The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons (20 page)

“I don't think—” the capt'n began.

“Don't think then!” Miss Oonagh cried. She hobbled from the kitchen, still clinging to her fork. “I'm gettin' me bag and headin' toward the ship. Who's comin' with me?”

Grady sighed and shook his head. Pru peered out the window. A shelf of gray clouds pressed in from the west. Marni had that faraway expression I knew so well—Jack wore the same look. They were a pair of bookends, at opposite sides of the table. “I share Oonagh's feeling,” Marni said. “As unlikely as it looks, today seems to be the day.”

Pru nodded. “Miss Oonagh's more than earned my trust. And I'd place my bet on Marni's instincts any day.”

“We only go as far as Galway for now,” Walter reasoned. “Not much of a sail.”

So it was agreed. There were tears and long embraces. Old Peader wept openly, embracing Pru and me. When he reached for Oonagh, she smacked him on the arm. “Dry up!” she scolded. “I'll be back this evenin'!”

Addie hugged me close and whispered in my ear, “You'll come back t' me someday?”

“You know I will.”

Marni left Jack's side and grasped me by the shoulders. “Trust that things will turn out as they should,” she said. “They always do.”

“I love you,” I whispered.

“And I, you.”

We marched to the dock in a solemn bon voyage procession. Halfway to the harbor Walter took me by the arm, gently pulled me aside, and waited for the others to pass. Dreading our farewell, I pulled away. “I can't . . .”

“Leave me,” Walter whispered, finishing my sentence. “You can't leave me. We've been together since the beginning.” His eyes were darker than usual, his face more angular in his intensity.

“I know, but . . .”

Walter glanced over his shoulder, stepped toward me, kissed me full on the lips. “Don't go,” he whispered into my hair, his breath tickling my ear.

From a distance I heard Grady call, “She's shipshape and Bristol fashion, all standing and ready to launch!”

“I have to go,” I mumbled, pushing past him so he wouldn't see the tears welling in my eyes.

We boarded, and in no time fell into our old natural rhythm, hoisting her sails and guiding her out of the harbor. I couldn't bear to meet Walter's gaze or to watch the emerald shore shrinking. Instead I trained my eye on the horizon, gauging wind and water, looking forward, not back. Our graceful vessel rolled over the waves, out toward the open seas. I drew Father's spyglass from my pocket and squinted into the lens. It felt weighty, tingling against my skin, pulling to starboard. The sensation traveled through my fingers and hands, up my arms until the hair on the back of my neck prickled. My body was alive with this nervous energy, as though an electric current flowed through my veins, my senses charged and twice as sharp.

I knew what I was going to see before it appeared, and still I was surprised. The specter ship skimmed the top of the waves—a shimmering phantom in the distance, bearing down on us at a supernatural speed. The water before it and the clouds above it whipped into a funnel of such power that in an instant the boundary between sea and sky became indiscernible. Grady saw it and let out a cry, alerting the rest. The wind suddenly rose up and assaulted us with the force of a locomotive. Lines were ripped from our hands and whipped about like giant snakes. The sails billowed and puffed before splitting at the seams and tearing to shreds. We held on to her masts for dear life—all except Oonagh, who stood at the prow, white hair streaming wildly behind her, one hand raised as though in tribute to this terrible god of the sea. The ship nosed up on the crests and plummeted, drenching us in black, salty sheets of water. Had we been too quick in believing the curse had been broken? Only one other storm had risen up so suddenly and violently—the hurricane back in Maine that had lifted my house from its foundation and heaved it into the sea.

Despite the tumult of water and onslaught of wind the specter ship continued its advance. Another wave crashed over us, sending me sliding across the deck. I grabbed hold of a line just as the phantom ship glided beside us. There was a split-second lull, like the eye of a storm, through which I could clearly see the deck of the other vessel. My heart began to race as their familiar forms took shape. “Mother,” I whispered. “Father . . .” I felt their silent voices reverberate in my heart—
Lucy—the magic of love always overcomes the power of evil. And home is where you're loved.
For a brief, shining moment their vaporous forms glowed, and I took in the image of their faces, the love reflected there. Then they and their ship disappeared.

