

Jenna Chips is Ready for the Real World

Jenna Chips is Ready for the Real World

# Herma Klaassen

Author: Herma Klaassen

Cover design: canva

ISBN: 9789402146752

© 2020 Herma Klaassen

An té a bhíónn siúlach, bíonn scéalach.

He who travels, has stories to tell

-Irish proverb

Brick Alley Café

I looked up from my double chocolate muffin with a single candle in it. It was leaning to one side, which made it look like an eerie crooked finger sticking out from a chocolate mound of dirt. Nevertheless, it was the thought that counted. Across from me Joseph eagerly awaited my response and nodded, first at the muffin and then at me.

"It's beautiful. I love chocolate!" I tried to sound as excited as I could, but the journey on the plane had been dreadful with people snoring behind me and babies crying in front of me. It was the second time in my entire life that I had been on a plane and so far, I wasn't a big fan.

I had come here straight from the airport with all my luggage. Joseph was my cousin, but we hadn't seen each other since we were little. Joseph and my aunt Margaret lived in Dublin, whereas my mother and I lived on the other side of the sea in England. For some reason my mother never visited them, even though my mother was Irish and wanted to show me where I came from. I guess most of the time she was unfit to travel because of the cancer.

Joseph met me briefly when he was about ten years old, but we never saw each other in person. Occasionally, we spoke over the phone when my aunt Margaret called, and my mum told me to say hello to Joseph. Other than that, we didn't stay in touch. My mum talked about him now and again and sent him a birthday card every year. I helped her decorate it with little glitter stars and hearts made out of folding paper or sometimes origami. He always sent me something in return. I still have the origami frog that he gave me for my twelfth birthday.

I smiled, looked up in thought and sighed. I could see us writing the cards together, sitting at the kitchen table with a cup of tea. It was something that we both loved to do.

When my mother died, I didn't know what to do with myself. Ordinary, silly things were not the same anymore. In the morning, I found myself pouring two cups of coffee out of habit and then drinking both by myself while I sobbed away, feeling lonely and scared. It was so quiet in the house. My ears buzzed from the silence. I kept the radio or the television on all the time, just to get rid of the silence.

Two days after the funeral I was given a plane ticket by my gran. She told me everything my mum had planned for me and to listen to the first mp3 file. My mother had recorded instructions for a journal that she had prepared in secret with assignments and checklists.

When my gran told me that I would be staying with my aunt Margaret and cousin Joseph, I immediately called them to get reacquainted. We saw each other at the funeral and had spoken on the phone many times in the last couple of weeks when I was preparing for my trip abroad. We discussed flight times, accommodation, what to do in Dublin. We briefly talked about my mother, but that was a subject I wasn't ready to explore yet. The hurt of losing her was still too fresh.

Joseph could no longer hold his anticipation and said,

"Well? What are you waiting for? Make a wish!" I closed my eyes, blew out the candle in one swift go, took out the eerie candle and made a wish. I didn't have to think long. This was an easy one.

The coffeeshop in the middle of Temple Bar was busy at this time of morning. It had two massive wooden tables that could fit twelve people and all the seats were occupied. On the walls were paintings and framed sketches, just as my mother described in the audio file.

Joseph had skipped his International Law lecture at Trinity College to meet me at this coffee shop. He looked very sharp in his bohemian chic outfit with a crisp light-blue shirt and his blazer that was clearly vintage or bought at a second-hand shop. His hair was fiery red. I could scarcely believe that this was its natural colour, but it really was. He did say, however, that he had had highlights in the past to make it more "ginger spice," as he would call it.

I looked at Joseph and my eyes lit up.

"Do you wanna know what I wished for?" I sat up straight and wiggled my bum on the chair. Joseph shook his head.

"But then it won't come true."

"This wish will never come true, because it's an impossible one." I held my head down and took a bite of my muffin.

"In that case, what did you wish for, Jenna?" Joseph moved closer with his head leaning against his hand.

"I wished my mum could be here to see us. You and I, here together in Dublin. Me, getting out of that house and seeing the world, scared to death every step of the way."

I looked into Joseph's eyes and a tear fell on the table. I quickly dried my eyes with the sleeve of my sweater. For some reason I didn't want him to see me crying. Joseph folded his hands and sat up straight. He looked at me before he spoke.

"I only saw your mum once in person, but what I remember is that she was a very nice person. She wrote the most beautiful birthday cards. I kept them in a shoebox in my closet."

His cheeks dimpled and the corners of his eyes wrinkled. It was an endearing moment and my heart filled up with a magnificent glow. I was glad to be spending this time with him here and to get reacquainted.

"It's been six weeks yesterday, but every morning when I wake up, I think she will be sitting at the kitchen table reading the paper and drinking coffee. I am actually glad that I am somewhere else than in a house that continuously floods me with memories."

"What's that?" Joseph nodded in the direction of a black notebook lying on the table next to the muffin.

"Is that the famous book you've told me about?" There was a smirk on Joseph's face as he said those words. I must've told him about this book at some point in the last six weeks. I didn't remember.

"Yes. It is, the journal my mother prepared for me before she died." I carefully flicked through some of the pages and stopped halfway on a page with elegant black handwritten letters.

"This is the Dublin checklist. There is another one in the back of the book, which is the Donegal checklist." I lightly tapped the front of the book.

"There is also a collection of audio files that I started listening to. My mother explained her choices on the list to me in the first one." I stared at the book and went back to the moment when my gran gave me this book after my mother died. My heart felt heavy again. Joseph must've noticed because he rubbed my arm and smiled at me. I returned the smile and said:

"I have the sound file here. Do you want to hear it?" I was already rummaging through my backpack to find the mp3 player that I got with the book. When I got up, I saw Joseph with a troubled look on his face. In a concerned voice he said,

"I'm not sure if I want to. Are you really okay with this? It feels kind of private."

I handed him one of the ear phones.

"I don't mind at all. I'll listen with you if you want." I said in a casual voice. He put one in his ear and moved closer to me so we could both listen.

"Are you sure?" I nodded reassuringly.

"It's okay. The first time I heard her voice it was difficult, but now I have gotten used to it." I pressed the little button on the side and watched the little greenish screen for the mp3 player to start. A fragile women's voice sounded through the earphones.

My darling Jenna,

I am sorry for leaving you. I wish we had more time together, but the universe decided that it wasn't meant to be. I asked your gran to give you this mp3 player with files that I have carefully labelled. They are in chronological order and will guide you through the challenges and adventures I have set out for you. I know you must be surprised that even in death I give you guidance to where your life should be heading, but these files have a purpose - to let you be more independent - and it is about time I thank you for all the time you were there for me when I was ill.

The voice paused and she breathed in and out twice accompanied by a wheezing sound....

I have saved up a large sum of money and your gran has also contributed a large amount. This will allow you to take a year off and think about what you want to do. This is your time, Jenna! Time for you to start living your life.

The sound of my mum swallowing something was heard on the audio. The voice continued:

You should have received your ticket and the address of your aunt Margaret in Dublin. You should also have received a black book from your gran. Go to the middle page. Here you'll see a checklist for your time in Dublin. I want you to complete all the items on the list, not necessarily in chronological order and you don't have to complete them in the first two weeks that you are there, but I dare you to do them all.

The sound of pages turning. The audio continued....

There are twenty-two items on the list. I have chosen the number twenty-two, because that was my age when I first came back to Ireland.

1. Visit Howth. Which is a small peninsula just outside of Dublin. I loved going there. There are yellow flowers that smell like coconut in the summer breeze. While you are there, you might as well do number 2, which is eat fish and chips at the best fish and chips shop of Howth and Dublin even.

I spent a lot of time writing and drawing when I lived in Dublin. I know you'd wish you had more time to draw. That is why I have given you number 3. Drink coffee at the Brick Alley Cafe. A group of artists go there for inspiration. You might even be bold enough to ask for some drawing tips. And when you are in a cafe, chances are that you might meet a nice Irish boy which is at number 4, but who knows this could happen even before that.

A muffled sound of my mum coughing into a sleeve or a handkerchief is heard through the audio. The sound gave me a discomforting feeling like someone was banging on a drum. The pain and heartache associated with the sound was still fresh. I remembered this type of cough. It started around three weeks before she died. She kept on persisting that it was just a cold, but I knew better.

I'm sorry. I shouldn't laugh at those things. It ruins my karma. Now, where were we, Ah! Number 5. I love the parks in Dublin. They are tiny spots of comfort in a crowded city that never sleeps. It was always my place for reflection and sometimes redemption. I want you to visit St. Stephen's Green and walk through the park, maybe even accompanied by that nice Irish boy that you are bound to meet. Or Joseph, your cousin. He is almost the same age as you are.

The next one is something you will probably dread the most, but I know you can do it. You have been talking about it for ages and you know you want one. Number 6. Get a tattoo. I want you to get one that reminds you of me.

Number 7 is a funny one. You have to go on one of the many themed tours in Dublin.

I've always seen them drive through the city, but never actually went on one. You have to do it for me and tell me all about it in your dreams.

Number 8. Have a Guinness at the Bleeding Horse. This pub was one of my favourite pubs in Dublin.

Number 9 is best enjoyed with someone else, but you can do it alone too, which is go on a Wicklow Day Tour. The Wicklow mountains are absolutely amazing. Don't forget to bring your sketch pad.

I paused the recording and skipped a piece of it.

"She explains the whole list to me and why she chose all these things for me to do. I have heard this recording numerous times already." I knew where the last bit was, and I skipped to that.

These files tell the story of the most amazing times of my life and will tell you more about where you come from. The black book is there to create and document your adventure.

Listen to the files when you feel like it. Some of them have a special label or a special order, like the Donegal files. Please wait until you are in Donegal to listen to them.

I love you, Jenna. I love you so very much.

Joseph took the earphone out. I could see he was moved.

"Wow, Jenna, I don't know what to say." He finished his coffee and poured both of us a glass of water.

"I have so much respect for you. It must be great to hear your mum's voice, but it is intense to know that she died only a few weeks ago."

I also took my earphone out and paused the file. My sleeve was already wet with tears, so I used a paper napkin to dry my eyes.

"It's fine now. The first two weeks were awful. My stomach hurt whenever I listened to it, but now I have listened to it so many times that her voice is something like your favourite song that you turn on whenever you want to feel better." Joseph smiled and blew his nose in a tissue.

"I must admit, it is good to hear your mother's voice again." He hugged me, only it was a bit awkward because the waitress came to refill our cups. Like it was the wrong timing.

Joseph cleared his throat and whispered "alright" under his breath.

"Now for a more upbeat conversation. What is the most outrageous thing that your mother wrote down for you?" He cupped his face in his hands awaiting the answer. He even wagged a bit from the excitement.

"Some are just restaurants or pubs, but others are a bit odd. This one is most definitely the weirdest one." My finger pointed at number six.

"She tells me to get a tattoo that reminds me of her." I tried to smile.

"Why does she want you to get a tattoo?" The corners of my lips rose, and I held up a finger because my mouth was filled with chocolate muffin, which is hard to swallow because it stuck to all parts of my mouth. When I had swallowed a couple of times, I wiped my mouth with a napkin before I said:

"We used to watch these tattoo artist programmes on television. I was amazed by the beautiful pieces of art they can create." I rummaged through my bag to find my phone and frantically scrolled through my photo roll to find something.

"I even made a few designs myself." I gave Joseph my phone and he scrolled through the designs. His eyes went big and after scrolling through some designs.

"These are amazing. Your mother was right when she said you should draw more. I especially like this one." He put the phone on the table and pointed at the picture on the screen. It showed a sketch of a woman whose body is round like a ball. She carries a small child in her hands. Her hair is wrapped around her whole body and part of the child as some kind of protection.

"That was my mum's favourite. She said I would understand why when I will have children of my own."

"So, what holds you back from getting a tattoo?"

"I don't know. Maybe the fact that it is permanent. What if I don't like it after a few years and I want to get it removed again?" I put the phone back into my bag and took another bite of my muffin.

"That surely is a possibility." He rolled up his sleeve as far as he could and showed me a tattoo on his shoulder blade. It was a little heart with a banner in the middle that said "Trixie."

"Who was Trixie?" Was my first question.

"Unless you don't want to tell me, then that's fine." He smiled politely.

"I got this one year ago after my dog Trixie died. I always wanted a tattoo, but like you I wasn't sure. I decided to put it somewhere I could hide it from other people if I wanted to. It was a tattoo just for me. Besides, I don't go prancing around shirtless in the summertime, so it could be hidden if I wanted it to be. I am still happy with it. I even got another tattoo after that."

"I'll keep that in mind. Thanks for the tip and the compliment." There was a brief silence while I looked at my coffee and Joseph watched his phone for new messages. When he put the phone down, he asked me.

"How are you holding up so far? I imagine it must not have been easy to go through all of this." I stirred endlessly in my coffee and listened to the regular rhythm of the spoon going around. I knew he was going to ask these questions and I didn't mind answering them, but I hoped it could have waited a little while longer. I hadn't had time to cope with it yet. It was inevitable that my mum was going to die, but no matter how well you prepare, these things always come as a shock.

"It's tough, being on my own and all, with no father to fall back on. She says that she will also tell me about my father, but I am not sure if I want to know about him. I managed fine without him." I sighed as I took the spoon out of the cup because the sound was starting to irritate me.

"You know, I don't feel like talking about it. I'm here now as I promised her I would. I am scared to death, but I will try for her. I owe her that." Joseph nodded and smiled at me, tilting his head a little.

"I am very proud of you. You know that. It is so amazing what you are doing for your mum. She would be very proud of you too." I smiled at him, feeling a bit shy.

"Luckily you are here with me, so I don't have to do all of this alone." I patted Joseph's hand.

"You were so sweet these last few weeks. If it weren't for you and my gran, I would probably be alone in my apartment feeling very miserable." There was a tear in the corner of my eye. I rubbed it away with my hand. That is the second time I cried, and this was only my first day here.

"I still miss her every day. She was my best friend first before being my mom. When I read her challenges and checklists in my book and when I hear her voice on the sound files, it feels like she is with me for just a few moments. I feel her presence around me." Joseph nodded understandingly and gently brushed against me in a friendly way. He rubbed his hands together and I saw a twinkle in his eyes.

"So! Anything you can already tick on the list?"

"Let's see...." I opened the written page again, holding the book up in one hand. In my backpack I looked for my black drawing marker that I designated as the marker that I would write with in the book. Other markers just weren't good enough. I twirled the marker through my fingers and read out possible answers, while I checked the ones that I was sure I could cross off.

"Why were there 22 items on the list, again?" He said with his eyebrows raised.

"My mum told me she was 22 when she first came to Dublin."

"Ah. Yes. I remember her saying that on the audio file." I closed the book and put it in my bag along with the marker. We both got up and put on our coats. Joseph carried one of my suitcases as we left the cafe.

"Well. We can take number three off the list and we could argue that number four can be crossed off too, since I am Irish and quite handsome if I may say." We both laughed and walked out of the cafe. It was colder outside than we both had anticipated. Joseph put on his gloves.

"Let's go home first. Your aunt Margaret is looking forward to see you again."

### Dame Street

I had grown quite fond of this city in the two days I was here. My mother had told me many things about Dublin already when she was still alive, and I could see why she loved it so much. I discovered that when I stood on O'Connell Street and took a deep breath, closed my eyes and listened to the seagulls in the sky, I could imagine my mother standing here just as I was. She was about the same age when she first came here, a year or two older perhaps, when she probably did the exact same thing. She told me this in one of her podcasts. It felt good to do things like that. I even brought some of her old clothes with me to Ireland that I wore occasionally. We had the same size clothes and I always borrowed her jeans and blouses.

I had already completed seven things on the list, but there was one thing that I dreaded doing most: getting a tattoo. I had been talking about it for ages. Showing my mum multiple examples of tattoos that I liked. Getting one, however, was not so easy. I knew why she had put it on the list. she explained why she had done so on one of the other tapes she made for me.

Jenna, I know you dread getting a tattoo, but now is the best time to get one. Be brave! Be bold for once! It doesn't have to be a big one. I don't think a sleeve or your whole back covered in tattoos suits you, but just a small one. Something that reminds you of me.

I had listened to that tape over and over again and decided today would be a good day to finally face my fears head on.

Come on Jenna! You can do it.

I heard my mother's voice in my head as I walked down Dame Street towards Christ Church where, according to Joseph, the best tattoo artists in Dublin worked. Joseph had his "Trixie tattoo and another small one on his hip: a rose bud in black. It was very small, but for him the symbolism was very significant.

Before I came to Dame Street, I had done some more shopping: Presents for my aunt Margaret, who was so kind to take me in. And for Joseph, who was my life saver. We have become best cousins forever. Without him I'd probably have stayed in my room at my aunt Margareth's house reading or watching television and never ventured outside the house.

The shopping bags I was carrying around were getting heavy. I was tired from doing all the walking and realised I hadn't had lunch. My phone told me it was just a little after three and I wanted to find somewhere to eat. To my right was a side street and I found a place where I could sit outside in the sun and have something to eat.

When I sat down, I noticed the tattoo shop was only a few metres to my left. The tables were all occupied, and I was lucky to occupy the last one. I ordered tea and a sandwich. When I sat there waiting, I suddenly felt how tired my feet were and how hungry I actually was. To keep myself busy until the food arrived, I looked at the things that I had bought. I found the funniest thing in a pound shop: a fake tattoo sleeve. Just to see what it looked like I put it on and imagined the tattoos being real.

"Nice tattoos. I think a sleeve would suit you just fine." Standing in front of me was a boy with long blond dreadlocks, holding a cup of coffee and something in a bag that vaguely smelled like cinnamon. I took the sleeve off nervously and put it in one of the bags. I looked at him and managed to give him a faint smile, but I couldn't say anything. He was tanned, like he had been on holiday to a sunny country. His shirt was black with rolled-up sleeves. I could see many tattoos on his arms.

"Do you mind if I sit here?" He asked very friendly. The only thing I could do was nod politely.

"I'm sorry, all the tables are taken, and I am so busy that I don't want to finish my lunch at work, because then I won't eat properly." I watched his every move as he sat down.

"I'm Chris, by the way."

"Jenna." I waved at him with my fist, holding my sleeve tight with the tips of my fingers. It looked a bit weird. For a minute I didn't know what to do with my hand, but eventually I held my cup of tea in both hands and carefully blew into the cup.

I felt a bit uncomfortable sitting here with this boy. He was handsome, worldly, and so different from the boys I had seen at work or school. I imagined he was brave and adventurous, unlike me. For me, this was the first time in my life I had been in a big city like this.

"I'm sorry. Did I offend you in any way?" He put his sandwich down and wiped his hands clean on his jeans.

"No. I'm sorry. I'm just not used to all of this." He took a careful sip from his coffee whilst still looking at me.

"Like what? Sitting here with a stranger and having something to eat?" His smile was endearing, and it comforted me a little.

"No. Not that." In my mind my cheeks were burning up bright red and I felt nervous.

"This is the first time I have been to a big city like this." I put a string of hair behind my ear and put my cup of tea down on its saucer which had a puddle of tea on it.

"So, you're here for a holiday?" He spoke with his mouth full. I could see he was in a hurry but didn't want to be impolite.

"I'm here to start a new life. My mum died a few weeks ago and she was all I had. She wanted me to go to Ireland and enjoy life." He swallowed his food and flushed it down with a large gulp of coffee.

"That is really sweet of her." I told him the story of the tattoo and that I had been dreading to even go into the shop, but that I really wanted to go ahead with it. I also told him about the checklist, and we joked about number four, which I could definitely check now, because Chris was Irish and nice.

He told me that it was destiny that we met and that my mum must be watching over me somewhere and setting things up because he actually worked in the tattoo shop.

He gave me his number and we agreed to meet up in a pub in Temple Bar after he finished working. He promised he would bring his sketchbook to draw some examples.

### Getting Ready to Date

"So, to get this straight. You only have clothes that are either silly or have no colour? Am I correct?" Joseph and Aunt Margaret looked at the closet, which was half filled with my clothes. I had to admit that the clothes had the same bland colour scheme. It just never occurred to me that clothes were so important. When I woke up in the morning, I grabbed something closest to me and put it on, unless it smelled horrible.

"This is all I brought with me to Ireland." Joseph looked at his mum. They spoke without words. There was an exchange of looks between them, before they looked at me. They both had sad faces, grabbed an arm and dragged me to the other bedroom where they sat me down on the bed.

"Guys! It's only a meeting. It's not a date!" Joseph put his hands on his hips and tilted his head slightly. His face made one of those typical duck face expressions. It looked weird on him.

"Not a date? Right. A cute guy sits down at your table, talks to you and invites you for drinks on the same night. I'm sorry, but I'm calling that a date."

They both browsed through the clothes in Margaret's closet and occasionally threw something in my direction. I picked it up and studied it. Most of the time I thought it was too daring or not at all my style.

My phone chimed three times, which meant I had a message. It was from Chris, saying that he would have to work late because one of the artists went home sick and he had to finish a tattoo for him. He asked if I wanted to pick him up at the tattoo studio the next evening, so he could show me some of his work. There was a smiley at the end of the message. I wasn't sure if it was because he remembered that my mum told me to get a tattoo or that he wanted to show off his work. I decided it was a bit of both. I texted back that I would love to come to the studio and ended with a smiley.

"He is rescheduling. He wants to meet up tomorrow night." I threw the phone on the bed and could see a sigh of relief going through both of them.

"This means we can go shopping and go to the hairdressers before your date." Joseph looked excited. Margaret shook her head, closed her closet and went down.

"Cup of tea anyone?" Margaret walked out of the bedroom and sighed when she passed Joseph.

The next day I took a bus to the city centre to do some shopping. Joseph didn't trust me to get some nice outfits, so he got two girlfriends to accompany me. When they felt I had enough decent things to wear that evening, we parted ways. They stayed in the city and I went back to Rathmines.

Margaret met up with me in the village and together we walked back to her house. I realised I had seldomly spoken to her alone about my mum and the whole situation. Margaret was my mother's sister, but they weren't very close when my mum and my gran moved to England when she was only in her twenties.

"Did my mum talk to you after she went to Donegal?" I wanted to find out more about where I came from. I figured my mum wouldn't mind since she was no longer with me and I was curious about my father and what had happened in Donegal.

Margaret looked at me with a curious look on her face. I guessed she weighed her words carefully.

"Yes. We spoke briefly about it. Without discussing the details, but she begged me not to tell anyone, not even your father. I had always known something didn't go according to plan in Donegal, because your mum left without saying goodbye, but what happened was a mystery to me." She opened the door of the house and walked in.

"I only saw photos of you when you were younger. Your gran sent them to me. She wanted to keep in touch." She walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on.

"Have you been to Donegal just like my mum?" I yelled at her in the kitchen.

"In the first week, we were there together. We did the same course. It was a painting class. Then your mother switched to the Irish language course because she said she couldn't understand what the teacher was saying." I grabbed some mugs and some tea bags from the counter to put the tea in.

"So, my mother spoke Irish?" Margaret laughed while she opened a new pack of biscuits and put them in the tin.

"Not quite. She learned a few sentences, but she probably forgot a lot of it."

"What about you?" Margaret clearly wasn't expecting this question.

"I studied really hard in those days. I always had a dictionary with me so I could look up the most important words, but it was all about the art for me. To paint the most beautiful scenery in Donegal was enough for me."

"Do you earn enough money by selling your paintings?" As soon as I had spoken that sentence, I realised she was taken off guard by me asking all those straightforward questions.

"Sorry if I'm getting too personal. I just found out all these things about my past and about my mum and a lot of it doesn't make any sense." Margaret relaxed.

"It's fine. You're fine. I have a faint idea of what you might be going through." She finished the last bit of her cup of tea in one go.

"I don't make enough money selling my paintings, so I do some jobs on the side. I work for a newspaper and I teach art classes at the local school. The paintings are extra. I save up the money for when I'm old and in need of some extra cash."

I showed her the clothes that I had bought and asked her opinion on what to wear to my date with Chris. Yes, I accepted that it was a date. She helped me with my hair, which felt really soft and fell beautifully down my shoulders after a trip to the hairdresser's earlier in the day.

"Do you really need your glasses?" Margaret asked me when I was done with some light makeup that the hairdresser gave to me to try out.

"I don't know. I guess I only need them for reading, but I just keep them on." I took them off and looked at myself in the mirror. I looked like my mom with this dark hair colour and without the glasses.

"You look beautiful! Your mum would be very proud of you." I smiled. I was happy. Being here in Ireland made me happy.

I went back to the city centre and got off the bus at Dame Street. It gave me twenty minutes to spare. The tattoo shop wasn't a far walk from the bus stop and instead of taking the busy street with all the taxis and buses, I took the small cobble-stoned road right through Temple Bar and discovered a whole new world. The sun shone brightly on the grey coloured cobble stones, shimmering in the light like diamonds or precious minerals. The narrow streets led me past galleries and artistic buildings, like Turk's Head with its mosaic bar, past the Gaiety school of acting, which looked old on the outside, but was new on the inside. I walked into the Gutter bookshop to look for a book about Dublin and found two more books that had been on my wish list for quite some time. This part of town was definitely on my list to visit again.

I turned left at the bookshop and walked up to the tattoo shop. My heart skipped a beat when I saw Chris working on a client. The way the muscles toned on his tattooed arm was gorgeous. He held the instrument with a very steady and confident hand. I would trust him to give me a tattoo, even though I'd only just met him.

I stayed outside for a second and pretended I was reading one of my books about Dublin. I sneaked a peek now and again to see if he was finished. When he had finished, I walked in and went to the desk to announce my presence. I saw Chris washing his hands in the back and having fun with his client, who was so familiar with Chris that I wouldn't be surprised if he was a regular.

"Jenna? Is that you?" He walked towards me and I felt more nervous every step he took.

"Your hair? Your clothes? All different."

He looked me up and down.

"You look stunning! Turn around!" He twirled me around and caught me in his arms.

"I would be honoured to go out with you tonight, but first...." He walked up to the counter and chatted to a girl with red massive dreadlocks and a nose ring. I wondered if something like that suited me and I laughed. The image of a brown bull with a nose ring wearing glasses appeared in my head. Both of them looked at me oddly. I waved and turned around for a second.

"Sorry. I thought of something funny that I heard today." I didn't think it helped the negative first impression that the girl probably had of me anyway.

"Where are my manners?" Chris walked up to me. He grabbed my arm and dragged me back to the counter.

"Melody, this is Jenna. This is the girl I met yesterday."

"Nice to meet you." Melody didn't move. She leaned over the counter and inspected me very closely. I didn't think she was very impressed by me and looked a bit bored even. I figured a guy like Chris would have dozens of girlfriends coming into the shop. Melody looked like a nice girl though.

"Here! Come! I want to show you something." I followed him. He told me to sit down in one of the tattooing chairs.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to tattoo you right now, at least not a real one. I just want to show you something." He opened one of the drawers. I hadn't said anything and wanted to show some interest.

"Is this your workstation?" He stopped for a second and turned his head to me.

"Yes. This is where I work." He continued his search and found what he was looking for, a piece of paper.

"I made something for you." He gave the paper to me. There was a heart with a crown on it held by two hands. I could see that he had drawn it himself. There were shadows and even though I knew it was a Claddagh image, because I saw it on google when I was looking for real Irish things, this was different, a new design. The heart was shaped differently, and the hands were drawn to perfection.

"This is beautiful! I didn't know you could draw like this." He soaked the compliment in and looked satisfied.

"There are many things you don't know about me." I could see Melody shake her head behind the counter. I was curious if she once had fallen into the Chris trap. He was handsome, an eloquent speaker and very, very charming. I don't think he was boyfriend material, but he was fun to hang out with.

"I know I shouldn't interfere with your tattoo choice, but when I thought of you and your mum, this came to mind." Getting a tattoo was something I had been considering for quite some time but was too afraid to go ahead with. Maybe mum was right that now was the perfect time to get one. Even though I felt like a coward and was looking for ways to get out of it. He pulled in his little stool and sat close to me, holding my hand.

"If you would get a tattoo, where would you want it to be?" I looked at my arms, my legs which were covered with trousers, so I tried to imagine them without trousers. I closed my eyes to imagine having a tattoo on my shoulder and my lower back.

"My shoulder or my arm," I said, convinced of the idea.

"Alright! Any preference which shoulder or arm? Upper arm, lower arm?"

I closed my eyes again and imagined a tattoo on my lower arm. For some reason I pictured the tattoo that Chris had drawn for me on my body. It just felt right to have that design on me.

"Left shoulder or lower left arm!" I said resolutely.

"Alright!" He replied resolutely, as if he was thinking the same thing.

