The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons (19 page)

28

A
s we prepared to carry Marni up and out of the cave, we were met once again by the sound of footsteps.

“Nessa, where in the world did you go?” came an exasperated voice.

My knees went weak with relief. “Aunt Pru,” I shouted, “we're in here!”

Pru and Walter appeared in the entranceway.

Ledyouhereandthat'sthethanksIget!

Pru swatted Nessa out of the way and they both rushed in, eyes darting between me and the treasure. But at the sight of Marni and Jack they stopped short.

“It's you!” Pru cried. “Let go of her! Oh, good Lord, she's bleeding!” Walter grabbed Jack by the arm, eyes flashing.

“No! No, it's all right,” I exclaimed. “I'll explain—after we get her out of here!”

Walter eyed Jack warily and reluctantly released him. Then our eyes met. “Quaide?” he asked.

“Gone.” I fought a wave of tears. “He stabbed Marni, I went to knock the sword out of his hands, and . . .”

“It's all right,” Walter said, taking me in his arms. “Whatever he got, he deserved.”

Carefully, we carried Marni back up the way we came. As we inched along I related the story of my capture, how I figured out Jack's identity and the secret of Dirk's lookout post, and the most challenging part of all—how the closer I came to the treasure, the more threatening the water had become.

“And still you pressed on.” Walter shook his head. “Is there anything you're afraid of, Lucy P.?”

I shook my head. “I'm always afraid,” I said, “but like Nessa, I persist.” She still hovered around us like an annoying hornet, pestering us for a piece of silver or a nugget of gold.

“Not now,” I shouted as we settled Marni in the back of Pru's wagon, Jack by her side. Walter took the reins.

“Hurry,” Jack said. “She's pretty weak.” While his voice did little to betray his feelings, his face was tense. He was clearly a man accustomed to keeping his emotions in check. Something, I realized sadly, that most motherless children learn to do.

Walter looked at Pru and me. “You'll follow in the other cart?”

“We'll be right behind you.”

Walter snapped the reins against the mule's flank. “Yah!” And they were off.

In a last-minute flash of intuition, Pru and I descended once more into the cave. I said a prayer for Marni's swift recovery as I slipped the ring off Great-grandfather's finger and onto my own. Together Pru and I removed the dagger that was lodged in Edward's remains, wiped it clean, and sliced our index fingers—just enough to draw a few drops of blood. This we mingled and dripped on the chest of spoils—a symbol of the Simmons women having fulfilled their obligation.

Finally we climbed out into the light, disguising the mouth of the cave as best we could. We got in the cart and headed back to Ballyvaughan. Now all that was left to do was to determine the best way to deliver the treasure back to its rightful heirs. And then it would be finished.

29

“B
est thing fer ye would be t' have a little smoke,” Miss Oonagh urged Marni. “Calm the nerves, clear out the lungs.” The two sat side by side in the parlor where Marni was recuperating.

“What a crock o' blarney,” Old Peader muttered. He wagged a finger at Oonagh. “And don't ye even think of lightin' that confounded pipe near our patient.”

Marni smiled. “I have everything I need for a full recovery,” she said, gazing at Jack. “And I'll pass on the tobacco.”

“Suit yerself then,” Miss Oonagh retorted.

In the two weeks since the stabbing, Marni had been showered with care. Patsy plied her with food and strong, brisk tea. Pru and I read her poetry. Annie brought flowers. Georgie tried to offer her a toad from the garden, but Old Peader stopped him. “Last thing she needs is warts,” he grumbled. Addie dressed her wound, applying a potent fairy salve, compliments of Nessa. Seamus provided entertainment—jokes, juggling, and the like, and also carved a small mermaid figurine that he left on the table beside her. The orphan children, suddenly shy, brought bunches of wild flowering weeds and small interesting stones from the Burren. Mostly they just sat by her feet, watching anxiously to be sure she was recovering from her wound. Pugsley and Rosie too stood watch, as if guarding her convalescence.

Of course, Brigit excelled in nursing Marni, providing blankets and broth, a cheerful fire in the hearth, all with a gentle touch, which, surprisingly, I hardly resented at all. After being so graced with the discovery of the treasure, and the joy of Marni and Jack's reunion, I found myself much more generous of spirit.

But it was sitting beside Jack, the two of them talking softly, filling in the bits and pieces of their lives, that had the most therapeutic effect.

As soon as we could, we'd returned to the cave and, with Walter and the capt'n's help, transported the treasure to the cottage, where it was stored under lock and key. It had taken us three strenuous trips, lugging it out of the cave and onto a cart, our priceless cargo covered with hay and a large tarp so as not to raise any suspicion.

Then came the task of determining how to repay those who had helped. Jack, following his mother's lead, had divided the spoils, gifting some to Pru and me, and smaller sums to Walter, Georgie, and Annie. Grady too was rewarded for his role, as was the capt'n. Seamus was another story. When Pru had suggested that we gift him with a little something Jack had hesitated. “I doubt he'd accept,” Jack said, without explanation.

