The Eden Tree (31 page)

By the time Terry roared down Bally’s main street and ground to a stop in front of his house, Linn was so anxious to see Con that she felt like wrenching the bike from Terry’s grasp and taking off on it alone. She had no idea where to go, though, so she trudged dutifully behind him through the yard and followed him into the kitchen.

Bridie stood up as Linn and Terry came through the door. She ran to Linn and grabbed her hands.

“I’ve been thinking,” she said rapidly, “and I know that something has changed or you wouldn’t be back here. What is it?”

Linn glanced uncertainly at Terry.

“Terence,” Bridie said crisply, “put Miss Pierce’s bag in the hall and then take yourself outside. We have some talking to do.”

“Will it blister my ears to listen?” Terry asked, offended.

His mother raised her hand. “I’ll blister them for you if you don’t do as I say. Look sharp, boy. Out you get.”

Terry shrugged, grabbed an apple from the bowl on the table and sauntered past them, slamming the door behind him.

Bridie turned back to Linn immediately. “Tell me, girl, before I burst.”

Linn took a deep breath and recounted Karen’s story quickly, watching the news transform Bridie’s face.

“And so I took the first flight back here to see Con,” Linn concluded.

“It’s a miracle,” Bridie said reverently. “A miracle, to be sure.”

“I feel as if I had been facing execution and then suddenly got a full pardon,” Linn said. “But I don’t know where Con is, Bridie. His phone doesn’t answer and Terry says he’s disappeared. He also says that Larry Fitz might know where Con is. Is that so?”

Bridie’s mouth pursed at the mention of the lawyer’s name. “He may,” she said disdainfully, “but I’m not sure. Connor’s tight-lipped when he’s unhappy, as well you know.”

Bridie clearly didn’t relish the thought that Fitzgibbon might have information unavailable to her, but Linn was in no mood to cater to Bridie’s ancient grudges. “I’ll go to see Larry, then,” she said. “Terry told me that Con’s car is still at the cottage so he didn’t go far.” Linn’s eyes sought Bridie’s anxiously. “Bridie, tell me the truth. How has he been?”

Bridie bit her lip, silent.

Linn sighed, her heart sinking. “That bad?”

“Not good, lass. Not good.”

Linn watched Bridie steadily, waiting.

Bridie extended her hands, palms upward. “He’s been tearing up the town, if you want to know the truth; turned the Arms out twice with terrible rows. Mick the barkeep won’t let him through the door anymore.”

Linn dropped her eyes, her expression defeated.

“He fights at the drop of a hat,” Bridie went on, “starts swinging if anybody looks at him crosseyed. Everyone thinks he’s behaving like a madman. All in town know you left him and think he’s been jilted, but of course they don’t know the half of it.”

“I have to find him as soon as possible,” Linn said urgently.

Bridie shook her head. “You’d hardly recognize him, girl. The last I saw of him his hair was all grown over his collar, shaggy like, and he had a full beard. The best you can say of him is that he’s still clean, but as for the rest he goes around looking like a crazed apostle and acting worse.”

“Why didn’t you tell me this in your letters?” Linn asked quietly.

“Why add to your misery?” Bridie answered. “There was nothing you could have done. I’m only telling you now because I see you’ve come to end it, and I want you to know what to expect.”

Linn picked up her purse. “Bridie, I’m going to see Larry now. Do you think Terry could give me a lift back to the house when I’m finished?”

Bridie nodded. “I’ll keep him close and wait for your call.”

Linn turned to go and then looked back over her shoulder. “Do you think Con’s gone north?” she asked in a low tone.

Bridie’s face reflected her shared concern. “I don’t know, Aislinn,” she answered softly. “I just don’t know.”

Linn pushed open the door. “I’ll call you as soon as I’m through,” she said in farewell, and strode out across the rear yard.

Linn covered the distance from Bridie’s house to Fitzgibbon’s office in record time. His secretary turned red when she looked up and saw Linn standing before her.

“I’d like to see Mr. Fitzgibbon,” Linn said coolly to Kate Costello’s loquacious aunt.