"Now, what I can do for you is putting a temporary tattoo on your shoulder or arm, to see if you like it." This was all going too fast. I hadn't even decided if I wanted to go ahead with the tattoo idea, but then again, it was on the checklist, which meant I had to do it. Chris rubbed my hands; they were very cold. Suddenly I felt a shiver going through my body. It either felt like a spark of energy to get that tattoo or it was a shiver because I was cold. Oh, why not! It is only a temporary tattoo. It would fade in time.

"Yes! Let's do it. Let's be bold for once." I giggled from the nerves. This was finally happening. After watching all those programmes and yelling at the screen that the person sitting in that chair shouldn't be a wuss because he, or she, looked like a nervous wreck. Now I understood what that person was going through, and I wasn't laughing now.

Chris didn't expect my response. He probably thought I would back out.

"Sorry, what?" I sat up straight.

"Yes! I would like to have this design on my shoulder as a temporary tattoo." He smiled and gave me a hug.

"Well, let's get started then." He looked for his gear and prepared the tattoo. Melody behind the counter was trying not to look, but she couldn't help glancing over at us from time to time. The shop was already closed, but she was working on the computer.

Chris came back with the design. He was excited to give me the tattoo. What I didn't understand was why he was so nice to me. He'd only met me at the coffee shop yesterday and now he was giving me a temporary tattoo that he designed himself and that must cost a lot of money.

"Chris?" He looked up from preparing the temporary tattoo.

"Why are you being so nice to me?" He put everything down and turned to me.

"Your story touched me. What your mum did for you. How you spent most of your life taking care of her, never asking for anything in return and this is how she repays you. That is pretty amazing." He held my hand in his rubber-gloved hands.

"You took care of someone you loved deeply for and now it is your time to be cared for. I want to contribute to that." I smiled, didn't know what to say. I noticed my left eye was a bit wet, but I didn't want to admit that I wanted to cry.

"And I am a sucker for tattoos with a story. This is one I will remember throughout my career."

It took him only a minute or two to put it on my arm. I wanted to always be able to see how it looked, so I decided not to put it on my shoulder, but just below my wrist on the inside of my arm. Chris was happy he was able to do this for me and I was happy that I could cross this off my list, since it was the thing I dreaded most. Putting on a temporary tattoo seemed like the perfect solution. Technically it wasn't cheating.

I was able to cross two more things off the list. We had dinner at Yamamori. I looked like a psycho, taking photos of my food because my mum had told me to document the taste and the way it looked. Afterwards we had a few beers at the Bleeding Horse, which was close to Margaret's house. We talked for what seemed like ages. Chris was such an interesting person to talk to, and good-looking too. It felt good to be out with someone, but I felt a little bit insecure. If he liked me and I liked him, why didn't he try to kiss me? Isn't that what people do? I was confused. Because I took care of my mum for so long, I never really had a boyfriend. I didn't even have a lot of friends that I went out with. Chris had plenty of opportunities to kiss me, but he hadn't. Was there something wrong with me?

When he walked me back to the house, which was two blocks away from the pub, I decided to ask him.

"Chris?" I took his arm to slow down and synchronise our pace. His hand was on my arm and gently squeezed it. His cold touch gave me shivers up to my neck.

"Yes Jenna." His eyes were focused on me. His beautiful blue eyes that were bright and friendly. I stopped, took his hands in my hands and stood in front of him.

"Do you fancy me? We have been together the whole night and you haven't made a pass at me." His cheeks coloured red and his grip tightened on my hands, his mouth slightly open.

"Jenna, I...." I let go off his hands and looked down. This was an awkward situation and I wished I had never asked the question. I clenched my fists beside my body. These few seconds waiting for his answer were nerve wracking. I didn't feel like waiting for his answer and turned around ready to walk away. Chris put one hand on my shoulder.

"Jenna? Please don't go. I was going to tell you eventually." I turned around

"Tell me what? That you have a girlfriend?" He grabbed my upper arms like he was about to shake some sense into me.

"Not at all! I don't have a girlfriend, as a matter of fact I am quite single at the moment!" I put my hands in my pockets and looked down at my toes

"Then why?" He brushed his nose with his right hand and shifted weight from his left to his right leg.

"Jenna? I'm gay!" I felt the tips of my ears turn red with embarrassment. I looked up and saw a tentative but endearing smile on Chris's face.

"Why didn't you say so?"

"It never came up." He was right. We had talked about a lot of things like my checklist and what we wanted to get out of life, but not about boyfriends or girlfriends.

"Jenna, I think that you are very special, and I believe we can be great friends. Also, because we met in such beautiful circumstances. I would love to be your friend. If you'll have me as your friend..."

I sighed, firstly because I was glad there was nothing wrong with me and secondly because I really liked Chris and I wanted him to be my friend.

"Yes. I want to be your friend."

We hugged and decided that we would be honest with each other from now on.

***

Dublin file #3

Dear Jenna,

I finally seem to get the hang of this. This is the third tape and this one is all about regrets. I find it easier to talk about themes than to start talking about random things. The other two took me a long time to record, since I was not happy about the result. I themed the first one the list, which was in fact all about the list I made for you and the second one was to say how much I love you, which you already know. However, you can never hear that enough. I love you, my wonderful daughter. Unfortunately, I have only limited I love yous to say to you. The pool is drying up.

A bleak laugh, more like a cough sounded through the recording.

See, I got side-tracked already"

The noise of something fumbling in front of the speaker. A woman blowing her nose. Heavy breathing noises.

Sorry about that. Blowing my nose is not easy with this tube coming out of my nose, but you already know that. I want to talk to you about regrets in my life. I want you to know why I made certain decisions and why we lived the way we lived.

Heavy swallowing and three sips of something.

What I regret most in my life is not living life. Now that I am sick, I wished I had done something with my life. What that something should've been, I don't know, but now the feeling I get when I am alone in my room and you are at school is a feeling that I hadn't accomplished anything. What have I given you, for example? A rented house, little money to live from and no father or contact with any other family.

A pause.

"My biggest regret, and it was hard to choose from so many is that I have never forgiven your father. I am not ready to tell you what happened between us, but I promise I will tell you a few tapes from now. The only thing I can tell you now is that I don't think he knows that you are even alive and that pains me very much. No child should be denied a father, but that is what I did. I denied you the right to know who your father is, and I hope you will forgive me for this.

I had regrets too, but never about taking care of her. I never had regrets about taking care of my mother. Of course, I sometimes wished things could be different. I rarely let friends come over to stay at my place and hang out. I always met them at their house or in town on the rare occasions I went out.

I missed hallmark things like school plays, dances. Things normal teenagers would do like date boys, dress up and go into town. I didn't do those things. I would watch Eggheads on television with my mum on a bad day. On a good day we would bake cookies or make something like a painting or a drawing while we sang along to our favourite music on the radio. I didn't care we lived in a rented house. It was the best house that I could grow up in. I wouldn't want anything else.

I felt offended by that tape. Although the reason for my anger was ambiguous. I pulled the earphones out of my ears. Why does she have to torture me with these tapes? Why did I even listen to them? Why wasn't she here to tell me these things herself?

I needed some fresh air, so I tiptoed into the conservatory, careful not to make a sound. It was still early. I guessed around ten. I knew that Aunt Margaret would already be asleep. The lights were still on and I figured that Joseph was still awake. When I came closer, I heard two different voices. I recognised Joseph's voice, but the other one was still a mystery. As I came closer, I recognised the voice. It was Chris.

When I looked around the corner, I saw the two of them sitting on the couch with their feet up talking away about music and movies. I watched them for a few seconds and wondered if they had known each other already or did something else happened. They saw me standing there observing them.

"Jenna, come, join us." Joseph took his feet off a stool that was placed in front of the couch. Chris sat up straight and scraped his throat twice.

"I didn't realise that you two know each other. Or am I wrong?" They both looked at each other and laughed.

"We met about an hour ago." Joseph looked at his watch and then back at Chris, who tilted his head slightly.

"Chris came here looking for you. I opened the door and we started talking. After a few minutes I invited him in, and we moved to the conservatory where we had a drink. I knew you were in your room and that you would join us sooner or later for a glass of something." Chris nodded.

"I wanted to check if your tattoo was alright and to see how you were doing." I sat in front of the two men in my life. They were both good-looking, well-tanned men, but one is my cousin and the other is off limits. It made me giggle a bit.

"What's up with you? You look stressed" Joseph asked in a very concerned voice.

"Nothing really. It's just....... you two look good together. That's all." They looked at each other and giggled nervously. It reminded me of this one time when I had a boy over from school. I normally didn't bring anyone back to my house because I'd never know how my mum would be feeling. If it was bad, then my company would have to leave instantly and would think that I was weird. But this time was different. I don't know why I thought this time would be different. Maybe it was because my mum had me believe that she was in remission, while in fact she was very sick.

So, after school, this boy David and I went back to my house to study for a big maths test in two days. There were a few things I didn't understand about that chapter and David promised he would help me.

When I walked in, I carefully looked around to see where my mother was, but the house seemed to be empty. I let David in, and we walked over to the kitchen and I invited David to sit at the table. I got us a drink and he got out his books ready to tutor me when I sat down next to him. Instead of working on our maths homework we started talking about a lot of other things. He had been in most of my classes for the past two years, but I was so busy with other things that I didn't notice him at all. It seemed we had a lot of things in common.

We were chatting away, drinking tea and eating biscuits. I barely noticed my mother walking in. She was carrying a heavy bag with groceries. That was the first time in a long time where we forgot about the cancer for a few moments. My mum sat down with us and helped us with our homework. We held competitions to see who would solve the math problem faster.

We laughed and talked until my jaws hurt before we were whisked back to reality when my mum wasn't feeling well and had to lie down. Her cheeks turned white like a sheet of paper and David was worried that he did something wrong even though I told him multiple times that he was fine.

He left shortly after that, constantly asking if she was going to be alright until I finally said goodbye and closed the door. After that he barely spoke to me at school and I didn't pass that math test.

### Temple Bar Square

The next day was Saturday, which was a checklist day. Margaret, Mikey, Joseph's younger brother, Joseph and I went to the organic market in Temple Bar (number 13 on the list). It was a lovely day and since our rucksacks were still empty, we walked to Temple Bar and were taking the bus back to the house after the shopping.

Apparently, going to the market was a big deal. All three of my hosts were chatting away about all the wonderful chocolates and cakes they would buy to enjoy at lunch as if they were going to a fancy fair.

When we got to the market, I could see why they were so excited. As I walked down the steps leading to the market, I entered a whole new world. What I saw can be described best like a modern-day medieval market, only without the livestock. The scent of lush lavender mixed with chocolate. Around the first corner I caught a whiff of warm apple juice with spices. Loaves of bread, pastries, oysters, fresh seasonal vegetables. I wanted to buy it all and eat it all at once.

We spread out. Joseph and I went to look for bread and cheese while Margaret looked for vegetables for a wonderful Irish traditional home cooked meal for that evening.

Mikey, Margaret's youngest son, was sweet. He was eleven and a very charming boy who gave me the Grand Tour of the market. He carried all the things we bought. Margaret had raised a fine boy.

We were just about to order some pastry to soothe our sweet tooth. I told him I would buy it for us to eat now and it was our little secret, when someone tapped me on the shoulder. A man who looked a bit like Simon Cowell, spiky hair, wearing a black shirt nudged me. He held a camera in his hand and awaited my response.

"Excuse me, miss. I'm writing an article for the Times. Can I take a photo of you eating that Danish over there?" He pointed at a chocolate cream-filled Danish that looked really good. He quickly looked in his pocket for some change.

"Why this Danish and not a cinnamon bun?" I put a finger on my chin. The man was looking for change in his pocket. Half paying attention to what I just said. He answered:

"That's the one I would pick. That one's my favourite." I looked at him and replied

"You have an excellent taste, sir. I would have picked that one too." I wiped my hand clean on my trousers and held out my hand to him.

"I'm Jenna, by the way." He put his camera carefully on the table because his hands were full.

"Nice to meet you Jenna. I'm John!" His grip was as firm as mine. I looked at his hands first and then his face. The fine lines on his face gave the impression that his life was filled with adventure, but they also made his appearance feel gentle and genuine.

He paid for the Danish and I ate it. It was so much fun. My face was covered in chocolate and pastry crumbs, but the pictures were amazing. We exchanged email addresses and he promised me that he would send them to me. He walked off, turning around once to wave goodbye. Joseph and I were about to walk to the bread section when Margaret tapped my shoulder. Her bag was full of good-looking vegetables and I could see she was eager to go home.

"Who was that?" she asked with a hoarse voice, letting out a big sigh after every word and touching her forehead with the back of her hand. She nodded in the direction John left.

I took her bag from her to lift some of the burden and said:

"That was a photographer from the Times. He wanted to take my picture for an article." Her eyebrows lowered, the corners of her mouth straight.

"He looks familiar."

We went back home, and during the ride back on the bus there was a positive glow around me. Everybody seemed friendly. This was what I had been missing out on all these years. This was what it was to have friends that you could hang out with, that you could share the good and the bad with.

That night I opened the next sound file in the series. I needed to hear my mum's voice. It would have been so great if she had been there to see how happy I was.

The file was labelled "Dublin 4" and it was shorter than the others. I sat on the bed. A cup of tea ready on the little table next to my mattress. Margaret was still watching some sitcom in the living room. I could hear her laugh through the walls. I took a sip and opened the file.

Dear Jenna. I hadn't listened to her voice in a few days. It sounded familiar, but a bit distant. It was difficult to describe. I reckoned she realised she was slowly fading into the background. That she won't be a part of my life as she had been the last few years.

I had read somewhere on the internet this was natural in a grieving process. There are different stages of grieving. The person left behind worries they forget the way the voice of the deceased sounded or the way their hair feels, or the smell of their favourite perfume. Familiar sounds seem to be fading and don't sound the same. The memories will come back. Not the same as if the person were standing there, but in a special way which is unique for everyone.

The person who is lost will never be forgotten. They are always present. Some have even said that they watched over them as they lived their lives. I don't know about that. I am, however, pleased that she left me these tapes and assignments to do. It stretched my comfort zone and I am eternally grateful.

***

Dublin file #4

You've probably explored the journal by now. I hope the 'new friends' page has been filled with some new numbers of friends.

Her voice was gentle, but I could hear the cancer in it and by the whizzing sound from her lungs that she was in pain at the time. I estimated when she recorded this and remembered when it was. In fact, I think I almost caught her recording it when I came home early from work. The feeling of helplessness and fear of her dying came back. She had lain in bed for days at that time and the doctors weren't too sure if she would make it.

Today, I only have two assignments for you: I want you to go to the first empty page in your journal and describe the best thing that happened to you since you came to Dublin. Then, when you've written this down, I want you to think of a song that you would like to be the soundtrack for that momentum. Write the title and the artist of the song down in your journal and look for the song on your phone or other device. Listen to it. Enjoy it. Take it all in.

She paused and at first, I thought the file was done, but when I checked my phone, I saw it was only half way through. She continued:

Jenna. Remember, I love you always. You are the best thing that happened to me, don't ever forget that.

I heard a soft sob that she had tried to hide from me. It came out eventually. This must have been a really bad day for her. Unfortunately, it put a negative vibe on my positive mood. I paused the file and did what she told me to do. The song I picked was I'm Walking on Sunshine by Katrina and the Waves. My mum and I listened to it when we were in a happy mood. We were always dancing around the kitchen when we heard this song. I listened to it, eyes closed, headphones on and recalled how happy we were when we played that song. Warm, salty tears stained my pillow and I knew I had to think about what I wanted for a change. The past years were all about what my mother wanted and what she could do. But most of the times it was about the things she could not do. I was still young, and I didn't want to make a tape like she had made, filled with regrets. I wanted to live without regrets. It was time to enjoy life and start living it.

I browsed through my playlists to see which songs I'd listened to since I came to Ireland. I picked one that I listened to recently and wrote the title and the name of the artist underneath the first song in my journal. I created a new playlist on my phone with the title "The new me" and this song was the first one in it.

I thought of the best experience I had so far in Dublin and there were quite a few. There was Joseph. He was absolutely brilliant in thinking of cool things to do. There was Chris who designed a tattoo for me. There was Margaret who had taken me in and was an absolute darling. But there was one experience that was very special to me so far.

The best experience so far happened when I arrived in Dublin, in the city centre. It was a scary experience at first. The busy traffic driving all along O'Connell street. The beeping horns of angry taxi drivers and the loud noises of the buses pulling up at the traffic lights. The ticking sounds of the pedestrian traffic lights. The crowds of people crossing them every time the light changed to green. The noise of little suitcases rolling on the pavement. The monotone voices of the homeless asking for change.

I never experienced such things in my whole life before. I lived in a quiet village and it was never as busy as it was here in Dublin, but when I walked on O'Connell Bridge, I looked at the water. The little wrinkles in the water. The ducks sleeping because it was already getting dark. The comforting lights on the Ha'penny Bridge saying, "Welcome to our city" made me block out the noises of the taxis, the buses, the pedestrian traffic lights. I reduced them to a murmur in the background. Like a machine that is constantly on so after a while you don't notice it anymore. That is when I knew I would do alright here in this city.

### Delicious Dublin

John, the man from the Times, emailed me to tell me about a food festival in Iveagh Gardens. He would be there to take pictures. He wondered if he could take some pictures of me, since I was a nice subject to photograph. He didn't use those exact words. In fact, he was quite polite in choosing his words, I guess in case I misunderstood him. He also mailed me the photos and the article that they were published in. I could see he'd used some photoshop to outline some of my best features, but he highlighted them quite well.

I showed them to Chris and Joseph, who both thought they were very beautiful. I had never seen myself as being beautiful, but it seemed that now, with all the changes to my hair, my new clothes, my idea of myself was changing and I caught myself looking in shop windows and mirrors more often.

Joseph and Chris got along quite well and the three of us bought tickets to the food festival that John had suggested. I mailed him back with the days that we would be there, and he swiftly replied with "Great! See you there."

It was a beautiful day in Dublin. The sky was blue, and the sun was shining. All in all, it was a perfect day to go to a food festival.

When we walked down Harcourt Street, we could already hear the buzzing sounds, almost like bumble bees enjoying the abundance of flowers in a field. There were many sounds of people talking, glasses being filled and musicians setting the mood. The three of us didn't know where to look when we arrived. So many people waiting to enter the park through an improvised entrance. I tried to stand on my toes, so I was bigger, and I had a better chance of finding John.

"Jenna!" I heard a familiar voice coming from my left side. Instinctively I walked over to the stand where the press stand was.

"John." I saw a hat moving through the crowd in opposite direction. It came closer to us. When he grabbed the fence, he was out of breath and it took him a moment to speak.

"They are with me," he said in a hoarse voice.

The woman at the stand looked at him and at the badge hanging around his neck. "Irish Times. John Freeler plus three." The lady checked her list and marked the name with a bright pink marker. She turned around and typed a few things on what looked like a label writer. Seconds later, three badges came out of the machine. Effortlessly, she put them in a plastic holder and clipped a key cord to each of them and gave them to us.

"Wear these visibly at all times. They are your identification for today. You have access to all areas, even the VIP lounge. There is a banquet around six tonight and during the day you can enjoy all the tastings throughout the park." She laid a map of the park on the improvised table and circled one of the blocks on the map.

"This is the press room. Here, you can put all your bags and coats. There are lockers for more valuable things, but there is a staff member present at all times." John nodded at me to take the map. The woman, who looked a bit more friendly than when we first met her, waited until we grabbed the map and the key cords.

"Alright?" She checked the four of us before moving on.

"Now then, enjoy the festivities and don't hesitate to come to us with any questions you may have." We all thanked her and entered the park.

"Wow, John! VIP tickets. You didn't have to do that, but thanks." We walked to the press tent where it was quite busy. Mostly men holding cameras with lenses that must weigh an awful lot and women in fancy skirts holding microphones, straightening their perfect hair so it looked nice on camera. John looked like the odd one out. We exchanged glances and he produced a meagre smile.

"I don't like events like these. I just like taking photographs of beautiful things."

He put down his camera bag on the table and opened it up. It took him a few minutes to fully assemble and clean the camera but then he was ready to go.

"Then why do you go to these events? Can't somebody else do this for you?"

He pointed the camera at me, adjusted the lens by turning it clockwise and took three pictures of me really fast.

"The money is good. A man has to eat, you know. There are expenses to cover." He looked at the screen of the camera with one eye closed and touched a few buttons on the side. "Besides, I do like to photograph the dishes. Some of the chefs here make the most beautiful desserts and cakes. I like to photograph that."

He showed me my pictures one at a time and asked which one had better light. I pointed at the second one which had a nicer shadow on the left side on my face and made my jawline come out better. He smiled at me.

"You have a skill for this. Have you ever considered taking up photography? I'd say you would be great at it." I smiled, nervously. I loved to take pictures when I was younger. I had shoe boxes filled with developed film at home, but it all went away when my mum got sick for the first time. There was no time for any hobbies. I was just too tired after a day of hospital visits and making sure the house was tip top.

"I considered it quite some time ago, but...there was never enough time to do things like that." John walked over to his locker.

"Watch my camera for a second, will you?" he called out while walking. Soon he came back with a smaller camera.

"Here, take this." He handed me a camera which looked like one that I used to take with me on vacation, which my mum hated because I took pictures of everything.

"I'll make you a deal. You take pictures today with this camera and I'll take pictures with my camera. I'll use at least one of your pictures in the newspaper article and will give you the credits for it. How does that sound?" I looked at the camera in my hand with my mouth open. I was that flabbergasted. "Are you sure you want me to use your camera?" He hung his own, heavy camera around his neck.

"I wouldn't have given you the camera if I wasn't sure, now would I?" That was a valid point.

"Why would you do this for me? Why me?" He put his hands to his sides and shifted his weight from one foot to the other.

"You remind me of someone I used to know really well."

"So, that is why you would give me a camera?"

"I think you can do more things than you'd think possible if you had a little more faith in yourself." I shook my head.

"I don't know what to say. Thanks, is the best thing I can do for you right now."

"Then thanks is more than enough for me."

Joseph and Chris walked over to me singing a French chanson very loudly, holding a different champagne bottle in one hand and each other with the other hand.

"Come on, Jenna. Let's get this party started!" I held up the camera.

"I can't, I'm working." Joseph's eyes got bigger and he let go of Chris.

"What? What happened?" I held the camera close to my face and adjusted the lens, taking two pictures of the boys.

"John promised me that he'll use one of my pictures in the article in the Times, so I am shooting food pictures today." The boys looked at each other and smiled.

"That means we can go to that party with that cute presenter guy." Joseph looked at me with an almost serious look.

"You don't mind, do you?" He pouted his lips and I laughed. He'd already had a few drinks too many, I reckoned.

"You boys go ahead. I will stay here with John. I'll ask him to give me a ride back to the house or I'll walk back." They both jumped up and down. Joseph even kissed me on my cheek.

"You're the best!" They both ran off.

Taking food pictures was actually quite enjoyable. I enjoyed myself very much. Even more interesting was the story behind some of the food; the chefs were very eager to talk to me. I came across a weed burger that the chef claimed would solve a lot of CO2 problems. It tasted a bit weird, but I guess that was probably because I had never tasted anything like this before in my whole life.

After an hour of walking around I caught up with John, who was about to meet a friend. He invited me to come along.

"This is FJ and he has the best oysters in Ireland. We grew up in the same town."

I shook his hand and smiled.

"Nice to meet you. I'm Jenna."

John pulled up a chair for me and we both sat down, both placing our cameras on the table.

"Do you like the festival, Jenna?" FJ asked while he opened some oysters with a badass looking knife.

"It's amazing. I never had any fancy food growing up. My mum couldn't afford it."

John looked weirdly at me.

"You never tasted oysters?"

"No. My mum was sick for the last five years before she died a few weeks ago and she couldn't eat most of the time." I remembered walking into the kitchen one day after work and finding my mother sitting at the table with a bag of groceries at her feet. A defeated look on her face.

"I'm sorry, Jenna. I wanted to cook you something nice, but I can't seem to move any of my muscles. I am exhausted. I wanted to make chicken curry, but I don't think I can do anything more than toast you a sandwich."

I remember feeling irritated at first, but soon I realised that she couldn't help it and that I should let it go.

"It's okay, Mum." I walked over to her, squatted down in front of her, holding her hand.

"I'll make us some dinner. Just relax and sit in your chair and watch some television or read a book."

"Jenna?" John was waving his hand in front of my eyes.

"Are you there?" I sighed and looked at him.

"Sorry. I was thinking about something." John touched the plate in front of him and moved it closer to me.

"Here. Try one. These are the best oysters you will ever find." The shells looked very beautiful. The asymmetric shape shone bright in the sunlight both from the moisture on top, and also from the fine structure and metallic colours the animal had made. It looked almost too beautiful to eat.

"Beautiful, isn't it. It is indeed a miracle of nature." I looked at the slimy thing in the shell. It would take some courage to take one the shelves and put it to my mouth. The salty smell that arose from it wasn't very appealing.

"Don't think about the smell. Just do it. The first time is always the hardest." FJ stopped at our table, grabbed one of the oysters and let it slide into his throat. He placed the empty shell on the plate. I studied the empty shell for a second and admired how beautiful it was. I took up my camera as a distraction and photographed it from a few different angles.

"You are stalling, missy," John laughed and took away my camera.

"Come on. Be daring for once. Try one." I held the shell between my thumb and index finger and moved it towards my mouth in slow motion. The smell of the sea became stronger and I closed my eyes when the shell almost reached my mouth. I opened it and let the flesh glide into my mouth. It went straight into my throat and I swallowed it. I let the taste linger for only a second in my mouth but then I took a sip of the champagne that was placed in front of me by one of FJ's girls. I had tasted champagne before when I graduated from high school. Though not my favourite flavour, it definitely tasted better after the oyster. I decided that the taste of oyster was best complemented with champagne.

"And?" Both John and FJ looked at me.

"I'm not sure." I looked at John and then at FJ.

"I liked the taste of the champagne after the oyster." They both laughed. John looked at FJ.

"I see we have a long way to go in educating you in the fine tastes of food."

I took another sip from my champagne and smiled nervously.

"You know what?" I felt brave. Probably because of the champagne.

"I will make a list. Not in any order, but randomly, of things that I really have to taste for the first time today. I am pretty sure I can find them here." I took out my journal and went to the first empty page to create the list: Foods I really have to taste. I used a thick marker to give the list more body.

"Number one: Oysters!" I took out a bright green marker to accentuate the word "oysters."

"Number two?" I looked at FJ and John. FJ was already opening a new batch of oysters for a customer. One of the girls grabbed the plate with a dozen oysters and paused for a second.

"Sushi?" She said. I nodded. "Sushi." I wrote it down at number two.

Next were Ramen, Indian food, mature goat's cheese and Jersey beef. I wasn't sure if I could find them all here, but I could try.

"Death by chocolate cake." John added to the list. More and more people joined in the conversation and soon enough I had almost fifty things on my list that I had to try.

"Alright. Thank you all for your suggestions. If I eat all these today, I will surely burst from all the eating. I need to make a selection."

Someone in the audience came forward.

"I know. Two people can get samples from foods available on the festival and we can taste them together and give them points. Like a food tasting." I wasn't too sure about all the attention that people were giving me, but John and FJ looked amused, to say the least. Before I could object, people were already rushing off to get food. John helped me to taste the food and other people helped me to finish the leftovers. I had so much fun.

When the festival was almost over, John and I walked through the quieter side of the park. There were beautiful, sweet-smelling roses. I was so full of all the food that I had to walk slowly.

"Did you have fun today?" I could see that John was tired. That, and he'd had a few glasses of champagne too, which, I imagined, must make anyone drowsy.

"I had a blast. Thank you. I guess someone will make this into an article. Will you provide the photographs then, of me eating all these foods?" He laughed a bit too loud and stopped.

"I guess I have to."

"Thank you. Also, for letting me use your camera."

"You are very welcome. I always enjoy it when people share my passion for photography, and I think you have a great eye for this." We walked on and came back to the festival.

"So, what's next for you?" he continued. I looked at the sky and put a finger under my chin.

"I don't know. One more week in Dublin and then I'm going to Donegal. "He stopped in front of me.

"Oh really? That's where I grew up. What are you going to do there?" We continued walking and went into the press tent to get our things. We put our things in backpacks and put on our coats, ready to go.

"I don't know. My mum wanted me to study Irish, that takes one or two weeks. After that I can choose what I want. I loved helping you out with photography today. I don't know. I might pick that. Or painting class. I don't know." Together we walked out of the tent and went our separate ways.

### The Wedding

"Wake up, sleepy head." Chris fell down on the bed. It bounced up and down like a trampoline, lifting me a few centimetres in the air.

"Jenna?" This time it was Joseph shaking me from side to side by holding my arm with two hands. Carefully I opened one eye and closed it again. The light outside was brutal and I didn't feel like waking up yet.

"You need to see this." Joseph said with emphasis on this. I heard the sound of paper, specifically a newspaper being folded on my bed.

