The Island Curse

Arrival

I gripped my suitcase and stared resolutely ahead, refusing to look at my father when he tossed his arm over my shoulder. Had he brought me here under any other circumstances, I would've been racing ahead, stopping only to fill my lungs with briny air. My granda had told me many stories of Merrow Island, and as a child, I'd fallen asleep dreaming of pirates, sirens, and treasures buried in rocky caverns.

But most of all, I dreamed of calling it home one day.

And now that day was here. The Hallorans had returned to their motherland. Even the sorrow clouding my mind couldn't distract me from the sense of rightness that had settled over me as soon as the soles of my shoes touched the rocky shores.

I wanted nothing to do with any of it.

"Cheer up, Isla girl," my father boomed, putting his hand on my back and pushing me forward. "You've done nothing but chatter away about this place since you were old enough to talk. We're here, and yer not smiling."

"It's cold, and I'm hungry," I snipped, moving out of his reach and continuing up the one lane path. It took all my resolve to not turn around and beg the ferryman to return.

"You don't even know where yer going." We hadn't been here five minutes and already the light bur in his accent was thickening.

The suitcase hit the ground, and I spread my arms out wide. "I thought I'd go with the only road in sight, and seeing as how going that way," I pointed toward the sea, its waves gray and gnashing, "leads to a cold swim, I thought I'd try this direction."

I waited for him to snap at me. Dylan Halloran didn't put up with much snark from anyone, even less so from his own daughter. Six months ago, this much attitude would've earned a solid grounding that would've lasted at minimum two weeks. Now, he just filled his cheeks with air, the tops of them red with frustration and cold, before blowing out a long breath.

Wrangling a smile back onto his lips, he jogged to my side and scooped up the suitcase. "We can stop for a bite to eat before heading out to the house. Mrs. Rose, the lady who has yer granda's car, owns the best pub on the island."

"Considering the population of the island is about three hundred people and there's likely only the one pub, I'm not sure you should sing her praises."

"There's actually three pubs. There's a lot going on in the town center here. Tourism has really boosted the economy, and in the last few years all sorts of shopping and cafes have popped up. Some of them close in the off season, but mostly, you're not going to miss out on much Isla."

I tuned him out as he prattled on, sounding every bit like a local tour guide. The sky overhead was the same color as the sea we'd just arrived on. The heavy clouds blocked every ray of late August sunshine, but even the dreary weather couldn't suppress the brilliant colors in the pastures lining the road. Miles of tall emerald grasses dotted with deep purple heather in full bloom. And the shaggiest little donkeys grazed, not bothering to lift their heads as we walked by.

A gnawing ache grew in my stomach, and it had nothing to do with my claim of hunger. This place was everything my granda had promised- more, really. He could never do justice to the sounds and smells, some of them things I'd never encountered until this moment. I wondered if she'd seen what I was seeing, would she have stayed?"

"Here we are," Dad shouted as we crested the hill and the hamlet of Merrow Island came into full view.

The path widened, becoming a proper road until it reached an open space paved with cobblestones. As my father had promised, shops and cafes filled the square, some part of rows of what looked like stone cottages, while others were freestanding, creating narrow alleys that connected the center to other streets. I saw no cars, only pedestrians and bike riders navigated the area, the sound of voices and bells signalling filling my ears.