Crescent Calling Read online

  At some stage, someone had set a modern iron gate in the entrance to keep trespassers out of the site. Crossing the grass, the toes of my boots dampening with dew, I studied the exterior of the tower house. The crumbling facade was covered with yellow and gray lichens, and rich emerald moss clung between each slab. There was a wild and romantic feeling about this place that would look great on a postcard.

  Curling my hands around the bars, I peered into the darkness that used to be someone’s home. The earthen floor, the bare walls…I just couldn’t picture it.

  Nothing stirred. Not even the rustling of leaves overhead penetrated the bubble around the ruins. There was just…nothing. No sound and no movement, just the scent of wet earth and a strange tickling sensation on the back of my neck.

  Shivering, I let go of the bars and retreated across the grass, my feet arriving back onto the path. Suddenly, I felt really exposed and shrank into my jacket.

  Hurrying back down the hill, the ruins at my back, I stopped for a moment to take in the view of Derrydun. From up here, I could almost see the whole village. There was Molly McCreedy’s and Mrs. Boyle’s house. The pink cottage with the thatched roof was Mary’s Teahouse. To the left was the Topaz service station with its little convenience store. The one set of traffic lights was shining green on the side I could see, and while I was standing there, I watched as a car came hurtling up to the intersection with the red light, gave way for a moment, then peeled through. What was with the drivers here? They were just as mad as the inhabitants of Derrydun.

  Despite the circumstances that brought me here, I was beginning to see the charm everyone talked about when they spoke of Ireland. The green rolling hills, the local flavor, the good food and drink, the stories, and the carefreeness of it all. Here, in this place, life seemed simple.

  To my left, I spotted a red and black checked shirt lying over the stone fence. I found myself lingering when I recognized who it belonged to. Looking out over the field, I saw Boone forging his way through a flock of sheep, wearing a tight black T-shirt and loose-fitting jeans that were torn and dirty on the knees.

  When he saw me, he raised his hand in a wave. I did the same, though more hesitantly.

  Boone had been nice to me, regardless of his relationship with Aileen, which, by this stage, I was realizing was totally innocent. I doubt he was trying to go after my inheritance and undercut me. He didn’t seem the type. Approaching the fence, I decided to drop my bristly exterior and give him a break.

  “Is it always this cold in the mornings?” I asked, burying my hands deeper into my pockets.

  He closed the space between us. “Aye, it can get chilly in these parts. Best you get used to it.”

  “I never thought I would miss the Australian summer,” I replied.

  “You feelin’ better today?” he asked, leaning against the fence.

  “Yeah. Thanks.”

  “You’re not at Irish Moon today?”

  I shook my head. “I gave the helm to Mairead.”

  His eyes crinkled at the corners. “That’s brave of you.”

  “She needs the money for University or College or whatever you call it here.” I waved him off. “She seems to know how it all works.”

  “Do you like the shop?”

  “I’m…intrigued,” I replied. “I never knew that about Aileen. That she was into all that new age crystal stuff.”

  “She spent most of her time in there, that’s for sure.”

  “It feels warm in there. Better. If that’s a thing.” I shrugged. “People say crystals have all these energies. Maybe it’s that.”

  “Perhaps.” The conversation ebbed out for a moment before he nodded up the hill. “You’ve been up to see the tower house?”

  “Yeah.” Glancing over my shoulder, I studied the ruins until my eyes began to water. “It’s such a sad story.”

  “The world wasn’t always such a nice place for those who were different,” Boone said, sounding rather philosophical.

  “I suppose not.”

  We fell into an awkward silence again, and just like last time, he was the one who broke it.

  “You’re drawn to the older places,” he said mysteriously. “The tower house, the hawthorn saplin’, the crystals in the shop.”

  “I suppose,” I said with a shrug.

  “Don’t you think it’s curious?” he asked, wiping his brow with his forearm.

  “No. Should it be?” I wasn’t quite sure what he was getting at. Boone had this mysterious thing going on, but he was starting to speak in riddles. I wondered if it was an Irish thing or if it was his own personal quirk.

