Chapter 4 #5
We entered a hallway through a door that required an entry code to open.
Passing through the first door, we entered another short hallway that came to a large metal door with an elaborate locking system.
She unlocked the door, allowing me entry into a small room with a table and chair.
The locked compartments that held the boxes lined three sides of the room.
These boxes held some very valuable items, and others that were only valuable to the owner of the box.
In a few moments I would know which category I would fall into.
She turned and excused herself, explaining that the branch manager would be in momentarily with the second key to allow me to access the container.
About twenty minutes later I slid back into the seat of Ronan’s truck. “So, are ye ready for lunch?” he asked with a smile.
“Sure, where are we going?”
“Just dis little fish shop by de water. Please, tell me ye still like fish. You were ten before you would even try it.”
“I love fish.” I couldn’t believe he remembered that.
When we entered the restaurant, Ronan guided me to a small table in the back corner of the quaint establishment.
A pleasant-looking server approached with menus and two glasses of water.
She introduced herself and recited the daily specials.
Setting the menus on the table, she took our drink order and said she would give us a few minutes to look over the menus.
Once she walked away, Ronan leaned forward.
“I really like de fish and chips ’ere; also, de prawns.”
When the server returned to take our order, she brought a basket of bread with her.
She jotted down our order on a small pad of paper and disappeared into the kitchen.
The food came without too much delay and Ronan was correct.
The fish and chips were delectable, the bread was fabulous, and the salad and soup didn’t disappoint either.
I ate until it hurt, and I couldn’t eat anymore.
Leaning back in my chair, I took a deep breath and exhaled slowly. Ronan laughed and shook his head.
“I told ye it was good.”
“It was all so good. I didn’t taste anything that I didn’t absolutely love.”
After the bill was paid, we got back in the vehicle and worked our way through town.
We ended up stopping at a few places that we used to go when we were kids.
The ice cream shop that was our favorite place was still there, and the frozen treat was just as good as I remembered.
We strolled down the sidewalk; Ronan had chosen peanut butter chocolate, and I only ever ordered mint chocolate chip.
It always tasted better when it was white and not green in color; this ice cream was white.
Just as we finished our cones, I noticed an old bookstore; I loved bookstores.
I smiled at Ronan, and he followed me as I entered the shop.
He immediately seemed comfortable, talking with the owner for a bit.
Not to mention, they appeared to be on a first name basis.
As I was perusing the shelves of books, a lot of old classics and even a few books on Irish folklore practically jumped into my hands.
I narrowed down my wants and selected a few books that piqued my interest and headed toward the counter to pay for my finds.
Ronan broke off his conversation when he noticed me approaching and joined me at the register.
“Find anything good?”
“Yeah, just a couple of things. Something on Irish folklore—I didn’t think it could hurt—and a couple of leather-bound classics. Call me a sucker.”
When my books had been paid for and were bagged up, we walked out of the shop and down the sidewalk.
As we were passing a pub, we paused and mutually agreed that a drink sounded like a good idea.
The bar was relatively empty as it was only around three in the afternoon.
After lunch but before dinner—and a Monday afternoon to boot.
We found a booth in the corner and Ronan went to the bar for drinks.
He returned a few minutes later with two pints of dark stout; sliding into the seat across from me.
“So ’ow are ye enjoying Ireland so far?”
“I love it. It’s charming, but I feel like that is textbook Ireland—charming.
The food is great, the landscape is breathtaking, and the climate is my absolute dream come true.
I love the history that you can literally feel as you walk along the streets.
Nothing in my country can compare to this; it just can’t.
I feel like no matter who you are or where you’re from something about this country just feels like home.
It seems so much more enveloping than it did when I was a child and even then, there was something about it that just felt magical and deeply rooted. ”
“Well, I guess I ’ave me answer. A right impressive one at dat.”
I blushed slightly embarrassed by the depth of my answer. Ronan smiled at me. “It’s beautiful, the way you see this country. Makes me feel lucky to live here and call it home.”
