Scintillate (The Light Key Trilogy) by Tracy Clark

Scintillate (The Light Key Trilogy) by Tracy Clark

Author:Tracy Clark
Language: eng
Format: mobi, epub
Publisher: Entangled Publishing, LLC (Teen)
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00


TWENTY-SEVEN

I

was overcome by the force of Finn’s energy. Something was different about him. Maybe being on his own turf infused him with more confidence. His aura was so big, and so strong, that it washed against the shores of my own with each step he took in my direction.

“The pub’s not far from here,” he told me. When he held my hand, it felt completely natural, like there’d never been a good-bye. “Let’s walk.”

Inwardly, I lashed myself for not being stronger, for not kissing his cheek and parting ways again with resilient grace, like a woman from an old movie, whose heart bleeds as she smiles politely through her farewell. I wanted to fully understand why he’d left as abruptly as he had. He seemed so happy to see me, though, that I couldn’t make myself confront him. I was happy, too.

Finn and I strolled hand in hand through the streets of Dublin lit blue by the early evening light. I was charmed by the cobbled streets and the juxtaposition of the old and new in the buildings we passed. While we walked, I told him about my mother’s letter and how I hoped to find out what had happened to her. Astonished, he promised he’d do what he could to help me, though he didn’t know what. “A dozen years is a long time to be missing.”

Across the street from Mulcarr’s Pub, there stood a beautiful church and a rather imposing shrine of the Virgin Mary. I wondered if it made the people who had too much to drink feel guilty leaving the pub under the watchful eye of Mary.

The pub was quiet inside. A family occupied one table in the corner. A lone gentleman at the bar hovered over a brown pint of Guinness. Pictures and posters depicting the recent history of Ireland covered the green walls. The ceiling was a quilt of yellow tin stamped with intricate patterns. At the juncture of ancient beams above us was a carved wooden square—a boss, Finn called it when he saw me looking—engraved with three rabbits chasing each other in a circle. Three had become an eerie number. My eyes found it everywhere.

Within thirty minutes or so, a crowd filled the pub. From grandmothers to babies in strollers, families took seats around the perimeter of the room. “It’s funny how many kids are in here,” I said.

“You’ve got to know, Cora, in Ireland a pub is much more than a bar. It’s a place of gathering. It’s our tribal fire pit, in a manner of speaking. I grew up in this place. When I was a wee bit, my uncle said I’d toddle from table to table trying to get a dram off people’s cider.”

I tugged his short stubble. “Trouble, even then.”

To my left, I noticed what appeared to be a small room adjacent to the bar. There was a red door with wrought iron looping over the top like cursive writing. A window opened to the back side of the bar.



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