Celtic Sister (17 page)

Amy thought the things Emma had said to Sam were vague enough to mean anything, and she now doubted their interpretation of the poem and drawings. There was no crucifix or depiction of Mary. Why assume Catholicism and nunneries?

The mother prioress tilted her head. “When was this? When did she leave?”

Sam sighed. “She’s probably at another convent. We have a couple of ideas. I’m sorry to waste your time.”

“When did your sister leave, Son?”

“Fifteen years ago,” he mumbled.

The mother prioress’s expression softened. “That is a long time to be following these odd and cryptic clues.”

“We only just found the clues.”

The sister stood as Sam stood. Amy scrambled to get out of her chair.

The mother prioress spoke, her voice filled with compassion. “I believe she would have contacted you by now if she truly wanted to be found.”

“Yes, ma’am. Thank you for your time.”

She led them out. A look of kindness and sympathy remained on her face as she waved good-bye.

“That was a waste of time,” Sam grumbled.

“It was only one nunnery. We have another city named Springs as a possibility. And we really should examine the clues in more detail. Perhaps we’re missing something.”

Sam nodded. “Yeah. Just because I often assumed she became a nun doesn’t mean she did.”

“Exactly. Let’s keep our minds free of assumptions.”

Sam chuckled. “Shall I play some New Age music?”

“No, thank you.”

“I was kidding.”

“I know you were.”

***

They remained quiet for the duration of the ride until they got closer to home. Amy continued to flip back and forth in the notebook. Periodically, she closed her eyes in an attempt to settle her mind. Unfortunately, her agitation only increased. The sensation of being prodded by needles intensified.

“How’s the meditation going?” Sam asked.

“Dismal.”

“Would you like some dinner?”

“Your pasta?”

“Sure.”

“And some Jack Daniels?” Amy suggested.

He grinned. “If you insist.”

The thought of Jack Daniels burning her throat actually settled Amy’s anxiety.
Finally relief.
She tipped her head back again and thought of Sam’s little apartment, his happy dog, and the cluttered mess they left in the living room.

“How about if I tidy up Emma’s books while you cook?” Amy suggested.

“Are you trying to say that my apartment is a mess?”

She shrugged. “Consider it a tiny act in honor of your sister.”

“She loved her books,” he admitted.

When they approached the apartment, Roxy’s happy barks filled their ears.

“I’ll take her for a walk first,” Sam said.

“I’ll come with you.”

***

They were falling into a routine of getting together and walking the dog. It felt normal, a luxury Amy never had during her childhood or in her marriage. She contemplated holding his hand, but she blushed and folded her hands instead.

When they returned to the apartment, Sam camped out in the kitchen while Amy sorted the books by size. When she got to the book on Irish folklore, she flipped through it again, searching for the trinity knot. She thought she ought to reread that passage, but something else caught her eye. Her heart palpitated.

“Sam, Sam, Sam!” she shouted. “Oh my gosh, Sam. This is it.”

He came running to her side and looked over her shoulder, eager to learn about her discovery.

She held open a page and pointed to a drawing. It was a circle with a plus. It resembled the one in Emma’s notebook, only it was much thicker. The drawing in the Irish book looked nothing like a crosshair. Amy flipped the page. A similar drawing, only this one included a Christian cross instead of a plus sign. She returned to the original drawing.

“It’s a Celtic cross,” Amy explained. “Look.” She grabbed the notebook copy out of her pocket and flipped it open to the first page. “Do you have a pencil?” He stared at the book but didn’t make a move to find a writing utensil.

Amy ran to her purse and returned with a pencil. She held it against the drawing in Emma’s notebook and lengthened the line on the bottom.

“Guess who turned the Celtic cross into a Christian cross?”

Sam touched the new line Amy had drawn but made no reply.

“Saint
Patrick
,” she said.

“You’re kidding.” He stared into space for a moment as he digested the information. Then his eyes flew open wide. “The realm of Pat.” He held the notebook to his chest. “My Celtic sister went to Ireland. Why didn’t I think of it before?”

