He smiles. “It’s got a little something to it. Feels like only yesterday I was here with the whole family.”
“Does it?” I ask curiously.
His smile grows deeper, sadder, more reflective. “Maybe not.”
I gnaw anxiously at my lip. “Is there a drawbridge?” I ask. “With crocodiles waiting to eat your enemies?”
Cillian laughs. “Sorry to disappoint you,” he says, shaking his head. “We just have a normal bridge. But there is a portcullis. C’mere, I’ll show you.”
I follow him out of the castle and across the grounds, gravel crunching underfoot. We walk under partially cloudy skies until we reach an antique Ford automobile idling in the front courtyard.
There’s an older man standing beside the vehicle. He’s got car oil staining the front of his khaki pants and a ready smile waiting for us.
“Master Cillian!” he says with flare. “Everything is ready.”
“Thanks, Eiric,” Cillian says, clasping his hand and then clasping him on the back. “This is Saoirse.”
I notice that he doesn’t offer a relationship explanation. Just my name. Like the whole story is embedded there.
“Pleasure to meet you, young madam,” Eiric replies, bowing his head low.
“Please—call me Saoirse.”
“Not in my nature, madam,” he replies instantly. “But if you don’t like ‘madam,’ I can call you ‘mistress’?”
I try hard not to cringe. “How about ‘Miss’?”
Eiric doesn’t seem overly excited about it, but he agrees nonetheless.
Then he hands the keys to Cillian and opens the passenger side door for me. I give him a smile and slip inside. I’m immediately engulfed by the smell of soft leather and a dewy, floral scent I can’t quite name.
“We have a small garage here,” Cillian tells me, “where all the vintage cars are kept.”
“By ‘small,’ do you mean ten cars instead of fifty?” I tease.
He chuckles. “Something like that.”
“Of course,” I say, shaking my head. “Why am I not surprised?”
We drive towards the massive portcullis and I crane my neck down so that I can watch the jagged metal gate crank up to allow us to drive through.
The bridge linking the high ground of the castle to the surrounding countryside is lumpy with old, moss-covered stones. But it’s a smooth transition nonetheless as we glide out onto the open road.
It forks at the end. The left road points to the highway. The right one winds towards the mountains. Cillian takes the right one.
“You gonna tell me what we’re going to see now?” I ask hopefully.
“Nope.”
“Cillian…” I say with quickly diminishing patience.
He just smiles secretively. “Trust me. It’s gonna be worth it.”
“Can I have a clue?”
“No.”
Sighing, I let it drop and observe all the natural beauty that we pass. Ireland is such a gorgeous place. I haven’t always—or ever, really—taken the time to appreciate that.