it right back, I’m just admiring.” She said when she felt a cool breeze blow by.
The ring was gorgeous. It was a Claddagh Irish ring. As all Claddagh rings did, it had a crown on top of two hands holding a heart. In the middle of the heart was the most beautiful heart shaped diamond.
“Let love and friendship reign.” She said quietly. She turned the ring over to read the engraving on the back.
“Forever Yours, Brendan.”
She felt that damn pang in her heart this time. Then she felt the tears roll down her face.
“What happened to you two? You were both so young. I’ve never even felt anything close to what he must have felt for you. I have never even had the desire to try. Does that mean that I never will?”
She felt another breeze blow by her, but this time it felt warm. Almost like a hug. She placed the ring carefully back into the cup and closed the lid then wiped the tears from her cheek. It was time to take a ride. She needed to clear her head. She hadn’t cried in many years and yet the last two days had made her more emotional than she had been her whole life. She was becoming girly and she didn’t like it. Before she cleared her head too much though, she thought she would visit the local library. Maybe she could find some information on these two. Later she would come back and clean up their grave sites.
The morning had turned out to be a pretty good one. She called her insurance agent and found out that the life insurance policy her mother had bought her when she was born was now worth $10,000 cash value. She drove straight there, signed the papers and was told that the money should be direct deposited in her bank account within a few days.
She used the rest of her last paycheck and tips to purchase some art supplies, lots of food for the pantry, a couple of magazines and the new Nora Roberts novel, and paid the taxi cab driver a fifty dollar tip in advance to at least take her things to the front door. She had him stop by the storage company and have them meet him with her television as well. She wasn’t sure how she was going to carry that by herself into the house, she figured that she would manage somehow.
Drew supposed the next investment she was going to have to make was a car. Living downtown near everything that she could possibly need made owning a motorcycle as you’re only means of transportation no problem at all. Now that she lived out in BFE she was finding it difficult to get her things where she needed on nothing but a Harley.
She had one more stop to make before she went home and that was the library. She didn’t know what kind of public records she would be able to get from 1859 and 1860 but she was bound and determined to get whatever she could.
She had always loved the smell of the library, the smell of dust and very old pages. If knowledge had a smell she imagined that would be it. The librarian was a punk little thing with pitch black hair and tattoos creeping up the back and sides of her neck. She looked like someone that you would see bartending downtown or poking needles at a tat shop, not really your book worm type. Much like Drew she realized to her dismay. She wanted to grow up all of a sudden and wasn’t too sure that she hadn’t already in the last couple of days.
“And what can I do for you?” The girl said rudely as she read some kind of book of poetry, never looking up to see who exactly she was helping.
“I need some information on a couple of people that died around 1860, Brendan O’Keefe and Lezetta LaBlanc. Do you have any idea where I might be able to look them up?”
The girl just sat frozen staring at her book as if she was taking the time to finish her paragraph instead of doing her job. She finally closed it and looked up at Drew suspiciously.
“What do you want to know about them?” She said. “Well, I bought a house, his house I think, though at this point I am not really certain, and I would like to know its history, their history. Can I find that kind