“He’s busy with a client,” the woman said, becoming quite busy herself shuffling papers.

“I’ll wait.”

“He may be some time,” the secretary added.

“Then perhaps you’d better tell him I’m here,” Linn said firmly, staring her down.

The woman eyed her back huffily.

“Madam,” Linn stated with dangerous sweetness, “I have come all the way from New Jersey in the USA to talk to that man, and I’m very sure he would want to know that I am here. Now are you going to get him or am I going to march in there and announce myself?”

The woman left hurriedly and returned in about ten seconds. “He’ll see you directly,” she said shortly, and sat at her typewriter. She began to bang out a letter as Linn stared at the door from which Fitz would emerge.

He came out finally, calling over his shoulder, “Be back in a minute, Margaret.” He studied Linn and then said, “Come into the other office.” He walked off down the hall and Linn followed him into a book lined, carpeted room.

Larry indicated that she should sit but remained standing himself. His attitude was not friendly.

“What do you want?” he asked curtly.

“I’m looking for Con,” Linn replied, somewhat startled by his hostile tone.

“Are you indeed? And what makes you think I’d tell you where he is?”

“What?” Linn said, bewildered.

“I said, what makes you think I’d tell you where he is, assuming that I know? You almost killed him when you left him. Have you come back to finish the job?”

“Larry…” Linn began, finally getting his drift.

“Don’t Larry me, my girl,” the lawyer said, folding his arms. “I believe I asked you a question.”

“Larry, you don’t know the whole story. I can understand why you’re not happy with me at the moment, but it’s not the way it looks, believe me.”

“Perhaps, then, you’ll be kind enough to tell me what way it actually is.” Without waiting for a reply Fitz leaned forward and peered into Linn’s face. “I picked him out of a ditch last week after he got into some dustup. Drunk as a lord, he was, and beaten almost senseless. Took on four Cork men at once, I heard, and came out much the worse for his trouble. Neil had to patch him up at three in the a.m.; he was bleeding like a stuck pig from a cut beside his eye.”

Linn winced. Poor Neil. Con was becoming his full time career.

Larry’s eyes narrowed. “How could you do it? You know what it took for him to open himself up to you. You know how hard it was for him to haul down that guard and let you inside. But no, you spend the whole summer chipping away at that reserve until he’s as defenseless and vulnerable as a child, so in love with you a fool could see it at twenty paces, and then you hop on a plane back to America and leave that boy to rot.” He shook his head. “It was a terrible cruel thing to do, lass, and no mistake.”

Linn opened her mouth, but Larry raged on, heedless of her reaction.

“And then,” he said, spreading his hands, “what do you do? You leave him that lifeless piece of land as if that would make up for the loss of you. You can’t buy that man with Ildathach, my girl, have no doubt of that.”

Linn held up her hand to stem the flow of his invective. While she wasn’t enjoying his tirade of abuse Linn felt a certain grudging warmth for the lawyer, whom she had previously viewed as somewhat pompous and certainly full of himself. She hadn’t realized before how very fond of Con he was. They all were, she realized; Bridie, Terry, Neil—all of them. In his own quiet way Con had made each of them his, even this bombastic solicitor. And now, when Con’s behavior might appear questionable or even childish to an impartial observer, it was Linn whom Fitzgibbon blamed, not Con.

Larry stopped talking and Linn said into the silence, “I’m sorry, Larry. I never meant to hurt him; you must believe that. I’m here now to straighten things out once and for all, but you have to tell me where he is in order for me to do that. If it’s any consolation I’ve been having a pretty bad time myself.”

“Have you?” He examined her closely, taking in her slimmer figure and pale complexion. “Hmm, maybe so. You
are
looking a trifle peaked. What is going on, Aislinn?” he asked in a milder tone.

“It’s a long story, Larry, and I’m wasting time as I sit here. I want to get to Con as soon as I can. I promise that I’ll fill you in later. Now if you know where he is, will you please, please tell me?”