This time I sat up, cupping my eyes, carefully letting the light in, in small doses by spreading my fingers until the light was fully in my eyes. Chris held a cup of coffee under my nose and it smelled delicious.

"What is that? Starbucks?" I asked him while grabbing the take-away cup from his hand, opening the lid so the aroma could penetrate my nose even further. After my first sip I let out a sigh and continued.

"And what are you doing here so early? I didn't know you two were getting that close."

Joseph threw the newspaper on my legs.

"Chris slept here, on the couch if you must know. We were a bit tipsy when we came back from the festival and after-party." They looked at each other and both smiled as Chris put his hand in Joseph's hand. They looked so good together.

"Oh, and this is not Starbucks, but Joe's brew. I know the cute boy who works at our little Centra across the street." Joseph said with a slight nervous look at Chris.

"I agree. He is quite cute." They both nodded and summed up a few of Joe's features that explained why he looked so cute.

"Alright guys. Enough. You wanted me to look at something." I grabbed the newspaper that lay neatly folded on my legs. The first thing I saw was a photograph with food on the front page. It was in the right-hand corner of the newspaper.

My phone chimed. The boys both grabbed their chests, like they were startled by the sound. It was John.

"Hello."

"John. To what do I owe this pleasure this early on a Saturday morning?"

"Did you see the newspaper yet?"

"Only the front page."

"Do you recognise the picture?" I looked up the section of the paper where the article was and saw that it was one of my pictures. It was one of my best photos from yesterday.

"It's one of my pictures."

"Yes. I liked this one the best. You took some great shots yesterday. You really have an eye for detail and for colour."

"Thank you. It was totally enjoyable doing it." I looked up. Both boys were looking at me with anticipation. Like I was competing in a telephone quiz and I was about to win a very big prize.

"Jenna?"

"Yes, John."

"I don't want to disturb any of your plans, but if you want, I have a job for you today."

"Can you hold on for just a second?"

"Sure." I put the phone on mute. The boys didn't move. I suspected they weren't breathing either.

"Chris, Joseph, what is wrong with you?"

"Nothing. What's wrong with you?" Joseph shook his head and made some weird sounds, letting air from his mouth.

"Can you please go into the kitchen or the living room so I can finish this conversation without you guys listening in?" They both got up, head bent down. Without a word they walked out of the room and into the kitchen.

"Sorry about that John. You were saying something about a job?" I finished my coffee. I suspected that if I wanted this job it would involve me getting ready soon.

"Yes. Friends of mine are getting married today and they asked me to take the photographs. I would love it if you were there helping me and getting a different perspective on the whole party." I heard him swallow on the other side. I imagined he too was drinking a cup of coffee.

"Where is the party?"

"My friends are quite wealthy. They rented the National Botanic Gardens."

"Oh. That is a lovely site and it is something that has been on my checklist, but I haven't got around to going there."

"I know. You told me at the food festival. What do you say? Can I count on you?"

"Yes. You can."

"Great! I'll pick you up in an hour." I threw the phone on a pile of freshly folded laundry and walked into my bedroom to find some appropriate clothes to wear.

As I was browsing through all the items on my side of the closet, my eye caught something black on the other side of the closet where a bunch of old clothes still hung, wrapped in plastic. I walked over to the one black piece of fabric that was not wrapped in plastic and I wondered if it was because it was recently worn or if it came from somewhere or someone else. I took the hanger off the rail and as the fabric neared my eyes, I felt tears well up in my eyes. It was a short black dress. The exact same one that my mum wore when the two of us went to a wedding right around the time she found out she was sick.

I took the dress off the hanger and smelled it. It could have been my imagination, but I could swear it smelled like the cheap and very sweet perfume my mum was wearing to that wedding.

Aunt Margaret was sitting in the living room when I walked in, holding the dress carefully like it could break if I let it go.

"Is this my mum's dress?" I held it up so she could see it properly. Aunt Margaret got up. She looked like she'd seen a ghost.

"Why, yes, it is. Your gran gave it to me after the funeral. She said that it would be a waste to let such a beautiful designer dress lie there in a closet or go to charity." She gently rubbed the fabric. The black silk went through her fingers like liquid. She looked at her fingers and was surprised how amazingly soft this was.

"Do you mind if I wear it to the wedding today? It would feel as if I have a piece of my mum with me."

Just when I was ready the doorbell rang. I opened the door, said goodbye to Aunt Margaret and got into John's car. The Botanic Gardens were on the other side of the city centre, but it took us a long time to find a parking spot.

"We should have taken the bus." John repeated for the tenth time.

"But then you couldn't bring all your camera equipment with you." He sighed. Sometimes I thought I was the wise one and he was the teenager.

"I guess you are right." He stopped and looked at me.

"How did you get so smart? You never went to college." A smile escaped me—and a blush too.

"I guess I was never one for studying, but I kept up with my reading and my general knowledge. Watching tv shows—mostly news and satire. It helped me form an opinion about everything."

"What about your mum? Was she smart too?" The smile was gone, but it was fine. I liked answering questions about her. It was good to keep her memory alive, just to talk about her.

"I guess she was smart in her own way. She was very creative, like a female MacGyver." He frowned.

"How do you know who MacGyver is? You are too young to know MacGyver." I laughed.

"Daytime television. I watched old reruns of MacGyver, The A-team, even Golden Girls. When my mum went through a bad chemo or other kind of therapy, the only thing she could do was watch television and fall asleep on the couch. We watched together. I held her hand and she would squeeze it occasionally to let me know that she was still alive."

"That must've been a horrible time for you." He looked at me with sad eyes.

"It wasn't too bad. I mean it hurt to see my mum being in so much pain that she had to be sedated all the time, but it was nice to have her close and all to myself."

"Ah. I don't mean to cut you off, but we are here. The National Botanic Gardens." He pointed up at the metal sign above the entrance. When I looked ahead, I noticed the different shades of green that were highlighted by the rays of the sun. They seem to dance on the leaves and branches. John must've realised I was staring.

"What do you see, Jenna?"

"I see the many shades of green and how I want to capture those in detail and also in a blurred setting."

"Spoken like a true photographer."

It was a wonderful day. It was really exciting to experience an Irish wedding from this close. I had been to a wedding once in my life, with my mum. It was the wedding of one of mum's friends who helped her out with all her paperwork and all the insurance papers for the hospital.

Today the bride, Maeve, looked absolutely stunning in her cream-white dress. Her husband Daryl wore a black suit with a white bow tie that perfectly matched Maeve's dress. They looked so happy, like they really wanted to be together.

John left me all alone after he had introduced me to the bride and groom and some important family members. He asked me if I could take some pictures and he warned me that he also had things to do. I knew that he would probably be busy socialising since the bride and groom were his friends, but at a certain point I wondered where he went.

I had walked around the gardens for the second time when I decided that I would go to the main reception tent and write something in my journal. I had been so busy the last few days that I didn't have time to cross things off my checklist. I was in the Botanic Gardens now. I could cross that off my list. I counted the items that were still left and realised that I had done a lot in the few weeks that I was here. So far, I only had four things left on this list and the Botanic Gardens was marked with a star which meant there was another assignment to go with this one.

I looked up the page where I could find the instructions for number 16: The National Botanic Gardens and read it carefully. It said that I should find a beautiful still life and draw it with a twist. This was something my mum and I had learned when we followed a drawing tutorial on YouTube. Make a realistic drawing but hide something out of the ordinary in plain sight. Like hiding an Easter egg in the drawing. From my bag I got my drawing pens and looked around to see what I wanted to draw. I decided to go against the assignment that my mum had thought out for me and draw the people in the tent instead of flowers or trees. I wanted to capture the joy and the happiness that radiated off of the bride, groom and their family members. I figured that this would help me through some difficult moments that I might experience later, that I could recall the way I felt now.

Someone gently tapped my shoulder. I looked up. A blond-haired Irish man about my age stood behind me. I reckoned he was a guest since he was wearing a nice suit with a corsage.

"Excuse me. Are you Jenna?" I paused for a second because I couldn't stop looking at his eyes. They were icy blue with a grey ring around the iris. They were marvellous.

"Miss?" I averted my eyes so I could answer. My cheeks must've blushed.

"Sorry. Yes, I am Jenna."

"Nice to meet you. I am Finn, the brother of the bride." He pulled up a chair so he would be at eye level with me.

"I was sent by John. He told me you are helping him out with the photographs today." I noticed he wasn't wearing his jacket and his white blouse had a few red stains on the chest. He saw me looking at them.

"Oh, these. Yes. Very clumsy of me. I thought it was wise to jump on the trampoline with my little niece, right after she had some tomato soup. That wasn't a very smart idea." I smiled at him.

"I wasn't judging. I was just admiring the odd colour scheme. John says that is what photographers do, they notice details like that." He smiled at me, then looked in the direction of his sister and his brother-in-law.

"They look blissful, don't they?" He sighed.

"They had a rough year. Maeve would kill me if she knew I told you, but she has cancer." I looked at her. She looked so carefree and happy.

"But, isn't she sick? How is that possible?" Finn leant back in his chair and put his arms behind the back of the chair.

"She found out a year ago by accident that she has breast cancer, only it was too late. The cancer has spread all over her body and there is nothing the doctors can do for her." I heard the sadness in Finn's voice. I could see that he cared very deeply for her.

"Finn, why are you telling me this?" He looked right at me. His eyes pierced through me as if he wanted to look into my soul.

"I don't know, but you seem like someone I can trust. You are John's friend. That means you are good people." He shook his head.

"Maybe because you are a stranger and not someone who judges our family like most of them there." He held out his right arm and pointed at all the guests in his sight.

"These people all look at my sister and brother-in-law and know that this is one of the last times they will see Maeve. They forget to have fun. Maeve is having fun, Daryl is having fun. My little niece is having fun. I mean, sure, the happy couple know quite well that Maeve will be leaving us very soon, but they are living this day like there is no tomorrow while the other guests just feel pity for them. Just look at them. It shows on their faces." He turned his head in the other direction. I guessed he didn't want me to see him cry.

"It must be difficult for you to get through this day." I was surprised that I didn't have to cry. Instead I felt like someone who understood. Someone who knew what he was going through. When my mother turned forty, she had a big party. Everyone knew she only had a few months or maybe a year to live. They all pretended to be enjoying themselves, wore sad faces when she wasn't looking and were afraid to have any real fun. It wasn't until my mother turned on the karaoke machine and the tequila shots kept coming that people were having fun. I put my hand on Finn's arm.

"I know how you feel. I've been there."

He slowly turned around. His eyes were wet with tears and he wiped them away with his sleeve. There was a carafe filled with water on the table. I poured him a glass and gave it to him. He drank it all in one go and smiled at me.

"Would you like to dance, Jenna?" He stood up and held out his hand.

"I would love to." I smiled my friendliest smile at him. We danced and danced. Only stopping to get something to eat and drink. We were the party makers because a lot of people followed our example.

After song number six my feet were a bit tired and I needed to sit. Finn finally admitted that he was tired too and escorted me off the dance floor.

"Those were quite some impressive moves you had back there." Finn caught his breath while he held his eyes closed and tilted his head back. He had been jumping for at least a minute with one of his nieces before we stepped off the dance floor.

"You were not too bad yourself," I giggled as Finn gave me a weird look.

"I don't know anything about you Jenna......?"

"Chips," I giggled.

"All right. Jenna Chips. I don't know much about you, but what I do know is that you are an amazing woman." He grabbed my hand and started walking.

"Let's go somewhere special." There was a tug at my arm because I was walking slower than he was. I was wearing small heels which were almost like normal shoes, but big enough that I would easily trip over twigs and rocks.

"Slow down, Finn."

"No. We're almost there." He dragged me into a row of conifers that looked like they would end in a maze, but instead they opened up into a new area of the Botanic Gardens I hadn't seen yet. We walked towards it and went into a greenhouse right in the middle of a conifer row that ended in a square.

"What's in there?" I was curious why a strange man that I had never seen before tonight would drag me into a greenhouse. Was he trying to take advantage of me?

Finn opened the door and quickly closed it behind us so the heat wouldn't get out. It was dark in the main area where we were standing, and I started to grow suspicious of his intentions. I let go off his hand and stopped.

"What are we doing here, Finn?" He stopped too and looked back in my direction.

"I promise you will like it." That was what I was afraid of. He saw my hesitation and walked towards me. He sighed.

"I promise I didn't bring you here to kiss you or take advantage of you. I just want to show you something amazing." He held out his hand again.

"Trust me, Jenna. You are my friend now. I will never hurt you." Hesitation. Should I take a leap, or should I go back? I took his hand and walked into the darkness with him.

My eyes needed a minute to adjust to the darkness, but when they did, I saw tiny green-yellow lights fly around the room. There were hundreds of fireflies flying around the room. The sight was beautiful. There was a bench behind us, and Finn gestured for me to sit down on it.

"It is beautiful. Amazing. How did you know they were here?"

"One of my uncles is a biologist who specialises in Lampyridae species. He showed me this when we were here for the rehearsal dinner." He rolled up the sleeves of his shirt.

"Why did you want me to see this? You could've brought any girl here." I was in awe of these beautiful little creatures. They were the most beautiful things I had ever seen. I took out my camera and tried to take a few good pictures.

"You made me happy on the dance floor. For the first time today, I felt like I didn't have to pretend to be happy for my sister." We sat there for a while and talked about different things. But for the first time since I came to Dublin, I noticed I wanted to let someone else talk about themselves and it felt good not to talk about my mum for a change. I felt a little bit guilty, but I just listened to Finn. The things he was telling me were awesome.

After an hour we grew a bit tired from being in the warmth of the greenhouse, so we went back to the party area.

Finn had some things to do for his sister and I just wanted to sit down at the table to have some food. We exchanged phone numbers and he promised he would call me in a few days.

Just when I wanted to take out my phone and call John, he sat down at my table.

"Hello there. Sorry I wasn't able to see you more. I hope you had a good time."

I pointed to the enormous piece of cake on my plate with my little fork.

"This is very good cake." John smiled.

"Do you want some?" I said with my mouth full.

"No thank you. I'm stuffed." He put one hand on his stomach to demonstrate how full he was.

"Did you meet Finn?" He said in a strict voice.

"Yes. He is a nice guy." My plate was empty, so I put it on the pile with other saucers, cups and cutlery in the middle of the table.

"I told him to check up on you. I hope you didn't mind his company?"

"We had fun." I said in an upbeat voice.

"What's that?" John pointed at the journal that was lying in front of me on the table.

"My mum made this for me. It's a journal with some assignments that I have to do for her." He nodded at it.

"Can I see it?" I picked it up and give it to him.

"Sure." He took it from me very carefully and flicked through a few pages with one hand while he held the spine of the book in the other hand.

"What is the purpose of the book? Like, what do you have to do?" I tilted my head a bit so I could read along with him.

"There are a few checklists in here with things I have to do, like eat at different restaurants. She even wanted me to get a tattoo." He studied the pages in depth, like he was looking at a treasure map.

"What is this?" He pointed at the drawing of the wedding that I made hours earlier.

"My mum wanted me to draw something here at the Botanic Gardens. I got a bit bold and drew people instead of plants or flowers."

"These drawings in here are amazing. Have you ever considered doing something with your art?"

"There was never time to do anything with it." John's eyes were stuck on a page. He seemed distracted. He looked up at me and back at the page.

"Who is this?" He said. His voice changed from being very confident to having a slight nervous quiver as if he saw a ghost.

"That is my mother. This picture was taken right after she had me." John's face turned very pale. I could see little pearls of sweat form on his forehead. His breathing was faster.

"How old are you, Jenna?" He rubbed his face with a napkin.

"I just turned twenty." He tapped his feet under the table, like he was very nervous all of a sudden.

"I'm sorry, Jenna. I need to go." He got his wallet from his pocket and threw twenty euros on the table.

"This is for a taxi. I'm sorry. I need to go." He got up. Took his heavy bag with camera equipment and walked away. He never looked back and kept on walking, straight to the exit. I tried calling him a few times, but his phone was turned off.

### Saying Goodbye to Dublin

"Granny. How are you doing?" There was an echo on the line.

"Jenna. How wonderful to hear from you. I am great. How is your stay in Dublin?" Her voice sounded different. More fragile. Granny would never tell me if something were wrong with her while I was away enjoying myself.

"Dublin is wonderful, Granny. Aunt Margaret is wonderful. Joseph is very sweet. I've already met some wonderful people here." Gran coughed. It immediately alerted me. Gran never coughed like that. Maybe it was the sixth sense that I had developed when my mother was sick. To listen for different coughing sounds.

"How wonderful, dear. I am glad to hear that you are having a wonderful time." She coughed again.

"Gran? Why are you coughing? You never cough." I heard her swallowing through the line.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about me. It is just a cough. I was singing in the choir today and my throat is just a bit hoarse." I didn't believe her for a second.

"I hope you are not lying to me to make me feel better, Gran. Otherwise I will fly home to check up on you." It sounded way harsher than I had intended, but I knew that Gran was stubborn and wouldn't go to a doctor even if she had a fever.

"Alright. Yes, I wasn't telling the truth. I forgot my flu shot this year, so I have been a bit under the weather. Happy now?" She knew I wasn't happy, but that I was overly concerned about Gran.

"Is there someone helping you there? I don't want you to be alone when you are sick."

"Yes. Rita is here. She is in the kitchen making chicken soup."

"Alright then, but if anything changes, I want you to contact the doctor's office. Is that a deal?" I sounded like a parent and not like a teenager.

"You drive a hard bargain, Miss Chips. When the symptoms get worse, I will call the doctor. I promise."

"Very well. I love you, Gran."

"Love you too, dear.

I read an article on grief a few weeks ago. A hundred people were asked what their first thought was when someone close to them had died. Most people had regrets about not saying things to the deceased, things that should have been said out loud, or discussed, like old grudges or sorrow caused by one of the two. Others just wanted to tell them one more time that they loved the person and that they wouldn't be forgotten.

Would it have made a difference? If you tell someone that you love them on their deathbed, they would still die, no matter what. Would you feel any better?

We knew my mum was dying for quite some time, but I was still shocked when it eventually happened. Maybe I had hoped for more time in the end. Stolen moments, as my mum would call them.

Every moment more we get to spend together is a stolen moment we should enjoy to its full potential. She saw this once in a commercial on television. Or she saw it on a television show, I can't remember. She would say this to me every day when she woke up. In the end I didn't even notice anymore, and now I wished I could hear her say this one last time to me. Luckily, I got to say that I loved her every day. I even got to say goodbye and yet still I have regrets.

I thought about this study as I climbed into the bus taking me to Donegal. In a few weeks I would come back to Dublin, but I already had regrets about the things I didn't get to do in these two weeks. My mum said it was alright to leave some things on the checklist for when I got back here, but I felt unsettled, but maybe this was part of my process as well. In these two weeks I had already changed so much—new friends, new clothes, new hair. In these two weeks I felt more alive than I had for a long time. My mum was there with me in spirit and in mp3s to guide me through this new process.

A much bigger adventure was awaiting me in Donegal. I had never been there, but my mum told me stories about the small village and the people. How nice they were.

When I went into Allen Hanna's bookshop, which was also on the checklist, I bought a travel guide for Donegal to look at the beautiful pictures.

I tried to call John a few times on the bus, but he didn't answer my calls. I also sent him two emails, and two text messages, but it was as if he vanished off the earth completely. I retraced the conversation we had in my head. Did I say something wrong? Or was it that I had drawn the couple at the wedding without asking permission? I had no clue. There was nothing I could do about it. I didn't know where he lived. The only thing I knew about him was his phone number and his email address.

The thing that really bugged me, besides that I didn't know what I did wrong, was that I still had his camera that I guessed was quite expensive and not something that you would give to a stranger. I could of course call the newspaper, but they would refer me to his email or his phone number because he was mostly on location. It didn't feel right that I had something so expensive and not being able to ask what to do with it.

The camera was on my lap. I wanted to take some pictures of the landscape. My mother had ordered me to do so in the first sound file labelled "Donegal." There were a few demands in there and she sounded very stern in her orders. I knew that voice meant that she was serious because she always used that tone on me whenever I had done something wrong as a child. I even felt like that one time when I had tried to sell old newspapers on the corner of the street to get extra pocket money. Some of the neighbours had bought the newspaper and found out at home that it was an old newspaper. Of course, they complained to my mother, who in turn told me in a very stern voice that I could never do that again. I was five then. Now, a lot of years later I recalled the feeling of her being disappointment going through every fibre in my body. It felt a bit creepy and I had to shake it off, like I would do ants crawling on my skin.

In the sound file my mother was very specific. I needed to take the bus to Donegal, not the train and I shouldn't drive. I should take the bus, which takes four hours to Donegal and from there I had to take a smaller bus to Killybegs and from Killybegs I had to take an even smaller bus to Glencolmcille. All in all, it would be a trip of six hours. I wasn't looking forward to this trip. I couldn't imagine sitting on a bus for six hours and having fun, but again, my mother was very specific. She told me about some of the houses that I would pass by. The tape wasn't six hours, luckily, but it was quite detailed in the things I could see from the bus.

She told me to look for certain things and to take pictures from the bus of certain things. She called it my "bus checklist." Photograph the bridge in Kells. Take a photograph of all the stops of the bus. Listen to the playlist you made a few days ago. Make a drawing of the first thing that pops into your head. Fantasize about one of the passengers on the bus. Write down what kind of person he or she is. There were enough tasks to keep me busy for at least a few hours and I wanted to do them all. I knew I would feel dreadful if I didn't do it for my mum.

I took up the camera to take a picture of the next stop, which was at a diner of some sort. It seemed like a truck stop or a bus station that I recognised from an American series on television. It was daytime now, but I guessed it would look spooky at night with lost souls that needed to go somewhere to get away from their real lives. It made me think of a song that was in one of my other playlists. There was always one line that got stuck in my head. "Can you tell me if I'm near, to anywhere but here." It was a song from a movie that my mum and I watched occasionally. Whenever my mum was in a sentimental mood or right after she received some bad results from the hospital, she would play this song. I could sing it line by line. I looked up the song in my playlist and created a new playlist—songs that remind me of Mum—and added this song to it.

I tried to take a few photographs through the window, but the camera started beeping. The memory card was full. I scrolled through the pictures to see if I could delete a few. I had taken many at the wedding. There must be some pictures that I didn't like and that I could delete.

I scrolled past the fireflies and I stopped at a picture of Finn. I hadn't had time to look at all the pictures and since John didn't answer my mails, I didn't know if he wanted a selection of the pictures or all of them. I touched Finn's face. I had such a good time with him. That experience in the greenhouse wasn't something that I would easily forget.

I put the camera on the chair next to me and looked for my journal in my bag. There was a page in there for stolen moments, also known as priceless memories. It was a bit difficult to draw, but by the time I had arrived in Donegal town I had a sketch of Finn's head surrounded by many fireflies which looked like little stars around him. Very sweet.

Just like the Dublin checklist, my mother had also made a checklist for Donegal. Only this checklist was different, more open for interpretation on my end. Of course, there were the standard food items, such as: eat at An Cistin. Or visit the beach. Walk up to the tower. Visit Silver Strand, visit the folk village, drink a pint at Roarty's and go to a church service on Sunday.

But the majority of items on the list were more open-ended, like: Find the best spot for painting. Find the best spot for drawing. Listen to music on the beach and assemble a playlist with numbers for every mood. Draw your roommates. She left it a bit more out in the open for me to discover. I liked that.

I got off the bus at Donegal town and sat down on my big trunk. It was quite a hassle to get everything off the bus again. I was already tired before I began.

I had left one trunk at Aunt Margaret's place because I didn't need all my clothes here in Donegal. My old clothes stayed in Dublin. I was used to the new me. I continued drawing when my phone chimed. It was a Dublin number that I didn't recognise.

"Hello."

"Is this Jenna Chips?"

"This is she."

"My name is Sean Murphy and I work for the Irish Times. Your name was suggested to me by one of our photographers." I looked around if anyone was listening in.

"We need someone who can take a few photos for us. I believe you are on your way to Donegal?"

"Yes, I am. I don't mean to be rude or anything, but don't you have a lot of reporters in that area?"

"Yes. Normally we do, but we need a photo today and our reporters are all currently working on other projects. We are running a piece on an intriguing Irishman who won a grant for his historic research in the Donegal area. All the pictures we currently have are not very suitable to use in the article. Would you mind meeting this person in Donegal today?"

"No, not at all. I'm in Donegal as we speak."

"Perfect. He lives about half an hour away. I'll give him a call now and let you know where and when to meet him."

"No problem."

"Thank you so much for doing this. I will send over my details as well, so you know where to send the picture."

"No problem. Talk to you soon. Bye."

The streets were very busy with buses coming and going. I looked around to see if people were staring at me because I was talking too loudly on the phone. No one was looking weird at me. I started walking with my big suitcase and the things that I didn't have time to put in my backpack or neatly tucked away somewhere else where it belonged. I held my suitcase in my right hand, my backpack over my shoulder, my camera bag over my other shoulder and my little wallet with tickets and my journal in my left hand. I moved forward on the pavement, manoeuvring through a line of people with heavy suitcases just like me. I figured they were going the same way. Some of them I saw on the bus to Donegal. One of them I had described in my journal. I wrote down that he was a serial killer in the making, which I hoped wasn't true.

Donegal town looked like a big roundabout with a square in the middle, only I found out a bit too late that there was two-way traffic. I crossed the road to go to a pub and was almost hit by a car that I didn't see coming. I stopped just in time. The sound of the car horn was so loud that I jumped up and stopped immediately. I inhaled very deeply and exhaled with my fingers spread out and my arms next to my sides like I was pushing the air down.

This time I looked right first and looked left. Then, when it was safe, I crossed the road and walked into the pub. It was a traditional pub—dark wooden bar, dark wooden stools and dark wooden tables and chairs where people could sit and watch sports on one of the many televisions.

I sat down at one of the small tables, closed my eyes for a second, took a deep breath and opened them again. This day so far had been tiring and I had a faint idea why my mother wanted me to have this experience. I guessed it was just one of those moments where you hate being in it, but something you could laugh about when you told all your friends about it afterwards in the pub.

I ordered a tea and a sandwich at the bar and sat down again, waiting for the message from Sean about where I would meet this person that I needed to photograph. It was getting close to four o'clock and I still needed to travel to Glencolmcille.

Through the window I saw the bus that was probably my ride to Killybegs. I panicked a bit at first, but then I realised that I could always take a taxi from here and let the Times pay for it. I wondered if John recommended me for the job. He must've given my phone number to Sean. No one else could have done that. I guessed that meant he was probably very busy with work and that he was not very mad with me. My phone rang and I answered it.

"Hello?"

"Is this Jenna Chips?" I felt like I was in a loop. Next thing he would ask me if I could take a photograph of someone who received a prize of some sorts.

"Yes, this is she."

"My name is Daragh Jagoe and I believe you are going to take a photograph of me to send to the Irish Times." Ah, this was the person that I have to photograph.

"Right. Yes. I need to take your picture for an article."

"I am in Donegal town at the moment. Where can we meet up?" It felt a bit weird to meet up with strangers, like I was going to do something outside of the law. Smuggling drugs or fake passports. I don't know.

"I am at a pub close to the Abbey Hotel. Would it be possible for you to meet me there and then we'll see where we can take your picture?"

"No problem. I'll be there in a few minutes."

"See you then." I hung up the phone and checked if I had any important messages. There was one message from an unknown number. It was Finn.

"Hope you got to Donegal safely. XXX Finn"

I sent a message back that I was still in the middle of the adventure and that I would send him a picture when I arrived at my destination.

Just when I sent it off, the door opened. I guessed it must be Daragh. He looked around and saw me. When he came closer, I could see his face.

"You must be Jenna." We shook hands and he sat down. At the same time my food arrived.

"I'm sorry. I need to eat something. I just spend four hours on the bus from Dublin and I need to eat something." He ordered a pint of Guinness with the waitress and took off his coat.

"No problem. I have a lot of family around here, so I have lots of places to stay when I'm here. We originally come from Cork, but my family moved here over a hundred years ago." He drank from his pint and I could hear him swallow.

"I'm sorry. I'm just a bit nervous around strangers." I tried to eat my sandwich as elegantly as I could. I had the same problem, but I didn't want to tell him that.

"No problem." I said in between bites. There were many things I wanted to ask, but now was not the right time.

"How's your sandwich?" His voice sounded different. More relaxed. I looked at him. He had dark brown hair that had a healthy shine to it. His eyes were green with some brown speckles in them. He was wearing a dark blue sweater over a grey t-shirt. His jeans were worn at the knees and stained with mud, like he had been sitting on his knees in the dirt.

"My sandwich is fine."

"Have you worked for the Times long?" He rubbed his hands together. I took another bite before answering him. I smiled. He tried to avoid eye contact, which I thought was odd.

