A CRY FROM THE DEEP (35 page)

“To Daniel,” was shouted as others joined in the toast.
She lifted her glass as well, though her arm resisted. Glances flitted from
Daniel to Catherine, but otherwise, crew members were kind and left her alone. Considering the enormity of his news, Daniel was uncharacteristically subdued when crew members shook his hand or patted him on the back.

Amidst all this hoopla, she couldn’t help but notice Hennesey’s menacing glare. Why had he told her about that kid he’d beaten up, the one he sent to hospital? He was obviously trying to scare her, underlining the lengths he’d go to, to get what he wanted.

She would just have to fly out earlier. She didn’t know what Hennesey had in mind, but she didn’t want to hang around to find out. She’d write Frank and tell him she’d had enough. She’d made it this far without an incident. It was all over anyway. She had nothing left to prove. As for the ghosts, well, as far as she was concerned, they could go haunt some other nutcase.

~~~

It was early evening by the time they got back to shore. As she was leaving the boat, Daniel called out, “Catherine.”

She turned. “What?”

He crossed the transom, his bag slung on his shoulders and joined her on the starboard side. “I want you to know I didn’t forget. I promised I’d help you explore the
Alice O’Meary
.”

She hesitated, then said through clenched teeth. “That’s all good, but I don’t know when that can happen. I’m leaving in a couple of days.” She didn’t trust him enough to tell him she was planning on flying out earlier.

“You’re in luck. One of the jet units failed when Jerry started up the engine for the return back”

She’d been so wrought up, she hadn’t noticed. Or was this some kind of ploy to get her alone under water where anything could happen? Yep, she was growing more paranoid by the moment.

“Some debris must’ve entered the water jet intake port and jammed the impeller. We made it back on the other engine, but now Hennesey has to get it repaired.”

“So what are you suggesting?”

“We go out tomorrow.”

She stared at him, trying to figure out if he was on the level. God, it was tempting. One part of her said,
No, go home, take the easy way out, the safe way out,
but another part said,
You’re so close to finding out what Margaret wants. You’ve gone this far. If you leave now, you’ll never know why she picked you.

She exhaled heavily and rested her bag on the gunwale. “How do you propose we go out there? Hennesey wouldn’t want us to expose that site to others.”

“After the government agents’ visit, it’s all out in the open anyway. Besides, all we’re going to do is have a look, right?”

“Right.” She wondered why he emphasized that. It’s not as if she was going to plunder the site. All she wanted was to dive the wreck of the
Alice O’Meary
, see if there was something there she was supposed to see. Surely the spirits would leave her alone after that.

“So, shall I arrange it?” His eyes were soft.

Damn him, anyway
. She nodded. “Yeah. Thanks.”

She stepped on to the dock, with Daniel right behind her. It was then she noticed a striking blond marching towards them. She recognized Sean from the photo he’d shown her. Dressed in white pants and a navy and white striped sweater, she looked as if she’d stepped out of the pages of
Vogue
.

Sean said to Daniel in a syrupy low voice, “Hey honey, I spotted your boat coming in from the hotel window. Did you have a good afternoon?”

“Sean, this is Catherine Fitzgerald. Catherine, my fiancée, Sean Billings.”

Catherine forced a smile and shook Sean’s hand. It was warm and firm. “It’s nice to meet you. I hear congratulations are in order.”

Sean put a proprietary arm around Daniel’s waist. She smiled up at him. “We were going to wait, but you know these things. They’re not always planned.”

Catherine nodded and smiled the same pasted-on smile she’d been wearing since shaking Sean’s hand. Seeing Daniel with his fiancée was so awkward she was afraid she’d start hyperventilating and embarrass herself further. She tried to relax but her legs remained stiff as if they were glued to the dock. 

Sean regarded her curiously for a moment, then said, “Do you want to join us for a drink?”

Daniel searched Catherine’s eyes as if he was trying to read her mind.

Catherine re-adjusted her bag on her shoulder. “You know what? That sounds nice but I’m going to take off. You guys have had so little time together, you don’t need a third party around.”

“If you’re sure,” said Sean. “It was nice to finally meet you.”

“Yeah, me, too.” Catherine avoided looking at Daniel. She didn’t want him to see the hurt in her eyes. She was angry with herself for still caring.
What was it about this kind of love? It was sick, that’s what it was. Another thing to talk about with Barbara.
“See you tomorrow,” she said over her shoulder.

Catherine left the two of them, arms around one another. She didn’t even look back for fear they’d see her looking their way.

The universe had shown her many aspects of love in the past three weeks. Hurtling her from one emotion to the other, as if she was an astronaut flying through space; fear, joy, and awe butting up against one another, challenging her heart at every turn. She could handle the sea, but not this. She felt like throwing up.

THIRTY-FOUR

Later that evening—after her stomach had calmed down—Catherine ran into Alfredo at one of the pubs, where over dinner and a beer, they discussed the political climate in Cuba. She’d been tempted to ask him about Hennesey, but in the end decided against it. It might’ve been a touchy topic, especially if there was more to their relationship than she could see.

She guessed she’d stayed later than she realized as by the time she started walking back to the B & B, it was almost pitch black. There wasn’t a soul around, and she began to feel uneasy. She glanced around, but all was quiet. Not even a bird’s twitter broke the silence. The only small comfort she had was the smell of peat burning in someone’s home.

She wasn’t too far up the road when she heard footsteps. She turned and saw a man about a block back walking up the hill behind her. He was wearing a hat and his head was down. The fact that he was in shadows unsettled her and she quickened her step. As she did, he did the same.

She tucked her camera tight against her body, fearing the worst. She picked up her step and was tempted to break into a run, but she was afraid of falling. The road wasn’t even and any fall could be disastrous. She’d be easy prey then.

She turned again to see he was gaining on her. Her heart was beating so fast her head was pounding. She looked sideways to see if there was a home she could run into if need be, but the ones with the lights on were too far down the side streets.

She glanced back again. He was now a half block behind her. She couldn’t make him out, nor did she want to stop to get a better look.

The B & B was still a few hundred yards up. A light was on in the front room, but other than that, all was dark around her. She stumbled on an unexpected hole in the road, but caught herself before she tumbled. She reached into her pocket, more out of habit, as her cell phone wasn’t there. She’d left it in her room. As it was, she hadn’t been using it much. She’d been making most of her calls through Skype. But now, she wished she had some way of calling for help.

She started to run and so did he. It was foolish, given the uneven terrain and darkness. When a rustling noise seemed too close for comfort, she expected to be grabbed at any moment. Her throat constricted and she wanted to scream but it was like one of those dreams where she tried but couldn’t make a sound. And just when she thought he was at the point of grabbing her, a dog barked from somewhere nearby. It barked again, louder this time. She turned and looked down the road to see a dog, nipping at the man’s heels. The man kept yanking his leg, trying to get away.

He was close enough for her to get a better look. He resembled Raul, but she couldn’t be sure and she didn’t want to hang around just in case the dog took off. She kept going and only checked back once to see the dog still barking and snapping at the man. The dog wasn’t that big but ferocious in his intent. Frisky, like Begley, Martin’s dog. Could it be…? The man was now backing away, heading back towards the main street. She reached the B & B, sweaty and shaking from the ordeal.

Safe in her room, she sat on the bed and considered what had happened. What would the man have done if he’d caught up with her? She closed the blind, just in case he was still out there somewhere. But who was he? Was the man a stranger, or someone connected to Hennesey? Would he have really hurt her, or was this just about scaring her? If it was about getting her to reconsider using her photos, he was barking up the wrong tree. She laughed at that. The dog had come out of nowhere. Whether it was Begley or not, she said a prayer of thanks for her little savior.

She looked at her watch. It wasn’t too late to call Frank. She dialed his number. When he answered, she said, “Frank, I have something to tell you.”