“Well, I’m glad I could help you see your home from another point of view. Like a renewed perspective.”
“Ye make me see a lot of tings differently.” His eyes found mine.
“I do love open-minded people,” I responded, holding his gaze. “So, what else do you have planned or are we going to head back to the house?”
“What would ye like to do?”
“I think I might like to go back to the house. I did see a firepit on the back patio and I wouldn’t mind making use of it.”
“Well then, we should get going.”
When we made it back to the house, I unlocked the door and took care of the alarm.
“Make yourself comfortable. I’m going to run these books up to my room. I also want to see if Charlotte made it back yet.”
Ronan nodded and headed toward the kitchen.
When I reached the top floor, I stopped at Charlotte’s bedroom door and knocked on the door.
No answer; okay now I was beginning to worry about my crazy, harebrained cousin.
Everything was always full throttle, all or nothing.
She was constantly jumping right into shark-infested water without even looking.
If I tried to say anything to her, I was just being jealous or overprotective.
It was never that she was a dumbass and missed all the warning signs of whatever the situation happened to be this time.
I continued the rest of the way to my room and dropped the newly purchased books onto the bed. Pulling my phone from my back pocket, I attempted to contact Charlotte. It went right to voicemail.
When I got to the kitchen, Ronan was tipping a beer to his lips. Seeing me enter, he handed me the bottle he was holding in his other hand.
“Did ye find Charlotte?”
“Nope, she still isn’t back. This is the thing I hate the most about her. She has not a care in the world and gives no fucks that I might be worried about her. I tried to call, and it went straight to voicemail.” I could hear my voice rising in irritation.
“Do ye want to call the police? I mean, she is in a foreign country, and she left almost twenty-four ’ours ago.” He asked me with concern in his voice.
“No, I’m really not getting the feeling that she is in any real danger but if she isn’t back, or at least answering her phone, before I go to bed, then I will call the police.” Ronan seemed satisfied with my answer.
“Well, I won’t leave until we figure out what’s going on.” That simple phrase gave me some comfort. I knew I wasn’t going to have to deal with any of this on my own and I needed some support.
“Thank you.”
“I am going to go out and get dat fire going.”
“I will be out there in a few minutes. I’m going to see if I can order a pizza to be delivered; is that a thing here? We are kind of far out.” Ronan laughed.
“Yes, we aren’t a third-world country. It’s not dat far; ye can order pizza; look it up online.”
I shrugged my shoulders. “If you say so.”
After I ordered the pies and asked them to deliver to the back patio, I grabbed two more beers and headed outside to join Ronan.
The fire was already going, and the sun was just beginning its descent into the horizon.
It wasn’t very dark due to all the yard lights being on so the delivery guy could see when he arrived.
“So, I got the pizza ordered. Something about bacon, cabbage, and caramelized onions. Sounded interesting, so I guess I’ll find out. However, I did order a double pepperoni just in case.”
I handed one of the bottles to Ronan and retrieved my phone from my pocket to try again to get in touch with my cousin. No answer—still going straight to voicemail. I growled to myself and sat down in a chair near the firepit.
“So, any good stories about my grandpa? Thanks to you, I have wood for days, the food is on the way, we have beer in the fridge and nothing but time. Please, I need some adventure, even if only through storytelling.”
“Well, dere was one time dat I was visiting your grandfather in de States. We decided to go to a cabin in Montana to do some ’iking and see what kind of trouble we could stir up.
De two of us always made sure dat we were prepared fer de varying terrain or any precarious situation we might encounter.
We ’iked up a mountain trail and stumbled upon a cave entrance dat was well concealed.
Dat was a lot of what we did—looked for tings dat might not be readily visible to passers-by.
Of course, our dumbasses decided to go inside.
Dat was also a lot of what we did—stupid shit.
A few yards into de cave, it started to angle down into a steep descent.