CHAPTER 7
"What the hell was that?" Keelin thought. She was pissed. One surly Irishman had heated her blood more quickly than the last five Boston elites that her mom had set her up with. She chalked it up to a long dry spell in her love life and studied the directions on her paper. A flush crept up her cheeks. Damn that man for making her angry and hot in the same moment. She hadn't been this disturbed in a while.
Muttering under her breath, she pulled out into the street and almost hit a car in the right lane.
"Damn it!" Keelin whipped the wheel to the left and moved over. She made a note to calm down before driving here. She was bound to get herself hurt. Her truck chugged up the hill and onto a narrow road that wound deeper into the hills. Bushes and rocks concealed corners and most turns were blind. Keelin took deep breaths and drove slowly. Even so, she only narrowly caught the weathered sign. O'Brien's Road was etched on a small piece of wood, the red of the paint almost worn off.
"Here we go." Gravel coated the road and the truck shuddered as it worked itself over the bumps and grooves that furrowed the track up the hill. Keelin wound the truck higher up the hill, passing by worn fences and pastures dotted with spray-painted sheep. Why in the world were the sheep hot pink? Keelin made a note to ask someone about that.
Punk-rock sheep, she laughed to herself. Her friends back home in the Boston music scene would find that funny. She turned a blind corner and let out a shriek. A herd of sheep blocked her path and didn't appear to be in the mood to move.
Keelin laid on the horn. Nothing. They stared back at her balefully, and stood their ground.
She rolled down her window. "Hey. You. Get! Get out of here." Frustrated and figuring she had been tested enough, she moved the truck forward. The sheep bolted quickly and Keelin laughed. Now she was beginning to feel a little more like an Irishwoman.
Keelin turned another corner and her world opened up.
"Oh. Oh God. Oh, I just can't." Her voice caught in her throat and unexpected tears pricked at her eyes. The sheer beauty of the landscape before her was unapologetic in its magnificence. The stone hut was nestled by two rocky outcroppings to block the wind. Below the hut, the hills stretched wide before kissing the sea. The stunning green hills rolled down to arrogant cliffs that jutted into an almost perfect half-circle of a cove. Grace's Cove. A small sand beach lay in the dead center of the cove and a narrow path wound down the cliff face to the beach. The sun was blinding in its brilliance, diamonds of light shatteredacross the surface of the water and the green of the grass was a perfect contrast to the blue of the water that mirrored the same hue in the sky. Keelin felt like she was on top of the world.
I would never leave here if I didn't have to, she thought. As she turned to look around she began to make out the intricacies in the landscape. Various paths wandered in different directions over the hills, and stone markers were set at odd points throughout the land.
Was that a stone circle? Her eyes strained to make out what appeared to be a series of rocks set in a circle. The plant life was lush and there were various ribbons tied on bushes and flowers. A high brick wall segmented an area past the outcropping, and vines coated it. Keelin wondered what was past the wall.
So this is to be my home for a while? I can live with this. Keelin looked forward to an adventure for the summer, and where else could she get it but in this slice of heaven? Keelin put her backpack on and hefted her grocery sacks from the back of the truck. Turning, she looked at the mountains at her back. They rose behind her and sheltered the house, the land, and the cove. Keelin squinted. For a second she thought she saw a man and a dog high up on the ridge overlooking the house. Shaking her head, she looked again and the ridge was empty.
Keelin walked towards the hut. It was really quite a bit larger than a hut but Keelin liked the romantic thought of staying in a hut on the water's edge all summer. She would be sure to call it a hut to her friends back home. It was more of a wide square house that had two larger rooms jutting from the back. Built of round gray stones and darkwood beams, the house looked as if it was a part of the landscape. It was as if it was built for this land and this land alone.