"No. I actually don't work for the Times. Someone recommended me because he knew I was travelling to Donegal. All their other photographers were busy, and they needed this before close of business today." I looked at my phone.

"Which is in one hour. So, we have to hurry." He checked his phone too.

"Where do you want to take the picture?" he asked nervously. I packed up all my things that were lying on the table. Daragh finished his drink.

"I don't know. Where would you like to have your picture taken?" He looked down at his shoes, then grabbed his phone from his pocket and looked at the time again.

"Would it be alright if we go to one of the locations where I did research? It is not far from here." I stopped being busy and looked up in thought.

"Is it in the direction of Glencolmcille? I need to go there."

"As a matter of fact, it is. I could drop you off in the village if you want." He got his car keys from his pocket and stood up.

"Can I help you with that?" He pointed at the big suitcase that I had placed next to me. Before I could say anything, he had already pulled the handle out and placed it next to him, waiting for me to follow him to the car. I paid for my tea and my sandwich before following Daragh to the door.

The roads were narrow from Donegal town to wherever we were going. Daragh apparently knew these roads very well. He maneuvered his little blue car through the sharp bends on the road in front of us. His car could carry four people, but I wondered how small they would have to be to fit in the back.

The scenery was beautiful. I had heard of the Wild Atlantic Way, and apparently, we were driving on the road towards it. I would ask him later, when I didn't have to fear for my life.

"We're almost there." Daragh said a bit loudly, because the engine was making a terrible noise. I looked around and saw nothing besides rocks, grass, some flowers and sheep. A lot of sheep. He parked his car on an improvised parking lane on the road and we got out of the car. I held my camera close to me and deeply inhaled the fresh air. It was quiet here. No sounds beside the occasional car, the rustling of the tall grass and the bells of the sheep running in the roads as if they were the only ones allowed on it.

I was a little bit nervous. I didn't know Daragh and I were here all alone. Nobody would hear it if he would try to rape me, so I held my phone nearby and a can of mace in my jacket pocket that a friend had given me before I went for Ireland—just in case.

"It is just after this hill." Daragh was jumping on the hill as if he did this every day. His enthusiasm was rather infectious, and he was good looking too.

He helped me up the hill and I looked out at the view. It was amazing. I saw some kind of lake surrounded by mountains and green hills. There was a patch of colour in the middle of it next to the lake. It looked like many flowers.

"There. That is where I want my picture taken." He helped me off the hill and together we walked towards the flower patch. Meanwhile he told me about the legend he was investigating. When he was clearing out his grandmother's house because she came to live with his parents, he found a box with letters. They were love letters from a man called James sent to his grandmother. He squatted down at a small tower of stones in the middle of the field.

"You see, James was a man of the resistance and my grandmother was a farmer's girl. James came to the farm one day when he got caught in a fence and was bleeding. There wasn't a doctor around for many miles, but he was in desperate need of some medical attention. My great-grandfather helped him with his wound and fed him. He even slept in the barn for a few days until the wound looked well enough. He helped around the farm to pay off his food and lodgings.

My grandmother grew quite fond of him, but she knew her father would never approve of what they felt for each other." Daragh sighed and touched the ground. Meanwhile I took some photographs of him in the field. The orange light in the sky seemed to perfectly shine on his dark hair, which he wore in a little man bun.

"They met up here, after James was well enough to travel again. He would send my grandmother letters that she would read here in this same spot." He touched a bare spot on the ground where something like a huge rock would have been a long time ago. He continued.

"After a while he stopped coming and the letters stopped coming, but my grandmother occasionally visited this place. She planted flowers in honour of him. Forget-me-nots and other beautiful wild flowers." He looked into the camera and I had a perfect angle. There were definitely some pictures that the Times could use.

"What a beautiful story. I guessed your grandmother married someone else? Otherwise you wouldn't be here right now."

"Yes. She never forgot James, but yes. She found someone else who made her very happy." I connected my camera to my phone, chose a few of the pictures that I thought would suit the article best and sent them to Sean, who was waiting for them at the office in Dublin.

We went back to the car and drove to Glencolmcille. He let me off at the school where I would partake in classes in the next few weeks. It was based on a hill that was a steep climb holding a suitcase in my hand. Daragh walked with me to the entrance of the school.

Two people welcomed me at the door, a woman and a man. Daragh shook the hand of the man. They seemed to know each other quite well. They were even speaking in Irish. The woman was holding a list of all the people who needed housing. She first asked for my name in Irish. I had never spoken Irish and I was a bit confused. Daragh called out to me

"She wants to know your name." All three of them laughed. "Oh" Was the only thing I could say.

The woman asked again in English and crossed my name off the list.

"Daragh. Would you mind bringing Jenna to the art gallery. I am swamped with the other students."

"No problem. Do you have the keys?" She threw him a set of keys and told him which ones were for the house.

"Now. There will be other people there, but you are the first. There will be three girls staying in the house with you."

Daragh drove up to the house and he helped me with my bags. It was a big friendly house owned by a local artist. The kitchen was fully equipped. There was a dining room with a big table that could fit at least ten people and there was a small living room on the right with books and a fireplace.

"Well, I'm going to leave you here. I need to drive to my aunt's house to get some supper."

"Thanks, Daragh. I really enjoyed spending time with you. The story you told me was amazing. Thank you for that." I didn't dare to ask if I could have his phone number, but then when we were outside, he said.

"Here's my card. If you ever need a local guide or a drinking buddy, give me a call." I took it and placed it in the journal on the page reserved for new phone numbers, but I didn't think at this point I had the nerve to ask him if he could write his number in here himself. Giving the card to me also counted as writing the number down in my journal. I put the card on the page in one of the squares where new names would go and I saw that the card fitted in the box exactly. My mum had probably figured that a lot of people gave business cards nowadays and had made the blocks big enough so I could stick the card right in.

I waved as he drove off. When he turned the corner, I went inside and sat at the kitchen table with my journal.

Mum,

Today was a good day in the end. I took the bus as you insisted, and it was quite a journey with a lot of pictures that you ordered me to take. I cheated a bit though in the end, but technically it wasn't cheating because you also said that I should make new friends and that is what I did. I met this guy who is amazing. He told me this story about his grandmother that really moved me.

Tomorrow I will listen to the second Donegal file to see what is next. It will be good to hear your voice.

I miss you, Mum. I wish you were here to enjoy this with me. I feel so alone right now. In Dublin I had Chris and Joseph, but here I have nobody. I hope at least you are somewhere watching over me because I can't do this alone.

Wish you were here.

Love,

Jenna

### A Donegal Fairy tale

We still had an hour before we had to go to meet all the students of that week and find out where and when we had classes and with who. My housemates hadn't arrived yet and the house felt lonely and empty. I didn't feel like going to the pub alone.

I packed up a sandwich that I had made and a bottle of water. I put on the thickest sweater I could find and walked to the beach. It wasn't far from the house or the school. I guessed it was a ten-minute walk.

The wind was fierce, but the sky was still blue with a few specks of orange on the horizon. The sunset would be amazing tonight.

I walked down to the sand and heard the rustling sound of the waves coming in and moving back towards the open sea. It wasn't as cold as I had expected, and I took off my shoes to feel the salty water touch my feet. This was the first time I ever felt the Atlantic Ocean on my bare feet. It wasn't a special feeling or anything. It felt like any beach I ever sat on. But there was one thing that was different. This was the first time the beach was next to a mountain. I looked to my right and saw the big massive rock towering over me. The sun was shining behind it and I couldn't see what was on the top. I stood up and put one hand flat above my eyes to shade my eyes from the sun. The view was clearer, and I could see that there was a tower on top of that mountain. I bet Daragh could tell me all about it.

I put my earphones in. Scrolled down to the sound file labelled "Donegal 2" and sat down on the bench preparing for my mother's voice to stream into my ears.

Dear Jenna,

By now, you must have arrived in Donegal and you must hate me for what I have put you through. The bus ride to Donegal town, the bus ride from Donegal to Killybegs and the tiny bus to the Glen. Trust me. These are the things that I have remembered whenever I thought about Donegal. Being on that bus. Drinking in the pub with friends. Learning a difficult language. These are the things that matter.

I paused the recording for a minute and laughed. A bit louder than I intended. On the one hand I was laughing because I was tired and knew what she meant by putting me through hell. On the other hand, I was laughing because I cheated by catching a ride with Daragh. Even though I knew she would approve of my choice to ride with Daragh instead of waiting for the buses.

The voice continued.

I guess you must have met many boys by now. Hopefully they are all equally nice and you have difficulty picking out the nicest one. I am sure I would approve of any boy you'd bring home. You probably have such good taste in men. Much better than I had at your age.

Anyways......

I want to talk to you about love. I have loved once. It was a deep, beautiful, but twisted love. I promised I would tell you about your father, well. Prepare yourself because here it comes. At least part of it.

Love is a treacherous thing. It is beautiful in the beginning, but when taken lightly it can destroy people. All those sappy love stories that we watched together are just stories. Real love can hurt very much. It can haunt you for a very long time.

There were times when I woke up screaming because of love and there were times when I cried as hard as I could to accept what had happened.

My mum sighed deeply and coughed a few times. The sound of swallowing was heard and the sound of a wrapper of some kind of candy or cough medicine.

Sorry about that. I guess my voice doesn't want to talk about what happened all those years ago. I have kept this from you and from our family for so long. Even your gran was forbidden to talk about it. I'll tell it like it was a fairy tale, maybe it won't be so bad to tell it then.

Here goes......

Once upon a time there was a man. A wonderful man. He was very handsome with his copper coloured hair, tanned skin with freckles all over his shoulders and on his cheeks.

This man lived in a town called the Glen and it was a magical land. He lived there together with his mother and his sister, who was an artist. All was good and the people lived happily close to the sea.

One day, the land was awakened by the arrival of newcomers who came in a very small bus. They came from all over the world. America, Europe, even Asia. They all came here to study the magical Gaelic language.

She paused. Probably to catch her breath....

The man, let's call him Jack, was very excited by all these newcomers and wanted to meet them very much. His sister was a bit more sceptical and told him that he should be careful and not do anything foolish.

But Jack was stubborn and didn't listen to his sister. He went to the school where he knew he could find the newcomers and signed up for the photography course. This way he could meet the newcomers and enjoy a week of photography. He could also brush up on his Gaelic, a magical language that he had spoken when he was younger. Now he had forgotten most of it because he had lived in the big city and finished his education there. They didn't speak Gaelic in the big city, and he had forgotten his roots. His mother regretted this very much.

I paused the recording again. Took the sandwich from my bag and my bottle of water. The sky had turned very orange and it was getting chilly on the beach. I brushed the sand from my feet and put on my shoes so I would be a bit warmer. I still had half an hour before I had to be at the meeting. I hesitated, not sure what direction the recording would go and how long it was going to take. Would I listen to it now and risk being late at the meeting? Or do I pause the file and listen to it later? I was curious where this would go.

I decided on the latter. I didn't want to rush it and go into the meeting with red puffy eyes. I wanted to take my time to listen to this.

The sun was almost gone as I got up to walk back to the school. One more time I looked up at the tower on the top of the mountain and promised myself that I would climb that mountain and photograph that tower.

After the meeting I joined some people that would be in my group. Because I had never heard or spoken Irish, I joined the first level. I had all the time in the world because my gran had signed me up for three weeks. Two weeks of language lessons and one week that I could choose myself.

My group was quite small. The two girls were from America and the two male students came from Belfast. They were about the same age as I was, which was nice. I could see that the other four students already had someone to partner up with and I was a bit afraid that I would fly solo this whole week, but I kept an open mind. Maybe things would change, and we would work together.

They were very friendly and invited me to join them in the pub, but I was anxious to get back to my recording. I wanted to know so badly what had happened between Jack and the newcomers. It must have something to do with my mother and my father.

We said goodbye and I walked back to the house, in the village up the road. It was beginning to get dark and I was all alone on the road, but for some strange reason it didn't bother me one bit. I felt safe here, maybe even at home. Like I had been here before.

When I came up to the house the door was already open. I walked in looking around to see if I could see anyone in the house.

"Hello?" No answer, but I heard some noises upstairs. Carefully I walked up the stairs and peeked into the first room that was next to my room. I saw an open suitcase, a heap of clothes on the floor like someone had opened his or her suitcase and had thrown everything on the floor. I noticed that the floors in this room were a soft baby blue. The wooden floors in my room were painted a natural orange colour. I liked this colour better.

I tried again.

"Hello?" From behind the door I saw a head with really long grey hair appear. It was definitely a woman.

"Sorry?"

"Hi. I'm Jenna. I'm your housemate for this week." The woman stood up and walked past the door and towards me.

"Hi Jenna. I am Aoife." She shook my hand. "I'm actually the owner of the house. In the summer I rent out my house to the school for some extra cash. I sleep in my studio, but I forgot to put clean sheets on my bed." She closed the closet with one hand, holding a pile of clean sheets in her other hand.

"I'd thought you were all going to the pub. Didn't you want to get to know the other students?" She closed the door behind her and walked towards the stairs. I followed her down the stairs and into the kitchen.

"No. I had something else to do and I feel a bit alone here. I don't know anybody yet."

She put on the kettle. I could see that she was very used to this kitchen. She looked at ease in it.

"Would you like a cup of tea?" Her voice was very friendly.

"Yes, please. I'd love a cup."

"Here. Sit down." She pointed at a comfortable leather chair that was placed at the fireplace. I sat down and watched how she made us tea in two beautiful grey and brown mugs that were clearly handmade. She sat down on an identical chair across from me, handing me one of the cups.

"I assume you take your tea with milk."

"Yes. Thanks."

"So. Why do you feel alone here?" I thought the question was quite blunt and it took me a second to find a polite answer.

"Just that I don't know anyone here."

"Well, then. Get to know them. They don't bite, you know." She smiled as she blew in her tea. It was quite hot, but she carefully sipped it anyway.

"I know, but it is just difficult to just step up to someone and say, Hi, I'm Jenna."

She paused with her cup in front of her lips.

"You just said the same words to me when we were in the room upstairs." She took another careful sip. There were some biscuits on the table. She got up and brought them back to the chairs.

"I know, but I thought you were also staying here in this house."

"What makes that different than introducing yourself to people who do the same course as you?"

"I don't know. It is just—different." We sat there quietly. I rummaged through my backpack. I wasn't looking for anything in particular, just something to kill the silence between us. My journal fell out of my backpack and fell open on a page with one of my drawings. Aoife picked it up and looked at it. Then gave it back to me.

"I'm sorry. I shouldn't have touched your private book. I don't like it when people touch my stuff, so I shouldn't touch yours."

"It's quite alright." I said in a happier tone. Talking about my journal was way better than talking about why I was so afraid to talk to strangers.

"Do you want to see?" I asked, while putting my cup on the little stool next to my chair. It was small enough for a book and a cup.

"Sure. I would love to see your art." I handed her the book. She flipped through the pages and stopped at some to look at them more closely.

"Wow. These are amazing. Are these all yours?" She tilted the book to look at the drawing I made at the wedding.

"Yes. I made that a few days ago when I was at a wedding at the Botanic Gardens in Dublin."

"The bride looks familiar. Maybe she has just one of those familiar faces." She looked up at me and wanted to close the book when her eyes fell on the picture of my mother that dangerously dangled out of the book. She took it out and looked at it.

"Who is this?" She held the picture up at eye's length.

"That is my mother. This picture was taken when she was here studying Irish. It was a long time ago."

"I'd say." She was still studying the picture. It was as if she was remembering something and was now very deep in thought. She made a humming sound and gave the picture back to me.

"Well, I should be off. Lots of things to do." She got up and put her mug in the sink. Grabbed her clean sheets and stopped in front of me.

"I would love it if you stop by tomorrow at the gallery for a cup of tea. I would love to talk some more about your art and what you want to do with it."

I nodded.

"I will, but first I will sleep in." A smile on my face. She laughed. I could hear her laughter in the hallway. It stopped with a loud bang of the closing door. The house was silent again. I made myself another cup of tea and retired to my room. I wanted to hear the rest of the fairy tale.

When the bus arrived in the village. Jack was one of the first people to welcome the newcomers. He stood there with a smile on his face in the centre of the village when the first people descended the small steps of the bus. Every person stepping off that bus was amazed at the wonderful surroundings and the friendly people that greeted them.

The bus was very crowded, and it took some time before the bus was empty.

The last person had descended the bus, so Jack thought, but a girl was talking and laughing with the bus driver. She was the last one getting out of the bus. When she, let's call her Mindy, stepped off the bus, Jack almost bumped into her. They looked at each other and something magical happened.

For the next two weeks, Mindy and Jack were inseparable. They went everywhere together. Followed the same classes, went to the same pub, but they didn't sleep together. That was something that Mindy didn't want. She was saving herself for someone special and however wonderful this was, she wasn't sure if Jack was the one.

Then one Friday night, they went to the pub together like they had done every night—only this night was different. Many of their friends would be leaving the next day. Which meant that this Friday night there were parties everywhere. In the pub, on the beach, in the village. Jack and Mindy had a few beers too many and Mindy wanted to go home, but Jack wanted to go to a different party, even though he already had been drinking a lot and it would have been much wiser if he went home, too. However, he insisted that they go to this party somewhere close to the folk village. Mindy agreed, even though she was a bit drunk too.

They walked down the street towards the folk village. Jack held his arm around Mindy. She didn't mind, he always held his arm around her. Only this time it was different. His grip was tight as if he didn't want her to go anywhere. She asked him to loosen up a bit, but he took it the wrong way. Jack's face changed from a friendly open look into a strict, almost angry look. His eyes were not focused at all. He couldn't look at Mindy without closing one eye to keep his eyes steady.

Mindy had never seen Jack like this before and it scared her a bit. She didn't want to go to the party. Now, all she wanted to do was to go back to her house and go to sleep, so she stopped in the middle of the road because her house was just behind them up the road. Jack shook his head at the idea, but he walked with her to her house.

When they came to the small cottage Mindy wanted to kiss Jack goodnight like she had done every night, but he insisted that he wanted to come in. Mindy knew that it was probably the wrong thing to do, so she said that he should probably go to his own house.

Before Mindy could say any more, Jack was already kissing her neck and feeling her up her shirt. He pushed her inside while she repeatedly said no to Jack and tried to push him away, but alas. He was too strong for her. He kept repeating that it was only normal for two people who love each other to have sex. Mindy could only cry as he pushed her on the bed. There was no one who could help her. They were all at the party.

When Jack was done, he fell asleep next to her. Mindy was terrified. She hadn't wanted this to happen, not like this and not now. She didn't know if she wanted to give herself to Jack, but it was too late.

Mindy was instantly sober from all the adrenaline and she ran out of the house while the tears streamed down her face. She felt betrayed, filthy, abused and sad. How could someone like Jack do something so vile to her? She wanted to take a shower. To wash away every trace of him and never, ever see him again.

She stayed at the house of the only person she thought she could trust, and that same friend gathered all her things the next morning. Without saying a word to anyone she went back to Dublin and back home. Nine months later, a baby was born. A beautiful baby girl. The sweetest girl you'd ever seen. Mindy never went back to Donegal again.

Sobbing noises sounded on the recording and a deep sigh.

Wow. I'd never thought I would be able to tell this story to you, but now I did. Always remember, you were made by two people who loved each other, only the circumstances weren't great. I have always wanted you and never regretted raising you for a second.

I do see now that I was selfish in not letting you know who your father was. I should not have kept this information from you for so long. It is not your fault what happened, and it was such a long time ago that I should be able to forgive, but not forget what happened.

The voice stopped. I checked the recording. It wasn't over yet. Even though she told it like a fairy tale I was shocked. I couldn't move. There I was alone in my room, on my bed listening to silence. After a minute or so of white noise and the sound of something bumping against the microphone, I heard my mum again.

I'm sorry Jenna. I never meant to hurt you. I just couldn't tell you what was going on. It was too much, and it hurt too much. Even though I should never have kept this information from you. I blame myself for being a bad mother to you.

The recording stopped. I checked the files. After this there were only two more files left for me to listen to. My first reaction was to play the next file because I didn't want it to end this way. It couldn't end with her abruptly stating that she was a bad mother. I knew for a fact she wasn't, but I couldn't tell her anymore. She wasn't here.

I felt powerless, lonely. There were all sorts of emotions that passed through me like a speeding train that thundered through my head. I cried. It was terrible. My cheeks hurt, my eyes hurt, my stomach hurt. I was nauseous and felt like I could vomit any minute.

I fell asleep after an hour, with my headphones still in my ears. It was a deep pleasant sleep, but I woke up late the next morning with a massive headache that I had not felt in a long time. I made some tea, drank it in the dining room and looked outside at the stormy weather. After I had two cups of tea I put on my coat and went outside without any particular reason. I just wanted to be outside in the rain and wind to clear my head.

I walked in the direction of the village. I figured I needed to do some shopping, so I'd walk in that direction. Just after I had been to the shop there was a road that led to the tower on the hill. Without hesitation I walked up. I could go up there and have my sandwich on the top of the hill. The view would do me good.

The first bit wasn't so bad. I just walked on the side of the road and it wasn't very steep, but then I had to take the road leading to the top of the mountain, which was very steep. I took my time and walked as much as I could and rested in between. Everywhere I looked, the view was spectacular. Sheep with pink and blue butts on my left side. I always wondered how these sheep could climb these hills all day long. They must be used to it. They look like they do it so effortlessly with these tiny legs and hoofed feet.

The rain stopped and the sun was slowly breaking through the thick white clouds. Rays of sun already shone on the ocean which made the sea shimmer like some magical realm where mermaids and monsters lived. The cliffs were a beautiful green covered in moss and grass with a speck of white now and again, which could either be rock or a sheep.

I loved it there and didn't want to leave. I wanted to climb up to the tower and stay here all day without people telling me what to do or telling me that they were bad people. Here it was just me.

I reached the top after two hours. I was really proud of myself for getting up there. First, I went all the way to the other side to catch a glimpse of the ocean. Now all the clouds were gone and a blue sky with a bright sun greeted me on the other side. I choose a perfect spot close to a cliff and I ate my breakfast in silence. I was very hungry after that climb. The food tasted better on top of the hill; maybe it was the sea air that made it different.

I thought about what my mother had said to me in her podcast. My emotions were not as strong as they were yesterday, but I still felt frustrated that she chose to tell me this important piece of information through a podcast and not in person. She had almost twenty years to tell me this information. I couldn't help but see her as a coward and I didn't want her to be a coward. That was not how I wanted to remember my mum. She could have chosen to tell me this news. Did it matter that I was conceived without mutual consent? They were in love, weren't they? What did this piece of information matter to me? Now I just had her story. I wanted to make up my own mind about it and ask questions.

I closed my eyes and let the sun shine on my face. It was heaven. The warm glow that came over me felt like a warm shower. Or a warm towel draped over my face. I sighed deeply. What was I supposed to do with this piece of information? What if I would meet my father, one day? I guessed my mother would give me his name in one of the last podcasts. Now I can't help but think of him as a rapist or a pervert. I don't know. I think I would have preferred not to know this before I meet him eventually. I will meet him with a lot of prejudice beforehand, and I am not sure if I could get past that.

I opened my eyes again to look for my bottle of water when I saw something from the corner of my eye. It was like a vague person with dark hair, but when I looked more closely the figure was gone.

I knew from the people in the school that another group wanted to climb the mountain today, but I hadn't seen them on my way up. They must've forgotten or stayed in bed longer, which is what I would have done if I could have. I walked over to the tower, to see if anyone was there. I also realised it must look quite awkward, creeping up on someone, so I acted as casual as I possibly could.

There was no one. No person on the other side of the tower. Then I saw something again. This time it was like I saw something dancing in the wind. I ran over to the side of the tower where I had seen the...... I don't know what I saw, but it was real and it then it was gone. My hand was holding the tower and I peeked around the corner to see if the thing I saw was hiding behind it. There was nothing there. I wanted to let go of the tower, but I noticed a loose rock that crumbled off the tower. Afraid that the tower was crumbling down on me, I took a step back. There was a dent where my hand was just a few seconds ago. I walked over to it and studied it more closely. There was something in it. A little round thing in a black hole. It was definitely man-made. I took my key from my pocket and started poking into the tiny hole. I managed to move whatever was in there and with the nail of my index finger and my thumb I managed to pull it out.

It was a piece of paper. The edges were ruffled. I guessed it must have been in there for quite some time. I rolled out the paper. It wasn't easy since it had been rolled up and preserved into the stones for many years, so that it was falling apart in my hands. There were some scribbles on it. Blue letters, handwritten. After turning the paper a few times, I saw that I held it upside down, so I turned it in my hands and held it out in the sunlight so I could read what it said.

My dearest Brigid,

I am so sorry for what I have done to you. I didn't mean to do this. I was drunk and foolish and not the man you thought I would be.

I hope this apology will reach you, but I am afraid you will never hear the truth or hear me say it to your face. I am sorry. I am sorry. I am sorry.

Forever yours,

John

This was very odd. My mother's name was Brigid. Even though everyone called her Bree. Would this apology note come from my father? I had no idea. That would mean that my father's name was John. My mother had not said anything about the name of my father. She called him Jack in the fairy tale.

Now I was even more confused. I put the note in my journal and decided to walk back to the village. I had been up there for quite some time and my first class would start in a few hours. I couldn't be late for it.

The climb down went faster than the climb up, but I stopped now and again to look at the marvellous view of the cliffs and the Atlantic Ocean. I wondered why I didn't do things like this sooner. My mother offered me all the space I needed to go out in the world and experience it, but I was the one who didn't want to go away and be far away from her, even though I knew she would be in good company and probably have a paid nurse to help her with chores and things.

When I walked into the village and took a right turn to walk to the school, I heard my name called.

"Jenna?" I turned around and saw Aoife running after me. I stopped and she caught up, leaning with her hands on her knees, breathing very heavily.

"I have something for you." The words came out with a lot of false air since her breathing was not back to normal yet. She made a gesture with her arm flying through the air.

It was silly, but I understood what she meant. Also, because she was walking in the direction of her gallery I kind of figured that it meant that I should follow her.

The gallery smelled of freshly-brewed tea and eggs with bacon.

"Sorry, I was just preparing my breakfast when I saw you walking down." She gathered some of the scattered clothes that were draped all over the gallery. On top of the counter, the couch, the coffee table. She gestured at a stool placed next to the counter where the till was.

"Here, sit. Would you like to join me for breakfast?" I had enjoyed my breakfast on top of the hill, but I already felt a little peckish from walking down it.

"Sure. I'd love some." Within five minutes she came back with two plates filled with eggs sunny side up and three little strips of bacon artistically placed on the side. There were two half tomatoes above the egg yolks, making the whole picture look like a laughing clown. It made me smile.

"Force of habit. I used to make eggs for my brother and also for my son. They always wanted their eggs to smile at them."

"It's fine. I like it. My mother used to do that for me when I was younger." I took a careful bite of my bacon, afraid that it was hot, but it was just the right temperature.

"When I saw you coming down, I figured I had ten more minutes to prepare some breakfast for you. Only you took a little bit longer than I had anticipated." She smiled. She was sweet. I really liked her, even though I had only known her for a day. Something about her felt so very familiar.

Her light-blue blouse was at least two sizes too big as if it had once belonged to a man. It was covered with paint spots all over. I guessed it had been used for many years. She sat down and started eating. She stared outside the window while she ate in silence. When she finished her plate, she took her cup of tea and held it in both hands as if she wanted to warm herself. For the first time in ten minutes she looked my way.

"Jenna, I have something important to tell you." She put her cup of tea down on the counter. There was a serious look on her face. The smile that was there a few minutes ago was gone completely.

"I knew your mother very well. She was my friend when she was studying here." She looked at me waiting for a response.

"Why didn't you tell me yesterday?" It wasn't like I wanted to accuse her of something, but the words came out like it was an attack on her honesty. Aoife sighed, but before she could answer me, I continued,

"I'm sorry. That is not fair to you. I didn't mean to accuse you of anything." I took a sip of my tea.

"It is just, that I found out something yesterday about my father that I don't like." Aoife pulled up the corners of her mouth. It almost looked like a smile, but it was more like a look of pity.

"I know. I know what happened." She got up and cleared the plates. It was as if she wanted to create some distance between us to let this news sink in. When she came back, I wanted to ask a million questions. I felt like having all these pieces of the puzzle, but I wasn't sure if it was going to be a teddy bear or a cute little puppy in the end.

"Did you know she had a baby?"

Aoife sat back down and looked at me.

"Short answer. No. I did not know she was pregnant even." I looked at my watch and saw that it was time to go to the school. My class would begin in half an hour and I didn't want to be late.

"Thank you so much for the tea and breakfast, but I really need to go." She nodded her head as if she knew exactly what I meant.

"Oh, before I forget," Aoife said in a hurry. She ran to the back of the gallery and picked up something from a small stool that stood next to her improvised bed. She handed me a bunch of photos. I put them in my journal, promised I would be back to talk some more and walked out of the door.