A bolt of lightning flashed, striking our mainmast, sending a sizzling green wave of fire down its length and through the ship. Her timbers shuddered and groaned. A seismic wave swelled against the portside, knocking the ship over, sending us tumbling into the sea. Her bow split in two; the stricken mast toppled in an explosion of flames. I gasped as the water pulled me under and dragged me into the depths. I broke the surface, lungs nearly bursting. I watched the
Lucy P. Simmons
shatter into a million pieces, her bell still clanging. A wall of water bore down on me and the raging current catapulted everything in its wake toward shore. Struggling to stay afloat, I watched her bowsprit shoot past like a spear, her rudder flip and disappear under the surface. A ragged chunk of her hull splintered against the rocks. I splashed past a section of rail, the figurehead bobbing aimlessly beside me. The sizzling mast burst into a million colors, sending a whirlwind of glittering mist over and around the carnage of our ship. Waves of sparkling vapor enveloped the wreckage, whipping it into a tempest of swirling debris, hurling it onto the rocky shore. The cyclone spun in frenetic circles, creating a maelstrom of color and light. The sea reared up and I was spit out of the ocean. I hit the ground hard, the air knocked out of me. I choked and wheezed, coughing up briny water and sand. There was a deafening explosion, a blinding flash. I covered my face with my hands.

A second passed. Then another.

An eerie silence ensued. The water lapped gently against the shore; a seabird called. I lifted my head, opened an eye. Pushed myself up on my elbows, chest heaving. Pugsley licked my face, nudged my arm with his wet snout. He was safe! And, miraculously, there was Pru, stumbling to her feet, Walter and the capt'n beside her, staring out to where the ship had been just moments before. Grady hauled himself up and lifted Oonagh from the ground. The old woman's silvery eyes glinted with excitement, her hair in a wild, tangled nest about her face.

What was left of the swirling mist had wafted over the headlands beyond where the sea had dropped us. The brilliantly hued vapor parted and rolled back, revealing a glimpse of a large structure. I recognized the familiar roofline, and as the mist continued to dissipate, I spied the leaded-glass windows, the ornate gingerbread trim. Wicker chairs lined the porch as they had when Mother, Father, and I used to sit there and read. The ship's bell hung beside the door as it always had back in Maine, the nets strung along the trellis laden with climbing roses. I moved toward the house—
my
house—the house that had been thrown into the sea, that had been transformed, that had carried me to my destiny.

Over the crest of the hill they ran—Addie, Patsy, and Brigit, Seamus and Old Peader. Georgie, Annie, Marni and Jack. I could only imagine their horror standing on the dock, watching the storm overtake us, their terror at the sound of the explosion, their concern propelling them along the shore to the inlet where our crippled ship had been thrown aground. Addie stopped short, her hand flew to her mouth—such was her astonishment at seeing the home of her former employ reincarnated along her own emerald shore.

In a moment we were all together on the porch, in an ocean of kisses and embraces, everyone talking at once. Their fingers ran along our cheeks, hands ruffled our hair, the gift of touch ensuring that what they saw was true and real. The hum of gratitude and awe faded as I heard Mother's and Father's voices once again:
Lucy—the magic of love always overcomes the power of evil. And home is where you're loved.

It might not have been the family I'd planned on, but in them I'd discovered a treasure greater than any. I looked from my beloved aunt Pru to Marni, and then at these people thrust into my life, seemingly by chance. Walter and the children. Grady and Oonagh, Brigit and Patsy, Seamus and Jack. Old Peader, still dabbing his eyes and shaking his head. And, of course, my ever-faithful Mr. Pugsley.

I knew then that this voyage was complete and that finally, at long last, I was truly home.

Epilogue

“W
herever ye go, ye take yerself with ye!”