Keelin wasn't sure if she should knock or not. It was just her here, right? She pulled the latch and went in. Light filtered through the single-paned windows, dust motes causing the light to shoot like beams across the worn farm table that stood in the middle of the room. The door opened directly into the main room, the hub of the house. One side was a small kitchen, with a wood-burning stove and a pantry. Two doors led off the back of the room and into what she presumed were bedrooms. The predominant focus of the room was the large table in the middle, which was riddled with jars, flowers, twine, and bowls. Keelin moved towards the table and noticed the walls were lined with shelves. Bottles upon bottles were stacked neatly on the shelves, and small labels were attached to them all. Keelin walked over to a shelf and saw powders of all sorts and colors. They looked like spices, but Keelin wouldn't be doing any taste tests anytime soon.
"So, you've finally arrived, then."
Keelin let out a screech and dropped her bags to the floor.
A chuckle came out of a dim corner to Keelin's right. She had missed this alcove when she had first walked in. A woman sat in a wooden rocker, the arms and back of the chair seemingly carved from a single piece of wood. Keelin wanted to sit in that chair. It hugged the woman in it and they rocked as if they were one. Keelin's own eyes peered at her from under an impressive head of long, curly gray hair. Her hair leaped and roped around her head, tiedin areas with twine, with small flowers placed behind her ears.
Easily eighty years old, when Fiona smiled the years dropped from her face. She reminded Keelin of the hippies who often staged protests in the Boston Common. An earthiness clung to the old woman, yet a stillness and gentleness radiated from her. Her hands stuck out from a blue wool cape and were deftly tying twine around bunches of dried herbs. Paper labels were lined up neatly next to the bundles. The smell of lavender teased Keelin's nose and soothed her at the same time.
"Grandma?" It was a statement more than a question. There was no other person this woman could be.
"Well, yes, of course, Keelin. Who did you think it would be?" Fiona laughed up at Keelin and rose to embrace her. Another tiny woman, Keelin leaned over to embrace her awkwardly. She could feel her thin bones beneath the cape and instantly worried for her health.
"I'm just fine, Keelin. And call me Fiona," Her grandmother said with a smile. "Come, come. Let me feed you." Fiona bustled over to the small stove, where a pot was simmering. "I made extra for you today." She pulled brown bread from the window ledge, where it had been cooling in the open air, wrapped in a checkered kitchen towel.
"I'm sorry, but I thought you were, um, well, dead," Keelin stammered out.
"I know you did. Silly child, listening to your mother. Margaret certainly should have known that I was the only one who would send you that book. Ah, she always did like to make things difficult," Fiona said as she carefully measured a creamy chowder into brown stoneware bowls.Moving to the table, she placed the bowls on brightly colored mats, and brought the bread over with a dish of butter.
"Sit, sit. It's so nice to have company." Fiona happily chattered on and asked Keelin about her flight. "You're such a beauty, as I expected. You have the O'Brien coloring and stature – that strawberry-blonde hair, the brandy-colored eyes, and that body. You'll make a man very lucky someday."
Keelin stared at Fiona with her mouth open. She'd never been described in quite that way before. Her hair and eyes often received compliments. But her size-twelve frame and generous hips and bosom were not often complimented in the land of WASPs and stick-straight blondes that populated Boston.
"Um, thank you. Really. I'm sorry. Thank you and I'm not trying to be rude, but don't you think this was all a really dramatic way to get me to come here?" Keelin didn't like being surprised and was already on edge from a long day of travel. Having her grandmother for her summer roommate had not been in her plans.
Fiona sighed. "Well, you know the Irish are prone to a bit of drama, my dear. But, yes, I sincerely thought this was the best way to bring you here. It is time, after all."
"Okay, enough with this 'it is time' stuff. Time for what?" Keelin refused to sit. She felt like she was a part of some conspiracy and everyone was in on it but her.
"Well, time for you to claim your birthright, my dear. Now. Eat. There is plenty of time for talk. You need your sleep and your rest before we start your lessons first thing in the morning," Fiona said as she blew on her soup spoon.