### Back to School

I entered the main area, which looked like a big living room with many chairs. This was the same room I was in last night when week-long was explained to me both in English and Irish. I estimated there were about fifty or even more students here in the room. There weren't enough chairs and the teachers leaned against the walls between the many paintings and old photographs hanging in white matching frames. The sun shone in. It made the room lighter and gave it more warmth at the same time.

After half an hour we all went into our separate groups with our new teacher. Our group was quite small—only ten of us in the beginner's level. It was a mixed company. Some people from America, others from the UK just like me and one French girl who was a bit quiet.

The room was also small. I guessed if more people joined our class it would be too crowded, and we'd be forced to go to a different room. It looked nice, though. Light-blue wallpaper on the walls and white chairs made the room look lighter. I liked it very much.

The teacher's voice was pleasant. She was a brown-haired girl from the local area who spoke excellent Irish. My mother had tried to speak some Irish to me, but I always laughed at her pronunciation. It just sounded too silly for it to be true. Only now I realised that what my mother had said wasn't so far from the truth. Yes, the pronunciation was a bit different, but that was because the accent of our teacher was a bit different.

I was surprised how many words I remembered. My mum had written a list with some of the words that she had learned when she first came here, and I remembered quite a few. She told me on one of the recordings that I should bring this list to class and check every word that I heard in class as if it was a Bingo game. I flipped through the book and I saw that she had made an actual Bingo game. It made the lesson even more fun. Also, I could hear the faint sound of my mother laughing in my mind every time I could cross off a word on the list. It felt like she was here with me; maybe that was why I had put my bags and books on an empty chair next to me. It was because she was there in spirit.

I was so busy with checking off the words and imagining that my mum was sitting next to me that I wasn't paying attention to what was happening here. At one point the teacher was calling my name for the second time and I didn't hear her. One of the American girls who sat on my other side nudged me and I looked up a bit guiltily.

"I'm sorry. I was studying the words." Which technically wasn't a lie.

"Can you tell us who you are? In Irish of course." All four of them were looking at me as if I had the answer to everything. I mumbled a few words and looked down at my journal. My mum had written down this exact sentence. It was as if she knew what the teacher was going to say. In a way it was a bit creepy, but I also knew that my mum had a talent for these things. She always knew what to say or what to do before anyone else did.

I managed to produce a sentence with a lot of uhms and a lot of other vague sounds, but I did it. Without any help from other people. Even without an example from the teacher, because I hadn't heard anything she said when she was explaining the exercise.

The days in Irish class went by quite fast. The morning sessions were filled with words and learning sentences. I loved the way the teacher used games to teach us how to make variations on sentences. The five of us got along quite well and in the lunch breaks we usually had lunch together. The school organised activities in the evening such as Ceili dancing, poetry night, music night. It was a lot of fun and I felt I had made friends for life.

I met up with Daragh on Monday after class. On my checklist was Slieve League which were supposed to be the highest cliffs in Europe. My mother wanted me to make a selfie with the cliffs. Daragh picked me up in his car. The drive took more than half an hour and the road was long and narrow with dangerous bends. There were at least three occasions where I held my seat very tightly because I was afraid the little blue car would topple on its side, but Daragh knew these roads and maneuvered the car very well. When we got to the cliffs, I thought Daragh would park the car half way up, but he drove all the way up. The car made an incredible noise as Daragh increased the rev of the car almost until the red line, which caused a strange buzzing in my ears when Daragh stopped the car. He got out and rushed over to my side to open the door for me. He even offered me his hand to help me out of the car.

The first thing I noticed was that the sky was really blue here and almost all the clouds had disappeared. We went over to the edge and I saw the majestic cliffs hovering in front of me. The grey rock surrounded by blue sky and blue looking sea looked as if it was almost floating. The grey seagulls that circled around the edges of the cliff seemed so much at ease here. Like the cliffs offered them comfort. There was a slight breeze that blew my loose hair backwards, making the strings dance in the wind.

We went for a walk on the cliffs and Daragh knew exactly which route to take.

"Beautiful, isn't it?" he said when we sat down on the edge of the cliffs after we had been walking for an hour without hardly saying a word.

"It is beautiful." I took out my camera and made a few shots. The sky was turning orange and we needed to head back soon otherwise we would not find our way back because it was getting too dark.

The walk back seemed harder than I expected. My legs were a bit sore from climbing the uneven rocks and there was a sharp pain in my thigh from all the climbing I had to do on the rocks. It wasn't like I was hurt. It was just my body reminding me that I wasn't trained in hill or cliff walking. Maybe I should sign up for that next week and train my body a bit more. Daragh saw I was in pain, even though I tried to hide it very well.

"Here." He offered me his hand and in a slower pace than before, he helped me safely back to his car.

"I wasn't sure how much time we would spend up on that cliff, but I brought provisions." He opened his backpack on one of the picnic tables close to the car. There was a bottle of wine, a can of Guinness, some crackers and some cheese. I sat down on the bench and smiled at him.

"Daragh, that is so sweet of you. You shouldn't have." He gave me a round glass that looked more like a jar that had held some kind of chocolate paste or marmalade and asked me to choose what I wanted to drink. He poured me a glass of wine and he drank the Guinness. He took a large sip and sat down next to me. We could watch the sunset from here. For a moment I forgot all the hardship I had felt these past few days. The only thing that mattered was the two of us being here enjoying a drink and something to eat.

"I saw the picture you took of me in the paper. I think you did an excellent job." He nudged me with his shoulder. My wine almost spilled on my hand.

"Thanks. You were an easy subject to photograph. The way you told the story and how passionately you looked at those flowers was amazing." I nudged him back, making him almost fall off the bench because he didn't expect my response.

"How do you find Donegal so far?" He looked at me with his amazing eyes that looked darker in this twilight. I stood up and got my camera, taking three photos just of him.

"My view is excellent," I said while taking another photo. I didn't feel like talking about the whole thing with my dad and what happened at the tower. I figured he probably wouldn't understand anyway.

"Could I ask you for a favour?" His voice was more serious than a few minutes ago.

"Depends on what you want from me." I laughed.

"There are some things that I absolutely won't do, you know." He wasn't laughing.

"I need your help with something, and it is quite urgent." I sat back down; a bit ashamed of the joke that I just made. Even though I knew there was nothing to be ashamed of.

"I need you to make a series of portraits." He turned the other way, so he was facing me fully, not only from the side.

"My grandmother, the one that I told you about. The one you made the picture for, for the article. She is dying. She asked me for one last favour. She wants to go back to the field and say goodbye." I put my camera on the table because it was getting heavy. Daragh continued,

"I need you to document that last time she is there because I am writing another book on their love story."

"Of course, I want to help. When do you need me to help you?"

"Tomorrow. It has to be tomorrow. I booked a special van that can transport her wheelchair."

"Sure. Let me know what time you need me to be ready and I'll be there."

He got up very enthusiastically and cupped my head in his hands. He kissed me passionately on my lips.

"Thanks, Jenna. I am so happy that you can help."

We didn't talk about the kiss. He was happy and talked only about the things he wanted to do tomorrow. We finished the crackers and went back to the village where all the students from the school and some of the teachers were listening to music at the local pub.

When we entered, he told me that he would pick me up after class and that we would be heading straight to the field. I didn't see him again the whole evening. I was too busy talking with my fellow students and figured he probably went home early to prepare for tomorrow.

For the first time in my life I knew what it was like to have more than one friend. I didn't mind that Daragh went away early, I knew that it was okay and that we would speak the next day. Maybe not about the kiss, but we would speak about other things.

I went home very late that night. I walked home together with my roommate Tiffany who could not walk home in a straight line, because she forgot to eat something in between the drinks. We had a lot of fun though. When we came back to the house, I helped Tiffany climb into her bed where she fell asleep almost instantly. I made sure there was a glass of water and an Advil next to her bed.

I felt blessed to be around so many good friends and to be accepted for who I was. Which was all I could ever wish for.

After seeing how close Daragh was with his grandmother I missed my gran.

I sat on my bed, got out my phone and sent my gran a message. Even though it was in the middle of the night. I was sure that my gran left her phone in the kitchen so she wouldn't wake up by incoming messages. She would read my message in the morning.

I fell down on the bed and closed my eyes. This was a good day.

### The Emotional Rollercoaster

Tiffany didn't say much during breakfast. The only thing she managed to digest was a cup of lukewarm water with a pinch of lemon and an aspirin. We walked to the school together at a slow pace. Every step Tiffany took, she said, felt like a bang on a big gong in her head. I laughed at her, multiple times. She didn't think it was funny, but she had to smile, even though she didn't want to laugh, which made her even laugh more.

I met her again at the coffee break and we had lunch on the beach. Her headache was better, but she was still a bit sad.

"What's the matter?" I asked her when I saw she was only taking insignificant bites from her sandwich roll.

"Nothing," she answered while picking little seeds from the side of her bread.

"The picking of your sandwich suggests otherwise." I said with a friendly smile.

She sighed and looked even more unhappy then she did before.

"I'm not sure what's wrong. You must think this is silly." She turned her body towards me. I put my hand on her shoulder.

"I don't know, but I rarely think something is silly. Unless you are talking about Charlie Chaplin because I think he is really silly." We laughed and Tiffany put her head down again. She wrapped up her sandwich and was now playing with a few grains of sand that she held up in two fingers and dropped in her hand over and over again.

"I miss my cat and my dog at home." Tiffany sighed.

"I know it is silly. I am nineteen years old and I miss my dog and my cat." She nodded her head and faintly smiled at me. At first, I didn't know what to say. At home, we never had pets because my mum couldn't take care of them and the fur was bad for her immune system.

"I don't know what to say. We never had pets, but I know what it is like to miss someone. I can relate to that." I smiled and tilted my head a little to look at her face.

"It doesn't matter if you miss someone big or small, human or animal. It shows that you care for them, which is more important than if it is silly or not." She looked up at me, throwing away the sand that was in her hand. I continued,

"What is most important. What would help make you feel better?"

She smiled.

"I could skype with my brother tonight. He is taking care of them and I could see them." She smiled sincerely and relieved.

"Thanks, Jenna. This really helped. You are a true friend." She hugged me tight and I hugged her back. I realised that she was the first female friend I had made here in Ireland. So far, I had Joseph, who wasn't really my friend but my nephew. I had Chris, who was very close to Joseph. There was Finn, but I only met him at the wedding. I should give him a call soon, to see how he is. There was Daragh, who I considered my friend, and now there was Tiffany. I looked at my watch. It was almost time to go back. We sat there a moment longer, enjoying the sound of the waves coming and going. Again, life was excellent.

Daragh picked me up in the afternoon after classes were finished. The weather was just as nice as it was the day before, which meant the photographs would turn out really well. He had rented a van and his grandmother sat in the middle of the bus with her wheelchair wheels clicked tight in some kind of special rails so the chair wouldn't move.

She didn't talk much. She looked like she hadn't been sleeping for a few days. She had a handkerchief in her right hand that she frequently used to gently touch her nose, as if she wanted to sniff up some of the scent the handkerchief held.

"She likes the smell of James's cologne. He always wore Old Spice. He left a bottle at the house she grew up in. That first bottle is long gone, but we buy her a new bottle every time she runs out." Daragh said as we were driving towards the field. He sat across from me. His grandmother sat between us. He held her hand and she looked at him now and again, even though it was hard for her to turn her head.

The scene looked adorable and I missed my own gran, whom I hadn't seen in weeks now. She hadn't responded to the text message I sent her last night, which was odd. She always responded as soon as she saw my messages. I promised myself I would give her a call when I got back to the village.

We arrived at the field when the sun was almost going down. There was a light breeze and the stems of the tall grass were waving back and forth. Daragh carried his grandmother to the place where she wanted to go, which was the plot filled with summer flowers. The driver of the bus carried a lightweight wheelchair that they had borrowed from a local hospital and I carried two bags that were filled with bottles of oxygen and medication in case something went wrong. Every few steps I would put the bags on the ground and find a perfect shot of the grandson and his grandmother. Somehow, I felt like I was prying on this private moment so I kept my distance and did what any good photographer would do, record the moment and find the best way to portray it. John taught me this. I remembered his words:

"We are merely voyeurs in the lives of others. We do not judge, and we do not interpret. We only find the best light and right angle to capture the moment for others to enjoy and to see what we saw."

I wondered how John was doing. I learned a lot from him and would have loved to learn some more. Maybe Finn knew something about his disappearance. Daragh ushered me to come closer. I hung the camera around my neck and lifted the two bags that I was carrying to the spot where Daragh and his grandmother were. The lighting was beautiful with the sun shining like an orange ball behind the head of grandma. It was as if she wore an aura of gold and orange. Daragh walked a few paces away from his grandmother, who had folded her hands in prayer. She was whispering some words in Irish that I did not understand.

"She is saying a poem in Irish. One that reminds her of James." I looked at her and saw how peaceful and sad she looked. A strange image popped into my head. Instead of the grandmother I saw my mother's silhouette sitting there. The image was vague because the focus was on the flowers in front of her and not on her face. "Forget-me-nots," I whispered. Our flat was filled with them. These were the flowers my mum always painted on a good day. They were forget-me-nots in various shapes and sizes, always the same flower. I wondered if my mum would think about my dad in secret. She never had another boyfriend or lover. She went on a date once, but the date failed miserably for no particular reason. It just wasn't the right fit.

I photographed the flowers, but I didn't let Daragh know that something else was on my mind. I was a professional. I had to be, since he was my client, sort of. It was weird since we went to Slieve League yesterday. I didn't know what we were anymore.

My phone chimed in my pocket. I was afraid to take it out because the sound might disturb Grandma. I wanted to give her all the time and space she needed, but I was curious and wanted to know if it was my gran finally sending me a proof of life. I saw Margaret's number on the display and quickly turned my phone on silent. I received another call a few seconds later. This time it was Joseph. I put the phone back in my pocket, but I couldn't seem to shake the feeling that this might be an important call. The phone felt warm in my pocket and I took it out to look at it. Three more missed calls. Twice from Joseph and once from Chris. Either they all wanted me to talk to them at this particular moment or something was terribly wrong.

I looked up and Daragh was looking my way. He must've noticed that something wasn't quite right. I signalled that I was making a phone call and walked onto the road and climbed into the empty bus so I could make my phone call with some peace and quiet. I browsed through the missed calls to decide who I should call back first. When I decided to return Joseph's call, Margaret called me for the third time.

"What was so urgent that you had to call me three times?" I smiled and thought they were planning a surprise visit or something, but soon enough I understood the call was of a more urgent nature, since Margaret didn't reply with a witty comment, only a sigh.

"Jenna. I don't know how to say this gently and I hate to be the bearer of bad news, but...." My heart sank. The feeling was so heavy that I had to sit down and hold the armrest of the seat.

"The nurses found her this morning when they came into her room. There was nothing more they could have done for her." Margaret was crying. Speaking proved difficult for her. I heard a sound of someone holding something against the phone, like a tissue or someone taking the phone away. I recognized Joseph's voice through the receiver, letting out a very sad sigh. I felt tears burn at the back of my eyes and when I blinked one tear fell on my lap.

"What your Aunt Margaret tried to say was, your gran passed away this morning. She was rushed to the hospital last night with a fever that seemed harmless and the doctors thought she was going to be fine, but apparently, she passed away in her sleep. Very peacefully, it seemed."

"Why wasn't I called last night?" One tear after the other fell on my lap and my face was wet. I stared at the floor and let the tears fall onto the ground creating small pools of wetness on the rubber mat lying on the floor of the bus. My voice sounded very cold. I was angry that I wasn't called last night. Maybe there was something that I could've done or some advice I could have given the doctors. I don't know. Now it just felt as if I was left out of this important event.

"You are having such a good time in Donegal. We didn't want to worry you with this news. It all seemed to be fine and that she would be fine, but apparently she had other plans."

"You should've called me. I should've been kept in the loop. This wasn't your decision to make. No matter what time you found out, you should have called me." Blood was rushing through my head and my arms were tingling with rage. I knew that I shouldn't have yelled at Joseph, but right now I couldn't stop myself. On the other end of the line Joseph sighed and I felt the icy coldness between us. Maybe he felt guilty. I didn't know what it was because I couldn't see him. What I did know is that I wanted to go home as fast as I could get out of here.

"Joseph?" My rage was cooling down and I felt sorry that he was the one that I had to yell at. This news must've been hard enough on Margaret and him. I had some experience in what it was like to lose a mother. I knew it could not have been easy for Aunt Margaret to tell me this.

"Yes, Jenna." There was coldness in his voice too. I guessed he was angry with me for accusing him of leaving me out of the equation.

"I am sorry for your loss. Let me make arrangements here and I will be in Dublin today or tomorrow and we can all fly back to England to arrange all the necessary duties for the funeral." I heard Joseph sigh and Margaret blowing her nose. They put me on speaker phone.

"Hurry up, Jenna. We need you here."

"I'll be quick."

The next few days were a blur. I went back to the Glen and for some strange reason I went to Aoife first and explained to her what had happened. She hugged me and came with me to the house to get all my things, which we put in a storage closet at the gallery. Only one bag was not in storage; that one was coming on the plane with me. Only now it made sense that I left all my things there. Instinctively I knew that I was coming back there. At the time I didn't realise that I had so much unfinished business in Donegal and in Dublin still, but later I understood.

Daragh drove me to Dublin. He figured he owed me big time after the shoot with his grandmother. When I hung up the phone with Joseph and Aunt Margaret, I finished the shoot like a professional. I only told Daragh afterwards—when his grandmother was back at her house and safely tucked into bed—what had happened. Of course, he chided me a few times for not saying anything to him. He would have stopped what he was doing immediately and driven back to the Glen, but luckily, he understood after a long debate in the pub and in the car to Dublin that this was important. This could be the last time he was able to undertake this mission with his grandmother. Savour every day, since this one could be your last. There were enough signs that his grandmother would not be on this earth for very much longer and he was glad that I decided to finish the shoot. He made it clear, however, that he would've stopped if it was my wish.

He was sweet and considerate and also with his head up in the clouds most of the time. Talking about romantic ideas that he had or amazing stories that he heard from people around him. It was, however, very quiet in the car the closer we got to Dublin. I had an eerie sense that Daragh didn't want to be here in the big city for some reason. He changed the subject three times when I tried to bring it up.

I was not in the mood for an interrogation, so I let it be. I guessed I would find out somewhere in the foreseeable future. Everybody was allowed to have their own demons. It was something I had to learn, since I was an open book and blabbed out everything that came into my head. I had to learn that not sharing something was alright and it didn't affect your friendship. A true friend would let it rest, but it was alright to let the other person know that you were there for them.

Joseph ran outside the moment he saw the car drive into the street. His eyes were bloodshed and his face was puffy. He hugged me as soon as I had the chance to step out of the car. Daragh took my bag and walked behind me into the house.

"Is that all your luggage? Did you leave the rest in Donegal?" Aunt Margaret asked as she stood in the doorway with her arms folded, her foot elegantly leaning against the door post.

"Yes." I hugged her very tightly. "I left them with the landlady. She will take very good care of them." I let go of Aunt Margaret and walked inside the house. I looked back once to see if Daragh was still following me and if he had heard that last comment.

Aunt Margaret turned around so she could face me inside.

"Does that mean you will go back straight after the funeral?" Aunt Margaret's tone of voice was high-pitched as if she was genuinely surprised. I stopped. I hadn't thought about what I wanted after the funeral.

"I don't know yet." Which was the truth. In the car on the journey the only thing I could think about was who was going to give a speech, what kind of flowers Gran would want and who would be there at her funeral. Who would carry the coffin, since she didn't have any sons? Do we eat cake, or did she want something else? I went into full organising mode like it was my mum's funeral all over again, without thinking about what to do after the funeral— that was too soon.

"So, you are just going to leave your stuff there for safekeeping?" I wasn't sure if she meant this in a sincere I-really-want-to-know-why voice or in a typical Irish sarcastic tone that I was starting to get familiar with now. I chose to believe she meant it in the sincere way.

"I don't know yet." This time my voice was lower than the first time I said the sentence.

"I came here as fast as I could and only took the most essential things that I thought I might need." Margaret opened up her arms and like I was drawn to a magnet I walked back to her, dropped my bag and hugged her again like the world had stopped spinning. There were tears, many tears, but I didn't care. In that moment I realised I wasn't alone in doing this. I wasn't the one who was suffering the most and I didn't have to dare to be selfish and ride on this roller coaster alone, even though I was the one who had known Gran the best.

When I looked back up, I saw Daragh standing close to Aunt Margaret. He was holding one of my bags in his hands and standing there like he was my servant. I ushered him in with a nod and a simple "It's okay." His hair was a mess. There were clear signs of fatigue, which wasn't really odd since he had been driving for the past five hours. With only one stop over in Northern Ireland. Soon he disappeared into the conservatory and by the voices of Joseph and Chris I knew that Daragh had made contact with the boys in my life. I smiled and wiped my eyes with some tissue I'd stuffed in my pocket. I blew my nose and Aunt Margaret pinched my shoulders slightly and gave me the warmest smile. She closed the front door behind me, and we walked into the conservatory.

"Jenna? You never told us about Daragh. Where did you two meet?" Joseph eyed Daragh whilst directing the question towards me. Daragh was feeling a bit uncomfortable and fidgeted with his car keys in his hand. Maybe I should have warned Daragh about Joseph and Chris and their blunt manners before I threw him into the lion's den.

"I didn't tell you about him because I haven't had time to tell you about him." Chris gave me a thumbs up behind his back and winked at me. I could see that Joseph's influence on Chris had made him a bit soft and maybe even a little bit feminine. I wasn't quite sure if I liked the new Chris. I opened my mouth to say something else, but I hesitated. What I wanted to say was that they shouldn't worry since he is not my boyfriend and that I wouldn't replace them with a new and better version, but I swallowed the words. Instead, I walked over to Daragh and asked if he wanted something to drink after this long drive. He nodded, sat down on the couch and looked at his phone for new messages. When I walked past the two other boys, I couldn't help but make a snarky remark about them not helping in making someone feel welcome in our home. They bowed their heads down; if they'd been dogs, they would have had their tails between their legs.

From the kitchen I could hear Aunt Margaret talking to someone on the phone. I knew it must have been the people from the funeral home and I realised that this must have been even harder on Aunt Margaret since she had to take care of the details that cropped up immediately. She hadn't even seen her mother yet. I felt guilty. She had been waiting for me to come to Dublin so we could all fly out together as a family. In the car I had spoken to Rita, who was my Gran's help around the house and her best friend. She knew my gran very well, probably even better than me, and she had authorisation to take care of everything, but that didn't mean it is her job to do so. I guess Aunt Margaret and Rita had been on the phone quite often in these last two days to sort everything out.

"Would you like some tea?" My voice was very sweet. Aunt Margaret looked up and sighed.

"I might as well." She took off her glasses and threw them on the note pad that was lying on the floor next to the landline phone that she had just used to call someone.

"I'm glad you are here, Jenna." She got up on one knee and pressed with her fist into the woolly carpet to get up. She made a few grunts and then she was up.

"I just realise, Jenna, that I didn't know my own mother as well as I used to know her." She walked over to me and held my arm.

"I could really use your help with sorting some of these things out. I don't even know what kind of music my mother listened to." I patted her hand and showed a bleak smile on my face.

"That is an easy one. Gran always used to listen to Celtic music. She loved the old classics by The Dubliners and Celtic Thunder." Aunt Margaret retracted her hand and walked past me to the kitchen.

"See. I need you Jenna." She sniffed and wiped her nose with a tissue. "I can't do this alone."

I still had the key to my gran's apartment, but I was afraid to go in. I figured Aunt Margaret, Joseph and Chris were as well, because they were hiding behind my back as if the door was loaded with explosives and I would take the bang for them. The door opened no more than an inch since there was a stack of mail and daily newspapers behind it. I pushed through, heard the paper tearing as I did. I doubted that we would have time to read the papers in the next few days. Carefully, I looked around to see if Sniffles the cat was here somewhere. Rita could have taken her, but she could also have left her here waiting for me. She knew I loved Sniffles very much. So far there was no sign of her.

Aunt Margaret rolled in her suitcase and closely inspected the apartment, touching the door post and the wood panelling in the hallway.

"It's was a long time ago that I was here," she said with a tremor in her voice. I turned around and dropped my bag, instantly lunging forward to hug her.

"She loved you, you know. Here, I'll show you." I grabbed her hand and led the way to Gran's bedroom, her suitcase still rolling behind us. The room was just the way I remembered. The bed was made, a little fake candle made from a plastic LED light was on in front of a picture on her nightstand. Two girls, Margaret and my mother, were in the picture. They were still in their teens in the picture. I recognised my mother's smile. It was a long time ago since I had seen her smile like that. Behind the picture on each side were other pictures of the grandchildren. On Aunt Margaret's side were Joseph and his brother and on the other side was a picture of me. In my mind I went back to the time that picture was taken when I was about twelve. Aunt Margaret held my shoulders standing behind me and rested her chin on my shoulder.

"She looked at us every night before she went to bed." Aunt Margaret said. I put my hand on one of hers and rubbed gently.

"She was just the best. I don't know what I will do without her. I'd always assumed that she would live forever." Aunt Margaret nervously giggled.

"That is what Joseph said yesterday. Even though he hadn't seen her in a while, they would still call each other and keep in touch."

We turned around and walked into the kitchen. Chris and Joseph were in the living room watching television. We knew because we could hear the television pretty loudly in the kitchen. I remembered that the noise usually annoyed me whenever I came here when I was younger, and Gran had to babysit me. She would laugh at every sitcom she came across and it raised the hairs on my arms multiple times. For a moment there I thought she was sitting there in the living room, watching sitcoms and game shows until she went to bed at night. Like a routine thing I would go into the living room, but only before my hand was on the handle of the door, I realised she couldn't be there anymore. Something in me wanted to check and see if one of the boys was sitting in her favourite chair, but I turned around and stayed in the kitchen.

There was an extra table in the kitchen. There was the table where we always sat and drank tea in the afternoon with her favourite brand of chocolate biscuits and beside that one was the table that we always used at special occasions such as Gran's eightieth birthday when we used this table as a buffet table for all the food and drinks she got. On this second table were cards laid out in neat stacks. There was a list next to it labelled "to do list." I picked it up and read through it. It was the same kind of paper and font that the funeral home had used when my mum died. I scanned through the items and discovered that the items were not the same as with my mum. Aunt Margaret stood behind me and picked up one of the baby blue coloured cards from the blue pile.

"I wanted to see the colour first before I sent it out and I wanted your opinion on it. It's important to me." I put the list back on the table and looked at her.

"It's nice. She would've liked it." I picked up a card with the same colour but with a different paper texture.

"I would take this one. Its surface is smoother than the other cards."

She took it from me and gently rubbed the surface.

"You're right. This one's better, but let's decide in the morning. I could really do with some sleep. Are you okay with sleeping in your old room? I would like to sleep in my mother's room." I nodded.

"Sure. I'll take the spare bedroom."

The funeral was only two days away and I knew my time would be completely consumed with all the arranging and keeping Aunt Margaret sane. Chris and Joseph helped around the house and made dinner for us, which helped a lot. As soon as the cards were sent out, our phones were flooded with messages from Gran's friends who just found out that she had passed away, even friends that didn't receive a card. For a moment I was worried that we wouldn't all fit into the little chapel where the remembrance would be held for her. We couldn't change the venue because it was her wish to have the ceremony there. Gran had made explicit wishes about how she wanted her funeral to be organised and where people would sit and what they would eat. It was impossible at times. At first, we couldn't get the right flowers because they weren't in season. Then there was a problem with the catering. It just kept on piling up and as the day went on Aunt Margaret was more and more focused on her own grief and withdrew from contact. It was all too much for her. So, I sat there at that table surrounded by phones and post it notes with things that I still had to take care of or things that I shouldn't forget.

Those two nights leading up to the funeral I lay in bed at night and all the things I had to do passed before me like I was counting sheep but someone told me I had to memorise how they looked and I would be tested on it in the morning. And in the moments when I did manage to get some sleep, I saw my gran in my dreams telling me that I was not alone or that she loved me very much. In those tiny moments I felt surrounded by loved ones, but during the day, even though Aunt Margaret did all she could manage to do, which wasn't much, I felt alone. It was the same feeling I felt when I was organising my mum's funeral.

The day of the funeral went by fast. My gran was lying there in her coffin and she looked happy. It made me wonder if she missed my mother so much that she wanted to join her, but that would mean that she left behind other amazing people such as me and Aunt Margaret. I dismissed the thought instantly. I knew my gran loved us all very much and she wasn't like that.

