CAN THIS REALLY BE HOME?

CAN THIS REALLY BE HOME?

My land?

*

Evan Quill walked the rocky shores of Kenmare Bay in Kerry, Ireland. As he looked ahead, he saw a small sandy shore in the distance. Probably a good place if you plan on swimming, he thought. Maybe tomorrow, I’ll put on my swimsuit and come back.

He never considered himself handsome, but hoped, he had the features that were a combination of his parents. The eyes the color of fine Irish whiskey, like his mother and straight black hair that fell just at his jawline, like his dad. Tall like his dad with and slender like his mother but not skinny like his younger sister.

Without a conscious thought, he detoured from his intended path, turned south, climbed the small hill and saw a pub. Ah! He mumbled softly, such a welcome sight on such a hot afternoon.

He pulled open the old wooden door and stepped inside. Although the outside of the building hinted at an old fashioned pub, the inside was different. The many tables, some of which were already in use by patrons held a high shiny polish. A bar that ran the length of the wall on his right, and a small stage was positioned in the far left corner. A sign with an arrow at the far right end of the bar indicated the location of the restrooms.

He sniffed the air and immediately realized how hungry he was.

“Ah! Good afternoon, laddie. Sit yerself down and I’ll be right with you.” Evan turned towards the bar and saw the gray-haired gentleman wiping his hands as he walked through the doorway behind him.

Evan no sooner selected a small table when Paddy hurriedly walked towards him and stopped short allowing his jaw to slacken.

“May the saints be praised. If it isn’t Denis Quill in the flesh.”

Evan’s pale blue eyes looked into Paddy’s green and replied, “Sorry, no. I’m not Denis. He was my grandfather.”

“Well, I’ll be damned! You’re the spittin’ image. I’ll bring a pint of Guinness and a menu.” He held out his hand and finished, “I’m Paddy O’Sullivan.”

After perusing the menu, Evan decided on the fish and chips. “So, Mr. O’Sullivan, you knew my grandfather?”

“Please, there is no Mr. here. It’s just simply Paddy and I sort of knew him. He was friends with my da. They spent many a day either fishin’ or buyin’ up old houses to fix up and then sell. They were quite good at it too – and the fishin’. I’ll get yer meal. Then if it’s okay with you, I’d like to sit a bit and reminisce about yer grandfather.”

While Evan and Paddy spend the next two hours exchanging stories about Evan’s grandfather, Tilly, Paddy’s daughter was kept busy tending bar and waiting tables.

When he stood to leave, he asked, “Paddy, that was the best fish I’ve eaten in quite a while. What do I owe you for my lunch?”

Paddy smiled, “Nothin’, my boy. Denis’ grandson eats here free, any time, every time. I should have asked if you’ve a place to stay.”

“I doubt I’ll ever to repay you for your kindness and yes, I’ve already been to the Palmview Stone House this morning. You know, Paddy, I thought I’d be finding a fancy hotel in town but the name Palmview Stone House caught my eye when I researched this area. The name intrigued me so I booked a room there and have absolutely no regrets. The room seems as though it’s lost in time. Old and yet extremely comfortable.”

“Yes, the Stone House is all that. Mary and her husband take good care of the old Inn. It once belonged to her grandmother but Cecilia is too old to run it now, so Mary has taken it over. Tell her Paddy says hello.”

Evan thanked him again and mulled over the memories Paddy shared with him. “Strange”, he thought, “Paddy never said anything about my grandmother. Hmm. Did he know her? I was sure my dad said she and my grandfather grew up together. Next time I visit the pub, I’ll ask him.”

He began whistling as he walked around the land. “Wait,” he stopped abruptly and said to know one but himself, “What tune is that? It’s familiar and not familiar.” He shook his head in dismay, “Weird. Just weird.” He continued walking.

As he wandered, he looked in the direction of the Stone House and intentionally walked in another direction. “Nope. Not ready to lock myself in my room. There’s plenty of time to read and write.”

He paused for a few minutes, yanking off his backpack and retrieving his camera. Checking the life of the battery and selecting his desired lens, he nodded, then, again, donned the pack.

Walking a bit further, he found a group of large boulders and began to climb. Once in a position where he could look over the land, he removed the lens’ protective cover, aimed the camera and began pressing the shutter button.

“What great pictures these will be. Perfect for my website,” he mused.

He scanned the area, using the view finder on his camera, snapping away at what he deemed interesting, then paused abruptly. There, several yards from the perch on which he balanced himself, stood a woman with an arm raised who seemed to be waving. Looking around, he saw no one else in his general area, so then, was she waving at him? Should he wave back? Was she Paddy’s daughter from the pub?

He lowered his camera and after descending the boulders, started walking towards the woman. In turn, she began walking towards him.

She wore a long, cotton, short sleeved summer dress, the color of ripe green apples. Her hair fell in soft, red curls halfway down her back. Her eyes were the color of a warm summer sky. She smiled and that smile? It completely took every descriptive word from his head.

She said only four words:

“Welcome home, Evan Quill.