Page 17 of Rise of the Melody
I stared from the window as we headed toward the island. It was overcast, and as we passed through hills and mountain scapes with craggy rock cliffs, I was mesmerized by everywhere the fog touched. Fog in the middle of the day was funny to me. We had fog over the Upper Bay sometimes in the morning and evenings. But it felt rustic and spooky out here in the middle of nowhere like the set of a horror movie. As we neared the island we went over a few bridges covering lakes and streams, all with foggy patches.
Finally, we slowed at a sign for the Shehan Ferry. I peered through the front window. “There’s no bridge?”
“Nope,” Ronald said. “The ferry is the only way on and off the island. And Mayor MacCray?—”
“He’smayor?” Aunt Lorna interrupted. “Lord help us.”
Ron chuckled, pulling his vehicle onto the ferry in a slow line, bumper to bumper.
“He’s not as cocky as he once was, Lorn. He lost a lot. I guess everyone did.” A quiet pause filled the car. CooShee let out a sigh and set his head on my lap. I absent-mindedly petted him as Ronald went on.
“He’s instituted a lot of new green laws to try and keep the island cleaner. No vehicles over four cylinders allowed except work trucks with permits. And it’s a golf cart town now. Everyone’s got golf carts or these electric cars called GEMs. Although you wouldn’t believe the number of people who do stupid shit—sorry,stuff—in those things. People let their eight-year-olds drive and run into things, and don’t get me started on the drunk cart driving.” He shook his head and I marveled at the cuteness of small town Sheriff issues.
“By the way,” he added. “Today is the Highland Island Games. You’re lucky I was able to sneak away. It’s a madhouse.”
“Oh, you’re kidding me!” Aunt Lorna lit up, turning in the seat to face him as the ferry pushed away from the dock. “I forgot about the Games!”
“What games?” I asked.
“A lot of folks here have Scottish roots, like you all. So, years ago they started this. It’s like a field day with competitions. Weight throwing, like stones and whatnot. Caber toss—that’s a big, tall log. The Wife Carrying Competition?—”
“Oh, yes!” Aunt Lorna clapped her hands and laughed.
Ron grinned at her. “Henry and Finella were the champs at that one.”
My ears perked up. “My parents were champs at something?”
“They were!” Aunt Lorna’s laughter faded. “Twelve-year champions until….”
The car got quiet, all of our excitement sucked out. My aunt sighed and rubbed her temples. I watched the island approaching. From our angle it looked like a big, floating, mossy mountain ringed in fog that was both creepy and beautiful.
“It’s bigger than I expected,” I said.
“Yep,” Ronald responded. “Over a hundred square miles. Fifteen miles long, eight miles wide. The town of Shehan sits on the north-eastern edge, but majority of the island is Benn Shehan National Park, all protected land. Do you know what Benn Shehan means?”
I shook my head and he answered. “Mountain Fairy Knoll.”
Suiting.
He went on to explain that Shehan is an anglicized spelling ofsìtheanin Scots Gaelic.
Maybe under different circumstances I would get excited about the information and exploring, but knowing what I knew, the land appeared foreboding. Like Bryant MacCray had said to me, this was not a vacation. Somewhere in that forest of trees was a wicked creature.
We were quiet the rest of the ferry ride and the beginning of our ride on the island until the town came into view.
Aunt Lorna gasped. “Look at all the cars. Are we back in the city?”
Ron chuckled. “Tourism is definitely up. If you don’t mind, I need to stop and make sure everything’s going well at the festival before I take you to the house.”
“Not at all,” my aunt said, flashing me a smile. “We’ll have a look around, but I need to get these cats home soon.”
“I’ll call my rookie over and have him take them to the house real quick.”
My aunt gave him a look of admiration, making him smile.
Ron put a flashing light on top of his vehicle through the window and a crowd of laughing, drinking people parted, most wearing kilts. So much plaid everywhere. Aunt Lorna grasped her hands and I tried to imagine her thirteen years ago out here with my parents, part of the laughing crowd. It felt so distant. So far away and impossible.
He nudged his car into a spot near a grassy park area crammed with people, and a gazebo where girls and women in plaid skirts and long socks did traditional step-dancing. I normally didn’t like going into large crowds in New York, but this seemed so innocent and harmless. I found myself curious, thinking about my mom and dad. If they hadn’t died, I would have been raised here. My life would have been so different.
