I cleared my throat and thanked Brogan.
“My pleasure, it is. Let me know if ye be needing anything further.”
We stepped into the room and he bowed low before leaving us. Cassidy and I looked around the space for a moment until we knew Brogan was far enough away, then Cass whispered, “I can’t believe it! This is awesome!”
In a moment of jet-lagged, expounded relief, we grabbed each other and jumped up and down in a circle, giggling and carrying on as quietly as we could. We squeed and stamped our feet a few seconds more before gaining control and taking deep breaths. I would’ve never behaved that way in front of another soul.
“What do you think of McKale?” she asked. “Don’t you think he’s too quiet?”
I shrugged. “He doesn’t even know us yet. But I prefer quiet over someone who’s a loose cannon anyway, no offense.”
She let her head fall back, unoffended. “Ah, Rock. What a nice surprise. I like Ireland.”
Now that we were calm I checked out our room, which was lit by a gas lamp, like a lantern. The room was smaller than mine at home. Our luggage was by the door, including the storage bin for McKale.
There were two small beds close to the ground. I squatted down next to them. They didn’t have mattresses, exactly. They looked like giant, fluffy pillows encased in wooden sides. I hoped they weren’t full of straw and lice like the beds I’d read about in the Dark Ages. I pressed on one of the makeshift mattresses and was pleasantly surprised to feel it was full of downy feathers. Lifting it, I saw that underneath was a thick layer of sheep wool. Cassidy flopped down onto her bed and sank in.
“Oh. My. Heaven,” she moaned. “It’s not very easy to move around in, but you don’t really need to.” She tried and failed to sit up, being sucked into the softness. “Help!” She flailed her arms, laughing. I grasped her hands and pulled her out of the bed.
Next we peeked at the washroom, which was partitioned from the sleeping area with a hanging drape.
“Oh,” Cassidy stated.
Oh. That about covered it. No indoor plumbing. An oval wooden tub sat against the wall with a wooden bucket overhead. We’d have to kneel or sit in the tub and pull a lever to release a stream of water. Next to the tub was another wooden bucket, which I could only assume was for squatting. It had a lid next to it. And then there was a raised basin full of fresh water.
Cassidy scowled. “Geez, the Leprechauns really need to get up to speed.”
“This looks way worse than camping.” I was not looking forward to this adjustment.
“They talk funny here,” she said. “They sound different from the Irish people we met.”
“Yeah,” I agreed. “They sound a couple centuries behind or something.”
“Guess that’s what happens when you live in the boonies with no plumbing.”
“Come on.” I pulled her from the bathroom area. “Let’s go to bed.”
I changed into pajamas and felt butterflies at the thought of McKale.
“Do you think Rock will come again tomorrow?” Cassidy asked, sliding into her bed.
“I don’t know. I wouldn’t if I were him. Brogan seemed pretty pissed.”
She crinkled her nose with disappointment and I fiddled with the lamp until I figured out how to turn it off. Cass hadn’t been exaggerating about the bed. The softness had a way of dredging the day’s anxiety from my muscles and lulling me to sleep, content. For the first time in eleven years I had a real face to imagine as I drifted into slumber. And I liked it.
When I woke, the soft light through our window told me it was early. I struggled out of the snuggly bed and got ready as quietly as I could. Cassidy was still asleep when I slipped out the door in my shorts and flip-flops.
The sun was still only peeping through the trees. A few little people bustled past, nodding at me with curiosity and saying, “G’morning, miss” as they went about their work. A couple of the younger guys stared wide-eyed at my bare legs, making me feel like a naked giraffe or something.
“Excuse me,” I said to a female with a basket full of eggs. “Can you tell me where I might find McKale?”
“Aye,” she said. “He’s in the Shoe House. But ‘tis early for them still.”
She pointed in the direction of the biggest building and went on her way.
The Shoe House was an odd structure, somewhat like a barn with large openings on either end, but nicer like a meeting hall with a steepled roof. I had to cover my nose when I peeked through the doors, though. It smelled gross—faintly putrid with floral undertones. This must’ve been where the tanners made leather.
Nobody was inside yet. At one end was a giant wooden barrel with a crank, and scattered through the room were stations for differing stages of the tanning process and shoe making. Racks of fresh, soft animal pelts lined the walls.
“Oh!” came a voice from behind me.
I spun to face a startled little man with breadcrumbs in his beard. “Hi,” I said.
“Er… hallo. My apologies, miss. I’m not accustomed, ye see, ‘tis not usual fer women folk to be in the Shoe House.”
The smile fell from my face and I quickly stepped out of the entrance, back into the sunshine.
“Sorry,” I said. “I didn’t know.” I tried not to feel offended, but geez.
Someone else approached now and my insides leapt at the sight of McKale, dark red hair hanging damp about his face. He blinked several times.