And then a moment of silence came over me. Everybody went home or joined Joseph and Aunt Margaret in the pub to get something to eat. There was a humming sound in my ears. Like a bee was flying close to my ears constantly. It was the same sound that I heard after I had been to a concert. It came from the lack of noise of people talking and phones buzzing. Nobody demanded any actions from me. Nobody came over to give their condolences. I remembered this feeling because I felt something similar after my mother's funeral. Only now the humming sound was even more deafening. I held my hands over my ears in order to make it stop, but the sound only became more focused and intense. I took my phone from my pocket and put my ear phones in and tuned in on the playlist that I listened to the most in the last couple of weeks—only I forgot that I had put my mother's mp3s in there too. I heard my mom's voice.

"Jenna?"

I skipped the sound file as fast as I could. I wasn't sure if I wanted to listen to what she had to say. She probably wanted to tell me more about my father and apologise some more. But I was also curious. There were only two more files left labelled Donegal files and after that there was one more, but that was it. No more new files. That would be the end and I had to say goodbye to her all over again. I was not ready to deal with that right now.

"I know you must be angry with me for the last mp3 file. That's okay."

No. This was not the right time to listen to this. I took out my earphones and sighed. I felt guilty that I didn't feel like listening to my mother's voice. I wanted my gran to be here to tell me that everything would be alright. I wanted my mom to be here so I could tell her that I still loved her and that I would always think about her.

I got up and looked around the little dance hall. I imagined that there were people dancing here. My gran used to come here every Thursday night to dance with her girlfriends. She was there on the dance floor laughing, acting all goofy. She would claim that those were the hippest dance moves when she was younger. Only I looked them up on the internet one day and the moves she made were a whole different kind of moves. The image of my gran faded away and luckily the buzzing in my ears had subsided somewhat. Birds chirped outside. A car stopped in front of the building. Footsteps on the marble floor of the dance hall coming closer.

"Excuse me?"

I saw a boy slightly older than me walking towards me. He had an Irish accent.

"Is this the Chips funeral?" His hair was dark, but it had a bright red colour in the last sunlight coming through the left window.

"I am afraid you are too late. The ceremony was an hour ago." I tried to sound friendly and open, but my voice trembled. It was the first time I had spoken after the ceremony.

"Do you know where I can find Jenna Chips?" The boy was looking at an envelope in his hand.

"You are looking at her." He smiled shyly and I caught him looking me up and down for a split second until he looked at the envelope again.

"I know this might sound a bit odd, but could you show me some identification that proves that you are Jenna Chips?" I rummaged through my bag and found my passport which I gave to him. He looked at it and up at me twice, then gave the passport back to me.

"I was instructed to give you this after the funeral." He handed over the envelope and took a step back while he held his hands behind his back and waited for my response.

"What is it?" It was an ordinary white envelope with a piece of cardboard at the back so whatever was inside would not crease.

"I cannot tell you that. You have to open it to find out." I noticed his suit was a bit too big for him because his shoulder pads hung over his shoulders. It actually looked a bit funny. I tried not to laugh out loud and tried to cover it up by opening the envelope. Inside was a piece of paper that looked like an official document. I had never seen anything like this.

"I'm sorry but I don't know what this is. Are you sure this is for me?"

He hesitated but came closer. His hand trembled slightly when he held the document in his hand.

"My mistake. I should have looked at it before I sealed it a few months ago. I'm sorry. Let me see what it says." He read the letters out loud, but I couldn't hear him very well. I lowered my eyebrows slightly and tilted my head so I could look past one of the sides of the paper to see if he was still studying the document.

"Right." He sounded determined. His hand was a bit steadier too. He looked up from the document, looking straight into my eyes. I felt weird all of a sudden. There was a sharp pain in my stomach making me feel nauseous.

"These are ownership papers to a property." His eyes went back to the paper and I saw his eyes making rapid movements while they scanned the page.

"It says here that the ownership of a plot of land in Donegal changed ownership from a Mrs. Rosemary Chips to a Jenna Chips. The property and the surrounding lands have been in the Chips family for generations and ownership was recently passed on to you but will only come into effect after the previous owner is deceased. In this case, Mrs. Rosemary Chips." He looked up again.

"Congratulations. You are the owner of a plot of land in Donegal." He held out his hand, but quickly retracted it when he realised that congratulations were perhaps not so appropriate at the moment. He handed the documents to me and also handed a second envelope from the inside pocket of his suit.

"There was a letter that I was instructed to give to you also." It was a different envelope, but the same logo was on it.

"What does this logo mean?" I pointed at it. The words sounded a bit harsh like I was suspicious of him.

"It is the logo of our firm. I am a junior associate at this firm. They sent me to give you these documents and if you and your Aunt Margaret agree to the ownership, I will escort the two of you to the property and introduce you to the current caretaker."

I stared at the document. I don't know what I was hoping for. Perhaps that someone would tell me this was all a dream or that the letters on the document would change into a different sentence. Something like, "it was all a joke" or "I'm still alive." I don't know. After a few minutes I decided that this was as real as it would get, and no one would keep me in suspense for this long if it wasn't true.

"My name is David by the way. My name could come in handy if you need to contact me." He handed over his business card. The golden letters shimmered in the last sun light.

I took it and studied it.

"So, when do I have to look at my new property?" I had never owned a house or anything of worth for that matter and now I was the owner of a property.

"We will give you a few days to sort out the last things concerning your grandmother's belongings. The reading of her will is in two days at our office here in town. Your grandmother's caretaker, Rita, will be there also." He seemed more relaxed now.

"My firm has represented the affairs of the Chips family for a long time. My grandfather handled the first case personally, then my father took over when he retired and now, I have been appointed the client dossiers to continue the relationship the Chips family and our firm have had for many years. Your family were one of the first customers of our firm when we started many decades ago. My grandfather was one of the founders of the firm." He smiled. I could see that he was very proud of this piece of information.

"So, what you are saying is that my aunt and I are the owners of a plot of land in Donegal. This is the first time I ever heard about it. My gran never mentioned it to me or my mum. Does my Aunt Margaret know about this?" He straightened his tie, looking up to formulate a politically correct answer which he had to think about for a second.

"Margaret Chips has been informed about this. I suggest you contact your aunt for more details about the existence of the property. She was aware about its existence."

"Okay. So, do I contact you? Or do you call me?" Again, my tone was more offensive than I intended it to be.

"I'm sorry. It's just a bit too much. Only a few hours ago I buried my grandmother and now I found out that I own some property in Ireland."

"Your grandmother gave clear instructions that all information should be distributed this way. I am sorry if it is not a good time." He sounded sincere. I believed he was honest and didn't want to cause me any grief in any way.

"I have created an itinerary for you for the next few days. That should make it easier for you and your aunt to know what will be expected of you." He straightened his bag which almost fell off his shoulder. It looked weird to see him wearing a backpack whilst wearing such a fancy suit.

"As you can see on the itinerary," he pointed at the stack of papers that I was holding, but I didn't know which document he was referring to. He continued: "I will pick you up in two days for the reading of the will." He came closer, grabbed the documents from my hands, went through them all and looked for the itinerary. He put the itinerary on top and gave them back to me. The papers were no longer piled in a neat stack but were now skewed in my hands.

"Here you can see the meetings. I have also taken the liberty to book a flight for you in a few days so we could finish up the ownership of your property." There was a plane ticket in the envelope. David took it out and showed it to me.

"But maybe this is not a good time to go over this." He gave me back the papers and took a step back.

"If you need anything you can call me on my cell any time. The number is on the card." He slowly backed up and stopped at the door.

"Goodbye, Miss Chips. We will meet again in a few days and again; I am sorry for your loss."

New Beginnings

My coffee was getting cold. There I was, back where I started the first time I came to Dublin. And again, I had lost someone very dear to me.

It was a Saturday and the Brick Alley Cafe was crowded with tourists and Dubliners on the move to other exciting places like work or home. I was sitting on a bar stool near the window, staring outside while I stirred my coffee endlessly and occasionally glanced at the envelope next to my cup of coffee. I rubbed the logo with my index finger and felt the edges of the sticker. David had told me this letter was written by my gran and she instructed the firm to give it to me after she died. I was a little anxious about opening the letter. I wasn't ready to read her thoughts and wishes. I already knew that she was proud of me and that she loved me. What more could she add to what I already knew? A message popped up on my phone: one missed call. How could that have happened? The phone was lying right there next to me. I picked it up and looked through my call list. It was Finn. He called me a minute ago. Why would Finn call me? I hadn't spoken to him in a while now. I had texted him a few times, but he hadn't answered them. Quickly I paid for my coffee and walked outside to find a quiet spot to return his call.

"Finn, you called me?" There was definitely someone on the other side of the line, I could tell but no words were spoken. I asked again.

"Finn?" I heard sobbing on the other side of the line.

"I didn't know who else to call. She is dead."

Then it hit me. Maeve was dead. That was probably why he hadn't returned my texts. Maybe that was also the reason that I hadn't heard from John.

"Oh Finn. I am so sorry. I didn't know."

"She is gone, Jenna." Tears welled up in my eyes. I didn't know Maeve that well, but I knew Finn and it felt really bad to hear Finn in such pain.

"I'm here for you, Finn. Do you want me to come?

"The funeral is tomorrow. Could you come with me? I need someone there who understands what it is like to be in this much pain." His voice sounded hoarse.

"I'll be there." I hung up the phone with a heavy heart. I hoped he had company there with him tonight. I knew like no one else how painful it could be to be alone on the evening before the funeral.

On the way back to Aunt Margaret's house I realised that I hadn't read the letter yet. It was burning there in my pocket and suddenly I needed to read it now. I took the folded envelope from my jacket pocket and opened it. I looked up to see where the bus was now and how many stops it would take before I was at my destination and stood there with the letter unfolded in one hand while I held my grocery bag in the other. My stop was up next, and I walked forward to the front of the bus and anxiously cursed the slow motorists in front of us to hurry up so the bus would stop, and I could finally read the letter. Finally, it stopped, and I almost forgot to thank the driver because I tripped over my own bag and almost fell off the bus. I could see the bus driver smile at me when she closed the door behind me. I took a deep breath and wiped the hairs from my face that stuck there like fly paper. Then took a step back and leaned against the gate of the church so I could read the letter. Aunt Margaret's house was only a few blocks away, but I couldn't wait. Eagerly, I held the letter like it was a scroll with an announcement on it and the first thing I noticed was that the letter was typed and not written.

My dearest Jenna... They were her words. I could hear her voice when I read the words in my mind. She would say them to me when she had something serious to tell me.

I have lived with a secret since you were born, and I don't want to keep it any more. There were so many times that I wanted to tell you but then your mother got sick and I didn't want to cause her grief. I believed it was your mother's duty to tell you the truth, but she did not have the strength to tell you. So, this duty falls back on me, but I don't want to live with this secret anymore. You should know who your father is. You have every right to know.

I stopped reading. My heart rate went up and I didn't fully understand why my heart was doing that. I wasn't in a hurry to know who my father was. Even though my mother had cryptically told me what kind of man he was, I wasn't sure if I wanted to know who he was. Even though my mother wrapped her story up into a fairy tale she was quite clear about what he had done to her and I wasn't sure if that was the kind of man that I wanted to meet. Besides, I wanted my mother to tell me her big secret, not my gran.

I folded up the letter, put it in my pocket and rushed back to the house. I needed to listen to the recording where she would tell me the truth. There were many reasons why I hadn't listened to it yet. The most important one being that my gran died. But I also knew that after that recording her mission was almost done. After the last recording I was supposed to be able to do this all by myself and I wasn't sure if I was ready for that just yet.

I closed the front door behind me and rushed down to the bedroom where my things were still packed in bags and the duvet cover was recently changed and not slept in yet. I fell down on the mattress and looked for the file of my mother's recordings that I had downloaded to my phone. My earphones were still plugged in.

Dear Jenna...

These words seemed emptier than they normally sounded. They didn't move me as they had done only a few weeks ago. It made me feel sad that she was moving into the background and hearing her voice was like listening to one of my favourite actors on tv—familiar and recognisable but not special anymore.

Dear Jenna,

This is one of the last recordings. I feel the end nearing and there are two more things that I need to tell you. You listened to the fairy tale that didn't end that well and I suspect you have found some other proof of the existence of our union. But before I tell you who your father is, I need you to know one other thing. The Chips family owns some land in Donegal. It has been in our family for generations and when your grandmother dies it will be in your and your Aunt Margaret's hands to take care of it. The only thing that you must promise is that you will never sell it but that you will pass it on to the next generation.

So, it was true. Our family owned land in Donegal and I needed to take care of it.

Now for the news that you have been waiting for.

I heard a deep sigh on the recording.

Your father's name is John Freeler. He works as a photographer for the Times. He is not hard to find on the internet. I found quite easily. Even the newspaper should be able to help you get his details if you tell them you are his daughter.

A pause.

There. I finally said his name out loud to you.

I paused the file and opened up a fresh internet page as fast as I could and typed in the name of my father. Then, it all seemed to fall into place. John Freeler, photographer for the Times. How could I have been so silly. On the screen of my phone was a picture of a younger version of the man I met at the market. The person who invited me to a food festival, who asked me to help him with the wedding photography for his friends. I let the phone fall from my hands. It landed softly on a piece of the duvet. The picture still visible on the screen. John Freeler. I repeated his name twice. The words didn't change in meaning, instead they sounded vaguer every time I pronounced the words.

There was a knock on the door. Aunt Margaret stood there, casually leaning against the doorpost with her arms folded.

"How long have you been standing there?" I asked with a hint of suspicion in my voice.

"Not long." But from the faint smile on her face I could tell that she had seen enough.

"The attorney is waiting for us and Joseph and Chris asked me if it is alright if they can come to the reading of the will." She walked a bit closer, her arms still folded. She stopped just in front of my bed.

"Mind if I sit down for a second?" She held her hand out, her fingertips pointed at the mattress. I nodded and moved over so she could sit next to me.

"I knew about your father, Jenna, but I couldn't tell you. I promised your mother that I wouldn't say anything unless she told you or you found out yourself." She put a lock of hair behind my ear. I tilted my head so I could see her face. The lines next to her eyes were clearly visible and the corners of her mouth were up, it gave me a warm feeling. She slightly tilted her head and observed me, eagerly awaiting my response.

"I know him. He was the one we met at the market." She stopped me there by putting a hand on the hand I used to support the weight of my upper body.

"I know, Jenna. I pretended that I did not see who he was, but I was watching you and him from a place where you couldn't see us."

"Is that why you didn't mind me going to the food festival with him?" I turned my body around and got up from the mattress to grab a bottle of water that was standing on the little table in the far corner of the room.

"Yes. But believe me, I hated the fact that I could not tell you more. I secretly hoped that John would connect the dots and figure out that he was your father." She got up too.

"But he didn't" She stood there before my bed and looked at me to say something in response. I took a big gulp of water from the bottle and it gave me some time to think about an answer.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since the wedding. He doesn't answer his phone and even Finn doesn't know where he is." I put the bottle back on the table and turned towards a chair next to the table that wasn't visible anymore except for the legs because of a big pile of my clothes lying on it. I pulled the first light-blue item which I knew was my sweater from the pile. Some of it collapsed onto the floor. I sighed and shrugged my shoulders, put on the sweater and looked at Aunt Margaret.

"I'll clean up the room tonight or tomorrow. Now it represents my state of mind." Aunt Margaret smiled but didn't say anything. She just stood there, and her gaze followed me as I left the room.

"The reading of the will consists of two parts." David, the attorney, sat up straight behind his desk. He fumbled with his pen and avoided eye-contact with the people in the room by looking at the papers neatly stacked in front of him. There were two chairs in front of the desk. They were placed in an exact triangle with David's chair. The left chair was meant for me, so David gestured for me to sit there, and Aunt Margaret sat down in the right chair. Joseph and Chris were sitting on the couch which was placed a bit further away. Joseph held a mug of tea that he got from the friendly lady at the front desk. His gaze was focused on the scene taking place in front of him with his eyes moving between the three people sitting in front of him.

"Margaret Johanna Chips and Jenna Rebecca Chips. You are the daughter and granddaughter of Rosemary Chips." For the first time David looked at us. We nodded and he continued.

"The affairs of the Chips family have been represented for generations by our law firm and it was your family's wish this would continue into the next generation. Can you please state that you will honour their wishes?" Again, we both nodded and briefly looked at each other to see if we were in agreement.

"Excellent. In that case we can continue to the second part of the will, the division of property." David put a piece of paper and a pen in front of us as he spoke these words.

"Please state your name and your signature to state that you comply with the wishes of the family." We signed the papers and sat back in our chairs waiting for what was next. David collected the papers and put them to one side.

"Unfortunately, Rita, your grandmother's caretaker could not be present today. She had other things to take care of which were of equal importance. She has been informed of the wishes of your grandmother by phone." It looked a bit odd to hear David use fancy words. He was roughly the same age as I was. I would invite him for a drink in the pub if he wasn't so formal.

"The Chips family owns a property of significant size in county Donegal. Your ancestors have had great difficulty maintaining this property during the constraints of the English occupation and other threats throughout the years. Because of these predicaments it was the wish of your great grandfather that the property would be preserved for future generations to come and carry the history of the Chips family." He stood up as if he was giving a presentation.

"How the property will be used is up to you to decide. However, there are a few restrictions. You can read all about them in the brochure we have prepared for you."

Aunt Margaret put her finger in the air like she was a student with a question.

"Yes." David sounded like the perfect school teacher.

"My mother rarely spoke of this property. How can it be that it is passed on to us now?" She folded her hands and briefly looked at me.

"Your mother experienced the property to be a burden instead of a blessing. She instructed our firm to hire a caretaker and propose a rather charitable use for the property instead of a residential use." He rummaged through another stack of papers and took out a few photographs which he placed in front of us.

"Over the years it has served as a pop-up location for restaurants, village markets, it was even used as a temporary school when the local school was under construction." Aunt Margaret and I looked at the pictures. There were children in school uniforms sitting in a garden reading books and writing in little notebooks. In the back was a large mansion. The brick structure looked recently renovated but a closer inspection suggested it was built quite some time ago, maybe even centuries ago.

"What will be expected of us?" Aunt Margaret said while she gave the picture back to David, who nodded in a friendly manner in both our directions. His posture wasn't as straight as it was at the beginning. Also, the pen that he had held and played with was resting on the table. He sat down again and moved his chair closer to the desk.

"Basically, your task is to preserve the estate and make sure it will stay in your family for as long as possible." He looked for some other documents on the table.

"I have listed all the details and the previous functions of the estate in the brochure. Also, the contact details of the caretaker and the staff are in the brochure."

"And what will it cost us?" Aunt Margaret leaned forward in her chair. Her face was tensed while she waited for the answer.

"There is a trust fund specifically dedicated for the maintenance of the property. It should have enough money to cover the yearly costs of the maintenance. All other costs should be covered by you or by potential revenue from events or functions."

"When can we see the property?" I knew it wasn't as good a question as Aunt Margaret had asked but I wanted to contribute to the conversation and let them know that I was actively participating in this.

David looked for another piece of paper on his desk. By now the papers were no longer in neat piles but were scattered across the desk.

"We are leaving in two days for Donegal to inspect the property." Frantically, he tried to organise the chaos on the desk, but it was no use. He only made it worse.

"The day after tomorrow I will personally drive you to the estate and we will meet with the caretaker to discuss the details." He looked at his watch and then at us.

"I need to go now. You have my number if there are other important questions. We will see each other the day after tomorrow." He put all the papers in a folder and into his backpack, quickly shook our hands with a firm grip. He nodded at the boys sitting on the couch and made for the door like a whirlwind going through the office leaving us in a state of slight confusion. I walked to the desk. David had left the brochure for us to find. I waved it in the air in front of the boys and made a gesture that they moved closer.

"We have two days to think of plans for our estate." I said in one big sigh. Margaret rushed off to the dront door and Joseph followed her to see if she was alright.

### Sadness All Around Us

About two years ago....

"Jenna. We need to talk." I had never in my life heard my mum use such a serious tone before. Not even when I was a little girl in desperate need of a good old spanking.

"Jenna, please. Can you please come here and sit down for a second?"

I hurried into the living room, my hands still wet from doing the dishes and sat down next to her.

"I'm here. I'm here. What is all the commotion about?" My mum's eyes looked watery, and her mascara was smeared on her cheek bones. She blew her nose in a tissue and held it in her hand, squeezing it tight.

"I was at the doctor's office and they told me that the cancer has spread even more than they thought it would." The rest of the words sounded like I was suddenly under water and she was standing on the edge of the pool. I felt myself floating through this immense force of nature, struggling with every stroke my arms tried to make in what seemed like a thick layer of custard. A warm hand on my upper arm snapped me out of this weird dream-like moment.

"Jenna?" Her voice was calm and steady. How long had I been caught in my own thoughts? It felt like it was only a few seconds.

"Jenna? Look at me." She cupped my face in her two warm hands, making me turn my body towards her and move closer to where she was sitting.

"Look at me, my sweet baby girl." The tears kept coming and I didn't have to do anything for it.

"We'll get through this. You hear me. We will get through this." I nodded. Her hands were still holding my face, which made it harder for me to move, but I wanted so badly to show her that I was with her. That I wanted to fight this fight with her. For years she had been sick and for years the doctors had said that it would only be a matter of time. And then they got our hopes up by enrolling her in one experimental treatment after the other. All with equally good odds.

My voice was lost in my throat, so I curled up on the couch and lay next to her in the dent of her breast bone and her shoulder. She was warm and soft, and I closed my eyes and took in as much of this moment as I could. I wanted to remember this whenever I felt lost or alone. I pinched myself quite hard in the soft skin on my lower arm, just below my elbow. I read in an article somewhere that it sends a reminder to your brain and that whenever you pinch yourself in the same way as you did the first time you "planted" it, it will give you the same feeling as the original pinch. I wasn't sure if it was true, but I wanted to remember this moment. The way her warmth radiated on me and her breathing, which was heavier than normal because of the flu symptoms she had had after her last chemo.

"Mum?" My voice was back, and my breathing returned to normal.

"What does this mean? What did the doctor tell you would happen now?" I pushed myself up so I could turn my body slightly and look at her face, which was red and blotchy.

"It means that we need a miracle." I saw her eyes tear up again as she held the tissue under her nose to stop the leakage.

I remember looking at the stars that night. They looked different—or maybe I just looked at them in a different light.

"When I leave, I will be up there with the stars." We were lying on a pile of blankets and pillows in the garden on the little field in the middle. It was a cold evening, but we didn't feel a thing because we were wrapped up in as many layers as we could find within half an hour. We often came out here and looked at the stars. My mother would tell me stories about great gods and various myths from Ireland. For someone who had left the country at such a young age she was very knowledgeable on the subject. I could ask her anything about mythical creatures from Ireland or poets for that matter. I sometimes imagined the stars becoming the creatures that she described.

"Will you promise me one thing?" My mother found my hand under all the different fabrics and squeezed it slightly.

"Anything for you, Mum." I tried to look at her face but there was a pillow in the way and for some reason I was glued to the ground.

"I want you to think of me every time you properly look at the stars and that once in a while you will do something like this and remember me." She sighed, very loudly.

"And I want you to promise me that whenever you have kids you will tell them about me, the grandmother who is looking at them from the stars." I got up and sat there with my arms folded and my legs folded like a swami from India.

"Mum, you are not going to die that soon. You will be here for a long time. At least a few years more." I was pissed off at her for saying such negative things. My mother sat up straight too and leaned on her left arm. She tried to put a hand on my arm, but I refused. In fact, I stood up and turned my back to her.

"Jenna? Please don't ruin this moment. I really need these memories."

"For when? When do you need these memories? For when you are dead?" I walked inside and left her there on the lawn.

Maeve's Funeral

Church bells rang. The sound freezing up every nerve in my body with every clang. This was the third time I had heard bells like these this year and I couldn't help but associate these sounds to the sounds of funerals from now on. I walked inside St Audoen's church where the service was held before Maeve would be brought to her final resting place. Finn was inside talking to some people that I recognised from the wedding. Daryl, Maeve's husband, was there too of course. It was devastating to see him like this. I remembered him being very happy at the wedding. It must have been absolutely horrendous to lose his wife in such a short time. My heart grew heavier as I walked into the church. Not so long ago I was in a similar church with white candles and that distinct smell of lilies and freshly cut green leaves. My eyes watered up from the memories of not so long ago. I had to stop for a moment and held the door post so I wouldn't fall. I wiped my eye with a tissue that I held in my right hand for the occasion because I already knew I could not keep a dry eye today.

Finn spotted me there in the door opening, instantly excused himself and walked over to me. He kissed my cheek and gently pinched my arm that was holding the tissue. He looked at my face and I saw a forced smile on his face, probably because he wanted to make me feel welcome in all this sadness.

"Do you mind if we go outside for a short walk? I could use the company and the fresh air." His voice was hoarse.

"Sure. But isn't the service about to start?" Finn turned around facing the coffin. There was a clock hanging hidden in a corner. I understood why it was there, but it was alien from the rest of the ambience—the beautifully decorated windows, the heavy red curtains that hid some of the extra altar supplies and extra chairs in case more people showed up than the wooden benches would accommodate. I noticed there were more flowers than at my mum's or grandmother's funeral. It looked like the church was turned into a magical forest with pink roses and some decorative autumn ornaments such as tiny pumpkins and acorns even though they were a bit out of season. As if Finn could read my mind he said,

"Maeve's favourite season was autumn. She would make the most extraordinary things with her classes. They loved her for that."

The other thing I noticed was the coffin. It wasn't wood-coloured with a thick layer of varnish but white, and there were things written on the sides.

"Maeve was a school teacher. She wished for a white coffin and many markers for people to write something on the top and the sides. Some kind of a farewell message." He grabbed my hand

"Here. Let me show you." We walked around the coffin and I saw the most extraordinary drawings on the coffin. I touched some of them lightly, but I hesitated because it felt wrong to touch someone's coffin. Finn handed me a marker.

"Her students made her some drawings. They were painted on the coffin and pictures were taken that the principal will show in class tomorrow. Even though she knew she was sick, and she would die soon, she still wanted to let the children be a part of this. It is what she loved." He pointed at one drawing that was placed prominently on the front of the coffin. It was a red-coloured heart with A loves MM. You will never be forgotten.

"This was from Amber, who was one of Maeve's favourite students. Amber would only listen to Maeve. The other teachers had a really hard time handling her, but Maeve could do nothing wrong." I saw him look up in thought. There was a faint smile on his mouth.

"You can write something too, if you want to." I shook my head.

"Maybe later. I don't know yet what I want to say to her. I didn't know her that well."

"No problem." He put the marker down in a box with all kinds of coloured markers.

"Shall we take a walk? I really want to talk to you about other things than the funeral. I need a moment of peace before I give my speech to all the people here." We walked out of the church and turned left at the parking lot where we could walk on a small patch of grass.

"So. How have you been?" The question was really forced as if it was compulsory for him to ask me that question and frankly, it felt odd to talk about me when it was such a horrible day for him.

"I'm fine. Let's talk about you. How are you feeling?" He rubbed his face with two hands and a deep sigh that seem to come from his toes escaped his mouth. He sat down on a picnic bench and put his elbows on the table and rested his head in his hands. I sat across from him and looked at him.

"Jenna. I am really glad that you are here." I put my hand in the fold between his upper and lower arm and lightly squeezed the soft skin of his arm.

"Thank you for inviting me. I'm glad I could do this for you."

He blew his nose in the big satin handkerchief that he pulled from his trouser pocket. I could see that he had used it often today. It was all wrinkly and it definitely needed a wash after today. He tapped the bench with his flat hand.

"Jenna. Could you please sit here next to me? I really need a hug from someone other than my brother-in -law or my mother." I nodded, stood up from my side of the bench and walked over to him. He followed my every move and slowly nodded his head when I sat down next to him and rubbed his shoulder unintentionally with my upper arm. It sent a spark through my arm that stopped in my spine. It felt good to be close to him, but this was not the time or place to explore romantic options. He leaned with his head on my shoulder and sighed.

"Jenna. Can I ask you a question? Does the hurting ever stop?" He swung one leg over the bench, so the front of his body faced me. He continued:

"You are the only person who I know that has any experience with so much loss. First your mother and then recently your grandmother. How do you cope with that?" My heart was heavy while I thought of my mum. How could I ever get over the loss of my mum? She was my everything, my life.

"The pain will always be there. It will come back at different times in your life when you least expect it, but the hurt will be different. It becomes a part of you." The corners of his mouth were down, and his lips were shut tight. His eyes were staring at the ground while his foot tried to move a stone on the ground through a small grass knob.

"And how long before that happens?" He didn't look up and continued to play with the stone.

"I don't know. It is different for everyone." I also swung my leg over the bench, so I was sitting in the same position only facing him. I grabbed his right hand in both my hands, and he stopped moving the stone with his foot.