Amy flipped through the Irish book. “Where is it?” she mumbled. She turned to the index and found the page she needed. “There’s actually a place called Saint Patrick’s Well.” She stood up and showed him a picture. “Look. There’s even a Celtic cross at the well. The place is beautiful. Serene. And now all the rest of the clues make sense. You’re right. It was simple. We were trying too hard.”

“Celtic cross,” Sam said, holding up the notebook. He flipped the page and pointed at the drawing of a well. “A well.
His peaceful spring
is
Saint Patrick’s Well. The trinity knot.” He placed a hand on his head. “And, of course, a clover.” He reread the poem. “The eternal love could still be a religious vocation.”

“Or maybe the love of her life followed her there.”

“I would have known about a love of her life.”

“Really? And yet you didn’t know she was being threatened by the Richardsons and keeping terrible secrets.”

Sam frowned.

“I’m sorry,” Amy said, ashamed. “That was out of line.”

“Actually, it wasn’t, but there’s nothing I can do about it now.”

“Except follow the clues.” Amy shifted gears. “We’ve got everything covered. We’re down to the moons that grow and the math problem, which could either be September or the first of spring the following year.”

“We’ve already missed that meeting time.” Sam’s expression suddenly melted into sadness.

“What?”

“I can see her standing there at this Saint Patrick’s Well, waiting for me on the appointed day. How will we find her now?”

“Maybe there’s a town nearby. We’ll just have to canvas neighborhoods, maybe churches, with her picture.”

“Of course.” He looked over his shoulder. “Damn. The pasta’s boiling over.” He ran to the kitchen and Amy followed him. While he dealt with the mess on the stove, she took the opportunity to find the Jack Daniels and pour two glasses.

“Celebrate.” She raised one glass and handed him the other.

“To my Celtic sister,” he said, beaming.

***

After dinner, they settled down at Sam’s computer to do some research on Ireland and Saint Patrick’s Well, in addition to searching for flights and lodging. Sam sat at the desk while Amy stood behind his chair. After thirty minutes, he had filled two pages with notes.

“Here is the best address I can find for a Saint Patrick’s Well.
West of Clonmel, off the N24, Two miles from Town Centre, Clonmel, Ireland
.”

“That’s an address?” Amy asked, baffled.

“A lot of the addresses look like this. And I can’t get any two maps of this Saint Patrick’s Well to match. We’re going to need to buy a detailed map.” He searched for maps to purchase. “Oh, here’s one that marks wells and stones. I wonder what stones are.”

“Rocks?” Amy suggested.

He turned around and gave her a fake punch in the arm. Then he thought about it and typed in a search for
stones in Ireland
.

“Huh, I guess so,” he said. “Standing stones. That could be fun.”

“Let’s buy that map and start looking at flights.”

“I’ll have it shipped Next Day Air.”

“Good idea. Saturday delivery,” she reminded him.

After placing the order, Sam began searching for flights to Dublin. It was the closest major airport to Clonmel, and it was the most centrally located. Sam changed the dates several times to compare prices. “Oh,” he muttered. “How are we going to afford this? I don’t have a job right now. I was working on a construction crew, but we finished three weeks ago.”

“You do construction?”

“My first job, actually. My dad owns a construction company. But I only worked for him as a teenager. Later it became one of the many careers I had during the—”

“—during the lost decade.”

“Right.” He winked. “But I enjoy it. I take a job when I can get one.” He returned his attention to the computer. “Although I’m still somewhat lost. And definitely broke.”

Amy remembered the money she had taken from the fire safe and hidden in the Bible. Because everyone else was buying her food and clothing, she hadn’t touched it. “I have a few thousand dollars.”

“That will cover you,” he mumbled as he continued to search.

“Seriously?” She took a large gulp of whiskey.

“Unless we book it for the fall when no one is going. Last-minute tickets are bad enough.”

“Do you want to go alone? You can borrow my money. We’ll work it out later.”

He turned and took her hand. “I don’t want to go by myself. You’ve been instrumental in this treasure hunt.”

Is that the only reason you want me to go?
she wondered. She tried to breathe in another direction because she knew she smelled like a distillery.

“I’d rather go crawling to my parents and borrow money from them than take your money and leave you behind.”

“Are you going to tell them what we’re up to?”

