Page 87 of Whale Harbor

“No,” he said simply. “No, he did not. I think he’s angry and he doesn’t seem to know it.”

“But,” he added after a moment of silence. “He has his girl and he loves her. That’s something. That’s a lot. I’ll try writing to him in a few weeks. You never know. By then it’ll have sunk in that he saw me.”

“I’m sorry,” Mary said. “I’m sorry I did this to you.”

“You? You didn’t do anything to me. This was done a long time ago.”

THE NEXT MORNING, CATHAL ASKED Mac how to give a person money from an Irish bank if that person lives in America, especially if there might be some—discrepancy—regarding that person’s legal status, possibly his criminal status, and the name he used. Cathal had five traveler’s checks, each for five hundred dollars. He planned on setting one aside for Mary, to reimburse her for the motel and the kettle. He didn’t know the price of things in America. Could the others be given to someone?

Mac was surprised Cathal had brought so much money and then realized his intention all along was to give it to Rian.

“Yes, they can,” Mac said. “But—”

“I know it’s not much. To me it’s a lot but I know it’s not in today’s world and probably not in America. But I won’t leave without giving him something and I don’t know what else.”

“No, it’s fine,” Mac said. Something was different about Cathal in America. “I think you just sign them over but I’ll double-check. Don’t worry about the one for Mary. I’ll give her something.”

“That’s what I’ll do, so. Will you leave the envelope in his mail slot? I know it’s a long drive to make again.”

“I don’t mind. It’s a very nice drive.”

“I’d like to see, Macdara. Would that be all right? I only want to see.”

Mac didn’t have the heart to say no again, so they set out the next day: Mac driving, Cathal up front in the passenger seat, Mary in the back. Cathal was near silent on the journey, taking in the scenery, which he said was remarkable when you thought about the work it must have taken to cut roads through such a place. Irish people helped with that, he said. He read it in a book. They helped with roads and tunnels and bridges all over America. When Mac pulled up again to the little house, Cathal said it looked sturdy, very sound. It was a fine, strong house. Mac told them to wait in the car and he’d be back in a second.

“No, I’ll go,” Cathal said. “I’ll do it.”

“Yeah? I’ll walk you up.”

“No, Macdara, I’ll go alone.”

Mac hesitated a moment and then unbuckled him. He stayed put as Cathal pulled himself out of the low seat and made his way unsteadily up the path. He knocked, which Mac was not expecting.

“Oh god,” Mary whispered from the back. “Was he supposed to do that?”

Mac didn’t answer.

Rian had been certain about not seeing Cathal. It didn’t seem like something he’d change his mind about. Mac and Mary watched as Cathal waited, and out of the corner of his eye Mac saw the blinds move in the front window, a shiver of light from within.

“You saw that?” Mary asked, again in a whisper. “The blinds?”

Finally, Cathal slid the envelope through the slot in the door and returned to the car.

“All set,” he said, looking straight ahead. “Time for me to be getting home.”

Mac shifted the gear into drive.

“Wait,” Mary said. “That’s it? After coming all this way? Should I go up there? We can’t really leave, can we? Should I try?”

“No,” Mac said.

“No,” Cathal said.

But Mary was already out of the car, striding up the path.

“Mary!” Mac said sharply. “Get back here!” But she ignored him. She knocked on the door and when there came no answer she leaned over the railing and knocked on the window where they’d seen the blinds move.

Next thing the door opened, and he was standing in front of her. “You must be Mary,” Rian said, crossing his arms.