"It will be alright. Finn. Look at me." I moved my head a bit to see if I could worm my way into his sight. A tear fell on his knee and the liquid spread out a bit, so it looked like he'd spilled water on his trousers.

I loosened one hand and put my finger under his chin and lifted his head.

"Trust me, Finn. It will all be alright. Even though things seem lost now. It will be alright." He nodded and blew his nose again in the big satin handkerchief.

"It just hurts so much, Jenna. I have known her all my life and now she is gone. She was the one who saved me from the big bad bullies in school. Who is going to save me now? What if I screw up and don't live up to her expectations? What will happen then?" I put one hand on his shoulder and gently moved my hand up and down from his upper arm to his shoulder. I had known this feeling all too well and it was the worst. Even then I knew that I shouldn't doubt myself. I knew for sure that I had been the best daughter she could have ever wanted. But still, there was that doubt that tried to wiggle its way in.

"I know for a fact that she could not have wished for a better brother and that you loved her very much. I know that she would be proud of the man you've become. I know she was proud because she told me so herself on her wedding night." My hand touched his face and I rubbed his cheek with my thumb.

"Stop being so hard on yourself. You are an amazing person." There was a faint smile and a sigh. I could see by the way his shoulders went down a bit that he was relaxing a bit more.

"Thanks, Jenna. That was just what I needed." Someone came to us outside and asked us to join the other people in the church for the service. I sat next to Finn and held his hand throughout the service. He squeezed it very hard at times, but I didn't mind. Anything he needed today was fine with me. I was just glad that I could help out a friend.

After the service when all the people were gone, I stayed with Finn for a little while longer to see if he was okay. The people from the church were clearing out all the cups and saucers and everyone had left except for the immediate family. I sat alone at a table and looked at how Finn was talking to his brother-in-law. It was hard to imagine that no more than an hour ago he was a nervous wreck. He looked confident now. I could see him reassuring Daryl by putting one arm around him and slightly pulling him closer towards him. He finished it off with a friendly pat on the back while his gaze was locked upon mine. For a minute there I thought I saw the confident Finn I'd seen at the wedding. The one who was charming and dashing.

He said goodbye to Daryl and walked in my direction. I got up from my chair. I don't know why exactly but it felt like the right thing to do.

"Are you ready to go?" He held out his hand as an invitation and I accepted it.

"Where are we going?" I asked and looked at his face to determine the mood he was in.

"I need to eat something. I haven't eaten all day because of the stress, and I would love to have some company." I nodded at him.

"Alright. I'll join you."

We got take-away around the corner from Finn's house and fetched a bottle of wine from the Spar across from his house. I'd never thought that he would live in the same area as my Aunt Margaret, only a few blocks away. His house was a small cottage in the back of someone's yard. The main house belonged to an old lady who rented out the cottage to someone who in return would keep an eye on her at all times. He would do little jobs around the house for her and helped her with her groceries. Without Finn she would be forced to move to a home, and she detested that thought.

The little cottage was lovely. It was big enough to have a small kitchen, a huge couch that took up half of the cottage and a desk that took up almost the other half. The ceiling was lowered above the couch to make room for an extra floor where a double bed could fit.

It was cosy and it felt like it was his own. He had made it his own with posters and pictures. It suited Finn's personality very much. I hung my coat over a chair and walked to the couch.

"Do you need any help with anything?" I said before I sat down. I anticipated that he would say no and indeed he did.

"No, thanks." Three containers with red sauce stains on the side and the top were placed on the table in front of me.

"Can you please open these up. Then I will get the plates." He rummaged through a drawer and a cupboard and came back with two plates and cutlery. He sat down on the other end of the couch. At least two persons could fit between us. I knew it was inappropriate to expect anything at this time, but I didn't think that Finn would sit so far away from me. I knew it was silly to worry about that right now, but I thought we were friends.

"I am really glad that you were there with me today. I feel like you are the only person at this point who understands what I'm going through." He didn't look up from his food and took a big bite of his lamb madras.

"Wow, I was so hungry I could eat the whole container." He smiled and looked up.

I was taking little bites from my dish. I wasn't that hungry.

After we finished our dinners, he asked me to put the dishes in the dishwasher so he could do something. He said he would be right back but was a bit secretive about what he was doing.

When I was done with the dishes Finn called me from the garden. I approached carefully because I didn't know what I could expect there. Finn came rushing in and grabbed my hand.

"Come on. I need to show you something." We rushed outside. Finn was holding my hand quite tight in his as if he was excited about something.

Behind his little town house was a row of conifers. He navigated me through them, still holding my hand tight. Then we entered an open space. It was like a little sanctuary hidden in a garden in a normal row of houses. There were candles and little lights that reminded me of the fireflies that we saw in the greenhouse on the day of the wedding. There were oversized pillows on the floor and blankets in bright colours. There was an iron arch over our heads where beautiful roses were growing. They left just enough room for us to see the stars in between the flowers and beautiful green leaves.

"Here, sit down." Finn fell down on one of the pillows. He let out a sigh, arched his back and closed his eyes for a second. He inhaled deeply and he gestured for me to do the same. A beautiful scent entered my nose.

"What is that?" I asked, as I let myself fall on the second pillow.

"Evening primrose. My favourite." He pointed at a stalk filled with yellow flowers. He grabbed one of the flowers that had fallen on the ground and gave it to me.

"Here." He smiled the gentlest smile that I had ever seen from him, seeming more relaxed now than before. Maybe I read too much into it.

"What a wonderful place you have here. I like it very much."

"It is my place to go to when I am feeling sad. I have only ever shown Maeve this place. We were lying here on the same pillows when she told me she didn't have long to live." I remembered the conversation I had with my mum when she told me that the cancer had spread. Finn continued.

"I was so angry with her, you know. It felt like she was giving up. Like she had accepted that it was over." I could sense that he was tensed. The words coming out of his mouth were very forced as if he had to use extra effort to get them out. But then, all of a sudden, he was relaxed again. He sat up a bit more and leaned with his head on his hand while his elbow rested on a big green pillow where my head rested on. He looked at me with much interest.

"Did you ever fight with your mum about these things? I felt so selfish afterwards." I tilted my head slightly so I could look at him.

"I had the worst fights with my mum when it was clear that she wasn't getting better. There were moments when we did not speak to each other for hours after a fight. Luckily, we always managed to see past our differences and understand that the only thing we needed was to be there for each other. That was the most important thing."

"I think you are the bravest and kindest person I know. You have been through so much and every time I see you, you are amazing." A gust of wind gave me the shivers and I grabbed one of the blankets closest to me.

"Are you cold?" Finn looked genuinely worried.

"Here." He moved his upper body up a bit so I could yank another blanket from underneath him. And then he did something that I didn't expect at all. He moved closer to me and laid next to me, gesturing me to lift up my head so I could lie on his arm.

He hesitated for a moment.

"Are you okay with this?" He inquired calmly.

"I can move away if you are not comfortable with it."

"I'm perfectly okay with it." I said with a big smile on my face. Also, I noticed that my shoulders were very tense all day and that now for the first time today they lowered and relaxed. I let out a sigh.

"What was that all about?" Finn said while he gently rubbed my arm with the hand that I lay on. His body was very warm. This was one of the few times that I was close to someone else. Obviously not including my mum. It felt good. It felt like I was lying in a hot tub without the bubbles, or next to a fireplace.

"It's nothing." I said in an almost Russian accent.

"Come on. Spill. What is it?" He squeezed my upper arm slightly.

"I have a lot on my mind, and this right here, right now just feels so good. It feels like all of my problems temporarily vanished and the only thing I have to do is be here with you."

"Tell me. What's on your mind? Maybe I can help. I have excellent problem-solving skills."

"Thanks for the offer but this is not solved so easily." We didn't say anything for at least five minutes, and it was getting a bit uncomfortable. I heard and felt him drum on his chest with his fingers out of awkwardness and I couldn't come up with anything to say except for stating the obvious or asking about the weather.

"Come to Donegal with me." I jumped up and sat up a bit more so I could see his face.

"Wait. What?" He sat up and held his knees with both arms, so he didn't fall backwards.

"Come with me to Donegal." I repeated.

"Why Donegal?" He said while he looked at me raising one eyebrow. I could see he was intrigued by my offer, but I guess he thought he should get a bit more information before he could commit to anything.

"When my grandmother died, she left me and my aunt an estate in Donegal. My aunt and I didn't know about this estate until someone contacted us and showed us the pictures." Finn relaxed and stretched his legs. His torso lay sideways on one of the pillows.

"My aunt and I are going to Donegal in a few days to look at the estate and I really want you to be there for me."

"I am intrigued. However, I don't have any vacation days planned at my work. I can't just take time off just like that." I first sat up on all fours and then leaned backwards as I stood up. It was difficult with all the pillows and blankets. My back was towards Finn and I felt stupid for even suggesting such an outrageous and spontaneous thing.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up." I turned around and looked at him lying there between all these fabrics. One of the top buttons of his shirt was unbuttoned. I was attracted to him suddenly, to his physical self. The candlelight combined with the bright colours around him made his skin caramel-coloured. It gave me butterflies in my stomach and in this moment the only thing I wanted to do now was kiss him. I needed him to kiss me.

He got up too and walked over to me. I swallowed and followed his every move. In my mind he walked in slow motion which stretched this moment very much longer than I wanted. I felt silly and not comfortable at all. Inside I was screaming. I wanted to run away, very far from here, but I was nailed to the ground. He came closer and was now standing only a few centimetres away from me. I didn't know where to put my hands and after moving them around in front of me and behind my back I put them in my pockets. I could feel my fingernails dig into my palm. It hurt a bit, but the pain numbed out the queasy feeling in my stomach.

Should I say something? Should I give in to my urge and kiss him? No, that would be totally inappropriate. He would probably never forgive me for that. The candlelight was behind him and all I could see was a silhouette in front of me. He held my upper arms in his hands, and he squeezed gently. His touch startled me a little and I flinched slightly.

"I am sorry, Jenna. I didn't mean it to come out like that. You just surprised me, that's all." He kissed my cheek and let go of me.

"I'll call my boss right away to see if I can take a few days off." He called his boss and I went home. I touched my cheek a few times. His lips were very soft and the prospect of them possibly touching my lips somewhere in the future gave me a warm glow in my stomach. When I came home, I went straight to bed and before I fell asleep, I crossed my fingers. I wanted very much for him to join me in Donegal.

### About a Property

Three cars were driving in a caravan in the direction of Donegal. One car with Aunt Margaret, Joseph and Chris. One car with David who drove alone and one car that I had bought a few days earlier so I could travel more easily from one place to another in Donegal. Finn was able to take a whole week off. His boss thought it was a very sensible thing to do after Maeve's funeral and told him to take all the time he needed to get some relaxation.

We only had one stop about half way to get some lunch; other than that, we had no delays in our travels and made good progress to be in Donegal before dark. I had arranged for everyone to stay in the same bed and breakfast. We were very lucky because every other accommodation was booked solid for the week since the language school was completely booked up for the summer with foreign students.

While the others were unpacking, I went to say hello to Aoife. When I walked into the gallery nobody was there. I looked at the new photographs that were on display and somehow, I recognised the style the photos were taken in. It is weird, I know. They sparked some kind of recollection. Behind me I heard the little bell over the door signalling that someone was walking into the gallery.

"Jenna!" Aoife walked in with a grocery bag.

"Aoife!" I walked closer to her and gave her a hug, which was a bit difficult because the grocery bag was clenched between us.

"It is so good to see you. How have you been?" We walked to the table in the back of the gallery and I sat down on the small bar stool next to the table because all the chairs had paintings or framed photos on them. Aoife walked into the small kitchen in the back and put on the kettle.

"Now." Aoife cleared one of the chairs and carefully placed the frames on the floor and against the wall. "Tell me all about the last few days. I haven't heard from you in a while." Where to start? So much had happened these past weeks that I'd lost track of everything. She saw I was struggling because I opened my mouth and only short gasps came out.

"How was the funeral? Was it a beautiful service?" She leaned her head against her arm and looked at me very closely.

"It was beautiful. The flowers were beautiful, the music was amazing. A lot of people showed up too. People that I had never seen before but who seemed to know a lot about me."

"How are you doing?" I sighed. How was I doing? I had no idea, but I wasn't ready to discuss all of this with Aoife. I was conflicted. I had only known her for a short period of time, but she was such a nice person and I felt so close to her like she was family. So, I answered

"I'm okay," and left it at that. She accepted my answer, but her face showed a different thing. One eyebrow went up. She smiled and observed me just a bit too long for a casual stare. For now, she accepted it.

"Do you know the Morgate Estate by any chance?" She stopped what she was doing and spread out her fingers like a fan on the counter.

"That place has been haunted for quite some time now. Why?" I could see that there was something that upset her by hearing that name. She continued,

"Here. Let me show you what I mean" and walked to her laptop, unplugged it and set it in front of me. She opened up a browser and typed in a website. A picture appeared and it was the first thing I saw when the website was busy loading. It was the same picture I had seen in the brochure that David gave me. Here, it just looked peaceful and very beautiful with the sunset behind the main building and all the flowers in full bloom.

"It doesn't look haunted. What happened?" Aoife went to a different website and I saw the same picture only dark and brownish. It didn't look at all like the photo we had just seen.

"A few weeks ago, the estate was closed off from the public. There was a sign on the main gate saying that it was under renovation. One of the builders then told the local newspaper that he had seen the ghost of a woman in one of the rooms. Nobody has dared to set foot into that big mansion ever since."

"And you believe him?" I closed the laptop.

"Why shouldn't I believe him. Weird things have happened at that estate over the past years. Many people have tried to make the mansion into a success, but so far nothing good has come from that place."

"What do you think should be done there?" I wasn't quite ready to tell her that the estate now belonged to me and Aunt Margaret—and I had rejected the idea of making it into a haunted house for Halloween.

"I think it should be open for the public and not just for weddings and other posh events. I think it should be turned into something that is quite accessible to everyone. It should be part of the community."

"But there was a time that the school was there, because of the housing problem and the renovations of the school."

"Yes, but that was only for a month or so. And still the gates were closed when the children were inside." She planted her hands in her sides.

"You seem to know a lot about it. How come?" I turned to my bag and looked for something to munch, like chewing gum.

"Nothing. Just something I read about on the trip coming over here." I looked at her to see if she bought it. She didn't ask me anything else about it, so I guess this was the end of the topic and I really regretted bringing it up.

"I'm sorry for bringing it up. I didn't want to bother you with it." Aoife didn't seem to respond to my apology, and I thought it was quite rude. She just stared at the door behind me. She looked like she had seen a ghost.

I turned my chair around and it was as if my heart had a jumpstart. Standing in the doorway was John Freeler, my father. He looked at Aoife and then at me but didn't say anything. He walked in, his gaze fixed on our faces, walking in slow motion towards us. Aoife held the counter with her hand as if she needed something to steady herself. She seemed to hold on more tightly as he came closer to us. Finally, when he stood before us, she had the courage to speak.

"John?" Well, it was more than I could say at the time. As hard as I tried, I couldn't get any sound out of my mouth.

"Aoife, Jenna?" He wasn't very communicative either, it seemed. He walked over to Aoife and hugged her while she was still holding the counter as tight as she could.

"What are you doing here?" Aoife asked with a tremor in her voice.

"I haven't seen you in over twenty years."

"I know, I haven't been the best brother there is. I'm sorry." He turned towards me and looked at me with a gentle smile on his face.

"I called Finn this morning. He told me where I could find you. I believe we have a few things to discuss." Aoife looked confused.

"You two know each other?" She pointed back and forth at us and wasn't able to put two and two together.

"Aoife, may I introduce you to my daughter Jenna?" Aoife still looked puzzled, but then she thought about it and looked at me in a very inquisitive way as if she wanted to interrogate me. But then I could see that some of the pieces fell into place.

"You knew that Brigid had a baby? How long have you known? And have you been in contact all this time with your daughter?" She frowned at John, who was staring at his shoes. John first looked up at me and then at Aoife.

"I only found out a few weeks ago and then I still wasn't sure. I was too afraid to ask, so I did some research and it was confirmed that I am Jenna's father." I got up from my chair. "How come you didn't call me? I could've told you whatever you needed to know." I was a bit frustrated. It felt like I had a dad who ran away when things got difficult.

I saw that picture in your journal. I saw the picture of your mum and then I saw the resemblance in your face. I just got scared and ran away." I saw tears in his eyes. I could see that coming here took all the courage he could muster. Still, it wasn't good enough. He had abandoned me. He had me worried sick and he had let me think that it was all my fault.

"I was so worried when you walked away from the wedding. I thought it was something I said or if I did something wrong or embarrassed you in front of your friends or something. I felt awful." My eyes were wet from the tears that I could now finally let out.

"You know what? I can't take this right now. I have enough things on my plate."

I stormed off and left Aoife standing there with her long-lost brother. I needed to get out of there. If he wanted to amend things with me, he could at least give me the night off to think.

When I came back to the bed and breakfast Chris and Joseph were lying on the couch watching a black and white movie, eating some kind of cereal from the box. Aunt Margaret was busy on her phone and Finn was not there.

"Do you know where Finn is?" I stood in front of the television, so the boys were sure to look my way.

"I think he went to the beach and few minutes ago. Something about stretching his legs," Chris answered with his mouth full of crunchies.

"Oh, and I asked if he could drop by the store after that. We are almost out of milk." Joseph said, still trying to look at the television. I still had my coat on, and the beach was only a few minutes away. I could walk there and see if he went there. I could use the company right now.

"I'll be back in an hour or so." I said to no one in particular and left the house through the back door that led directly to the beach.

It was a bit windy, but my coat and scarf seemed to keep the cold out for the most part. My eyes were red and puffy. The cold soothed the redness a bit.

I loved the beach here. The open view, the tide coming in, the gentle sound of the waves coming and going. There were many times in the last weeks that I sat here and just let my thoughts be taken away by the wind. Finn was sitting on the sand fully wrapped in his coat, scarf and hat. His gaze was in the direction of the waves. I wondered if he was thinking about his sister. I guess he sensed that someone was behind him and he turned around.

"Jenna," was all he said. The word was muffled by the scarf in front of his mouth.

I let myself fall down in the sand and leaned back with my hands supporting the weight of my torso.

"Finn." I said a bit awkwardly. This was the best thing I could say at this moment.

"How was your visit?" He pulled the scarf down and I could see some redness in his face. I couldn't see if it was from crying or from his face being all wrapped up.

"It was fine." Now was not the time to tell him more about all the complications in my life. I wanted to know how he was doing first.

"How have you been?" I crossed my legs and bent over slightly to pick up a shell from the sand. I reached behind me and put the shell in my backpack to keep it for later. Finn's face was still partly covered by his scarf and for some reason it annoyed the heck out of me.

"What's on your mind, Finn? Why are you sitting here on the beach feeling gloomy about?" I could see his eyes much better now, and I knew he had been crying.

"Nothing in particular, but...I am happy that you advised me to join you here in Donegal. It is absolutely beautiful here. I can't believe I nearly said no to you when you suggested it."

"Well. I have that effect on people." I leaned to the right and touched him slightly with my shoulder. He immediately put his arm around me. Even though I was wearing a heavy woollen coat I could faintly feel the warmth of his body.

"You are an extraordinary woman, Jenna Chips. You have no idea how you influence people in a positive way." I was smiling from ear to ear but wanted to hide that I was so flattered by his remark.

"Well, you also affected me in a positive way. You made me realise that it is alright to talk about my grief and to be a little bit selfish at times." He grabbed a strand of hair that was in my face and put it carefully behind my ear.

"Since when did I ever say something like that?"

"You didn't have to. Your actions did all the talking for you." He leaned in and before I knew it his lips were touching mine. It was like a flame ignited in my belly and the warm glow filled my whole body. First his kiss was careful, but then the touches became more frequent and a little rough. Then all of a sudden it stopped and there was a slight tingle on my lips where his lips touched only a few moments before. I touched it with my fingers, but the aching feeling wouldn't go away. My lips were aching for more of his touch. He smiled at me a bit shyly. As if he was caught by surprise.

"That was not something I had planned to do." He apologised, taking his arm away from my shoulder.

"I suppose these things are not something that can be planned...or can they?" I was a bit lost and instead of that proud, independent girl I went back to being the little grey mouse that I was before coming to Ireland.

"Let's go back to the house." His voice was very serious as if he had done something that he shouldn't have done. It made me feel a bit awkward. This was the second time I kissed someone in Ireland and both times it was weird.

When I got back to the house it was quiet. Finn went to the shop to get some more milk and I just wanted to be alone and think about what had happened today. I was tired. It was a very tiresome day. I had no idea what to do with John, or if should I call him "Dad" from now on. It felt odd to do that. So, I decided that I should call him John.

I missed my mum. I wanted to have her advice on the matter. That was what I always trusted; she would know what to do.

My backpack was on the floor and I reached down to grab the earphones that I had shoved in the side-pocket. Something fell out, something that I did not recognise. I jumped off the bed and squatted down on the floor to pick it up. It was a black USB stick that I had never seen before. The label on it was a bit smudged, so I couldn't see what was on it. Luckily my laptop was close-by and I opened because I really wanted to know what was on it. There were four folders. One was labelled YOUR PARENTS. One was called VIDEOS and the other two were called ONE and TWO. I clicked on the first one. In it were two more folders. One was called IMPORTANT PAPERS and the other one PICTURES. Again, I clicked on the first one. In the folder were all kinds of important documents such as my birth certificate, even a copy of my mother's will. I went back and clicked on the pictures folder. There were a lot of pictures in here. It looked like she had digitised her complete photo collection. There were pictures that were taken here in Donegal. When I scrolled through a few of them I stumbled upon a picture of my mum and what I thought was a younger version of John. The picture was slightly blurry, and I was annoyed with myself that the first thing I noticed was the quality of the picture. I smiled. I bet John would be annoyed by the same thing. There was something about this picture that endeared me, though. They looked happy and I could tell that they were in love.

I almost forgot after my mother's confession of how I was conceived that actually they loved each other very much and that only the circumstances weren't perfect. I was a bit blind sighted by what my mother had told me, and I realised that my whole life, I had trusted my mother's opinions and stories. Which was very logical since my father wasn't there to give me his side of the story. But I had never doubted my mum. Should I have? Should I have made up my own mind and talked back a bit more? I had always done exactly what she had asked me to do, including coming to Ireland.

My heart jumped in my chest. It was really scary to realise that I had to question what she had taught me and to learn to form my own opinions now. I needed to think about what I thought was right. But did that mean that I should give John a fair chance to explain to me what had happened all those years ago? I thought it did.

I closed my laptop and pulled the USB stick out. Raced downstairs without saying hello to anyone. Hopped into my shoes, put on my coat and a woollen beanie that belonged to my aunt and raced out the door in the direction of Aoife's gallery to see if John was still there. Aoife had already gone home for the day when I arrived, but for some reason I knew that she would be at the local pub, so I rushed there to see if John was there with her. I was right. The rest of the pub was very quiet, but Aoife and John were both there and entangled in a heated conversation. Carefully, I listened at the door if I should interrupt their conversation, decided that this was too important to wait, stormed in and sat down at their table. The conversation went dead instantly. I looked at them while they were surprised to see me.

"I thought you needed some space?" John said in his bossy voice. He jumped up a bit from the pokes that Aoife secretly gave him.

"John be nice. Can't you see that she is giving you a chance." John finished his pint and sighed.

"I'm sorry. As always, Aoife. You are right."

What now? I was sitting there, and the words just didn't come to me. I had practiced a few scenarios on the way over, but none of them would come out.

"Why have you come here, Jenna?" It was Aoife who broke the silence.

"To speak to my father." The word father sounded very foreign to me. John pricked up his ears when hearing the word. It was probably not something he had heard a lot and certainly not lately.

"How did you know for sure I was your daughter?" I relaxed a bit and rested my back against the wooden panel on the wall behind me.

"It was the photograph of your mother in your journal. Also, my memory of that summer and how your face reminded me of someone the first time I saw you. It was like we were destined to meet at that food market." I smiled.

"That memory is very dear to me." I said with a grin on my face. Aoife looked at us.

"I never realised that you looked so much alike. But now I see the pair of you together it is crystal clear." John and I looked at each other to see if Aoife was right.

"And you have never known, the both of you, that you were related?" Aoife pointed at us both. We nodded and said no at the same time.

"Alright. That means you have a huge amount of catching up to do. I'll be at the house if either of you need me. And of course, you are both welcome to join me for dinner tonight." She got up from her seat and grabbed two bags from the floor, one with groceries and the other her handbag. She gave us both a kiss on the cheek and before she walked out of the door, she looked at us and said,

"I am so happy I have my brother back and that I have gained a niece in the process." She smiled. My aunt Aoife. That thought slowly seeped in.

"So. What do you want to talk about?" John had a smile on his face, and he leaned forward so I had his full attention.

"I'm not sure. There is so much I want to know about you, about Mum and about what happened the night I was conceived."

We sat there for a few minutes and it was awfully quiet. Until I knew what the perfect place would be to talk about matters such as these.

"Get your hiking shoes. We are going to the top." I jumped up and looked down to be sure I had my hiking shoes on.

"But." Before he could speak, I had already interrupted him. "No buts. Too much time has been wasted already. It is time we start our new life afresh and I know the perfect place to do this." John jumped up from his seat. He smiled at me and looked at me in a strange way.

"I still can't believe that you are my daughter. You are everything that I want my daughter to be. You are smart, witty, kind, beautiful and strong-minded—just like your mother was." I smiled shyly. Dealing with compliments wasn't one of my strongest skills.

"I don't know you very well and I was told my whole life that my father was not a good man, but I think you deserve a second chance. I was fortunate to get to know you before I knew who you really were. I want to know who that man is. Because I believe that man is all that I want in a father. He is smart, very talented and, I guess, strong-minded, but that is alright." This time he smiled shyly. I recognised myself in him. Suddenly I saw how much we are alike and why the small things seemed so familiar when we were working together on the two jobs that we did together. I instantly knew that I had inherited his eye for detail and his love for the beautiful things in life. Even though I had inherited plenty from my mother too.

We walked to the tower together and talked about plenty of things. I could ask him twenty questions and when I had asked my twenty questions, he could ask me twenty questions. The climb to the top was strenuous. We were both tired when we reached the top, but it was the best thing in the world right now. We were doing this activity together as father and daughter without anyone here to criticise or blame us.

"What did you want to be when you were younger?" He asked me when we were halfway to the top.

"A consultant." John laughed.

"A consultant? What kind of consultant?" I smiled back at him.

"I liked the word consultant, so I wanted to be one." John laughed. "That is the dumbest thing I have ever heard." I stopped.

"Are you mocking me?" He had to catch his breath and was glad that we stopped for a moment.

"No. I would never." His words were soaked in sarcasm and I poked him in his side. He was still catching his breath, but he was very ticklish and fell down on the ground in a wet patch of grass. We both laughed. From a few metres away a sheep was looking at us strangely. As if it were saying that he was tired of all these crazy people climbing up here.

"I need to take a little break. Here, sit next to me." He tapped the wet grass.

"I am not sitting in this wet grass. I am perfectly fine standing here." I said in a bossy tone.

"Suit yourself. We can go on in a few minutes. I just need a small break." I turned around and looked at the view. Seagulls circled the cliffs that seemed far away from us. They looked like pin drops against the immense cliffs rising up from the Atlantic. Suddenly it hit me. I was destined to be here. I was conceived here. This was my home. For a moment all the grief that still hung over me like a dark veil fell off. For a second, I felt perfectly happy just standing here, feeling the sun on my face. I closed my eyes and let the sound of the wind rustling through the tall grass be the only sound that I needed.

John got up and stood beside me.

"Isn't it beautiful?" I nodded. My eyes still closed. "I feel perfectly happy at this moment." John put a hand on my shoulder which surprised me.

"I am glad to be here with you. There isn't any place that I would rather be than with you right now." We looked at each other and made our way to the top where we sat on a little bench close to the edge of the cliff.

"I want to ask you a serious question and I want you to tell me the truth." I stood in front of him and planted my hands in my sides. "Even if you know that it could change what there is between us." His look changed and became serious.

"Sure. I promise."

"What really happened on the night that I was conceived. I don't understand what went wrong. You two loved each other. I just can't understand how you could do something like that to my mother." He sighed and looked down.

"I don't know what your mother has told you, but I am glad to have this opportunity to tell my side of the story." He got up from the bench and walked up to the tower. When he came there, he touched the stones where I found the piece of paper. Somehow, I felt my mother's presence near us, but this time it was only a feeling.

"Your mother and I spent a lot of time here near this tower. We watched the sunsets from that side." He pointed in the direction of the Atlantic Ocean and the bench we were sitting on only a few minutes ago. He looked at me and smiled.

"Your mother was the most beautiful girl I have ever seen." He walked over to me and I could see a tear rolling down his face.

