Читать книгу Carrier of the Mark - Leigh Fallon, Leigh Fallon - Страница 11

decided to quit the sailing classes. I hated beinga quitter, but the truth was, I was not meant for water. I was better off accepting my fate now; otherwise fate would come looking for me … again. So on Friday, the gang went to the marina and I changed my clothes for dreaded PE. What a way to finish the week. Yuck. After a riveting class of running laps around the hockey field while Miss O’Toole flirted with the groundskeeper, I packed my stuff and headed home. I was red faced and sweaty by the time I got to my house, thanks to the laps and the uphill struggle with my ever-increasing-in-weight backpack. I opened the door and dumped the monstrosity inside.

I tried to shake off my bad mood. I knew I was only cranky because all my friends were currently under the tutelage of the gorgeous Mr. DeRís and I was not. I was just about to head upstairs to take a shower when a text came in on my phone.

Don’t forget. Dinner tonight 7 p.m. I’ll be home to pick you up at 6:30. Dad.

Oh, crap. I had forgotten all about it. Dad wanted to introduce me to the who’s who of Kinsale, most of whom I already knew through idle gossip and their kids who attended the school. He also seemed pretty eager for me to try out a fish restaurant in town, the Crab Cage or the Lobster Pot or something like that.

I got a glass of water and went to my room—my favorite place in the house. White walls, oak floors—and two dormer windows flooded the room with light by day, making it cheerful and homey. It also contained my prize possession, my bed, which I had brought with me from the U.S. It had been my mother’s bed before mine, and it made me feel close to her. Its white wrought-iron headboard was an intricate mesh of flowers and leaves that twisted and spiraled from one side to the other. I threw myself down on the pillows, kicked off my shoes, and tried in vain to piece together all the little bits of oddness that made up Adam DeRís. My eyes wandered to my bookshelves. I glanced at some photos and mementos of my life before Kinsale, a life that I rarely thought of. These things had meant a lot to me a few short months ago, but now their significance had faded.

I closed my eyes, willing myself to sleep, but it just wasn’t happening. I may as well start getting ready for tonight. I’d just grabbed a towel when something behind me started tapping and scratching. I tiptoed to the window and pulled back the curtain. I wasn’t at all surprised to see my feathered friend sitting on my windowsill. This time I stared back at him. The crow angled his head and glared back at me with his winking eye. I stuck my tongue out at him and went in for a shower.

Feeling refreshed, I got dressed in my soft, comfy jeans and a long-sleeved T-shirt. Then I slicked on a little black mascara and pink lip gloss and threw myself back onto my bed to do my math homework while I waited for Dad to get home.

At six forty-five I heard the key in the front door.

“Megan, are you ready?” Dad called into my room as he passed. “I’m just going to change my shirt and we’ll go, all right?”

“Yeah, Dad, I’m ready.” I grabbed my purse and went downstairs to wait for him.

He was down in double-time, smelling nice and his face flushed.

“Ohhh, you’re putting in an extra effort tonight, Dad,” I teased him.

“No more than usual,” he said, carefully inspecting his reflection in the hall mirror.

“Yeah, sure.” I gave him a sidelong look.

There was obviously something very appealing about this restaurant, and I had a feeling it wasn’t the crab cakes. As we pulled away from our house, I looked back. The crow was perched on the highest point of our roof, watching me leave. Was that bird really following me? No. That was insane; birds didn’t stalk people. I pushed the thought out of my head.

The restaurant was lovely, quaint, and totally jam-packed. The food was amazing. Too bad the people surrounding us were so dull. They were bigwigs in town: the superintendent from the Kinsale Gardaí (the Irish police), who, at seven feet tall, towered over us all; as well as the owners of the various town shops and businesses. Killian’s mom and dad were there (Caitlin would be seething that she missed this one). Then there was the owner of the restaurant, Petra Van Meulder. Judging by all my dad’s excessive laughing and beaming, she was the object of his extra efforts.

To be fair, she was lovely and really pretty. Petra told me she was from Holland and that she had come to Ireland to forget a bad divorce and never went home. I appreciated that she was making an extra effort to include me in their conversation, but I couldn’t help feeling like a third wheel. It was great to see Dad actually getting a life, and I wanted to leave them to it. We were just finishing up the meal and thinking of ordering dessert when I saw an opportunity to escape.

I nudged my dad. “Do you mind if I go for a walk?”

“Meg, it’s late. I don’t think so.”

“Caleb, let her go for a walk. It’s very safe around here, and she’s well able to look after herself,” Petra said, giving me an understanding smile.

My dad caved. “Okay, but stay close and don’t be too long, okay?”

“I won’t. I’m just going to wander down to the marina.”