Strange too that since Jack had arrived Seamus had made himself scarce—his excuse was that he'd taken a job at the town pub, waiting tables, earning some good tips. After two weeks of this he turned up and offered Jack a fat envelope of cash. “To repay ye what I owe,” Seamus said.

Jack hadn't seemed surprised. “It's true, you never really delivered the goods. Lucky Quaide never caught up with you.”

“What are you talking about?” Walter asked.

Jack patted Seamus on the back. “He has a good heart. Quaide tried to buy him off back on the island, but I guess once he met all of you . . .”

“Take the money, please,” Seamus urged. “Almost sold me soul fer the price of a new set of oilskins to take sailin'. And then I went back on me word, though it was the right thing t' do.” He looked my way. “Lucy—cross me heart an' hope t' die, had I known ye well and what Quaide was up to I never woulda . . .”

“I knew it!” Walter said. “The night you were supposed to keep watch over the harbor at Clare Island . . .”

“I did the right thing in the end, I did. Just slipped up a bit at first. But I made it up t' ye's, haven't I?”

Walter nodded grudgingly. In the end, at Seamus's insistence, Jack took the money, they shook hands, and all was forgotten.

Finally there was only one thing left to do. Pru and I had vowed to return to Simmons Point in Maine, to walk the place where our house had stood, to commemorate it in some way, as a tribute to Mother and Father.

“So,” Addie asked at dinner that evening, “how will ye know if the curse is finally broken? Shouldn't there be a sign or the like?”

I too craved some kind of validation. Some insurance that we'd successfully fulfilled our obligation.

Just then Nessa flew in on her triple-card glider made of both queens and Edward's card, the king of diamonds, still gloating over her role in the drama.

Ideservesomegoldandjewels!Givemesome!

Pru narrowed her eyes. “A deal's a deal, Nessa. You agreed to share information in exchange for the second queen card. And correct me if I'm wrong, but aren't those the two queens in your hands? And then we gave you the king card besides!”

Youtrickedme!SoonasIledyoutothecavethecardsstopped
talking!Stoppedflyingtoo!
Nessa hovered before us, thrusting the cards under our noses. The images stared blankly, their poses static and stiff.

Theyusedtobemagiccards!

“Spirits finally settled in their graves where they belong,” Miss Oonagh rasped. She drew on her pipe and exhaled a white cloud of smoke that rapidly dissipated. “Gone, jest like that. Their work is done.”

“And that means the curse has been dispelled?” Jack asked.

Oonagh shook her head. “Ain't no curse no more.”

“Thank the good Lord,” Old Peader said, blessing himself.

Nessa tossed the cards on the ground.
Whatgoodaretheythen?

Jack chuckled. “They didn't come with a guarantee. But because I'm generous, and no longer cursed, I'll give you this.” From his pocket he pulled a string of the tiniest pearls. “Here. Your just reward.”

Nessa grabbed the strand, examining it closely, running them through her teeth to test their quality.
Good.Nowhowaboutsomegold?

“Nessa . . . ,” Pru warned, pointing to the jar on the shelf.

Allright.Allright!

Throughout this exchange Marni gazed out the window, a faraway look clouding her sea-green eyes. “There's something I need to do,” she said softly. “To ensure that all my mother's affairs are properly laid to rest. Lucy—might you help me?”

All eyes were on us. “Of course,” I said, wondering what in the world was left to be done.

“Meet me at the harbor, beyond the dock, where the water laps against that thin strip of sand.”

My heart began to race. “Why don't we go together, Marni?”

“You go ahead. I'll be there shortly.”

I dabbed my mouth with my napkin, stood, and headed outside. All the way to the harbor questions plagued me. What unfinished business could there possibly be? I had a vision of her walking calmly into the water, as I'd seen her do in Maine, and be completely enveloped by it. Is this how she would leave me after all?

I reached the spot, leaned against a large boulder, and gazed out to sea, the
Lucy P. Simmons
in the distance. In minutes I heard Marni's footsteps on the path. She sidled up beside me, a good-sized parcel in her hands. “Sixty years ago I should have done this. But it's never too late to do the right thing. Help me, Lucy.”

Together we unwrapped the bundle, gently tearing back the paper to reveal the sleek silver fur. The cape unfurled, draping across our arms and onto the sand. I watched Marni run her hand across it, eyes brimming. “Forgive me, Mother,” she said quietly. I followed her lead, gently carrying the sealskin mantle toward the sea. We knelt, lowered it into the surf. It shimmered as the water flowed across it, rippled for a moment in a kind of undulating dance, and then was carried off by the current. We both stood and stared at the place where it had been just a moment before.

Suddenly Grady appeared. He removed his cap. Cleared his throat. “The
Lucy P.
's all shipshape and ready to sail. I say we start to load 'er up. Sail to Galway tomorrow to hire us a crew.”

Together we walked back to the house. Walter and the capt'n had agreed to sail along as far as Galway to help hire the sailors who would get us safely home. After that brief voyage they'd head back to Ballyvaughan by land, and Pru and I would sail home to Maine.

“America.” Seamus sighed. “Always wanted t' see Lady Liberty.”

“When d' we sail?” Miss Oonagh asked.

Grady sighed. It appeared Miss Oonagh saw the Galway excursion as an attractive outing. Grady looked at Pru and me. “Up to you.”

