbish?”
“It’s a brand-new laptop. Aileen got it six months ago.” Mairead glanced over the display of tumbled stones and made a face. “So it’s an omen.”
“An omen for what?”
“That you should keep the shop,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Duh.”
“I don’t want to keep the shop,” I declared. “This isn’t the life I signed up for!”
“First, the door got stuck, and now your laptop won’t work,” the Goth girl went on, lifting a cardboard box from where it was hidden underneath the display. Opening the top, she began filling up the citrine, mixing the older stones with the new. “It’s a sign.”
“Don’t signs come in threes?” I asked with a pout.
Mairead shrugged. “Who knows?”
Ignoring her, I turned my attention back to the laptop, which had restarted. Waiting for it to connect to the shop’s Wi-Fi, I opened the browser and waited. And waited. Then the mouse pointer turned into the spinning wheel of death. Again.
“Fine,” I spat, closing the lid of the laptop with a thud. “I’ll fix you.”
Taking out my mobile phone, I opened the web browser and searched for a local real estate agency. Finding a nice looking one in Sligo, I made the call while Mairead pouted sulkily at me.
I spoke with an enthusiastic Italian man named Fredrico something or other. Strange he was Italian and not Irish, but I supposed this part of the world was rather multicultural with the European Union and all of that. I’d never met someone from Italy before.
I explained the business, my circumstances, and he agreed to see what he could do.
“I have time,” he said. “I’ll stop by in an hour. Does that suit?”
“We’re open all day, so that’s perfect.”
Once I’d hung up the call, Mairead pounced on me.
“Are we really that horrible?” she asked, glaring at me.
“What are you talking about?” I asked, scowling back just as hard.
“You’ve been here a week and already want to sell everythin’. You haven’t given us a chance!”
I gasped dramatically and rose to my feet. “I didn’t know this place existed!” I shouted. “My life is in Australia! Not here!”
“But—”
“But nothing,” I said irritably. “I want to go home.”
“You want to give up,” Mairead muttered, turning her back on me.
“Excuse me?” My hackles rose.
“Aileen was nice to me,” she cried. “She didn’t care that I looked different. You don’t even want to know your own mam!”
“She left me when I was two. What do you want me to do, Mairead?”
The girl was shaking with emotion, which put me on edge. “She might be dead, but you can still try.”
My mouth fell open.
“You like it here, admit it,” she said, practically stamping her foot. “You’re pretendin’ to hate it because you don’t want to like anythin’ to do with Aileen. I bet she had a good reason for comin’ home. She always did, you know. She was wise and kind, and you’re…”
“I’m what?” I asked, my face reddening in annoyance.
“Scared you might be just like her.”
I didn’t realize it until she’d thrown it in my face. Still, I just had to bite back at the poor girl to prove a stupid point. “And here I was thinking you were just chucking a tantrum because you would be losing your job.”
Rounding the counter, I strode outside to wait for the real estate agent, leaving Mairead to pout to her heart’s content.
Outside, Maggie was leaning against the wall, playing with her mobile phone. Standing beside her, I sighed.
“It’s a little early for a bad day,” the bartender said. “What’s the matter?”
“Mairead is being a sulky teenager,” I replied, thankful to see her. “I’ve decided to sell the shop, and she’s up in arms.”
“So you want to leave us?”
I groaned. “Not you, too.”
Maggie shrugged and slipped her phone into her jacket pocket. “Nah, I just would’ve thought you would stay a little longer before you made up your mind.”
“Them’s the breaks.”
“What are you doin’ out here?”
“Waiting for the real estate agent. He’s coming over from Sligo to evaluate the business.”
“Ah, this will be him now, I suppose,” she said as the sound of an approaching car hummed in the distance.
Behind us, the bell rang over the door as Mairead appeared. She glared at me and shook her hair defiantly. “Your boyfriend show up yet?”
“See what I mean?” I said to Maggie.
We lingered on the footpath, listening to the approaching car. When it appeared, zooming around the bend at an alarming speed, I realized the man behind the wheel hadn’t seen the tree in the middle of the road. The look of horror on his face was priceless. If he weren’t about to crash, I would’ve burst out into fits of laughter.
My heart skipped a beat as the car swerved around the hawthorn, careened through the coach bay, and splashed into the creek where it finally came to a halt.
Mairead began to laugh as the real estate agent kicked open the door—it was the one and only Fredrico because the name of the agency was on the side of the car—and tumbled out onto the ground.
“Oh, cac,” Maggie said, her sides practically splitting open.
“What’s cac?” I asked.
“It’s Irish for shit,” Mairead explained.
“I’ll say,” Maggie declared. “We’re going to have to fetch Roy and his tractor now. It’s going to cost the poor guy.”
“The power of three,” Mairead said. “I told you so!”
“What?”
“Three omens,” she explained triumphantly. “First the door, then the computer, and now that guy’s car crashin’ into the creek.”
“That’s stupid,” I declared. “There’s no such thing as omens. You’re just seeing what you want to see.”
“Tell him that.” She nodded toward Fredrico, who was ranting loudly in Italian.
Later, as I stood there watching Roy drag the car out of the creek with his tractor, and Fredrico told me he wouldn’t sell the shop for all the commission in the world, I started to see things from Mairead’s perspective. The power of three.
I wondered if fate was an actual thing or if Derrydun was some kind of vortex like the Bermuda Triangle. Strange things kept happening around me, and it wasn’t anything to do with the villagers and their peculiar quirks. Something wanted me to stay. Desperately.
Once Fredrico had sped away and Roy was on his way back to his farm, I went into Irish Moon, feeling rather sheepish.
“You were right,” I said to Mairead.
She leaned against the counter, cleaning up after the last busload of tourists had been through. Most of them had stood around watching the car being towed from the creek and taking photos, which didn’t help my situation. Roy thought it was hilarious, so I was pretty sure the gossip would make its way around the entire village by the end of the day.
“What? I can’t hear you,” Mairead said, pretending to be deaf.
“I said you were right!” I screwed up my face and stamped my foot. “Okay? Don’t rub it in. I don’t want to know her because…” I sighed dramatically. “She left me behind with my dad—who’s dead by the way—and you all worshiped her, okay?”
Mairead’s triumphant smile faded, and she shrugged. “I suppose I’m sorry, too. I didn’t think of it that way.”
“Well, at any rate, it looks like I’m staying. For a while at least.”
“It was really funny, you know.” The girl smiled. “The car…”
I snorted and began to laugh. “It was, wasn’t it?”
“I thought his head was going to explode.”
“Imagine if his car hadn’t started.”
And just like that, Mairead and I became friends—proper friends—and Derrydun became a little more like home.
7
The next day, I opened Irish Moon early.
If I was sticking around, then I had better start making an effort assimilating into village life. That meant taking an interest in the business that might end up being my job for the next fifty years. Ugh, imagine that.
Sitting behind the front counter, I began sorting through the papers that had been shoved underneath the till. Old receipts, delivery slips, and handwritten notes dating back years had accumulated in the little space, so I pulled them all out and put them into an old cardboard box from the storeroom. I would have to sort through them later.
