We beat the rain, thanks to Cillian’s driving.
“It’s around here, somewhere,” he said, and I was okay with him letting go of my hand, so he could focus on pulling off to the side of the road, the car bouncing through the grass. “I always made Tara drive.”
“I see why.”
Cillian grabbed the bag of muffins from where it had fallen to the floor, and went around to the back to get his guitar, slinging the case over his shoulder. There was still a brisk chill in the air, and when Cillian and I reached for each other’s hands again, we both glanced up at the cloudy sky, using it as our excuse for wanting to be warm.
We pushed through a near jungle of bushes to get to the clearing, branches scrapping at my arms and dirt staining my ankles. Cillian held a branch out of my way, being chivalrous only to have it come swinging back and hit him in the face.
“Remind me to never do anything nice for you again.” He rubbed at his cheek to make sure he wasn’t bleeding.
“But I was always the damsel in distress, and you were the gallant knight who was supposed to save me. You’re supposed to get hurt sometimes.”
“Damsel in distress,” he scoffed. “We both knew very well that you could save yourself from the sea monsters. You just had me save you so I’d have something to do.” He picked up a twig, thrashing it like a sword at some imaginary monster. “I’ll save you from these bushes, my lady.”
“Thank God no one else is around. You’re embarrassing.”
He couldn’t seem to resist one last jab at the monster we had created together. “We’re there, anyway.”
The bushes suddenly stopped, and when I stumbled through, it was like stepping into a different world. Even with the darkening sky, the grass in the field glittered vibrant green and the sun danced off the piles of rocks that lined the edges of the clearing. It could have been straight for my dreams, the ones without the drowning. It was the most beautiful place I had ever seen, the most beautiful place in Ireland. And Cillian squeezed my hand before letting go, and I realized how alone we were.
Cillian kicked off his shoes, walking carefully across the field like he was afraid to disturb the delicate balance of nature. Because this was nature’s land, and we were only visitors. I put my shoes next to his, and joined him in the middle of the field. Neither of us said a word, and I spun in slow circles, letting the green around me turn into blurs. This was the Ireland I had dreamt of all the years I was gone, and I suddenly felt like it all belonged to me.
“What now?” Cillian asked.
I closed my eyes, breathing in deep. “I don’t know. I’m so happy. So happy. You can’t even begin to understand.”
“I always thought this place would make a wonderful postcard picture.”
The air was so sweet. I threw myself onto my back, staring up at the sky. The storm clouds were trying to roll in, but I wasn’t going to let them. I patted the grass next to me, looking up at Cillian. He set his guitar case down and lay in the grass beside me.
“Your feet are so white.” I giggled, poking at his foot with mine.
“Fishing isn’t a profession that allows me to go barefoot very often. And you shouldn’t be talking, you’re not much better.”
YOU ARE READING
The Souls of Drowned People
Teen FictionMoira knows there has to be a reason why she was forced to leave Ireland after her father's drowning, and the secrets her mother keeps aren't calming her curiosity and desire to learn the truth. Her only link to the past is her best friend, Cillian...
