The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons (13 page)

Oh!Ilikethisalready!Fun!Fun!

The queen of diamonds hovered and leaned off her card. “How about this?” she asked. “Magic spit!” She puffed her ample cheeks, puckered up, and spewed a cascade of glitter that swirled around the room in wisps and tendrils.

Ooh!Pretty!

As Nessa flew through the colorful spit cloud, Annie took the vial and handed it to Pru. “Nessa,” I asked, “does Walter drink this all at once?”

Yeah,yeah.Allatonceisfine!
As she spoke she reached for the queen of diamonds, but, not to be outdone, the queen of spades catapulted between them.

“Spitting is uncouth and lower class,” the dark queen said haughtily. “But pirating is an art! Watch this!” She set her sights on a small silver salt spoon on the table, her line of vision apparent through a rainbow-colored beam, like light refracted through a prism. The tiny spoon trembled and rose, and the pirate queen's gaze lifted and directed it through the air and into Nessa's outstretched arms.

Oh!That'stheBESTmagicofall.Ipickthequeenofstealing!

The queen of diamonds pouted and sputtered. “Oh sure, one of ye's as dishonest as the other. Stealin' what isn't yers! Ye deserve one another, ye do!”

“Don't be a poor sport,” Annie said. “She won, fair and square. We'll just have to keep an eye on our things!” My first thought was Addie's engagement ring. She'd better not take it from her finger for a moment.

“Okay, it's a deal. But one more thing,” I added. “Nessa, if you take good care of the queen of spades, and if the antidote works, we'll give you another opportunity . . .”

What?Whatisthat?

“I have a different card—the
king
of diamonds. So when you're tired of the pirate queen, we'll trade her for the king! He has entirely different powers. How does that sound?”

Good!Good!NowI'mleaving!

The queen of spades floated horizontally toward Nessa, and turned to wink at me before the fairy hopped aboard. I said a silent prayer that the persuasive pirate queen hadn't lost her craftiness—that if there was something to be learned from the fairy about the treasure she'd tease it out of her. As though on a magic carpet they spirited off, doing one figure eight before diving down in a dramatic sweep and disappearing beneath the cupboard.

Pru held up the vial of amber-colored liquid. It glinted and shone. “Excuse me as I make my way into the parlor and pour this into a small jigger glass. Bushmill's for the rest—anti-fairy-dart potion for Walter!”

19

W
alter barely got the words “thank you” out before guzzling the little jigger of tonic. His attitude became suddenly conciliatory, and I could see he was embarrassed about the way he'd behaved. I remained as aloof as I could, my feelings still a little bruised. It took several days, but gradually Walter's finger shrunk back to size. The purple discoloration faded to pink and finally to a normal, healthy flesh tone. This only added to the air of frenetic energy in the house, with talk of the upcoming wedding. The date had been set. In two weeks' time my Addie would become Mrs. Obediah Adams. Always lovely, Addie appeared even more so, her face alight with joy and anticipation. It warmed my heart to see her filled with such happiness, and at the same time I felt an underpinning of loss and fear. Never again would she be
my
Addie in the same way—her life would instead be focused on husband and home.

I held this slight sadness and, I was embarrassed to admit, jealousy at arm's length, and tried to concentrate on my role in planning for the upcoming festivities. All this merriment contrasted with the threat of the curse, which seemed to be gaining strength by the day. Now that I was avoiding the tub, the kitchen sink vied for my attention, a blast of water shooting from the faucet every time I entered the room unaccompanied. At meals I'd wait until a small crowd had gathered so as not to face the watery warnings alone.

On this particular morning Miss Oonagh sat at breakfast with Marni, Old Peader, Brigit, and me, noisily slurping her tea. “Watch out fer the Straw Boys, I tell ye!” Miss Oonagh warned, wagging a bony finger in the air. “Them Straw Boys're up t' no good!”

“Straw Boys?” I asked.

Brigit smiled. “Oh sure, ye know, it's an Irish tradition. At the weddin' reception the local young men don tall pointy hats o' straw. Cover their heads an' faces, maskin' their identity.” She passed a plate of scones, clotted cream, and jam.

Patsy nodded and set a platter of eggs and rashers of bacon on the table. “True—they come bargin' in, uninvited, wearin' them hats, drinkin' 'n' carousin', dancin' about. Bring good luck to the happy couple, they do.”

Miss Oonagh stood. “Ain't what they seem,” she asserted. “I sees it clearly. Trouble beneath them straw hats. Mark me words!”

“Oh, Miss Oonagh, don't be so anxious now,” Brigit teased. “It's nothin' but a bit o' fun—a chance fer the uninvited t' take part in the celebration is all.”

Miss Oonagh's silvery eyes narrowed. “Shut yer pretty piehole, girlie. I knows what I see. Ain't smart to make light of it!” After speaking her piece she dropped back into her chair.

Brigit's face blushed scarlet, and she lowered her eyes. Patsy pointed her serving spoon at Oonagh. “I know yer a guest here, but I'll not have ye speakin' rudely t' me girl!”

Miss Oonagh paid her no mind, shoveling eggs and bacon onto her plate.