Fitzgibbon deliberated a moment longer and then reached for a pad on the desk at his side. He leaned over Linn and began to sketch a map on the paper.

“Did Con ever speak about the shepherd’s hut in the foothills where he used to go when he was boy?”

Linn thought that over, frowning. ‘‘I think he mentioned it once or twice. He said you could only reach it on foot, that the roads don’t go up there. It’s beyond Cool Na Grena, isn’t it?”

“It is. It would be a trek of several hours to get there and the way isn’t well marked. But it’s my guess that’s where he’s gone. He used to run away up there like a kicked coinin whenever he got into trouble, which was often enough when he was a lad. I think you’ll find him there now if you’ve a mind to look.” Fitz had been drawing all the time he talked, and he presented Linn with a rendering of the route to the hut. It showed the paths that led up the side of the mountain, and the one she was to take was done in bolder lines.

“You go up to the ruins,” he explained, “and then take the well traveled road that leads up to the right. After about fifteen minutes’ walk you’ll come to a dry well made of gray stones.” He pointed to the place on the map with his pencil. “Take the turning there that leads west, toward the sea. After that it’s just climbing almost to the summit, where you’ll see the grazing land for the flocks. The hut is off in the brush; you’ll have to search for it but it’s there.” Fitz drew back and studied her doubtfully. “Do you think you can find it?”

Linn stood. “I don’t know but I have to try.”

“Shall I go along?”

“No, no, you have your work here, and this is something I have to do alone. But thanks for the thought.”

“Take the boy Terence with you, then. He knows those hills almost as well as Con.”

“I said alone,” Linn repeated firmly. “I appreciate your giving me the directions, and I promise you won’t be sorry that you told me where to find him.”

The lawyer nodded. “I’m almost certain he’s there. Tell me right quick if he’s not, because then we’ll have a problem on our hands.”

Linn agreed, then asked to use the phone to call Bridie. Minutes later Terry arrived on his bike to take her back to Ildathach.

Linn unlocked the front door to the house and Terry followed anxiously behind her.

“I don’t know that you should go alone, miss,” he said for the third time. “The way is easy to lose and there’s nothing up there for a long stretch if you go wrong.”

“Terry, I’ll be fine.”

“Have a care, then,” he said. “Watch how you go.”

“I will.” Linn glanced up at him as she stepped aside to disentangle herself from the fervent embrace of an enthusiastic Ned, who was wrapping himself around her ankles. “You’re a good kid, Terry, do you know that? And if you dropped that skirt chasing leather boy act more often people might be able to see it.”

Terry smiled slightly. “Can’t fool you, eh?”

Linn smiled back. “Not anymore.”

Terry turned to go. “Shall we keep it just between us?” he said, teasing. “You wouldn’t want to ruin my reputation.”

Linn laughed. “It will be our secret.”

Terry raised his hand in farewell. “Ma will call tonight and if there’s no answer here, I’m coming up after you. So return here if you find him or call her, will you?”

“I will. Goodbye.”

Terry left and Linn went to the bedroom, changing quickly into the jeans and shirt she’d left behind. She got down an old backpack she’d uncovered during her cleaning frenzy and put blankets, a sweater and a bottle of water in it, along with some apples and cheese. Then she pocketed Fitz’s map and set out on foot to find her beloved.

The search took three hours. By the time Linn saw the hut in the distance she was filthy, sweaty, sore, and hopelessly lost. If Con wasn’t inside it she was in big trouble.

He was. She pushed aside the sheepskin covering on the door to see him asleep at an old-fashioned deal table, his head on his arms, a partially filled tumbler of whiskey before him. His shirt was open, his hair was wild and his face was obscured by a luxuriant beard. A thick dark scab bordered his left eye.

Linn unstrapped her pack and tiptoed over to him, putting her hand on his shoulder.

“Con, wake up. Con, it’s Aislinn.”

He stirred and his eyes opened. Joy flooded his face when he saw her, to be replaced immediately by tortured comprehension.

“Why are you here?” he demanded. “To show me again what I cannot have?” He shrugged her hand off and turned his head.