Briana kept a light hand on the reins as Lizzy pranced nervously under her. Beside them, Nora straddled Stubbs’s wide girth. Shannon ranged ahead, impatient with the slow pace. The fat pony nickered, reaching over to nose the fidgety mare, calming her.
“That’s why I wanted him with us,” Briana said. “Thanks for coming along.”
“No problem,” Nora said. “She’s beautiful.”
“She is, but she’s had a hard time of it.” Briana smoothed her hand along the mare’s neck.
“What happened?”
“She was a racehorse. Lots of promise, blinding speed when she was alone on the track, but no drive to get in the mix with other horses. Her trainer and jockey were brutal, thinking they could whip her to the front of the pack. She got to where she wouldn’t let anyone touch her much less ride her.”
“That’s awful.”
“A friend of mine, an exercise rider for another trainer, called me. She’d reported them to the track stewards, and they contacted the owner. He’s one with dozens of horses; burns through them and then tosses them. He agreed to sell her rather than face a fine, and she came to us. Underfed, open cuts from the whip.”
A rabbit jumped out of a nearby hedge. Lizzy gave a wild snort and leapt sideways, crashing into Stubbs and Nora.
Nora managed to keep her seat, tightening her grip on Stubbs’s reins while Briana got Lizzy under control. She used leg pressure to gently nudge the mare toward the hedge and let her lower her head to sniff at the lingering scent of rabbit. When Lizzy was satisfied that nothing there would hurt her, they walked on.
Briana gave her an encouraging pat on the shoulder. “She’s been with us for four months and is only now letting me touch her.”
“Do you do this often?” Nora asked, straightening her helmet.
“This being?”
“Rescue horses.”
Briana shrugged. “Quinn’s good about searching the auctions for cast-offs. They make good stable horses. All most of them need is a bit of kindness and gentle handling.”
“What about the trainer? The one who was treating her so badly. Did he get into trouble?”
“Rafferty was his name. I heard the stewards barred him from the track. And I know he left with a black eye.”
Nora twisted in the saddle. “Quinn gave him a black eye?”
“No.” Briana felt herself redden under Nora’s intense gaze. “I did. Bastard deserved it.”
Nora laughed softly.
They ambled on, but Nora kept snorting under her breath.
“What’s so funny?” Briana asked.
“I’m just picturing you punching out some big, burly guy,” Nora said, still chuckling.
“Well, I would have given him more than a black eye if Quinn hadn’t tossed me into the horse trailer.” She waited a beat. “Then Quinn gave him a bloody nose.”
Nora laughed more loudly. “I love Ireland.”
She met Briana’s gaze, and Bri felt her face warm again, but with an accompanying tingle in her stomach this time.
“What time did you get to the barn this morning?” Nora asked.
“About six. Time enough to get the horses turned out and the stalls cleaned.”
“I didn’t see your SUV.”
“It’s parked at the house.”
Nora’s head tilted. “You walked to work?”
Briana chortled. “The house is about twenty-five yards behind the barn.”
“That cute little place? I thought that was the office.”
“Quinn lets it cheap as part of my pay. He likes to have someone close at night, in case of fire. He does the same at the riding stables. Liam lives in a flat fixed up over the office.”
“That’s handy.”
“It works out for all of us. Let’s canter.”
A few minutes later, they slowed to a walk again. With some of her nervous energy scrubbed off, Lizzy looked around with more curiosity than fear.
“How was your visit with Mrs. McCarthy?”
“Interesting,” Nora said. “She’s seen her. The ghost.”
“She has?”
“Yep. She said the old man they bought the cottage from talked about her, and people thought he was crazy. She doesn’t know anything about Rowan, though. She suggested we go talk to an old woman…” Nora screwed her face up, trying to remember how to pronounce the name. “Aoibheann Ní Mheolchatha.”
“Eve?”
Nora turned. “You know her?”
“Sure,” Briana nodded to the left. “I ride by her cottage a few times a month. Deep in the woods, she is. Likes her quiet and alone.” Briana hesitated. “Did Mrs. McCarthy tell you anything about her?”
“Only that she’s a bit odd.”
Briana let out a bark of laughter. “That’s an understatement.”
Nora frowned. “What do you mean?”
“She’s what you might call a medicine woman.” Briana grinned. “Or a witch.”
“You’re teasing me.”
“No.” Briana shook her head. “I’m not. Wait till you see her place. When are you going?”
“Sheila said we’d go this weekend.”
Briana chuckled. “Let me know how it goes.”
“Why don’t you come along?”
Briana saw the challenge in Nora’s eyes, but it was the opportunity to spend more time in her company that drove her. She nodded. “All right, then. I will.”
Sheila parked the SUV in a lay-by on the side of a dirt road and opened her rear hatch. “We’ll have to walk the rest of the way.”
Apparently, the rules for attire for visiting Eve were different from those for Orlagh McCarthy. Luckily, Sheila had warned Nora about the need to trek, so Nora was appropriately dressed in what she thought of as her nursery clothes—nylon hiking pants that shed mud and water easily, with waterproof hiking shoes. Briana was dressed similarly in patched canvas work dungarees and worn boots. Sheila handed each of them a basket, taking a third herself.
