Summer at Castle Stone. Lynn Hulsman Marie

boats. I wonder if this actually is the prettiest view I’ve ever experienced, or if it’s simply the post-coital buzz talking. Oh, right. I suppose I have to tell you: I had sex with Des. I know, I know! It just happened. I’m glad, though. I wouldn’t have wanted to break my dry spell with someone real, if you know what I mean. I got it out of my system. There. Done. Weeeeeelll, maybe it’s not quite out of my system. Don’t get me wrong. I’m not in love with him or anything, but you know that expression, “A taste of honey’s worse than none at all?” I have to admit, it was pretty good for a desperate quickie. And look, I know Des didn’t go to college or write a book, or cure polio, but that’s OK. Am I a snob for saying he’s not husband material? On the other hand, maybe marriage could be pretty sweet if you got a dose of that every night. Whatever, he’s pretty cute and it was super-fun for what it was. I’d die of embarrassment if your aunt found out, but if I had the chance to do it again, I feel like I might. The truth is, I don’t feel like myself. But in a good way. Have you ever sat quietly, and said your name over and over, and asked yourself, who am I, really? What does it mean to be me? Well, you probably haven’t. You’re so much more grounded than I am. When I was a little girl, I felt ethereal and unformed, like I hadn’t landed in my body yet. I thought that when I grew up, it would click into place and I’d feel whole. I’m still waiting, I guess. But today, I don’t know…I feel more like I’m in here, you know? I think I’m getting a glimpse of what it would be like to land in…well…me

       All right, the sun’s completely up now, and I see what looks to be a touristy coffee shop by the waterfront. I don’t even have any Irish currency yet. Cross your fingers that they take plastic, because I think a cappuccino is in order before I pick up the phone to call Tom O’Grady. I’ll let you know how it goes! Love, Shay.

      Walking back to Auntie Fiona’s with my large takeaway latte, I unzipped my fleece a few inches so I could soak up the maximum amount of sun. After the early morning sex and the caffeine boost, the only thing that could make me feel better would be sealing the deal with Tom O’Grady. I walked up the drive and turned the key in the lock as quietly as I could. As I was fiddling with it, the door swung open and I stood face-to-face with a girl with shiny dark hair, pulled into a high ponytail. She had on a full face of evening makeup.

      “Hiya,” she said. “Come through.”

      I peered behind her to make sure I was in the right house. I saw the back of Auntie Fiona’s head at the kitchen table, where she was sipping tea. I combed back through the stories Maggie had told me. Her uncle had passed away at a young age, and I thought Fiona only had the two boys, Des, and Michael, who was married and out of the house.