Sucker punch. Well played.
I gritted my teeth. “It sure smells good.” I watched her bustle around the kitchen, seemingly doing twenty things at once. My mind was obviously still on slo-mo.
“Um, I was wondering if I might use your phone to make a quick call to my father.”
“Of course,” she said, nicer than usual. “He’d want to know where you are and that you’re safe. Finn says you have some special inquiries you need to make while you’re here,” Ina said.
“Yes. Is he here?”
“I’m sorry, no. He waited but didn’t want to wake you. He had to go with his uncle to unload a shipment at the pub. He wanted me to tell you he’d be back after lunch. The phone’s right there,” she said, pointing to the counter next to her.
I felt too shy to ask if I could use one in another room. I took a deep breath and dialed Mari’s number. Dun answered it on the first ring. The bizarre conversation-in-code went like this:
Me: Hi, Dad!
Dun in a scoldy voice: It’s about time you called us, young lady! You should have called sooner. So the eagle has landed?
Me: Um, yes? I’m good. How are you?
Dun: I’ve been better. Mari is giving me a makeover. We’re starting with a Brazilian wax. I’m in a compromised position right now.
Background sound of Mari smacking him.
Dun: Ow! Dammit.
Me: How are things with you, Dad? Busy at work?
Dun: Totally busy.
Me: Okaaaay. So, I thought I’d better check in.
Dun: Are you with McSexy? Has he showed you his big shillelagh?
Me: I do love it here. It’s beautiful.
Dun: Great. Don’t go getting into any wild shenanigans, you hear? Shenanigan is an Irish word, yeah? Hey, Mari, is shenanigan an Irish word?
Me: How’s the weather there?
Dun, in a serious hushed voice: We’ve been questioned. Your dad could totally work for the CIA. And your wee little grandmother is in a snit. I think Mami Tulke is making a voodoo doll of you. I’d give you a couple of days before he shows up.
Me: Okay, thanks. Love you.
Dun: We love you, too.
I hung up with a knot of worry threading around my veins like a weed. In a shameless and defiant display of anxiety, I scarfed down two scones and a huge glass of orange juice. I didn’t want to, but I had to ask. “I had a bad dream I can’t shake. By any chance, were you in my room last night?”
“I was,” Ina said with a thoroughly apologetic expression. She looked pained to admit it. “Forgive me,” she whispered, then sped away. I stood in the kitchen and wrapped my arms around myself, trying to understand why my hairs stood on end.
Thirty-Three
“That’s the second bit of surprise I’ve had today,” Finn said as he greeted me on the sprawling lawn of his property that afternoon.
I’d been reading my mother’s notes on the cliff overlooking the ocean and trying to quell my impatience to leave. I detested that I was without transportation. Not that I knew where I’d go next, but Christ Church was definitely on my list. I tried to use the computer in Finn’s library, but it was password protected, and no one was home to ask. I took the opportunity to look through Ina’s books but found nothing on Scintilla or legends of people with silver auras.
Later, I figured I’d go to an Internet café and research the historical significance of threes. I had found my mother’s journal but hadn’t needed the key to unlock it. So what was the key about and what was it trying to tell me? The only reference to a key was this entry in her notes:
We have a name! Scintilla.
It means “little spark.” What it means to me is there are, have been, others like me. It means I have a history, even if I don’t know what it is. It means…I’m not alone.
South America was a gold mine. The spirals led me there. Seems that spirals have marked the depth of human history and the breadth of the entire world. What began as a foray into pre-Columbian artifacts featuring spirals, led to learning about Earth’s most energetically charged location, the Elqui Valley, in Chile. Earth’s magnetic center. It’s a magical place. I discovered so much there, so much about myself, and I discovered love sweet LOVE.
An offhand comment about the Scintilla holding the “keys to heaven” has me pursuing another avenue…
I snapped the book closed and laid it on my lap. “What surprise?” I asked Finn.
“You’ll get to meet my da. He’s home.”
“Oh?” I said, trying to sound upbeat. “Great.” Another parent to loathe my presence.
His brows rose. “He’ll adore you.”
I changed the subject. “Did you tell your mother about me running away? The way she talked this morning, it was like she knew my dad would be worried about me.”
Finn looked at me, startled. “I told her nothing. But it wouldn’t surprise me if my mother was two steps ahead. She always is. Could be that she assumes your dad worries abnormally about everything like she does.”
I studied his profile. “You sure you said nothing?”
He gave me a sideways glance. “I tell my mother as little as possible. It’s like giving fookin’ bombs to terrorists.” He winked and tossed a rock over the cliff’s edge.
We walked in the house, hand in hand. I squeezed harder as we entered the large blue-and-white sitting room. It was like walking into the sky. Aged, painted clouds floated above us on the soaring ceiling. His parents were already there, seated in two high-backed chairs with a little table between them. Two crystal glasses of wine rested on a doily.
Finn’s father jumped to his feet. His hip bumped the table and the wine wobbled and splashed a bit, leaving dots of red on the white lace. Ina settled the table with one hand. She didn’t get up but managed the barest hint of a smile at me.
“Cora, my father, Fergus Doyle.”
“Nice to meet you, Mr. Doyle,” I said, extending my hand.
“F-Fergus is fine,” he muttered. His hands shook a bit when he took mine between them. He looked at me like I was an apparition. A ball of energy rolled together in our pressed palms. Then the creepy sensation like someone pulling a vein out of the middle of my hand. I pulled away. “Welcome, Cora.”
I felt a little dizzy and concerned that someone so unsettled was a doctor. I hoped he wasn’t a surgeon. “Thank you.”
Fergus walked back to the chair next to Ina’s. I couldn’t see his face, but I could read hers. It said, What did I tell you? His aura flared erratically, shifting colors—red, seaweed, white, and yellow—like he didn’t know how he should feel.
Finn clearly detected it, too. His skin creased hard above his nose as he watched his father slam his wine in one long gulp and refill his glass.
“Sit down, won’t you?” Fergus said.
“No, Pop. I think I may take Cora out for a bite.”
“Nonsense,” Ina spat with a smile—a real skill. “Your da has just gotten home and wants to spend time with you. We have family coming for supper.”
“Oh, thank you,” I said. “But I’ll be getting a cab to town. I-I have some things to do there.”
“We’d love for you to stay and join us,” Fergus said. His aura pulsated with more excitement than should be healthy. He was so different from his self-assured, easygoing son.
“Sounds great,” I ventured. I hoped it didn’t drip with sarcasm the way it did in my head.
Finn rubbed a small circle on my back, leaving a swirl of warmth. “You sure? I’d really enjoy it so much more with you here.”