  “Your mam was the same,” he said. “She liked those places.”

  “Oh?”

  We stood in silence for a moment, neither of us knowing what to say. I was never good at small talk, which was probably why I’d always had small friendship groups. All my friends had been Alex’s first, so when we broke up the other day, I assumed I would never hear from them again. They knew him longer, so that’s how it usually went.

  “You and Aileen,” I began.

  Boone sprang to life. “Ah, I was homeless, you see, and she offered to help me get back on me feet.”

  “Really?” I tilted my head to the side.

  “Aye, she offered me a room in her home, and Derrydun offered me as much work as I was able to accept.”

  “Okay.”

  “When she passed… I moved to a little place of me own a mile down from the village center,” he went on. “It’s a little rough around the edges, but it’s comin’ along. I like it.”

  Yeah, I reckon I was right taking back my earlier assumption of him. He seemed genuine, and I felt bad for giving him a taste of my trademark sass.

  “It feels so long ago,” I muttered, sitting on the fence.

  “What does?”

  “The day I found out… It was only last Monday. That means…” I sighed. No wonder my inner bitch was raging. “A month ago, I lost my job. Then my boyfriend dumped me last Sunday night, and Robert turned up on Monday telling me about Aileen. Two days after that, I was on a plane to the other side of the world, and then yesterday, Saturday, I buried the mother I never got to know. For the first time, I’m completely alone. That’s my life in a nutshell.” I glanced at Boone nervously. “I’m sorry, I’ve been mean to you this whole time.”

  “Don’t mention it,” he said with a lopsided grin. “I figured it would be a lot for you to take in. No offense taken.”

  “Nothing seems to faze you, does it?”

  “There’s always worry in life, that’s how it works, but you cannae let it stop you from bein’ happy.” He sat beside me and cast his gaze over the field. “Your boyfriend is a fool if you ask me. Lettin’ a pretty thing like you go?” He shook his head. “Cic maith sa tóin atá de dlíth air.”

  I narrowed my eyes, trying to ignore the part where he said I was pretty. “What does that mean?”

  “It’s Irish for he needs a good kick up the ass.”

  I laughed, slapping my hand over my mouth. “In Australia, we would say he needs a good kick up the clacker.”

  His smile widened, and he shoved his hand through his wild hair. It was a full-on modelesque pose, and my insides began to quiver. His T-shirt didn’t leave much to the imagination, which didn’t help, either. Realizing I was staring and developing a crush on the poor guy, I turned my attention to the sheep in the field. They were white with black faces and feet, and every single one had a line of brightly colored paint on their backsides. I wondered what it was for.

  “Why are the sheep painted all different colors?” I asked.

  “Ah, it’s so everyone can tell which one is theirs,” Boone replied. “They put them all into the same field, which is our way of sayin’ we were too lazy to put up a fence.”

  I smiled, counting four different colors. There wasn’t much artistic value in their markings, just a line of paint haphazardly slapped on each rump. Blue, red, green, and orange.


  “Then there’s Albert,” Boone went on as a ram came into view. Well, I was fairly sure it was a ram since it had horns on its head. “He’s a special sort around here.”

  I snorted as Albert’s back end came into view. His backside had been painted in black and white stripes.

  “Sligeach,” Boone declared in Irish. “County Sligo Football Club.”

  “You painted a sheep’s ass in football colors?” I asked, my mouth dropping open.

  “Nay, I didn’t,” he said, trying to hold in his laughter. “Roy did.”

  I shook my head, knowing the more I was going to see of Derrydun, the stranger it would become.

  “Do you like it here?” I asked, the question coming out of the blue.

  Boone shrugged. “It’s as good a place as any. People have accepted me here, I enjoy me work, and I suppose I’ve helped in me own way.”

  “Helped?”

  “Small places like this, they thrive on community,” he explained.

  “I see.” I stared down at the village, wondering what it would feel like to be part of something bigger than myself. I’d floated for so long I wasn’t sure what it would look like.

