Seizure(64)

“So no one speaks it anymore?”

“Less than fifteen percent of the Irish population, though the current government is working hard to preserve it. Gaelic speakers are fairly rare here in the States.”

“Oh.” My spirits sank.

“I can give it a shot.” I heard static as Tempe adjusted the phone. “When I was a kid, a second cousin lived with my family briefly. She spoke Gaelic fluently, so I learned the language to keep her company.”

“And you still remember it?”

“We’ll see. Do you need something translated?”

“I’ve got a … poem.”

“From a book?”

“No,” I said. “Some pottery washed up on the beach near my house. A few lines are visible on the inside.”

I hated lying to my idol, but what choice did I have?

“A mystery! Awesome! Email me the poem and I’ll take a run at it.”

“That’d be great! Thank you so much.”

“Stop,” Tempe chuckled. “After what I’ve been slogging through today, poetry will be a welcome change of pace.”

There was an awkward pause while I debated with myself.

“Was there something else, Tory?”

Snap decision.

“Do you know anything about Anne Bonny, the female pirate?”

“I’ve heard of her, of course. But I’m a little light on specifics. Why?”

Throwing caution to the wind, I told Tempe my suspicions. Mary Brennan. The painting. Bonny’s Massachusetts rumors. Our shared handwriting trait.

When I’d finished, the line was quiet for a very long time.

Great. She thinks I’m a moron.

“Wow. Who knows? It could be true.”

I realized I’d been holding my breath. “It’s wacky, granted. But I can’t shake the feeling there’s a connection.”

“I understand,” Tempe said. “I’m a Brennan too, remember? Though I’m definitely not related to Anne Bonny. My grandparents didn’t leave the Emerald Isle until after World War I.”

“It’s crazy we share the Brennan name, even though I grew up in another family. But I’m glad we do.”

“It shows we were meant to connect,” Tempe said. “I just wish it had been under happier circumstances.”

Tempe went silent, possibly regretting the reference to my mother’s death.

“I’ll send the poem to your Gmail,” I said. “It was great chatting.”

“Don’t give up on the pirate connection. I expect a full report, matey.”

“Aye aye, captain. And thanks again.”

“Slán agus beannacht leat.”

“What does that mean?” I asked.

“‘Good-bye and blessings upon you.’” Tempe chuckled. “I hope.”





I FELT BETTER after hanging up.

Talking with Aunt Tempe always recharged my batteries. Watch check. Four p.m. Kit wasn’t due home for a few more hours.

After emailing the poem, I texted the Virals. We assembled in my living room ten minutes later.

The boys were running on fumes.

Shelton and Hi slumped on the couch while Ben fiddled with the remote, trying to locate a baseball game. Coop lay curled in his doggie bed, paws outstretched, content to merely observe.

“I sent the Gaelic stuff to my aunt,” I said. “She’ll take a crack at translating and get back to me.”

I didn’t mention the Anne Bonny portion of our conversation. I’d been teased enough for one day.

“How long will it take?” Shelton asked.

“No idea.”

“Seven to one?” Ben had finally found a game. “Man, the Cubs stink.”

“Yep.” Hi yawned. Then, “Oh! I almost forgot. My mother said something odd.”

“I’m sorry, but it’s true.” Shelton placed a hand on Hi’s shoulder. “You’re not the most handsome boy in school. Oh, burnsauce!”

“Hilarious. No, she said a strange car drove by the complex this afternoon.”

“You can’t drive by,” I said. “This is the end of the world.”

“No argument here,” Hi replied. “But according to mommy dearest, a vehicle cruised up the driveway, idled a few minutes, then left. She almost called the cops.”

Ben fought a smirk. “Why?”

“You know Ruth,” Hi answered with a sigh. “She probably thinks the car was full of Al Qaeda operatives sent to exterminate the neighborhood watch.”

I didn’t like it. “Can you guys recall a car ever showing up out here by mistake?”

No one could.

“You can’t get that lost,” said Shelton. “Our townhomes are fifteen minutes from the last state road.”


“Most people don’t know anything is back here at all,” Ben agreed. “And a lost motorist would turn around long before crossing to Morris Island.”

“A delivery guy?” Hi offered. “Or someone’s guest? They could’ve called up, gotten no answer, then left.”

“Maybe it was local kids thinking they could drive all the way to the Morris beach,” Shelton offered.