Now You See Her Page 0,6
didn’t see anyone,” Vic said. “All I know is that one minute you were sitting beside me, sipping your tea and talking on the phone, and the next you were running down the street, shouting, ‘Devon.’ ”
“So you followed me?”
“I tried, but I lost you in the crowd after you crossed the bridge.”
“Why?”
“Why did I lose you?”
“Why did you follow me?” Marcy asked.
“To be honest, I really don’t know. I guess I was worried. You looked as if you’d seen a ghost.”
Marcy stared at him. Was that what had happened? Had the girl she’d seen been nothing but an apparition, a figment of her desperate imagination? That’s what Judith obviously thought. Was she right?
It wouldn’t have been the first time she’d chased after ghosts.
How many times in the last twenty months had she stopped strangers on the street, certain each girl with a passing resemblance to Devon was the daughter she’d lost? And each time, she’d been so sure, so certain that the young woman waiting in line at the grocery checkout counter, the girl hugging her boyfriend on a street corner, the woman laughing with her friends on the outside patio of a local restaurant, was her child.
And each time she’d been wrong.
Was she wrong this time as well? Did it make any sense—any sense at all—that her daughter could be here?
It wasn’t that far-fetched a possibility, Marcy quickly assured herself. How often had Devon heard her father extolling the imagined glories of Ireland? The most beautiful country in the world, he’d proclaimed repeatedly, promising to take her there as soon as his busy schedule permitted. Devon had worshipped her father, so it wasn’t that surprising she would choose Ireland as her place of refuge.
Was that why Marcy had really come here? Had she somehow known she’d find Devon?
“I guess I did see a ghost,” she said when she realized Vic was waiting for some kind of response.
“It happens.”
Marcy nodded, wondering what he knew of ghosts. “We should get back to our bus.”
He took her elbow, gently led her along South Mall toward Parnell Place. By the time they saw the pinched face of their guide as he paced impatiently outside their waiting bus, the rain had slowed to a weak drizzle. “I’m so sorry we’re late,” Marcy said as the guide hurried them inside the coach.
“Please take your seats,” he urged, instructing the driver to start the bus’s engine.
Marcy felt the unabashed animosity of her fellow tourists pushing her toward her seat as the coach pulled out of the station. She lost her balance and lurched forward.
“Careful,” Vic said, grabbing the back of her coat to steady her.
What was he still doing here? Marcy wondered, shaking free of his sturdy grip. She was too old for a babysitter, and she no longer believed in knights in shining armor. Shiny armor had a way of rusting pretty quickly, especially in the rain.
“Would you please get settled as quickly as possible?” the guide said as Marcy crawled into her seat at the back and Vic sat down beside her. “In a few minutes we’ll be passing through Blarney, which boasts one of the most impressive castles in all of Ireland,” he announced in the next breath, “although all that remains of it today is a massive square tower, its parapet rising to a height of twenty-five meters, or eighty-two feet. The Blarney Stone is wedged underneath the battlements. Those who kiss it are said to be granted the gift of gab. Clearly, I’ve kissed it many times.” He paused for the chuckles that dutifully followed. “Blarney Castle also boasts a beautiful garden and a lovely dell beside Blarney Lake. Someday I hope you’ll take a tour of the dungeons that were built right into the rock at the base of the castle, and also Badger Cave, for those of you who aren’t too claustrophobic. Unfortunately, we won’t be able to do any of those things today.” A loud groan swept through the bus. The guide continued. “I’m sorry, but I did warn you about being late. You can register your complaints with the tour company when we arrive back in Dublin. Perhaps they’ll reimburse you a portion of the fare, or maybe you’ll be able to make arrangements to return some other time. Despite the crowds, Blarney Castle is well worth the trip.” He glared at Marcy, as if blaming her in advance for whatever tips he wouldn’t collect. Several angry heads swiveled in her direction.
“I’m very sorry,” she whispered