“Hell no. Then they wouldn’t lend me the money.”

“What are you going to tell them?”

He thought about it. “My mom is dying for me to have a new girlfriend. She was all excited to meet you. I’ll tell her I want to whisk you away.”

“Seriously?” Amy laughed. “She’ll tell you to take me to an Irish pub in downtown Denver. Why would she want to fund an extravagant trip?”

“Because you are going on an adventure and I want to tag along. You already have your ticket, which will be true.”

“Don’t buy my ticket first. I don’t want to end up on separate planes.”

“I’ve got a credit card with a near-zero balance. I’ll buy the tickets tonight. You pay me tomorrow, and I’ll beg my parents as soon as I can get my mom alone.”

“So you’ll beg your mom.”

“Basically.”

“And you’ll go into debt with the possibility you might not have enough to pay it off when the bill comes in?”

Sam frowned. “It is very, very, very likely we’ll find my sister—”

“Oh, Sam.”

“Really. I believe that.”

“We can’t search all of Ireland. How long do you want to be gone?”

“How long can you spare?”

She sighed. “Sahil wants to open the restaurant in two weeks, but I’m darn near close to having the entire place scrubbed clean. Then I’m supposed to learn how to wait on tables.”

“It’s a piece of cake.”

She raised an eyebrow. “Let me guess. One of your many careers?”

“You got it.”

“Still, I could probably get a week off. But then he’ll want me to be here to help him organize for the opening.”

“Only a week?”

“These people saved me. Gave me a place to stay. Gave me a job. I can’t bail. Ten days at the most.”

“Okay. Make it a week. We don’t want to leave tomorrow. So we’ll leave in two days and stay for a week. Agreed?”

“Agreed. You can always stay longer if you’re on to something.”

He nodded. “All the money will seem like a drop in the bucket when we find her.”

“I hope so.” She smiled softly. “But we’re definitely getting closer. The clues point to Ireland.”

Sam looked around and found his drink. He was still only halfway through his first one. Amy had refilled twice. She hoped he hadn’t noticed the second refill.

“What’s the secret?” Sam said, his forehead creased with worry.

“Huh?”

“What’s the secret? If all the clues point toward a place and a meeting time, then what’s the secret that incriminates the Richardson family?”

Amy considered his question for a moment. “Maybe she didn’t want to write it down. Maybe it was too risky, especially if she was expecting Brent to pass it along.”

This seemed to increase his anxiety. “Why involve Brent at all? Why not use the birdhouse from the beginning?”

It did seem odd when she thought about it, but then she considered everything they’d been through. “It took you a long time to find the notebook. Perhaps she was hoping Brent would have some compassion and be willing to give you the notebook directly.”

“Fat chance on that one.”

“I could have told her that.”

“Yet you married the guy.”

Amy winced and finished her drink. “I was a fool,” she whispered.

“Aren’t we all?”

Chapter Eighteen

Back at the motel, Amy poured another whiskey. She no longer made note of the habit. All the usual excuses were in full force.
It’s been a long day. It’s been an exciting day. It’s been an emotional day. It’s been a fulfilling day.
Pick one. It didn’t matter.

The tickets were purchased. Sahil had given his blessing for the time off. Sam’s meeting with his mom was scheduled for tomorrow. They would leave at 5:03 p.m. on Monday with or without Mrs. Foster’s blessing.

With a feeling of accomplishment, Amy sipped her drink and stared out the window. She’d left the curtains open. In spite of the parking lot lights, she had a nice view of the moon.

First quarter or third quarter?
She couldn’t remember which direction was which.

She pulled out her copies of Emma’s clues. Amy hadn’t fashioned them into a little notebook like Sam had. She found the copy of the moon and math problem and tried to remember what they had determined about waxing and waning. Sam had also discussed flipping it the other direction. At that point, she was even more confused and figured it didn’t matter if she was admiring a waxing or waning, first quarter or third quarter moon. It was the moon. People had been staring at it for thousands of years.

All at once she became very sad, picturing the young, auburn-haired girl standing by the Celtic cross waiting for a family that never showed.

“He wishes he could have been there, Emma,” she whispered.