~~~

After she’d sent Frank the incriminating photos—swearing him to secrecy until she was back in New York—she let out a deep breath. She was strangely exhilarated. She was still frightened, but not in the way she’d been before. Why had she ever worried about telling Frank? He was one man she could trust.

Calmed by her decision, she called Alex. Her daughter gave her another glowing report about Monique, who’d bought her a sari in little India. Catherine kept telling herself,
only a few more days, only a few more days.
It was a short call, because Alex and Kaitlin were in the middle of beading necklaces for their dolls.

Hanging up, Catherine thought about how easily she could be replaced. Monique had weaseled her way in there. She wondered how Richard felt about this French woman. Had he truly moved on? Or did Catherine still have a chance to rekindle the love they’d once had for one another? Funny about love. Before she’d accepted Frank’s challenge, she was content to be alone. Now, she had two men on her mind and with both, she was batting zero.

Lying in bed, her thoughts turned to the
Alice O’Meary.
Since Daniel had to see Sean off, he wouldn’t be ready to go ‘til near midday. Catherine fell asleep thinking she’d use the early morning time to find the hill mentioned in Liam Athol’s book. 

THIRTY-FIVE

Catherine watched Doreen clean up the breakfast table. She considered bringing up the incident on the road. Perhaps there had been a rash of assaults in the area. Maybe she should report it to the police, but what would they do? She couldn’t identify whoever it was on the road. If she did mention it to Doreen, what would she think? Another ghost? Catherine shook her head as she stirred her coffee.

“Is something the matter?” asked Doreen.

Her question caught Catherine by surprise. She realized then she’d been absent-mindedly shaking her head. “No,” she said, covering up. “I was wondering about a book I read.
The Curse of the Stones.
”

Doreen raised her eyebrows. “So, you’ve stumbled upon that, too.” It turned out she’d read it years ago, when she was a teenager. She knew exactly where the hill was. “When I was a child,” she said, “we used to go there all the time.” She went to her desk and pulled out a map of Killybegs. She marked a spot on the map with an X before handing it to Catherine. “That’s where the cursers stood.”

“Did you look for the stones?”

“Aye. We all did. We found some and thought they were the original ones. We even play-acted, pretending we were the cursers.”

“Huh. What do you think about the author’s conclusion there was nothing to the curse?”

“There are lots of folks around here who wouldn’t buy that story at all. They’d go with the curse.”

Puzzled, Catherine said, “Why do you say that?”

Resting her hands on the table, Doreen said, “We Irish are a superstitious lot. For every man who denies the power of cursing, you’ll find another who’ll go to his grave believing it. There’s as much credence in cursing as there is in blessings. Can’t say any more than that.”

“But it says in the book, that even Martin didn’t believe in it.”

“Maybe he didn’t, but maybe he did.” She picked up the dirty dishes and carried them to the kitchen. She returned moments later and asked, “Will you be wanting any more coffee then?”

“No thanks.” Catherine rose from her chair. “I was wondering, what do the Irish do if they’ve been cursed.”

“Not much you can do except pray. Some believe you should perform a ritual during the waning moon.”

“Sounds like witchcraft.”

“It may sound strange, but …” Doreen hesitated and then said, “I remember me mum, someone had put a curse on her. She went to see a fortune-teller in the village who told her to take a fresh egg and put it in a bowl. She then told her to pray and ask for help.”