  “Whatever you choose, Skye, you’ll always be welcome here.”

  My gaze snapped up and met his, surprised at the accuracy of his declaration. It was like he could read my mind or my emotions or whatever. Either that or I was transparent as hell. My heart was stapled to my sleeve, or whatever the saying was.

  “That seems rather farfetched,” I said, making a face. “You’ve known me for five minutes. Are you sure you want to invite me into the clubhouse?”

  Boone laughed, his roguish smile making my heart flutter.

  “Of course,” he said. “McKinney blood runs in your veins. You’ll always be a part of Derrydun, no matter where you are.”

  As we sat there on the fence overlooking the village, I couldn’t help the feeling of hope that tugged at my heartstrings. It would be nice to belong somewhere even if it was only for a moment.

  Chapter 6

  That night, the tabby cat came back, and by the time I’d woken the next morning, he’d disappeared again.

  This went on for a few more days, and each time, I would search the house to find the spot where the little Houdini had wriggled out of but never found a crack big enough for a cat to shimmy through.

  As for the cottage, I slept in the main bedroom, but I never ventured further, let alone opened the silver box on the nightstand again. I needed to make a choice, and knowing Aileen wouldn’t make it any easier, so I decided not to know her at all. It would be easier that way.

  I spent another few days in Derrydun, sitting in Irish Moon with Mairead and getting to know the lay of the land before I made my decision. The longer I stayed, the further away I floated from the life I knew. The familiar was blurring, and nothing felt like home anymore.

  I thought about Boone and his scruffy handsomeness and Yodaesque philosophy on life. I thought about Mairead and Maggie, the two unlikely friends I’d made since being here. Then I thought about Robert O’Keeffe, the lawyer, and his dry sense of humor. He seemed to have disappeared after the funeral, and I wondered where he’d scurried off to. He probably had another orphan to deliver an inheritance to.

  I thought about everything that had happened since I’d arrived, and it wasn’t enough.

  I woke up on the morning of my seventh day in Derrydun and decided I was going to sell.

  When I arrived at Irish Moon, Mairead was waiting for me outside like she did every morning. Rattling the keys, I picked the right one and shoved it into the lock. Twisting, I heard the mechanism click, and I shoved inward, but the door didn’t budge. Trying again, I swore under my breath. I didn’t need this today.

  “Stupid door,” I cursed, kicking the doorjamb.

  “That’s never happened before,” Mairead said, looking just as puzzled as I felt. “Let me try.”

  Taking the keys from me, she rattled them in the lock and pushed inward, but the door was stuck fast.

  “Don’t push too hard, or the glass will break,” I said, watching over her.

  “I know. I’m tryin’.”

  Elbowing her out of the way, I grabbed the door handle, turned the key, and shook. “Open,” I commanded. “I said open!”

  Abruptly, the door swung inward and crashed against the wall with a bang. Luckily, the glass didn’t break, but Mairead and I stood there for a full minute with our mouths hanging open.

  “Well, that solves that then,” I declared, dusting my hands. Mairead just stood there, so I added, “C’mon. Get inside.”

  Mairead went in and started turning on all the lights on her way to the storeroom at the back where she usually dumped her bag. The displays full of crystals began to shimmer and sparkle, and the stand of Irish themed wind chimes rattled musically as the outside breeze came in with us.

  Closing the door, the bell rattled, and I rounded the front counter.

  “I’m going to sell the business. Just so you know,” I said, retrieving the laptop from the shelf under the till.

  “No! You can’t!” the girl exclaimed, emerging from behind the bookshelf.

  “I’m sorry, but I have to.” I thought about rattling off all the reasons I’d used to convince myself last night but shook my head. I didn’t need to explain myself.

  Mairead pouted and turned her back on me. Ignoring her, I fired up the laptop. I knew she was counting on the extra money, but I couldn’t put my life on hold so I could do a girl, who I didn’t really know, a solid.