The capt'n placed one hand over Addie's and the other over mine. “Are you sure you can't be convinced to stay?”

I thought, again, of Simmons Point, where Mother, Father, and I'd been so happy. I'd been so sure that returning would somehow fill the empty space in my heart that their absence left. Suddenly I wasn't so sure.

Annie and Georgie looked longingly at me. “Why can't you stay?” Georgie pleaded. Annie wrung the handkerchief between her fingers and chewed her lip. My heart was torn. I'd never really thought much beyond finding the treasure—hadn't considered what leaving would entail. Nor had I considered the possibility of the children finding a place for themselves here. Laying down roots where they'd begun to finally grow and thrive—without me.

It took the rest of the day to gather my things, to reacquaint myself with the nooks and crannies of the ship. Once aboard it began to feel a little more like home, but as I leaned on the rail, gazing upon the emerald shore, something tugged at my insides. What did home mean, anyway? Was it a place or a state of mind? Did it have to do with memories or the people you loved? The ship's bell clanged, calling to mind the days when it had sounded outside my home in Maine. Why did it feel as though I was leaving home rather than returning?

That evening we shared a quiet dinner, everyone trying hard to remain in good spirits, putting our best faces forward. Despite our good intentions, the meal was steeped in an unspoken sadness, the clink of utensils filling the silences between the words we struggled to say. Even the dogs were distressed—Pugsley nosed nervously around Rosie, who slunk off by herself and collapsed in a resigned heap.

“The only thing separating Ireland and America is the Atlantic,” the capt'n said, in what was intended to be a bright voice. “A good sail once in a while is a grand thing!”

Old Peader sniffed and wiped his eyes. “This'll be the last time I lay eyes on ye's,” he whispered. “Next time ye come t' me grave I won't be risin' from it!”

Marni placed her hand on his shoulder, but didn't correct him. We all knew he spoke the truth, hard as it was to hear. I almost couldn't bear to meet Marni's gaze or to actually consider life without her. Walter stared at me throughout the meal. He'd wanted to sail all the way back to Maine with us but couldn't possibly leave Annie and Georgie. I picked at my food, unable to swallow for the longing that gripped my throat. “Nothing is forever, Lucy,” Marni said softly. “A decision you make today can be undone tomorrow. Or a year from now. Remember that.” I looked up to see Pru eyeing me intently. “Marni's right, Lucy. We don't have to . . .”

“It's all right,” I snapped, then focused my attention on my plate, afraid that if I met their eyes or said another word the tears would begin.

We lingered at table until well past ten, no one wanting the day to end. The conversation slowed, and finally, one by one, everyone slipped away until the only ones left were Walter, Seamus, Brigit, and me.

Walter stood. “Best to get a good night's sleep,” he said to me.

“I know,” I managed. Walter looked from Brigit to me and paused. “Well, good night then.”

“Guess I'll be goin' then too,” Brigit replied. She turned to face me. “Never met anyone like ye, Lucy. Wish we'd had time t' be the friends I know we could be.” We embraced, she turned, and was gone. I wondered who would win her heart—Walter or Seamus. I shoved the thought away.

So, that left Seamus and me, still trying to figure out who we were to each other. He smiled. “Brigit's right,” he said. “Never met anyone like ye.”

I reached out and took his hand. “Seamus . . . ,” I began.

“Don't go sayin' g'bye yet. See, I always wanted to go to America . . . I . . .”

“Ireland is in your soul,” I said. “You could come, but we don't even have a plan for our life back there. I'm not too sure where we'll live, what we'll do. . . . I just need to get back to Simmons Point. For my mother, my father . . .”

“It's all right,” Seamus said. “Jest hard to say g'bye, it 'tis.” He pulled me close, his hand under my mane of hair, drawing my head against his chest, my face nestled against his throat. I could feel the beating of his heart. We stayed like that for a while before we both slowly backed away and said our good nights.

I lay in the darkness of the room I shared with Pru, wondering how I could have accomplished everything I'd set out to do, and end up feeling so bereft. It was a long time before I fell asleep—perhaps because I didn't want the day to end.

The morning didn't dawn as much as it grumbled its way out of darkness. The sky was white, the air heavy. A distant thunder rolled across the Burren, perhaps protesting the fact that we'd removed the treasure from its bowels. It was not the kind of day a sailor welcomed. At breakfast Grady paced before the window, scratching his head and scowling. “Shouldn't sail today,” he said. “It don't bode well. . . .”

The capt'n agreed. “No reason you have to leave now. Tomorrow will likely be better.”

Miss Oonagh raised her fork, a piece of bacon wagging from its tines. “No! Today's the day; I feels it in me bones. The sea calls. Yep, I hears it!”

“So now you're a sailor, Mam?” Grady barked. “I think I know best when to sail and when not.”

Oonagh stood, waving the bacon like a battle flag. “Ye think ye know everythin',” she said. “Well, ye know only what ye sees in front o' yer face. Me, I sees the other side. And I sees we're t' sail today! Couldn't be clearer!” The bacon flipped off her fork and Pugsley snapped it out of the air.