Ashes on the Waves (17 page)

The appearance of the ocean, in the space between the more distant island and the shore, had something very unusual about it.

—Edgar Allan Poe,
from “A Descent into the Maelström,” 1841

A
nna wore a dress with a sheer, silver gossamer overlay that shimmered and reflected the final rays of the sunset as it threw vivid streaks of magenta and gold across the placid water of the harbor. I’d never seen anything like it—or her—in my life.

“You are so beautiful,” I said as she entwined her fingers in mine.

“You’re looking pretty sharp yourself,” she said with a grin.

I looked down at the new clothes Francine had given to me today after I’d finished transferring the lobsters. She insisted I shower at the shop and then presented me with a brand-new pair of blue jeans and a soft, pullover shirt, both of which felt foreign to me after wearing Pa’s hand-me-downs for so many years.

“So, what can I expect at this soiree?” Anna asked as we stepped up onto the wooden sidewalk leading to the docks.

“Crazy people talking to Otherworlders around a couple of huge fires.”

She laughed, and all my apprehension about bringing her here dissipated. “You’re beginning to sound like me,” she said.

“As long as I don’t begin to look like you.”

She stopped and pulled my hand so that I almost fell against her. “No, no. You keep looking just like you look and we’ll be fine.” She wrapped her arms around my waist and pressed her body close. “More than fine.”

“Oh, Anna. What you do to me.”

She grinned. “What do I do to you?”

The list was infinitely long, so I chose the most important. “You make me feel good about myself.”

“You
should
feel good about yourself.” She clutched my hand again and we continued toward the point of the beach past the harbor. “You’re freaking amazing.”

I’d no idea what I’d done to warrant the title “freaking amazing,” but I liked it.

“There you are,” Francine called from the shop door. “Come in here first. I have something for you.”

She hugged Anna and ushered us into the store. “Tonight is very important. Liam has never been a big believer in tradition, but all things considered, I think it best the two of you participate.”

“You said it was crazy people talking to Otherworlders around huge fires,” Anna whispered when Francine went behind the counter to retrieve something.

noreias cra
“She’s one of the crazy people,” I said loud enough for Francine to hear.

Francine tsked. “Liam MacGregor! Mind your manners or I’ll box your ears.” She handed each of us a candle. “Crazy indeed.” She winked at Anna. “He knows what to do with the candles. Make sure he does it.” She wrung her hands in front of her body.

Anna took my candle and slipped both into her silver handbag. “Will do.”

“Now, go,” Francine said, pushing us out the door. “You don’t want to miss the lighting.”

Anna shifted her handbag to her right shoulder so that it wasn’t between us. “I’ve never seen Francine that intense.”

I nodded. Francine had always behaved in a peculiar manner at Bealtaine. It was the only celebration in which she did not participate. Something had happened years ago on this day, she’d hinted at that much, but I’d never had the nerve to outright ask her about it.

We reached the end of the wooden sidewalk and stepped off onto the dirt trail leading to the low area of beach that jutted out into the water where the logs and limbs had been piled for the fires. Most of the village was already there.

“So, are we going to have to kick somebody’s butt tonight like we almost had to on the jetty yesterday?” Anna asked. “Because I’m really not dressed for it.”

I chuckled. “No. This is the only day of the year that I’m left totally alone. Bealtaine was, in its origin, a time for tribes to come together with a love-your-enemy kind of mentality.”

“You being the enemy.”

“Exactly.”

I stopped at a boulder with a flat surface on the top that was only a few feet tall. “Let’s observe from here.” I preferred not to press my luck by mingling just yet.

The sun was obscured by Seal Island at the mouth of the harbor, but its rays stretched out horizontally in crimson streaks that had the appearance of flames dancing across the surface of the water.

Connor MacFarley and Edmond Byrne held torches at the ready near the two enormous piles of wood.

“Wanna tell me what this is all about?” Anna said, smoothing her dress across her thighs.

“I told you.”

She rolled her eyes and patted the stone next to her. “Get over here and tell me a story, demon dude. That or make out with me, because you are looking pretty fine in this light.”

“I much prefer the latter option.”

Something over my shoulder caught her eye and the smile melted off her face. I spun around to find Brigid Ronan dressed in black from head to toe standing only feet behind me. “I see you did not heed my advice.” She looked me up and down with disgust. “You are playing with fire, Anna. But that doesn’t surprise me. Some people like to play with fire, as you will see tonight. Just don’t get too close. It’s fatal.”

In silence, we watched as she strolled down the beach and disappeared in the crowd of villagers.

“Was that a threat?” Anna asked. “Because if that was a threat, she’d better start looking for a new job.”

I sat next to her. “It sounded more like a warning.” I brushed her hair behind her shoulder so I could see her face in the last vestiges of light.

She sid of took a deep breath. “I wish Mom and Dad would get rid of her.”

“I wish I had my sketch pad.”

A cheer rose from the villagers as Connor and Edmond touched their torches to the wood.

“Story time,” Anna said, nestling against me.

“We have four seasonal celebrations: Samhain, Imbolg, Bealtaine, and Lughnasa. The traditions derive from our Celtic heritage, but they have been distorted over our centuries of isolation on Dòchas. The intent remains the same, though. We honor the pantheon of gods and creatures that our ancestors honored. It is said they followed our ships to the New World, invigorated and empowered by our worship. My people believe that the Otherworlders still heed our requests because we have not turned from the old ways.”

Anna folded her legs to the side. “So, the creepies are hanging out on this island because you guys do this stuff.”

“Yes.”