I stepped out into the night air and filled my lungs with a deep, fresh breath. I exhaled slowly, looking up at the stars, and then started walking along the waterline. The yachts swayed gently where they were moored, creating a musical tinkling sound. I punched in the code to the jetty at the marina and opened the gate. Finally I found a secluded spot and sat down between two big yachts. I let my feet dangle over the edge, toward the water. Funny, it didn’t look scary at night. In fact, it had an almost magical quality in the dark.

I was so caught up in my thoughts that I almost didn’t notice the person gliding quietly up the gangway in my direction. The flat, calm water shimmered and pulsated, then rose slightly up, as if there was something just below the surface. I watched in amazement as the water took on a life of its own and followed the person as he walked along the wooden jetty and then moved out of sight behind a boat. I shrank back into the shadows of the yachts as he walked past.

“Adam,” I breathed quietly, enjoying the tingling sensation that ran through me.

He was wearing heavy sailing pants, boots, and a padded sleeveless jacket. He climbed nimbly into the yacht beside me and disappeared inside. My heart was pounding. Then I heard the flapping sound and a cawing. I looked up. That freaky crow was sitting on the railing of the yacht, his head cocked to the side, watching me.

“Go away,” I whispered, but he cawed down to me again and disappeared in between the boats. Just then two big boots hit the deck above my head and Adam peered down over the railing, squinting into the darkness.

“Who’s there?” He turned on a flashlight and shone it down in my direction.

I played with the idea of pulling myself farther into the shadows and hiding, but quickly realized that it was virtually impossible.

I leaned out into the beam of light and waved up at him. “Hey, Adam.”

He looked around worriedly. “How long have you been down there?”

“Don’t worry; I won’t say anything.”

“What do you mean?”

“About the water. I saw it, but I won’t say anything.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. Really, Megan, you shouldn’t be hanging around the marina at night. It’s dangerous. You should go home.”

“But … the water …it was glowing.” I stopped, doubting myself for a second.

“Megan, honestly, you’ve lost me. I’m guessing you’ve been listening to all the stupid stories about my family. Do yourself a favor—go home.” He sighed and started to turn away.

My temper flared. What made him so goddamn superior? “Hey,” I called up at him, “that’s not fair.” I stumbled in my haste to get up off the gangway and teetered on the edge. He jumped down and steadied me.

“You were saying?”

“Oh, nothing.” I was furious at myself for still aching to touch him.

“Wait,” he said, rubbing his jaw. “I’m sorry.”

“You should be.”

He laughed and turned off the flashlight. It took a few moments for my eyes to adjust to the darkness again. “I mean it,” he said softly, very close to my face.

I could hardly breathe. “Forget it,” I managed, and turned to flee.

But he was quicker; he caught my hand and spun me back to him. “Honestly, I’m sorry.” He lowered his eyes to mine. “But the marina is not the place to be hanging around after dark.”

I lifted my chin defiantly. “You’re here, aren’t you?” I looked him straight in the eye.

He held my glare for a moment or two; then his eyes softened. All traces of my irritation melted away as he moved closer.

I felt like we were being pulled together by some unknown force. With his face now only inches from mine, I could feel his hot breath on my lips; it tickled the end of my nose. Every nerve in my body was screaming for me to throw my arms around his neck, but his eyes held me still. My lips parted, eager to taste his breath on the tip of my tongue.

His eyes shifted and flickered up toward the pier. He took a step back, the spell broken.

“Yeah, but I work here,” he said softly. “See you at school on Monday.”

He walked back down the gangway into the shadows and disappeared into the blackness.

“Megan,” my dad called from the pier. “Are you down there?”

“Yeah, Dad,” I shouted back, still looking in the direction where Adam had disappeared.

“Come on. It’s getting late.”

“I’m coming.” I ran up the gangway to the gate and into my dad’s view.

My crow swooped up the gangway above my head and landed on the gate by my dad.

“What is it with these Irish birds?” my dad said. “They’re persistent, aren’t they?”

“You’ve noticed too!” I blurted out. “I thought it was just me. That crow is a menace. I swear he’s been following me.”

“Have you been reading Stephen King again?” he asked, laughing. He threw his arm over my shoulders and changed the subject. “I didn’t get a chance to talk to you much at dinner. How’s school been?”

“It’s fine. I wish people would stop talking about my stupid drowning incident, though.”

He chuckled. He knew I despised being the center of attention.

“Caitlin was talking about going into Cork City tomorrow. Can I go with her?”

“Sure. You haven’t been outside of Kinsale since we got here, and you need to learn how to get around.”

“Great! I’ll let Caitlin know I can go. Thanks, Dad.”

“Come on. Let’s get back to the car; it’s getting cold,” he said, pulling me closer. “Did you see how tall that guy from the guards was?”

“I did. He was pretty hard to miss. And it’s pronounced Guard-ee, Dad. The ‘i’ with the fada on it is pronounced ee.”

“Since when do you know so much about the Irish language?”

“Since I discovered half the population of the school has unpronounceable names,” I said, laughing.