“She
is
rude,” Old Peader said, happy to have someone see things his way. “Rude and crude!” As if to prove his point, Miss Oonagh belched loudly and grinned, her gold tooth glinting. I covered my mouth to stifle a laugh.

Marni looked from one to the other, weighing Miss Oonagh's words. “Try not to take offense,” she said to Patsy and Brigit. “Miss Oonagh says what she needs to say.”

“That I do,” Oonagh mumbled through a mouthful of eggs.

Pru strode into the room, map and notebook in hand. She sat, whipped her napkin onto her lap, and heaped her plate. “Today we have work to do. Head off to the Burren to find Molly's Inn. Was still in operation the last time I was here on the Emerald Isle—but that was almost a decade ago. Will be interesting to see what we find.” As if on cue the queen of diamonds rose from Pru's shirt pocket and levitated over the table.

Brigit's mouth dropped open in a most unattractive way, revealing what was left of her scone. Her hand flew to catch the crumbs that tumbled down her chin. “What in the world . . . ,” she began.

Old Peader shrugged. “After a while, with this group, nothin'll surprise ye.” He dug into his eggs and tossed Rosie a piece of bacon. Pugsley barked and without even looking up from his plate, Peader threw another piece that was snapped up in midair.

Pru captured the card and returned it to her pocket. “Unusual cards,” she said. “Been in the family for years.” As if that explained it, she turned to me. “Molly's excited to give us a tour of the inn. See if we can find out anything that will help us on our quest.”

Miss Oonagh straightened up, swiped her mouth with the back of her hand. “An' yer quest,” she said to Marni, waving her fork. “Be over soon, it will. Yep.”

Marni's eyes turned the shade of the sea on a stormy day. “And will it end well? Will I find what I seek?” Her words, heavy and charged, transformed the atmosphere in the room. Everyone fell silent. The capt'n and Grady both stopped short in the doorway, each with a cup of tea in hand. Even the dogs stood and stared between the two old women.

Oonagh froze, eyes fixed on Marni. For a moment I thought she was suffering a spell of some kind and might keel over, dead. Her lips moved silently, as though restraining rogue words. She finally stilled her face and blinked like an old lizard, her silvery eyes glinting. “A mother's love ain't never wasted,” Oonagh said. She got up from the table and shuffled toward the door.

Marni's face sagged and she dropped her eyes to her plate of half-eaten breakfast.

“What kind of an answer is that, I ask ye?” Old Peader shouted. “No kinda answer atall! Poor excuse fer an oracle, that's what I say!”

Glaring at Old Peader, Grady took his mother by the arm.

Miss Oonagh stopped. “Watch out fer the Straw Boys,” she cautioned, peering over her shoulder.

“Pay 'er no mind,” Old Peader said. “Her an' her Straw Boy blarney!” He shook his head, the wispy tuft of white hair fluffing this way and that.

“It's time to go,” Pru said. She stood, collected her plate and cup, and headed toward the sink. “Marni, you're coming. Lucy, find Walter.”

“I'd be happy to come along 'n' help, I would,” Brigit said, “with whatever it 'tis.”

I'll bet you would, I thought, but before I could respond, Pru jumped in. “Thank you, Brigit, but I'm thinking Addie and Patsy might need some help with wedding plans. We can't all desert them, with so much to be done.”

“Oh, course, yer right, I suppose,” Brigit said wistfully. Pru turned and winked at me.

“Go on, then,” Patsy said. “We'll manage without ye's. I've asked Seamus t' stay and lend us a hand. So we'll be fine here, we will.” She shooed us out of the kitchen. Walter nodded and smiled, delighted, I'm sure, to leave Seamus behind.

“Wait—Walter's not had 'is breakfast,” Brigit called. “Whyn't I pack 'im a scone an' an egg sandwich?” I waited while she scurried about. When she finished, I snatched the cloth sack she'd prepared.

“I'll see that he gets it,” I said, making my way to the door. After all, I thought, rolling my eyes, we don't want poor Walter to starve. I trudged to my room to grab a sweater and a ribbon for my hair, and headed outside.

Pru and Marni, Walter, Georgie, and Annie were ready and waiting. Capt'n had provided us with a good-sized wagon and a pair of sturdy donkeys to take us out of town and into the strange land of rocky hills they called the Burren. Pru and Walter sat up front to drive the wagon, and the rest of us climbed in back. Annie and Georgie clutched food sacks as well, probably also provided by the always attentive Miss Brigit. The thought put me out of sorts with myself—Brigit
was
considerate, and Annie and Georgie would have been hungry. It should have occurred to me, but of course, it didn't. It was no wonder Walter thought she was wonderful.

A glance in Marni's direction shifted my attention. Her eyes still had that distant look, and she fingered her locket, as she did whenever she was pensive. “Maybe you needn't take Miss Oonagh's words to heart,” I said. “She doesn't know everything.”

“And sometimes she doesn't make sense,” Annie said.

“It's called seen eye,” Georgie said.

“Senile,” I corrected.

