Thirty-Two

S

omething tickled my face, and I bolted upright. The plum curtain lifted in the breeze from the window above my headboard. I squinted against the bright room. Unusually bright. The clock said it was past ten. I had slept way too late.

My legs wobbled when I stood, like my muscles hadn’t caught up to the fact that we weren’t sleeping anymore. The awful dream revisited while I showered, the memory of it making me tremble. Had Ina actually been in my room, or was she part of the dream, too? I stood in the hot water an extra couple of minutes to erase the chill.

I wound my way down the spiral stairs, listening for signs of life. A world of green rolled away from every window I passed. I followed the clatter of dishes and the warm, sweet scent of sugary pastries to the kitchen. Ina stood at the sink with her back to me. When I entered, she turned slowly, almost reluctantly, and met my eyes. Her brows furrowed, and she turned back to rinsing her teacup.

I swallowed hard and slid a chair out at the table. “Good morning.”

Ina glanced at the clock. “Travel sure does take it out of a person. I’ll bet you’re hungry.”

“I kinda am. I can make something—”

“Nonsense. I’ve got some scones baking. You’re obviously fond of sweets.”

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.