Page 3 of Harbor Lights (Inishderry Island Romances #3)

TWO

Shiv Walsh dropped her kitbag in the doorway of the old cabin and sighed at the state of disrepair. A quick wiring job, her grandad had said. Then she was free to stay as long as she wanted.

A traditional cottage, it appeared to have had a new roof installed sometime in the last century, so it was relatively dry inside. But that was where the modernization had ended.

She tested an old armchair for sturdiness before dropping into it, sending up a cloud of dust that made her cough.

She pulled up her bandanna while it settled and glanced around the murky surroundings.

It was a good thing she wasn’t used to luxury.

That’s probably what Grandad had thought.

Send the convict up onto the clifftop where no one will ever miss her, if they even knew she was alive.

Her reunion—or strictly speaking, union—with her family had been brief but eye opening. Her granddad hadn’t hidden his lack of enthusiasm for her arrival, and her younger uncle, Eugene, appeared bemused by her existence.

Jim, the oldest brother, had taken her aside and asked how her mom was doing.

He seemed relieved to hear she’d been happy with Art for many years and asked Shiv to pass on his love.

Shiv thought if you really loved someone, you checked up on them more often than every forty years, but she let it slide.

Her mom had warned her, when she’d finally got her phone charged and called from the airport, not to expect too much from Granddad Desmond. She’d begged her to come home, but Shiv had resisted, tempting though it was. She wasn’t going to put her mom and Art in any danger.

Her granddad had warmed a little when she said she was looking for work.

“You’re a qualified electrician, aren’t you? I remember your mother writing to tell me how proud she was.”

She’d shrugged, knowing he’d never replied to her mom’s letters. “Yeah. I think I’d need to get some assessments or something to transfer my qualifications, but I know what I’m doing.”

He’d looked her up and down like he thought that was highly unlikely.

“I’ve got just the job for you.” That was when he’d explained the idea of her renovating and rewiring the “dated” cabin in return for her staying there for a while.

She’d been more enthusiastic about the assignment than he’d probably expected. It sounded like the perfect place to hide out from people in general and clear her head before she decided where best to focus her efforts on this new continent.

But looking around now, it didn’t feel so perfect. The stone walls were cold and the whole place felt damp. She’d need to check in with her granddad about how much money he was prepared to spend to fix it up.

She stood and stamped her feet. She only had a few hours of daylight left, and there was plenty to do to make the cabin habitable for an overnight stay.

On the wall over the mantle was an old wedding photo, the whites faded to beige.

She lifted it down and blew the dust off the glass.

Were these her forebears? Her granddad had told her it was the house he was born in.

She squinted at the smiling faces, but they weren’t familiar.

No surprise there. She’d only just discovered what her granddad and uncles looked like.

She turned it around and found a curling label on the back that read “O’Malley Photography.

” Below, in a very neat hand, was written:

Anthony and Margaret ‘Peggy’ Walsh, Our Lady Star of the Sea, Inishderry, 29 March 1955 .

Her great-grandparents. Her mom had told her about Peggy and how she’d built the island’s hotel from nothing in the 1960s when she’d seen an opportunity for tourism.

She sounded like a great woman. Shiv had always felt a vague disappointment she’d never had a chance to visit her family’s home.

It had been another reason to accept the job.

She wondered what other history she could dig up while she was here.

Without having to mix with family, obviously.

Not that they’d want anything to do with her.

While she’d never met any of them, she had no doubt the dirt on her mum and her had spread far and wide among the family.

She placed the picture carefully back onto the wall and promised she’d buy cleaning materials and shine the glass and frame when she could.

She looked around. Other than this central room, there were two doors, one at either end.

She went to the first and found a small bedroom, with an iron bed frame in the corner.

When she inspected it, it seemed sturdy enough, but she’d need a mattress.

She pulled out her phone and added it to her list of requirements.

She didn’t know how far her granddad was prepared to go to provide what she needed, other than the materials for the work she’d been asked to do.

