cottages added in recent years as well.” She squinted at the picture. “You can just see Donnelly’s cottage there in the trees. It’s been there for longer than the manor. Jim Donnelly fixed it up about ten years ago. He takes tourists out on the lake and out exploring the old caves where smugglers used to store arms during the Black-and-Tan War. My grandfather told me the lough was used to move weapons in and out of this area all through those years.”
“Garvagh Glebe,” I breathed, stunned. I should have known. “It was owned by a man named Thomas Smith, wasn’t it?”
She looked at me blankly. “When would that have been?”
“In 1916,” I said, sheepish. “I guess that was a little before your time.”
“Just a bit,” she laughed. “But I might remember something about that. Well, I don’t know. I think so. The house and property are run from a family trust. None of the family live there now. They have groundskeepers and a staff, and they let out rooms. It’s on the Dromahair side of Lough Gill. Some folks call it the manor.”
“You mentioned the manor yesterday. I didn’t realize.”
“Yes. There’s a dock there as well, and people rent boats from Jim to fish or just spend the day on the lake. The lake leads to a little inlet. When the tides are high, you can follow the inlet all the way out past the strand in Sligo and into the sea. There are stories of pirate ships in Lough Gill back in the days of O’Rourke, the man who built the castle—they call it Parke’s Castle. Have you been?”
I nodded, and she babbled on with barely a pause.
“He built Creevelea Abbey as well. O’Rourke was hung for treason by the English for giving shelter to marooned Spanish sailors of the Spanish Armada. The English king gave O’Rourke’s castle to a man named Parke—can you imagine working for twenty years to build something that would survive for centuries and having someone just swoop in and take it away?” She shook her head in disgust.
“I’d like to see Garvagh Glebe. Is the house open to visitors?”
She gave directions much the way Maeve had the day before. “Go left for a bit; go right for a bit more. Pull over and ask if you get lost, but you shouldn’t get lost because it’s not that far.”
I listened intently, scratching notes into the little pad from my purse. “Thank you, Deirdre. And if you talk to Maeve, would you thank her for me as well? It meant a great deal to me to find those graves.”
“Maeve O’Toole is a veritable fountain of information. She knows more than all the rest of us put together. I’m not surprised she knew something about your kin.”
I turned to leave and stopped, realizing I’d heard the name before.
“Maeve’s last name is O’Toole?”
“It was her maiden name. It’s been McCabe and Colbert and O’Brien. She’s outlived three husbands. It got a bit confusing, so most of us just stick with what came first. Why?”
“No reason.” I shrugged. If Maeve’s family had once lived at Garvagh Glebe, she hadn’t mentioned it, and I hadn’t read far enough into the journal to know what became of the O’Tooles Thomas had tried to help.
The lane to Garvagh Glebe was gated, and the gate was closed and padlocked. I could see the house through the trees. The photograph come to life, drenched in color but just as unattainable. I pushed a buzzer to the left of the gate and waited impatiently for a response. None came. I climbed back in the car, but instead of going back the way I’d come, I took the fork, following the lane that ran along the lake, hoping to see the house from another angle. Instead, the narrow road ended in a gravel parking lot overlooking a long dock where a handful of canoes and small boats were tied off. The cottage Deirdre had mentioned, which was gleaming white under blue shutters and matching blue trim, was nearest the dock, and I walked toward it, hoping someone was home. A little sign hung from a nail next to the door and declared the establishment open, and I went inside.
The tiny foyer had been converted to a reception area with a narrow wooden counter and a few folding chairs. A little bell had been placed on the counter, and I tapped it reluctantly. One of the nuns in Catholic school had had one just like it