Free Lucky Me by Cindy Callaghan Page B

nodded and exhaled.
    The lady returned with a small glass bowl filled with creamy, white butter.
    â€œWhat are your names?”
    â€œI’m Finn from Castle Ballymore. And this is Meghan.”
    â€œPeople call me Honey. I’ll go to the barn and check for the petrol. You make yourselves cozy.”
    Finn buttered his bread. “I love soda bread.”
    â€œI’ve never had it.”
    â€œWhat kind of Irish American are you?”
    â€œThe kind whose mom works a lot and who doesn’t have a grandmother.” I looked at the bread. “Are you going to eat that? We don’t even know her. How do you know it’s safe?”
    â€œI’ll take a bite, and if I die instantly, then it’s not safe, and you shouldn’t eat it.” He bit. Swallowed. A second later he grabbed his throat and started gagging.
    Poison!
    Finn made a gurgling noise from his throat that didn’t sound exactly like choking, but then again, I’d never seen anyone being poisoned before. I was standing over him, ready to do CPR, when I noticed that he wasn’t choking;he was laughing. He wiped tears from his eyes and tossed another chunk of bread into his mouth.
    â€œNot funny,” I said angrily.
    â€œIt was a little funny. You should see your face.”
    I figured everything was safe, so I tried a piece of the bread. It was kind of like a cross between cake and bread, with raisins. And the rich whipped butter melted right into it. “I always wanted a grandmother.” I looked at the soda bread and the cottage. It all felt very grandmotherly, once you got past the “Hansel and Gretel” thing.
    â€œAre your grandparents alive?” Finn asked.
    â€œMy mom’s parents died before I was born. You and your dad probably know more about my dad’s family than I do.”
    Finn shook his head. “All I know is that your father’s father died young and something happened to separate the rest of the family. Your father came to live at Ballymore Home for Boys, which is where he met my da when they were about six. A few years later a nice couple—your grandparents—took him to America.”
    â€œWhy America?” I asked.
    â€œI guess because there were more opportunities there,” Finn said.
    Honey came back into the cottage. “Sorry. I’ve somebad news. No petrol.” She held up an empty can. “I got bicycles in the barn. You’re welcome t’ borrow dem.”
    I thought we’d follow her outside to get the bikes. Instead she sat down and slathered a piece of bread. She “Mmmed” as she savored the bite.
    She asked all about Ballymore, the weather, and the current rankings of the rugby teams. I was anxious to leave, find Anna, plan the huge surprise for my father, and undo a curse, but Honey was very interested in visiting with us.
    Before we left on the bikes, she gave me a paisley handkerchief like hers, which I tied around my bulging curls. I was turning to wave good-bye, when I saw something I hadn’t noticed on the way in. It was a rock with one word etched on the side.
    O’Toole.

Nineteen
    T hat’s Anna’s last name!” I went back to the door. “Are you an O’Toole?”
    â€œYou mean the rock? No, that was here long before I moved in, but it’s too heavy to move.”
    I slumped onto the bike. For a second I’d thought I’d gotten lucky.
    And guess what happened then? It started to drizzle. Again.
    â€œWhat’s with the weather here?” I asked Finn.
    â€œIt’s an island. We get a lot of rain. But just look around at what we get for it, all of this beautiful green.” We called Mrs. Buck and told her we would pedal to Newcastle, look for Anna, get gas, and bring it to her. She really couldn’t argue. My back and legs got plenty wet on the ride.
    â€œIt’s only about fifteen miles,” Finn called over his shoulder.
    Only fifteen miles? Pedaling