She’d do a full review and send him her thoughts tomorrow.

She’d work around whatever he wanted; she had no personal stake in any of it.

A check of the other room revealed a mattress on the floor, stained and damp-smelling but it would do her for the immediate future.

She’d come prepared with the sleeping bag and bivy bag she’d managed to add to the few belongings she’d reclaimed from her RV.

A soft surface to lay them on would be a touch of luxury.

She laughed at her low standards, then moved on to where a final door led into a kitchen, of sorts.

A flat-roofed addition to the house, it housed basic cooking facilities, a large sink, and an iron contraption with a handle.

She had no idea what that was for. When she turned the faucet in the sink, after a groan and a gurgle, water gushed out.

Rusty colored at first, eventually it ran clear.

She scooped some into her mouth. It tasted fine, but she’d use her water filter bottle just to be safe.

Hands on her hips, she surveyed the space.

Okay. She had shelter, a bed and running water.

Her camping stove would serve for meals, so all she needed was a toilet.

A narrow stone building outside looked hopeful.

When she rattled the external door of the lean-to, it was locked, and there was no sign of a key.

She passed back through the house, exited the front door and walked back toward the stone building.

She found a gap in the old wall, where rocks half-obscured by grass suggested it had collapsed long ago.

Around the back, she pulled on the door of the stone building. It was indeed an outhouse. That would suit her just fine. She wasn’t a fan of having to dig a hole each day, although there had been times that had been her normal routine.

She brushed the dirt from the handle onto her jeans and looked around. Beyond the rundown wall surrounding the property, there was no other building in sight. Perfect .

She followed the lane beyond the gate toward the sea and shortly came to a sign that read “Cliff Edge. Danger.” A short walk past, and the rocky path turned to low rocks.

She jumped from rock to rock until she could see the edge.

A steep precipice led straight to the sea where waves crashed at the base of the cliff.

Even on this mild and still day, it was very wild and dramatic.

Perfect for her current frame of mind. She sat down on a rock for a few minutes, marveling at how calming it was just to sit and watch the elements.

Though sea birds screamed above her and the sea crashed below, between them, Shiv was perfectly still.

Perhaps this enforced break in her activism would quiet the monologue inside her head.

Eventually, she rose and jogged back to the cottage.

It was a twenty-minute walk back down to the little shop on the quay and she needed to pick up some basic provisions before nightfall.

Tomorrow, she would go and find this ferry guy her granddad had put her in touch with and arrange for delivery of the repair materials already ordered.

She tipped out the contents of her backpack onto the table, slung the empty bag onto her shoulder, and marched out of the house, locking the door behind her.

The small village that had presumably grown up around the harbor was little more than a string of houses, a public house with a sign that read “Emerald Bar,” and a gleaming white hotel, or as the large sign at the gates read, “Walsh’s Waterside Hotel and Restaurant.

” This must be her great-granny’s hotel.

She wondered which member of the Walsh family ran it now.

Not that she’d be able to name any of them.

She vaguely remembered her granddad had two brothers, and one of them stayed local and one had gone to the US, but her mom had retained no contact with any of her family and they were just names to Shiv.

The family she’d grown up with were the people around her in the squat, and then the ones she’d picked up on her travels.

Where she’d come from had never been more than a mild, irrelevant, curiosity.

Now, though, here she was, torn between finding out more about her family history and keeping her head down.

She wondered if she’d face a hostile reception, or if her extended relatives would just be apathetic, like her granddad.

A family that could force her pregnant mom to run away from home at sixteen wasn’t one she had any affection for.

But she had to admit her interest had been piqued by the wedding photo in the old cottage.

She’d like to know more about what sort of a person Peggy had been.

“Hey there! I’ve not seen you around before. You visiting?”

Shiv turned to see a woman jogging along behind, clearly trying to catch up. The American accent intrigued her, but she didn’t want company. When it became clear they were both headed for the harbor store, she thought she should be civil, at least. “Hey, yeah. Just arrived. You don’t sound local.”