Addie exclaimed this often as our lives on the emerald shore unfolded. We all remained true to who we were, falling into the routines and following the inclinations we'd had before the voyage that brought us together.

Grady, Oonagh, and Old Peader settled in a cottage with a view of the sea. Marni and Jack chose another thatched house nearby, reminiscent of her bungalow back in Maine. Walter, Georgie, and Annie took the cottage on the capt'n's property as they had before, affording the children the feeling of home that the capt'n and Addie had provided. Brigit and Patsy returned to Dublin, and Seamus to Clare Isle to keep an eye on Grady's property there, but the three were regular visitors. Pru and I adored living in the Simmons house, the presence of Mother and Father powerfully felt.

In light of our newfound lives the treasure had lost much of its appeal, even for Jack. So no one was surprised when Marni used a good portion of the spoils to fund the construction of a large country manor, designed to house the lost children she had always been so drawn to. Soon Rory, Paddy, Meg, and their gang of foundlings from the workhouse had a roof over their heads and food in their bellies, and they became the next generation of recipients of her extraordinary care.

And there were other surprises as well. Right after our ship's reincarnation Rosie disappeared for more than a week. Old Peader was inconsolable, Pugsley depressed. So you can imagine the celebration when Rosie reappeared with four pups scrambling behind her. They were a peculiar mix of pug and border collie, with all the personality of both. One went to Georgie, another to Annie, a third to Old Peader, and a fourth to Marni's Ballyvaughan Home for Adventurous Children.

The last of the fortune was spent building two ships—one for Pru, Walter, and me, the other for Jack. While finding a home was the greatest gift of all, traveling the seas was in our blood. Remaining anchored to those we loved the best had always provided the courage to voyage into the great mysterious world—a world of magic, of challenge, and of hope. And so we christened two new ships—ours named
Nearest and Dearest
and Jack's
Treasured Heart.

There would be many voyages yet to come.

Acknowledgments

Many thanks to Katherine Tegen, Claudia Gabel, Melissa Miller, and the entire HarperCollins team for launching Lucy's incredible voyage, and to my writers group (my ODE friends): Pamela Bramhall, Anne Dichele, Lisa Fiedler, and Dianne Schlosser, for being on board with me the whole way!

Back Ad

About the Author

When she isn't writing,
BARBARA MARICONDA
spends her time empowering the next generation of authors in classrooms today through her company, Empowering Writers. She has authored scores of books for children and their teachers and is continually inspired by travel around the world. She lives in Connecticut with her faithful shih tzu, Little Man.
The Emerald Shore
is the final book in the Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons series. You can visit Barbara online at www.barbaramariconda.com.

 

Visit
www.AuthorTracker.com
for exclusive information on your favorite HarperCollins authors.

Credits

Cover art © 2014 by Jeff Nentrup

Copyright

Katherine Tegen Books is an imprint of HarperCollins Publishers.

 

The Voyage of Lucy P. Simmons: The Emerald Shore

Copyright © 2014 by Barbara Mariconda

All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, downloaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins Publishers.

www.harpercollinschildrens.com

Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

Mariconda, Barbara.

      The Emerald Shore / Barbara Mariconda. — First edition.

        pages cm. — (The voyage of Lucy P. Simmons)

      Summary: “Lucy travels to Ireland in her magical house-turned-ship to find the pirate treasure that will end the magical curse haunting her family once and for all”— Provided by publisher.

      ISBN 978-0-06-211996-4 (hardback)

      [1. Orphans—Fiction. 2. Dwellings—Fiction. 3. Magic—Fiction. 4. Household employees—Fiction. 5. Aunts—Fiction. 6. Blessing and cursing—Fiction. 7. Ireland—History—20th century—Fiction.] I. Title.

PZ7.M33835Eme   2014

2014001885

[Fic]—dc23

CIP

AC

EPUB Edition JULY 2014 ISBN 9780062119988

14  15  16  17  18    CG/RRDH    10  9  8  7  6  5  4  3  2  1

FIRST EDITION