Marni smiled with only the edges of her mouth, her eyes sad. “I can see the difference between insight and senility. When she's lucid her words ring true to me, even when their meaning isn't clear.”

“You never stop looking, do you?” I ventured softly. “For your son.”

Marni shrugged. “What was it Miss Oonagh said? ‘A mother's love ain't never wasted.'”

I took a deep breath. “I saw you walking the other day—to that horrible workhouse outside of town. . . . You didn't think . . .”

“Not really. But the place was important somehow. I was drawn to it. . . .” Her voice trailed off. “You know, Grady told me Seamus grew up in a place like that—lived there until he ran off and talked his way aboard the Clare Island Ferry. Supported himself there by his wits alone. In many ways Grady helped him, but he actually saved himself. Quite remarkable.” Her words took me completely off guard. I knew there was something mysterious about Seamus's past, but I'd never imagined him in a place like that. The very thought rendered me speechless and made me see him in a new light. We sat in silence for a time, the cart bumping over the road, Annie and Georgie gobbling their scones, the town disappearing behind us. The air was misty and cool, the sky white. I hoped the smell of woodsmoke was from the local chimneys and not the scent of the Grey Man, following us from Clare Island. It seemed that life was all about the pursuit of things—Pru and me, our treasure. Marni, her son. Seamus, a place to belong? The sea and the Grey Man, innocent victims . . . I wondered about the mysterious force that drew Marni place to place all these years. Was it misguided? It hadn't delivered the treasure she sought, but it had led her to Walter, Georgie, Annie, and me. But we were the consolation prizes. The thought made me sad. I wanted to be enough for her, as I'd wanted to be enough for Addie.

Soon the hillsides changed from velvety green to a patchwork of strangely shaped, mostly flat gray rocks. They erupted from the fields like puzzle pieces, fitting together in intricate designs. The farther we traveled, the more the green gave way to gray, with crooked channels of wildflowers and creeping foliage between. It became an ever more expansive mosaic of stone, turning the countryside into a harsh and haunting vista. We all fell still, each of us strangely alone together, gazing out over the desolate landscape. Perhaps they were all wondering the same thing as I—why in the world would Molly have come to such a remote place to establish an inn? Maybe that was the point—less chance of Edward finding her and the treasure.

“Look,” Marni whispered. She pointed to a massive structure built of four standing wedges of limestone jutting from the ground like pillars, supporting a roof-like slab balanced atop. It resembled a lean-to, constructed of stone. How the builders had hoisted these weighty megaliths was beyond comprehension. “I believe it's an ancient tomb,” Marni continued. The whole area had the feeling of a graveyard—still on the surface, with a multitude of secrets concealed beneath.

“Who's buried in there?” Annie asked, her eyes wide. “A giant?” She leaned forward for a better look, dropping her food sack with a loud clunk. “Oh no,” she exclaimed, “I didn't mean it! Sorry! Sorry!”

“It's all right,” I said. The sack rolled away with the rocking of the wagon. Annie scrambled for it, splaying herself across the floor. “Wait,” I said. “What have you got in there?”

Annie grabbed for the sack, but I was quicker. I opened the bag and pulled out a large Mason jar. Inside, an enraged Nessa pinged against the glass like a moth on a screen, wings fluttering furiously. Her face was red, her hands pressed against the glass.

“Annie! What were you thinking?”

“She wanted to come, but I was afraid she'd fly away. So I put her in—”

“A
jar
?” I shouted. I quickly unscrewed the lid and Nessa shot out, gasping for breath. She flopped onto the bench where we sat, wings wilted, lying on her back, propped on elbows and forearms. Her small chest heaved as she sucked large gulps of air.

Georgie dropped his lunch sack and threw himself into a heap on the floor. “She might shoot!” he yelled, hunkering down behind the seat.

“I didn't think of that,” Annie whimpered. “Nessa, I didn't mean . . .”

YouAREmean!IalmostDIEDinthere!

“Oh, please,” Annie sobbed. “I didn't mean it!”

“What's going on back there?” Walter called.

“Nothing!” I shouted. The last thing I wanted was for him to have another encounter with Nessa.

“Keep in mind, Nessa,” Marni whispered emphatically, “Annie's but a child. She lacks the benefit of age and experience. . . .”

Nessa unfurled her wings that had been pale in color and were now pulsing again with brilliance and vigor. She rose and hovered inches from Annie's nose. Annie stared, her eyes crossed with the effort. Suddenly Nessa leaned to the right, zipped in that direction, and lighted on Annie's shoulder. I contemplated swatting her before she could take her revenge, but she wasn't, after all, a fly. She was human, in some sense, anyway.

“Nessa,” I began. “Don't be spiteful. . . . Annie didn't . . .”

OOOHLook!
She flew circles in the air above us, pointing toward the ancient lean-to tomb.
Fairies­
downthereforsure!ATHINSPACEbetweentheworlds.Gottagothere!

With that she was gone, a beeline of light following in her wake. We watched the directional beam of energy mark her route above the cart, across the field, under the limestone platform, and into the darkness beneath. “See! I knew I'd lose her,” Annie wailed, tears muddying her cheeks.