“Where’s Shannon?” Nora asked.
“Thought she’d better stay at the stables today,” Briana said, zipping her jacket.
An overnight rain had left the morning cool and misty, with tendrils of fog swirling about as they made their way through the ferns and mosses. The damp chill made Nora glad she’d heeded Sheila’s advice and worn a sweater under her rain jacket.
“What’s in these baskets?” Nora asked.
“Things Eve can use,” Sheila said. “Herbs, dried flowers, roots—ingredients for her teas and medicines. Some of my lotions and soaps.”
She glanced back with a grin. “Plus a bottle. To loosen her tongue.”
Nora returned the grin. “Did you think of that because it helped with Orlagh McCarthy?”
“Well, it reminded me, let’s say.”
Sheila pushed through a patch of undergrowth that left them soaked with water droplets. Overhead, the trees were so dense that they walked through a green twilight. Nora wondered what trail Sheila was following, because there was no path she could see. Behind her, Briana kept pace silently.
It seemed they walked for an hour, though it probably wasn’t that long.
“How in the world does she exist this far from everything?” Nora panted.
“People bring her things,” Briana said, not even breathing hard from the sound of it. “She barters.”
Nora turned to her. “For what?”
But just then, a cottage came into view through the trees. At least, Nora thought it was a cottage. It looked almost as if it was just another feature of the forest. Partially dug into a hill, the cottage’s roof of slate was covered in moss like the forest floor. The ferns and other plants grew right up to a rough wooden door. Only the wisps of smoke rising from a squat stone chimney gave any hint that a human lived there.
Sheila stopped so abruptly that Nora almost walked into her.
“Eve! Eve, it’s Sheila Donnelly.”
For a moment, nothing happened. Nora wondered if anyone was there. Then the door creaked open and Nora gasped.
She was… ethereal, Nora decided. Hair of silver-white cascaded over shoulders cloaked in a kind of gown of deepest blue that was at once shapeless and elegant, girded at her slender waist by a twisted braid of green cloth or vine—Nora wasn’t sure. Her feet were clad in boots or slippers of brown. Leather? Somehow, Nora had a hard time imagining her wearing animal skins.
She would wonder later how she noticed all those other things because she could have sworn her eyes never left Eve’s. Eve’s gaze immediately focused on her, and Nora felt ensnared.
She was vaguely aware that Sheila had continued toward the cottage and Briana had nudged her from behind, but Nora didn’t really remember taking any more steps. Suddenly, she found herself standing before Eve, staring into eyes as green as the mosses and ferns of her forest, eyes that were at once guileless and ancient.
“Dia duit,” Nora managed to say.
Eve’s beautiful face broke into a smile at the greeting. She reached for Nora’s hand, her grasp warm and soft. It seemed to Nora that there was a spark of light at the contact. Eve smiled more broadly. “Fáilte.”
She led Nora into the cottage. Sheila and Briana followed.
“Aoibheann Ní Mheolchatha, this is my cousin, Nora McNeill,” Sheila said, setting her basket on the table where four cups sat. “I’m sorry, Eve. Are we interrupting? Were you expecting company?”
Eve chuckled softly and released Nora’s hand. “No and yes, Sheila. I saw you coming.”
She went to the stone hearth, where a kettle hung over a peat fire. “Please, sit.”
While she poured hot water into a teapot, Nora gazed around open-mouthed. She felt she had stepped back in time to another era. The entire cottage was filled with a hodgepodge of books—some looking to be very old—along with shelves crammed with pots and jars. Judging from the candles and oil lamps scattered about, the cottage didn’t seem to have electricity. One candle on the mantel was lit, sitting inside the protection of a glass vase, like a hurricane lamp.
From the wooden beams supporting the roof hung bunches of dried flowers, hanks of different grasses tied together, twisted roots that Nora couldn’t identify. She caught Briana watching her with an “I told you so” expression.
“We brought you some things I thought you could use,” Sheila said, opening the lid of her basket and setting its contents on the table.
“That was so thoughtful of you,” Eve said. She set the teapot on the table and picked up one of the bars of soap, inhaling its scent. “You know I love the things you make.”
She poured the tea and passed the cups around.
Sheila reached into the basket that Briana had carried. “We also brought some other things.” She produced two loaves of her almond bread and a bottle.
Eve laughed, and the sound was musical to Nora’s ears.
“That was kind of you,” Eve said. She reached for a knife. “One to share with new friends.”
She nodded at the bottle. “If you’d tip a bit of that into our tea, Briana, it’ll help ward off this chill morning.”
Briana poured the whiskey while Eve cut the bread. Nora found a container of eggs and a crock of fresh butter in her basket and placed them on the table.
“This is quite a feast,” Eve said. “What’s the occasion?”
“Oh, we were in the mood for a bit of craic,” Sheila said casually.
“What does that mean?” Nora asked. “Someone else mentioned craic to me.”
Sheila opened and then closed her mouth.
“It’s hard to explain,” Briana said.
“It’s conversation,” said Eve. “A bit of gossip.”