  Connecting to the shop’s Wi-Fi, I opened a browser, typed in a search term into Google, and waited for the results to come up. The arrow turned into a colored wheel and started spinning as the laptop began to think a little too hard. There was a reason people had dubbed it the spinning wheel of death. Moving my finger over the trackpad and clicking, I knew the whole thing had frozen. Seriously?

  Holding down the power button, I restarted the laptop and tried again, but the same thing happened. Kaput the moment I fired up a web browser.

  “It keeps freezing!” I exclaimed, throwing my hands into the air. “How am I supposed to get anything done with this piece of rubbish?”

  “It’s a brand-new laptop. Aileen got it six months ago.” Mairead glanced over the display of tumbled stones and made a face. “So it’s an omen.”

  “An omen for what?”

  “That you should keep the shop,” she said, rolling her eyes. “Duh.”

  “I don’t want to keep the shop,” I declared. “This isn’t the life I signed up for!”

  “First, the door got stuck, and now your laptop won’t work,” the Goth girl went on, lifting a cardboard box from where it was hidden underneath the display. Opening the top, she began filling up the citrine, mixing the older stones with the new. “It’s a sign.”

  “Don’t signs come in threes?” I asked with a pout.

  Mairead shrugged. “Who knows?”

  Ignoring her, I turned my attention back to the laptop, which had restarted. Waiting for it to connect to the shop’s Wi-Fi, I opened the browser and waited. And waited. Then the mouse pointer turned into the spinning wheel of death. Again.

  “Fine,” I spat, closing the lid of the laptop with a thud. “I’ll fix you.”

  Taking out my mobile phone, I opened the web browser and searched for a local real estate agency. Finding a nice looking one in Sligo, I made the call while Mairead pouted sulkily at me.

  I spoke with an enthusiastic Italian man named Fredrico something or other. Strange he was Italian and not Irish, but I supposed this part of the world was rather multicultural with the European Union and all of that. I’d never met someone from Italy before.

  I explained the business, my circumstances, and he agreed to see what he could do.

  “I have time,” he said. “I’ll stop by in an hour. Does that suit?”

  “We’re open all day, so that’s perfect.”

  Once I’d hung up the
call, Mairead pounced on me.

  “Are we really that horrible?” she asked, glaring at me.

  “What are you talking about?” I asked, scowling back just as hard.

  “You’ve been here a week and already want to sell everythin’. You haven’t given us a chance!”

  I gasped dramatically and rose to my feet. “I didn’t know this place existed!” I shouted. “My life is in Australia! Not here!”

  “But—”

  “But nothing,” I said irritably. “I want to go home.”

  “You want to give up,” Mairead muttered, turning her back on me.

  “Excuse me?” My hackles rose.

  “Aileen was nice to me,” she cried. “She didn’t care that I looked different. You don’t even want to know your own mam!”

  “She left me when I was two. What do you want me to do, Mairead?”

  The girl was shaking with emotion, which put me on edge. “She might be dead, but you can still try.”

  My mouth fell open.

  “You like it here, admit it,” she said, practically stamping her foot. “You’re pretendin’ to hate it because you don’t want to like anythin’ to do with Aileen. I bet she had a good reason for comin’ home. She always did, you know. She was wise and kind, and you’re…”

  “I’m what?” I asked, my face reddening in annoyance.

  “Scared you might be just like her.”

  I didn’t realize it until she’d thrown it in my face. Still, I just had to bite back at the poor girl to prove a stupid point. “And here I was thinking you were just chucking a tantrum because you would be losing your job.”

  Rounding the counter, I strode outside to wait for the real estate agent, leaving Mairead to pout to her heart’s content.

  Outside, Maggie was leaning against the wall, playing with her mobile phone. Standing beside her, I sighed.

  “It’s a little early for a bad day,” the bartender said. “What’s the matter?”

  “Mairead is being a sulky teenager,” I replied, thankful to see her. “I’ve decided to sell the shop, and she’s up in arms.”

  “So you want to leave us?”

  I groaned. “Not you, too.”