Susan Kiernan-Lewis - Free Falling

It was clear that no one had lived in the place for a long time. The house was what the Irish called “self catering.” Sarah didn’t think it looked like it had been self-catered in a long time either.

“Wow! There’s horses here. Mom, did you know there would be horses here?” John leaped out of the car and ran to the barn.

David looked at the piece of paper Sarah held in her hand.

“Are you positive this is it?” he asked.

“David, yes.” She looked at him fiercely. “Can we, at least, look inside before you decide I’ve made a big mistake?”

“Did it look like this on the Internet?” David asked, his eyes still taking in the small stone cottage.

“No, this isn’t…” Sarah took a breath as she felt the anxiety climbing higher into her chest. “This isn’t the one I saw online, remember? I got the e-mail at the airport saying that one had burned down and that we were to go to this one, that it was comparable.”

David stepped out of the rental car. “Did the other one have horses?”

“Of course not,” she said, still seated. “There were no horses.”

“Dad! Mom! You gotta see this!” John ran back to the car. “There are three horses in there!”

“Are we supposed to take care of the horses?” David asked.

“Can we, Dad?” John literally jumped in delight. “Can the small one be mine?”

David looked at Sarah.

“Let’s look in the house first, son,” he said.

Please let it have indoor plumbing , Sarah thought as she climbed out of the car.

John ran to the front door and pushed it open. “It’s not locked,” he said before darting inside.

“I’m sorry, David,” she said. “The one I booked on the Internet was much bigger.”

John met them on the porch. “It’s just got one room,” he said. “And only one bed. I don’t get my own bed?”

Sarah and David went inside.

“Well,” David said with a sigh. “To quote my son, this sucks.”

A large king-sized bed was pushed up against the far wall. Next to it was a door, which Sarah hoped was to an indoor bathroom. A giant stone fireplace anchored the front wall of the house and faced the kitchen and dining area on the opposite wall. The floor was polished wood and several thick rugs covered most of it. Two easy chairs faced the fireplace.

“It’s actually very cozy,” David said. “Very comfy—except for the one bed thing.”

“Hey! There’s a TV!” John called out. “On the table next to the bed.” He began to fiddle with its dials.

“I wonder if they get Conan here,” David said, sitting down on the bed. “It’s a nice bed.”

“Look, David, I’m sorry, okay?” Sarah said. “I booked a two -bedroom cottage.”

“Why don’t we unpack our groceries and get settled in a little?” David said, clapping his hands together.

“Really?” Sarah looked at him. “You’re okay with this?”

“Do we have an option?”

“I don’t really know. I have a phone number.”

He got up and took her in his arms. “Don’t bother,” he said. “I say we make the most of what we’ve got.”

She put her head on his shoulder and felt some of the tension drain from her body.

“Thanks,” she whispered.

He kissed her then called to John: “Come on, John. Let’s unload the groceries and the bags and Mom and I can start getting supper on the table.”

“You gonna come out and see the horses?”

David turned to look at Sarah, who shrugged.

“Right. The horses. Okay. Show me the horses,” he said. The two walked out the door and headed for the barn.

Sarah buttoned her sweater and rubbed her hands together. It was cold in the little cottage. She began looking for the thermostat she would never find.

It happened sometime during their first night.

They had built a fire in the fireplace and made a supper of canned stew with a fresh salad and a bottle of good South African red wine. John was able to get Sponge Bob Square Pants on the TV but was told he couldn’t watch his first night in Ireland. The three of them bundled up in jackets and a quilt and sat outside under the stars talking and identifying constellations. That night would be the last time that Sarah could look up to the heavens without praying fervently. It would be the last time any of them would choose to sit outside and waste the warmth of the fireplace.

On that first night, the experiences and trials of their day of travel and discovery had left them ready for bed. However, the sounds of the Irish countryside, the creaking, cooing, cawing with the occasional horse whinny, made it difficult for both David and Sarah to fall asleep.

In the cold and foggy morning to which they awoke, they found the world forever changed.

“Mom, can we ride the horses today?”

Sarah turned over in bed and put her hand out to touch her husband’s shoulder.

“David,” she murmured. “He shouldn’t be in the barn. Too many things to fall on his head.”

“John,” David moaned from his side of the big bed. “Stay inside until we’re all up.”

“But Dad—”

“Just hang tight, John,” Sarah said, groping for her iPhone on the side table. Eight o’clock. It had begun to rain in the night. “I’ll make breakfast.”

“Can I watch TV?” John came over and sat on the side of the bed. “Pleeeeeease?” He leaned over and kissed his mother on the cheek.

“We need to have some rules about the TV,” she said.

“Thanks, Mom.” He jumped up and snapped on the set.

“I am so not going to exchange one country’s television laugh-track for another,” she said. “It’s the same droning idiocy as back home. Only the accents have been changed.”

David yawned and sat up beside his wife.

“Morning,” he said, and kissed her.

John turned up the TV. “Mom, I think something’s wrong.”

“Don’t tell me it doesn’t work, sweetie. Because it doesn’t matter anyway. We’re here to—”

David’s body tensed. He jumped out of bed. “Sarah, something’s happened.” He stood next to his son in front of the TV set. “There’s been a…an incident or something. John, go out and play.”

“It’s raining outside, Dad.”

“What is it?” Sarah pulled on a sweatshirt and joined David and John in front of the TV. “What’s happening?”

The images on the television looked like amateur video. There were explosions, cars flipped over, crumpled buildings, and fires. The Irish announcer alternated from a reporting voice to a shrillness bordering on hysteria.

“My God, what is—” Sarah covered her mouth with her hands. “It’s home,” she turned to look at David. “It’s America.”

Stunned by the images and sirens and screams, David held up a hand for silence. He listened as the newscaster intoned in a strong Irish accent: “…reports of nuclear contamination in several major cities…”

“What is?” John looked panicked. “What’s happening back home, Mom? Dad? Are we…are they attacking us? Are we being bombed?”

“Shhhh.” Sarah wrapped her arms around her boy. “Just listen,” she whispered.

“‘……too soon to attribute to any specific terrorist group but certainly an attack of this magnitude…”

“My God,” Sarah said and tears filled her eyes.

“Take him outside, Sarah,” David said. “For God’s sake, don’t let him see this.”

John turned to his mother. “What’s happening, Mom? Is it going to be okay?”

Sarah stood and ushered the boy outside. The two of them stood on the porch. The rain splattered droplets of mud onto the legs of their pajamas. She hugged him tightly.

“It’s going to be okay,” she said into his baby fine hair. “It’s going to be okay.”