“A good time,” Sheila offered. “You know it without words.” She waved her hand at Nora. “Nora’s visiting us for the summer, and Bri and I thought it’d be nice for her to meet you.”
“I see.”
Eve’s eyes met Nora’s as she slid a plate across the table to her, and Nora was certain that Eve knew why they were really there.
“From America, is it?” Eve asked conversationally. “But your family’s from here.”
It wasn’t a question.
“Yes,” Nora said. “My grandparents—”
“Brigid Cleary,” interrupted Eve. “She married Thomas McNeill.”
“Yes,” Nora said again. “How did… Do you know them?”
Rather than answer, Eve took a bite of bread. Nora nibbled on hers.
“Nora’s staying in Sióg Cottage,” Sheila said, but Nora again had a feeling that bit of information was unnecessary.
She followed Sheila’s lead and let the silence stretch out as they all ate and drank. Eve set her cup down and focused those hypnotic green eyes on Nora again.
“I take it you’ve met Móirín.”
“Maureen?” Nora repeated.
Sheila found a scrap of paper and pen in one of the multitude of pockets in her trousers. “In Irish, it’s spelled like this.”
She wrote it out.
Nora glanced at Eve. “The ghost has a name.”
Eve’s eyes flashed. “Of course she has a name. Just because she’s dead doesn’t wipe her existence from memory.” She lowered her lids, veiling her eyes for a moment, as she seemed to collect herself. “Móirín Ní Ceallaigh was a real woman who deserves to be remembered.”
She got up and went to one of her shelves, sifting through stacks of leather-bound books. She found the one she sought, smaller than the others, and set it on the table, raising a little puff of dust from its brittle pages. Its leather cover was scuffed and curled around the edges, as if it had been handled a lot. She flipped it open and leafed through the fragile sheets.
“We know a little of her.” Tracing a finger along faded squiggles of ink, Eve read, “Móirín was married to Donall O’Heaghra in 1839. He was a blacksmith and she a skilled seamstress.” She paused. “From these records, that’s all we know. When the Hunger came, the western parts of Ireland, all of Connaught—including Mayo—were affected horribly. It’s likely Donall and Móirín’s skills would have remained in high demand, and they might have been able to sustain their family through their trades if they could find people who could afford to pay them. But that probably wouldn’t have been here. Except for Ashford, there weren’t many people who were well off in these parts. Another source tells us that Donall and the children went to America.”
Eve closed her book and folded her hands over top of it.
“What other source?” Nora asked, eyeing the book, wishing she could leaf through its pages. But Eve’s fingers tightened protectively, and she didn’t answer.
“Only him and the children?” Sheila asked.
“From what we know.”
Nora glanced from Sheila to Eve. “Then what happened to Móirín? Why is she haunting the cottage? What about Rowan?” She sat back. “And what does she want with me?”
“Have you asked her?” Eve asked.
Nora opened and closed her mouth. “No.”
Eve’s ageless face creased into a cryptic smile. “Don’t you think you should?”
Briana and Sheila exchanged a worried look as Nora sat silently in the back seat, staring out the window. Sheila pulled up to Sióg Cottage and turned the car off.
“Are you all right?” she asked, turning in her seat to look at Nora. “You’re pale.”
Nora didn’t respond.
“Nora?” Briana prompted.
“Hmmm?” Nora blinked. “Sorry. Just thinking about everything Eve said.”
She opened the door and got out. Sheila and Briana followed her into the cottage. Both of them paused in the parlor, listening, waiting.
Nora noticed and snorted. “I don’t think she’ll come floating down the stairs at us.”
“I don’t know,” Briana said uncertainly. “After everything Eve said, I remembered how Shannon reacted—there’s not much spooks her, but whatever’s here did.”
Sheila pointed up the stairs. “Mind if we go up and have a look around?”
“No.” Nora led the way. She gestured toward the bedroom at the back of the cottage. “Like I told you, I’ve never seen her in here. Nothing’s ever been disturbed.”
They stepped into the front room. Everything was in place.
“Shannon wouldn’t come into this room,” Briana told Sheila.
“That would tell me something right away,” Sheila said, walking around the room. “Móirín? Móirín, are you here?”
They stood still, but there was no sound, no whisper of movement, nothing at all.
“Why don’t you come stay with us for a few days?” Sheila suggested. “You,” she added, pointing at Nora. “Not…” She waved her hand at the empty room.
“That’s silly,” Nora said. “She hasn’t hurt me. I don’t think she means me any harm at all. I still think maybe she needs help.”
“Help to do what?” Briana asked.
Nora shrugged. “If we knew that, we’d have half the puzzle solved.”
“I… I could stay here with you,” Briana offered.
She felt her face grow hot as both Nora and Sheila stared at her. She shoved her hands into her pockets and shuffled her feet.
“Just a thought. In case you didn’t want to be alone with… you know.”
Nora’s face relaxed into a smile. “Thanks, but I think I’ll be okay. I appreciate the offer, though.”
“Fine. Good.”
Sheila’s chuckle followed Briana as she stomped back downstairs and out to the car.