Leigh Fallon - Carrier of the Mark

“Oh, go on. Like you need to be asked,” Caitlin said, rolling her eyes.

Jennifer launched into an all-out explanation of how she and Darren hooked up over the weekend, making sure to include every incidental happening. The more excited she got, the faster she spoke, until I couldn’t understand her anymore. It didn’t even sound like English. My mind drifted to Darren. What had he said about toads? Jennifer’s voice faded into the background as a familiar profile caught my attention.

Over by the school gate, Adam appeared to be arguing with someone. I could see that his eyebrows were furrowed together and his body was rigid. The other guy’s dark hair was wavy and long enough to spill out over the collar of his leather jacket. He pointed toward the school, his face screwed up in irritation, and then turned and walked away. Adam watched him leave as he rubbed his forehead with his hand.

I wonder what that was all about. Suddenly, Adam turned and looked at me, right into my eyes. Burdened by the weight of his stare, I dropped my gaze before he did and rubbed my tingling neck. When I looked up, he was gone.

Jennifer’s voice came back into focus; she’d come to the end of her story. She sighed and looked a little dreamy.

“That’s so cool, isn’t it, Meg?” Caitlin said, turning to me.

“Um, yeah. Great,” I replied quickly.

“So, Caitlin, when’s the big move on Killian going to happen?” Jennifer asked.

Caitlin flushed.

Jennifer rolled her eyes. “Oh, come on. You’ve been hankering after that boy for two years now. It’s getting old! It’s so obvious that you’re mad into him.”

“Oh, shut up, Jennifer,” Caitlin said, but not in a mean way. “Come on; it’s time to get back to class.” She jumped up and hauled me to my feet.

“Holy crap, your hands are cold,” she said, letting go of me to retrieve her grass-covered sweater from the ground.

“I know; they’ve been like that all day.” I shook my head in frustration, and pulled my sleeves down over them as I followed her inside.

Caitlin caught up to me as I was walking to the gate at the end of the day and took out her cell phone. “What’s your number? I’ll definitely need it for some late-night bitching.”

I held up my still-tingling hands. “Sorry, I haven’t got an Irish one yet, but I’ll get right on it.”

She made a face of mock horror. “No phone! How have you existed here this long?”

I cracked up. “I promise I’ll have one by the end of the week. I’m meeting my dad now; I’ll put on the pressure.”

But my laughter quickly died in my throat. A little down the road, Adam was leaning against the chipped paint of an old Volkswagen Golf. He was talking to the guy he’d been fighting with earlier. Adam’s mouth curled into a smile as the other guy gave Adam a mock punch before climbing onto a motorcycle.

Caitlin followed my stare and sighed. “Trust me, you don’t want to go there,” she said, stepping into my line of sight.

“What do you mean?”

She lowered her voice. “He’s a snotty, stuck-up git. He’ll mess with your head. Just do yourself a favor and keep walking. I have to leg it now or my mum will kill me.” She slowly turned and walked away.

My freezing hands shook. I shoved them in my pockets, but stayed rooted to the spot. Adam was relaxed, still laughing at something the other guy said. I gazed at his eyes, bright green, set wide apart, whites perfectly clear, framed with thick, dark lashes. I took in the curve of his lips, the high angle of his cheekbones, and his long jaw that gently rounded to his chin. I caught my breath when I saw there was a girl sitting in the car’s passenger seat.

“Figures,” I muttered.

Adam glanced in my direction and said something to the girl. She looked at me warily and I felt a flush of embarrassment creep up my neck. Was I that obvious?

Get a grip. Squaring my shoulders, I turned to walk into town. I didn’t see the old man approaching me until I was right in front of him.

“Oh, I’m so sorry.” I smiled, expecting him to apologize too, or perhaps step aside to let me by. But he just stood there, his watery gray eyes focused on mine.

“Well … excuse me,” I said, stepping off the sidewalk and quickening my pace. I looked back at the old man. He was wearing a brown cloak with a rope around his waist like some bizarre monk. His long gray hair hung loose down his back, and his beard was tied with a leather clip. His expressionless face turned to me.

I whipped my head around and didn’t glance behind me again. Odd; I felt like his face jogged a memory, but I couldn’t quite place it.

I focused on navigating the ten-minute walk to the marina where my dad worked. The club, though small, was world-renowned, and this manager position was the opportunity of a lifetime for my dad. Pulling on the shiny brass door handle, I walked inside and went straight to the receptionist’s desk.

“Hi, I’m Megan Rosenberg; I’m here to see my dad, Caleb.”

“Ah, Mr. Rosenberg’s daughter—I wondered when I’d see you. Did you enjoy your first day at school, pet? It’s a nice school we have here. My own daughter was a student there until last year. She’s in college now in Limerick.”

Not knowing what else to do, I nodded.

She cocked her head to the side and gave me a big motherly smile. “I’ll just call him and let him know you’re here, dear.”

A few minutes later, my dad came wandering in. “Megan!” he exclaimed. “How was your first day?”

I pulled my dad away from the reception desk. “It was mostly good, I think.”

“Make any friends?” Dad said, following his usual first-day script.

“I made a few friends. One girl, Caitlin, is really nice.”

“Caitlin Brennan?” the receptionist piped up.

“Er, yeah,” I replied slowly. Wow, this really was a small town.

“Her mother owns the Misty Moorings bed-and-breakfast.” She smiled.

My dad discreetly rolled his eyes and directed me out the front door. “Sybil,” he said, as if that explained it all. “Tell me, what was your first day really like?”

“Honestly, it was one of the better ones. Something feels different this time.”

“I know what you mean, Meg. I think your mom’s looking after us,” he said wistfully, glancing up to the sky.

“Maybe.”

“Or it could be that Irish blood in you; it’s back on home turf.”

“I have Irish blood?”

“It’s pretty diluted, but it’s definitely in there. Your mom’s grandfather came from somewhere near here, I think. Somewhere in County Cork.”

“I guess that explains the freckles,” I said, inspecting my arms. “So, are you going to show me around your vast empire?” I put my arm in the air and waved it around extravagantly. “It looks very fancy. Is your office nice?”

My dad was happy to give me the grand tour: the boats, the marina, and the club. I tried to look interested, but water and boats were never my thing. Truthfully, water had always sort of freaked me out. It held an allure for me, but one that felt dangerous, so I generally gave it a wide berth.

“I’m so proud of you, Dad,” I said, after he had shown me everything there was to see. “You’re definitely onto a winner here. How did you manage to swing this job?”

“I’m still not sure,” he replied. “Someone recommended me, but I don’t know who. I just wish I could thank whoever it was. I’ll never get an opportunity like this again.”

“Well, you deserve it.” I paused. “One thing, though.”

He looked at me nervously.

“I’m seriously going to need a cell phone.”

He looked relieved. “We’ll get right on that! Come on. I’m finishing up early, and I’m going to treat you to a big bag of fish and chips. When in Ireland, do as the Irish do!”