She shuddered. “Oooh. Cut it out, then.”

Several women gave shrill calls and held sheets above their heads.

“They’ve collected the evening dew on the sheets and will wipe their skin with them.”

“Why?” The fires were taking hold, casting a golden glow on her skin.

“Bealtaine is a celebration of the fertility of the earth. It’s believed that the nighttime dew has restorative qualities.” The women wiped each other’s faces with the sheets.

“Watch out, Noxzema corporation. We’ve got dirty dew sheets working here,” she said with a giggle. “Oh, hey. That’s Deirdre. She looks beautiful.”

The women of the village formed a circle around Deirdre, whose auburn hair cascaded down her back in stark contrast to the pure white shift she wore. A woman with a sheet wiped all of the girl’s exposed skin, including her legs and feet.

“So, why’s Deirdre looking like a sacrificial lamb to me?” Anna asked.

The fire on the left flared from within as something shifted in the pile and the crowd cheered.

“Because she is.”

Anna stiffened. “They’re not going to—”

“No, no.” I put my arm around her. “Not that kind of sacrifice. It is customary to perform handfasting ceremonies at Bealtaine. They must be promising her to someone tonight.”

The women smiled and laughed, but Deirdre appeared miserable. She stood stiff and unsmiling in the circle, eyes unfocused as if she saw nothing.

“So, who’s she marrying?” Anna asked.

“I have no idea. We have a great shortage of eligible males . . . and females for that matter. She’s the only woman of childbearing age on Dòchas.”

She pulled away. “Woman of childbearing age? My God, Liam. She’s not even fourteen yet!”

“Remember where you are, Anna. Dòchas is not New York.”

“We’re not in Kansas anymore,” she whispered under her breath.

It was another pop culture reference, I assumed, so I didn’t respond.

Edmond held his torch over his head and gave a guttural cry, silencing the crowd. The sun had fully set, but the flames blazed, illuminating the scene in an ominous orann o">Edmondge glow. He stepped to the space between the two fires and shouted a rhyme:

Strike the fire and let it rise

In cleansing flames to the summer skies.

Our ancient customs we now renew

Bathed in purest nighttime dew.

We invoke the spirits of olden days

By following our ancestors’ ways

We affirm the power that you wield

Over the bounty of body, sea, and field.

He threw his torch into the fire and the villagers cheered. Mac and Ron Reilly pulled their fiddles from under their arms and struck up a feisty jig.

“Look at Deirdre,” Anna said. “She’s miserable. She was so happy about the prospect of having a husband at the house earlier today. I wonder what happened?”

Deirdre sat on a log near the water with her mother, Polly, who had an arm around the girl and was speaking in her ear.

“Perhaps she doesn’t like her parents’ choice of a prospective mate.”

Anna stiffened. “You don’t suppose it’s you, do you?”

I laughed. “Not a chance. That would certainly bring her misery, though.”

Her brow furrowed. “Why not you? Why is that funny?”

“I’m not eligible for marriage. I am, for lack of a better word, broken.”

She stared into the crowd. “So who is eligible?”

I ran through the candidates in my mind. All were old enough to be her grandfather or great-grandfather. She wasn’t going to like my answer, so I shrugged.

Sighing, she nestled back in under my arm. “Well, I’m glad it’s not you because I’d have to take her down and stake my claim.” She winked and I gave her shoulder a squeeze. “Hey. Ronan’s looking at us.”

With the firelight writhing across her face, Brigid Ronan looked like she belonged in the painting from Dante’s
Inferno
in Anna’s room. The hairs on the back of my neck and scalp tingled under her minatory glare.

“The mean old witch,” Anna said under her breath. “Let’s give her something to stare at.” Anna captured my face in her hands and kissed me with such passion, it caught me off guard. I gathered my wits and returned her kiss with equal enthusiasm, finding myself light-headed after a few moments. She released me and we stared at each other, gasping for air.

“Whoa,” she said. “That was . . . wow.”

The strains of the fiddles and villagers’ singing swirled through my head and everything seemed a blur except Anna. She was as crisp and focused as my desire.

A cheer rose from the crowd again. Someone had placed a burning plank on the ground between the two fires and men were jumping over it.

“Purification by fire,” I explained. “In the old country, livestock was driven between the fires to ensure fertility and health.”

“Let’s go do it,” she said, jumping to her feet.
r fhe fiddl

“No, Anna, I don’t . . .”

She grabbed my hand and tugged. “Come on, Liam. We only live once. Let’s live well.”

At this moment, I understood that she truly comprehended our situation. She hadn’t completely discounted the possibility that we were doomed but had chosen to be with me over taking the safer path. This reality took my breath away. “Yes. Let’s live well,” I answered.

Laughing, she danced toward the fire, pulling me with her.

“Wait,” I said as we neared the flames. “Your dress.”

She grabbed it up from the bottom and tied the hem in a knot at the top of her thigh, exposing her pale, slender legs, nearly causing my heart to stop.

“Anna, I swear, the Cailleach’s prediction is going to come true right now. You’ll be the death of me.”

She grinned and took my hand. “Ready?”

The music and singing continued, but many of the villagers closer to the horizontal plank simply stared at us. We must have looked quite the pair: the latent demon and the half-dressed eccentric socialite.

“Ready,” I answered, and we laughed and laughed all the way over the flames to the water.

She untied the knot and the dress fell back in place to just above her ankles. Again, I longed for my sketch pad. The iridescent fibers of the dress caught the blue hues of the moon shimmering off the water from the front, and her back was bathed in orange from the fire behind us.