"I loved her more than I loved life itself. We were destined to be together and we would have been if it wasn't for that stupid night. That one night where I had too much to drink because I was so nervous." He shook his head and continued.

"You see, that night I wanted to ask her to marry me, but I got so nervous that I had too much to drink." He fell on his knees and held his hands in front of his face and started to sniffle away. It took him a few minutes before he continued. I didn't know if I should comfort him or leave him there. I stood there with my hands in my pockets looking at a man who was crying like a baby. He looked up and saw me still standing there as if nailed to the ground.

"Come here for a second." I did what I was told and walked over to him, sat next to him and put an arm around his shoulder. He held my hand in his and I looked into his eyes. The same eyes that I had been looking at in the mirror for the past years.

"This is the first time that I ever talked about what happened that night. I was too scared to face up to what I did. But now it is too late. Your mother is dead. I can never tell her how sorry I am."

"I am sure that deep down inside she knew that you didn't mean to do what you did." I wasn't making it any better. My mother had never spoken about regret, but then I remembered I still had a few files left on my phone.

"Can you give me one second?" I asked while looking for my earphones and scrolling down files with my other hand. There were only three files left that I hadn't listened to yet. One labelled Donegal 6, one labelled Goodbye and the last one was called for John. I skipped to that one and listened to the first few sentences. It was indeed a file that was meant for John. My mother must've known that I would try to find my dad.

"Dad." The word still sounded strange, but I knew it had potential.

"Listen to this." I pointed at my phone.

"What is it?" He came closer while wiping away more tears from his eyes.

"It is the last file that my mum recorded for me, but it is meant for you." He took one of my earphones and together we walked to the bench where he and my mom had sat many times before watching the sun set in the Atlantic Ocean. We listened to the tape together.

Dear John,

Believe me, it is not easy to talk to you through a tape recorder. Besides, it is hard to imagine who you are now since I haven't seen you in such a long time. I hope your daughter is there with you. I guess she must be there, since you are listening to this file. Our wonderful and beautiful daughter Jenna. Oh, there were so many times that I wanted to pick up the phone and tell you about our wonderful daughter. I hope you got to know her and have seen the amazing talents she possesses. She is much more talented than she will take credit for. She reminds me of you for that matter.

We looked at each other. He held my hand and pinched it slightly.

When you are sick things are put in different perspectives. I used to be so angry with you. Even now when I record this, I feel a tingling sensation on my skin. But I realised recently that I got so angry because I still love you. I used to think what you did was unforgivable, but then all of a sudden, I realised I was the stupid one. I should have called you and told you about our beautiful daughter. I was the one who was selfish by not letting you know what was going on.

The tears returned. This time I joined in. It was a magical moment. As if for one moment my parents were here together talking to each other and we were the family that we never were.

I am so sorry John. I am so sorry for not telling you about her.

The recording stopped. The two of us were sniffling away on top of that majestic hill with the sun slowly dropping into the sea behind us. We just sat there, saying nothing. The only sound was that of John nervously scratching his jeans with his fingernail. We looked at each other and both smiled. When I looked up, I saw two white butterflies twirling through the air. A warm feeling washed over me, and I knew that my mum was watching over us. That she would always be there for me, for us. Suddenly an idea came to me. I jumped up and looked at John with my eyes wide open.

"I know what to do with the mansion." I said, throwing my arms up in the air.

The next few days were a bit of a blur. I had told everyone the plan and they agreed unanimously. It was such a perfect idea I almost facepalmed myself for not thinking of this sooner. I needed all the help that I could get so I contacted Daragh and he was thrilled about the idea. Now, everybody was on board. There were many things to take care of, so we divided the workload.

Aoife and Margaret both worked together on the business side of the plan. I was in charge of decorating and John was in charge of the PR campaign that we would launch as soon as everything was settled. Unfortunately, Finn had to get back to Dublin, but he promised that he would be back for the grand opening. Things were a bit awkward when he left. It felt like there was something good between us, but we both didn't quite know what that good thing was. I knew he liked me, and he knew I liked him, but with all the commotion that surrounded us it was hard to tell if either of us misread something.

### Grand Opening

It was a beautiful summer's day in Donegal. The sun was shining and there were only a few speckles of clouds in the sky. I was on the beach to clear my thoughts just before the big opening in a few hours. It felt like I had been running from meeting to meeting for the past four weeks, which was probably true. I needed this moment to just relax and take it all in.

As soon as I felt refreshed, I walked back to the mansion. The big iron gates were freshly painted a dark green colour. It made the entrance seem much friendlier than it had before. Also, the gardens were redone. The sound of trickling water fell down a wall of beautiful dark marble stone with silver letters that said Chips Mansion, and below it there were elegant letters also in silver: Remembrance Home.

I touched the marble lightly and felt the cool water running over my hands. It made me smile. The final result was even more beautiful than when I designed it together with Aoife and Margaret, who were the creative minds behind all this. I couldn't be prouder of them and couldn't have done it without their help.

I walked towards the kitchen where people from a catering company were busy polishing glasses and preparing champagne bottles. Without anyone looking I nicked one of the little salmon toasts that looked absolutely delicious. My mouth was full when I ran into Daragh.

"Are you stealing your own food?" he asked with a smile on his face.

"Uh-uh," I said with my mouth full. He tilted his head slightly and planted his hands on his hips.

"Alright. Yes. I nicked my own food." My own food. That sounded really strange. But it was the truth. I am the proud owner of a nursing home. At least in name because I did not have any credentials or papers yet to be fully in charge. Other people are helping me out to make this dream come true.

"Gran is almost ready to come downstairs. When do you want to start with the speech?" We were almost ran over by servers with big plates of food to bring out to the guests so we went out of the kitchen and into the courtyard where all the guests were slowly gathering. It was still early in the evening.

"I'd say in an hour or so. Most of the guests will be here by then."

"Alright! Have you checked out the memorial room yet? We finished it this afternoon, just in time for the opening." He smiled. I knew he was proud of his work and now he got to show it off.

"I am glad you are happy with the result. I know you put a lot of effort in that room. Were you happy with the sepia photos of your gran and my mum that I developed for you?" He grabbed my arm and pulled me with him towards the memorial room which was just a few metres from where we were standing.

"Here! Look for yourself. I personally think this is the best room in the house." Daragh had banned me from going into this room during the renovations. He had the key to this room, and he locked it every night when he went home. He had spent weeks painting and dragging furniture around the mansion. I was okay with that. This was his project and he wanted to create something that he knew everybody could be proud of, especially his gran. She hadn't seen it yet. So, it would be a surprise to her.

"I love it, Daragh. It feels like home. And I love the little reading nook that you set up in the corner with the little library. It's so cosy." The whole wall was filled with pictures. I walked past them to look at them more closely. I stopped at one of them that I recognised very well. It was one of my mum and me at home after a crazy movie night. We put on some crazy hats and took silly pictures.

"You look so much like her." I looked to my right and saw John standing next to me.

"She would have been so proud of you for what you are doing now." There was a tear in the corner of his eye. Before he could speak more, I hugged him and almost started to cry myself. When I was able to let go, I took a step back, smiled at him and slightly pinched his upper arms.

"I know Mum would have forgiven you and I know she would have loved the man that you have become. I am so proud that you are my father." He gave me a tissue from the box that was standing on a side table next to him. So handy that Daragh even thought of a detail such as tissues in a memorial room. I knew I could trust him with this. I hugged Daragh and kissed him on his cheek.

"It's even better than I thought it would be." His cheeks coloured red from the excitement and I could see that he was happy with the response that he got. I stayed there in that room until I saw Joseph's ginger spikes appearing in the doorway.

"It is time, Jenna." He gave me his arm and together we walked to the central hall where the ribbon cutting ceremony would take place. I had asked Daragh if his gran would do me the honours as the first guest in our house and she happily agreed.

I tapped with a spoon against my glass filled with champagne to get people's attention. I briefly looked around and saw many familiar faces. Aunt Margaret and Aunt Aoife were standing close to me. I smiled at them to let them know I was alright.

"Dear friends and family. I am so glad that you all have come to the new opening of the Chips Mansion. I am so proud to see you all here in the wonderfully refurbished hall of a mansion that has been in my family for generations." I looked around for familiar faces and saw Finn moving through the crowd. He stopped right in front of me, looking really sharp in his jeans, blouse and blazer. He gave me the warmest smile and I almost forgot what I was about to say. So, I briefly glanced around the rest of the audience, smiled endearingly and went over my speech in my head to know where I left off.

"My mum, Brigid Chips, and my gran, Rosemary Chips, were two amazing women that I looked up to immensely. They taught me to be kind and honest, but also to appreciate life and the arts." I glanced at Aoife and Margaret who were standing together with glasses of champagne in their hands, which they briefly raised to support me.

"This year was a difficult year for me, since I lost both my mum and my gran this year. It was very difficult to cope with this and sometimes I felt really alone. Luckily, I had my aunts Margaret and Aoife, my cousin Joseph and my dear friends Chris, Daragh and Finn to help me through these difficult times." I held up my glass.

"Thanks, guys. I wouldn't have been able to cope if it wasn't for you." Finn winked at me and it gave me a wonderful fuzzy feeling in my belly. I'm sure my cheeks also had a slight red blush on them.

"I have lost two amazing women, but I gained a father in the process. We met by coincidence and from the moment we met on that market in Temple Bar I was sure we shared some kind of a connection and I was right. I'm looking forward to getting to know you more. Here's to you, Dad!" I raised my glass and the crowd did the same. I took a big gulp of my champagne and looked at John who was beaming with pride.

"My mother gave me a journal with assignments that I had to complete here in Ireland. At first when I arrived here, I obeyed every command in the journal and the mp3 files that she sent me. I even went to a tattoo shop even though I was really nervous about getting a tattoo." I looked at Chris who was standing arms linked with Joseph. He winked at me and I felt blessed.

"Along the way I started doing my own thing and made the journal more my own. I mean, I am still a Chips woman and we are known for being very stubborn." Chuckles throughout the audience. I saw my father nod at me with a cheeky grin on his face.

"To give you an idea of what she asked of me I want to read a part of the instruction to you." I scooped my journal off the floor and opened it at the page where I had left a bookmark and started reading.

"Dear Jenna, Donegal is the most beautiful province of Ireland, I think. Most of my childhood memories were made in this place. We always stayed at the Morgate Mansion until your grandfather died and I remember the majestic garden and the view of the ocean like I was there yesterday. I'm not sure what happened to the mansion, but when you are in Donegal, I want you to locate it and take a picture and put it in your journal. If the mansion is open to the public, I want you to go into the main hall," I looked up at the ceiling, "and look at the beautiful ceiling. I remember lying on the floor with my hands behind my back and looking up at that ceiling." I saw the crowd look up. There was a colourful tableau painted on the ceiling of the mansion and a sea monster coming out of the ocean about to attack the mansion. A tiny man stood on the beach, sword at hand, ready to attack the monster. Margaret and Aoife had both retouched the painting, so it looked fresh and new. They did an excellent job.

I continued with the story.

"There are a few things that you should remember to bring to Donegal. Always be dressed for four seasons, so wear layers." I stopped, looked up and smiled at the crowd.

"This advice I ignored. Which resulted in me getting soaked to the bone on my first day of arrival here because I had put my raincoat in my suitcase and not on." I looked up at the ceiling.

"You were right, Mum. I was wrong." And again, the audience chuckled. I closed the journal and held it against my chest. The audience could clearly see the ruffed edges and well-worn spine. There were different coloured ribbons hanging from the journal. Every ribbon had a different trinket hanging from it varying from a sea shell to some colourful beads.

"I finished the last recording and the last task two weeks ago and I was afraid it would leave me with an emptiness, but it is quite the opposite. I am filled with joy and happiness for having found such a new life with new family and friends." I sniffed once and noticed that a tear had rolled down my cheek. I wiped it away with the palm of my hand.

"I would like to start with the ribbon cutting. Can I please ask Daragh to bring out our first guest of our home—Mrs Dorothy Jagoe." The crowd cheered and Daragh pushed Mrs Jagoe's wheelchair from the crowd onto the podium. Beside her was Rita, my gran's long-time caretaker. She had agreed to help me start up the new home and work for me. So far, Mrs Jagoe was very fond of her. It was good to have her here. We talked about gran and about my mum. She knew both of them very well. My Aunt Margaret and Joseph were close relatives, but they had seen my mum or my gran only a couple of times in the last ten years. Rita was there. Always.

"Do you want me to help you with the scissors?" I bent down and held my mouth in close hearing range of Mrs Jagoe because I saw she hadn't put in her hearing aid. She nodded and together we cut the red velvet ribbon that blocked the beautifully decorated stairs to the upper level which hosted eight guest bedrooms and my own chamber which I used as both sleeping quarters and office. It wasn't big, but it was big enough for me to do what I wanted.

There were more rooms outside on the property. The building that used to house the stables was transformed into three apartments. Also, the servant's quarters had been renovated. This would now be the house of the caretakers. The people who took care of our guests. Sometimes they might be long term carers of the guests and they could spend the night if it was necessary, but also for the nurses who were hired as permanent staff.

The crowd clapped and cheered when the ribbon was cut.

"Please follow me for a tour of the mansion," one of the staff members said while standing at the bottom of the stairs.

"We will start upstairs and slowly make our way to the garden where we visit the external buildings." A group of people walked up the stairs and the others made their way into the garden where the sun was still shining. When I was about to make my way to the garden someone tapped my shoulder. Chris and Joseph stood behind me.

"Could you come with us, please," Chris said in his sweetest voice.

"We have something to show you." We walked towards the communal living room. This was one of my favourite rooms. There were high bookcases that were filled with all kinds of genres. To serve everyone's needs. There were reading chairs, couches and a wooden table which could fit up to twelve people. I bought the wooden table myself. I found it at a second-hand store on the internet. It needed some refurbishing, but that was one chore that was on my list for the next few days. I hadn't been at the mansion for the past few days. I stayed with Aoife to arrange the last details before the party. I hadn't even had time to see how all the rooms had turned out.

There was a filthy piece of cloth draped over the table. I grabbed the corners on the short end and started to pull it off when Joseph stopped me.

"Wait!" He exclaimed. As if there was something on the table that might break if I pulled it off.

"Before you rip off this hideous piece of cloth, we want you to know that this present is from me and from Chris. We hope you like it. We--" Joseph looked at Chris, who smiled back at him— "Think it is the perfect gift for you." I was getting curious now.

"Alright." Chris said. "On the count of three. One...Two...three!" I pulled off the piece of cloth and I saw a beautiful table which seemed to sparkle in the light that hung above it. I touched the figure that seemed to be burned into the table. It was the tattoo design that Chris had made for me when we first met in Dublin. It was beautiful. Chris pointed at the corner opposite of me. Someting was written there. I walked around the table and read, "Brigid & Jenna Chips forever." My eyes teared up and I hugged both men.

"This was indeed the best present that you could have got me. I like it so much."

I fixed my makeup in the bathroom and went outside to mingle with the guests. Everyone was in a good mood and the mansion looked wonderful. Even the weather seemed to be friendly with us. I looked around for Finn, but I could not find him anywhere. I even asked my dad if he had seen Finn, but he hadn't seen him for quite some time. I decided to check my phone and send him a message. He had already sent me a message. "Too many people here. Went to the beach to take some photos. Meet me tomorrow for breakfast in town?" I sent him a thumbs up.

That evening I lay on my bed with my journal held tight against my chest, staring at the ceiling. I was happy. So many people came to the opening and everybody was happy and gifted me with many compliments. There were presents and flowers everywhere and the most important thing—my family and Mrs. Jagoe all had the biggest smiles on their faces. It was like they were touched with something magical.

I put my pillow up straight against the wall, sat up with my journal on my lap and flicked slowly through the pages. So many memories from the first moment I got the journal. I had carefully filled the first pages with a few meagre words in pen. The pages became more colourful and more illustrious as I came closer to the end where only a few empty pages were still waiting for me to fill with more memories. I stopped at the first empty page and took a pen from the night stand.

My dearest mum,

Today was one of the happiest days of my life. I still wished you could've been there, and I missed you, but missing you felt different, as if it was alright to miss you because I knew that you would always be close to me. That your presence would always be known in my heart. Today it felt as if the dark place in my heart, the place where it hurt the most the last few months, had become lighter. It felt as if that empty dark spot had been filled with love again.

In the past months I have met so many people who have become very special to me. Also, the things that I have done. If you would have told me a year ago that I would go to Ireland by myself and do all the things that I have done now, I would have said that you were crazy. It is crazy when you think about it. I have aged a few years and turned from a shy little girl into a woman who can change the world.

I know now that this is exactly what you wanted to accomplish with this journal and with the money you left me. You wanted me to start living. You have always known that there was an adventurer inside me and that it needed a gentle nudge to come alive. I am so glad that you did. At first, I was very scared, but now I am not scared anymore. I have my father, my aunts, Joseph, Chris, Finn, Daragh and many more wonderful people who I have yet to meet.

So many things have been answered and so many things have led to all of this. The only thing that I don't know is what I want to be when I grow up. But I guess that question is something that can't be answered after only a few months of adventure. There is so much more to see. Even though Ireland is very beautiful, and I consider it my home now, there is more to see in the world than just this island. I feel an urge to see more. I want to pack my camera, well, technically it is John's camera, and travel the world. There are so many stories to tell. My editor Sean Murphy asked if I could do some more freelance work for the Times. I might do that. John told me that he was thinking of travelling some more. Maybe we could combine things. It would be an excellent way to get to know him better. I think you would be proud of the person he is today.

I stopped writing for a second because there was a knock at the door.

"It's me, Margaret. Can I come in?" I put the journal on the nightstand

"Yes, please come in." She sat down on the bed and took my hand for a second.

"I wanted to talk to you about something." She sighed and drew circles on the bed sheet with her free hand.

"I was talking to Rita today and she didn't want to burden you with bad news on the day of your opening, but I think you should know this." Her face was strict. There were worry lines above her eyebrows.

"As you know we had to put everything from your mum and your gran into storage because we didn't know yet what to do with it. It turns out that the storage company wants our stuff out because they are closing down. We need to go to England this week to sort through all the things we want to keep and all the things we want to throw away." I knew this moment would come, but I had hoped that I would have had more time before diving into that emotional roller coaster. At first, my heart beat faster, but then a relaxed feeling washed over me as if someone or something told me that it would be alright and that it would aid me in my new life. It would mean more closure.

"I don't mind Aunt Margaret. I'm actually quite alright with sorting through all that stuff. It sounds silly, but I think it is good for me to clear out all that stuff."

The worry lines faded on Margaret's forehead and she looked relieved.

"You really don't mind?" She asked and her face lit up.

"I really don't mind," I said again and gave her a hug which she happily returned.

"Would it be okay if I ask John if he wants to come?" Margaret looked a bit puzzled.

"Why do you want John to come?"

"I think he needs a little closure too." When Margaret left a few minutes after that, I called John and he was more than happy to join me. He said it would give me an idea of what life in England was like. We would leave the next day. We could borrow Aoife's van so we could also bring some things back, but first I would meet Finn for breakfast.

He was already at the cafe when I walked in. He stood up and gave me a hug before he sat down again.

"Thanks for meeting me here." His hands were fidgeting with the napkin on the table and I thought I saw some pearls of sweat glistening on his face.

"No problem. I'm glad that you were at my grand opening yesterday. It was really good to see you there."

"It was beautiful. The way you spoke about your mother really touched me. It made me think of my sister." The waitress came over and took our order.

"Do you mind if we have this to go? I would love to have our breakfast on the beach," he said while rubbing his hands together. I thought it was a bit odd since we were seated already, but he was acting really strange and I didn't want to be fussy or suspicious about it, so I agreed. We didn't talk much while we were waiting for our sandwiches to be ready. It was mostly small talk about the weather and about the opening. As soon as our order arrived, he jumped up and put on his coat.

We were silent for the whole ten minutes that it took us to walk to the beach. I noticed Finn was walking a bit faster than usual as if he had another appointment and he had to get this out of the way first.

We sat down. I was really getting uncomfortable now. This was nothing like the charming Finn I had found so attractive at the wedding and not the Finn who invited me to his sister's funeral and definitely not the Finn that I had grown very fond of.

"What's up with you?" I said as soon as my buttocks touched the sand.

"You are acting rather strange." He sighed and took a big gulp from his tea. He almost spit it out again when he realised that it was still a bit hot. He looked at me and wiped his mouth with his hand. He moved closer. His face was now so close I could feel his warmth radiate towards me. He closed his eyes and slowly searched for my lips. When he found them, he paused for a moment, opened his eyes before he opened his mouth and pressed his lips on mine again. I moved closer and placed my hand on the base of his head and moved my fingers through his hair. He moved closer too and put his left arm around my waist. His kisses were harder, and his lips were more open so he could let his tongue find mine. I put my other arm around his neck and sat up on my knees, so my body was turned towards his and it was easier for him to press his body against mine. My hand moved down and stopped on his chest where I could feel his heart beat very fast. His grip tightened. I felt my body press against his and a wave of tingles moved through my body and sent an aching feeling between my thighs. This was all too much. I pushed him away gently to come up for air.

"What was that all about?" I touched my lips. They were swollen and warm from the kisses.

"Don't get me wrong, I really liked it, but you were being a bit weird only a minute ago." He sat back down, grabbed his sandwich and took a big bite. He was looking straight ahead as if he had to think hard about what he was going to say.

"I like you, Jenna. I really like you a lot ever since I met you at my sister's wedding, but..." He stopped and took another bite.

"I don't think this is going to work. I have a life in Dublin that I can't just give up. I need to be there for my brother-in-law. You live here and have things you want to do. I can't hold you back from all of that. That wouldn't be fair to you." He had a point and it was a valid point, but still there were two people involved in this and it wasn't fair that he had decided this on his own. And it wasn't fair at all that he said this after such a passionate kiss.

"I see." I swallowed some of the words that I wanted to say after that because, sure, he had no right deciding for me what was and wasn't fair to me, but he was still my friend and he deserved better than me yelling and cursing at him. I grabbed my sandwich and also took a big bite.

"Is that all you have to say?" He looked at me, his eyebrows raised.

"Well no, but I need to think about the right words to say." I said with my mouth full. He laughed and rubbed my arm.

"You are funny when you try to be serious." His laugh was amazing, and the touch let the tingles come back.

"Jenna, please say something. I don't want to feel as if I'm breaking up with you before we even had something to break up." I looked at him, my face strict.

"What do you want me to say, Finn?" My phone chimed and I took it from my pocket because I suspected it was Aunt Margaret to tell me that we really should be going now.

"I don't think it's for you to decide what is fair and what isn't fair. You don't get to make that choice for me." I searched for all my things and put my sandwich in my bag to eat later in the van.

"I think you are a coward. I think you are afraid to open up to me because you don't want to get hurt and you mask it with all kinds of excuses." I got up, wiping the sand from my jeans and shirt.

"I think if you really like me, you would find a way to make it work. I haven't decided yet if I want to be here. I have enough money to study at Trinity next year and live in Dublin, but I could also stay here and work at the mansion. Heck, I could travel the world and do freelance work for the Times. I don't know yet." I looked at him. The corners of his mouth were down and the lines above his eyebrows were wrinkled.

"I like you a lot, Finn. I wished you would've kissed me in the greenhouse where we sat watching the fireflies. I thought that moment was so spectacular, and I really wanted you to kiss me back then, but you didn't." I turned my back to him. He got up and touched my shoulders.

"That isn't fair. I was very sad because of my sister!"

"Well, you said I made you feel very happy."

"Well, that doesn't mean I have to kiss you." His face turned a bit red. The veins in his neck swollen.

"Fair enough. Then you could have kissed me when we were at your place drinking a bottle of wine and lying there on the pillows looking at the stars. You gave me a kiss on my cheek then." I folded my arms and shook my head to let a strand of hair fly away from my face.

"Not fair either. It was the day of Maeve's funeral." He threw his backpack over his shoulder, ready to leave.

"Finn? I think you are looking for too many excuses not to be with me. If you can't just be with me. If you have to be so dramatic about us being together than please leave and never come back." I watched my phone. I had two missed calls and really needed to go if we wanted to be in time for the ferry in Dublin in a few hours.

"I need to go. I'm already late." I started walking back to the stairs which led to the street. I resisted the urge to look back and leave him there on the beach. Slowly, the irritation I felt in my body relaxed with every step I distanced myself from him. It felt good that I had taken the initiative to end this before I would get hurt.

"I remember this." John held up a notebook from a storage box.

"This was the journal I gave your mother when we were studying in Donegal. She would write a letter to me every day telling me how handsome I looked and how much she liked me." There was a meagre smile on his face and his eyes watered up.

"I loved that woman so much." I walked over to him and gave him a hug. He threw his strong arms around me and held me tight. I saw a tear falling on his shirt.

"I wished she would've told me about you." I said whilst letting out a sigh.

"I could've found you sooner and maybe she would have forgiven you and we could have been together, the three of us." He let go and looked at me.

"I don't know. I'm just happy that I found you now and that I have a whole lifetime to spend with you and to get to know you." He put the journal in the SAVE box and rummaged through some other boxes.

"What happened with Finn this morning? You weren't happy when you climbed in the van. You barely said a word until we were on the ferry." I closed up the box I was holding and put it with the other boxes that we wanted to donate.

"I don't know. Finn is making up all these excuses not to be with me. I just got tired of being kept in the dark about what we were, you know. One minute he says I'm wonderful and the next he won't even look at me."

John handed me a bottle of water. I wiped my forehead with my sleeve. The temperatures in this warehouse were well above normal British summer, or even Irish temperatures.

"Finn is a complicated boy. He has a lot of trust issues." He shook his head and sighed.

"I have known him quite some years now and he has always been troubled. Actually, the first time I saw him looking relaxed was when he was with you." He lifted up two big boxes and put them on the table ready for inspection.

"Give him time. He'll come around. He just needs some time to get used to the idea."

I stopped and looked at him.

"I hope he won't need too much time because I can't wait forever. What about you, Dad?" He laughed.

"What's so funny about that?" I picked up one of the boxes, but my gaze was still on him.

"I still can't get used to you calling me 'dad.' It sounds amazing. It sends a positive shiver through me every time you say that to me." I smiled.

"I'm glad you like it. It feels a bit weird though, because I've called you John so many times." He put one of the boxes next to me and gave me a pat on my shoulder.

"I don't care what you call me, as long as it isn't something like bastard or asshole. I would not be comfortable with you calling me that." We laughed and looked at each other while we wiped some more dust and sweat from our faces.

"But, what about me?" he asked, curiously.

"Don't you have someone you fancy? It must have been a while since you had a girlfriend." He sighed.

"I don't have time for that. I much rather stay single and travel the world and see beautiful places than have someone keep me in one place." He looked at me and checked my expression to see what that piece of information meant to me.

"I got an offer to do a travel piece for the Times in September. Apparently, Irish people like to look at pictures of tropical islands in the autumn and winter months. I could use a good photographer and some excellent company on my trip." I was quiet for a while, didn't know what to answer.

"Think about it. The job is yours if you want it." After that we didn't say anything for what seemed like hours, while in fact it was only a few minutes. John broke the silence first.

"Do you want to see how far your Aunt Margaret has come?" He said in a cheery voice. I noticed a few days ago that they had become very good friends. Which I didn't mind. I was happy about it.

In a few hours' time we had managed to clear out half of my mother's boxes. Aunt Margaret had managed to clear out almost half of my gran's stuff and was in desperate need of a break, so we went to a pub near the warehouse. We ordered food and something to drink while we talked about all kinds of things. It was nice to be here, sitting, drinking, having fun. I realised how important it was to have family around me and how, in hindsight, that was one of the things that I had missed in my life growing up. My mum and I never visited family and they never visited us. Except for my gran. Here I was, talking to my aunt and my father about the important things in life. I felt like I was home. Whatever I did, wherever I went in September, there would always be someone waiting for me and a place that I could call home. I felt the broadest smile appearing on my face. At first, my dad and aunt were so busy talking that they didn't notice it, but then my father looked at me and forgot to finish his sentence.

"What's up with you? You look like a maniac who is about to commit the crime of the century." I believe there were tears welling up in my eyes because I felt something warm and wet on my cheek.

"I'm just feeling very happy and lucky that I have you guys to call my family."

It took us two days to sort through all of the boxes. We stayed one more night before driving to the boat the next morning. It was a double goodbye. I was saying goodbye to England because I had decided to permanently move to Ireland to be with my family. Aunt Margaret and Joseph already expected me to move here, but now it was definite. Plus, I had to say goodbye to a lot of memories that we had left in boxes. We could only take as much as the van would hold, which meant that all of my old furniture and trinkets from my apartment were donated to Goodwill. I wanted to start over with new things and a new life.

The trip back to Ireland went very smoothly. We stopped in Dublin to offload some of the boxes at Aunt Margaret's place. She stayed in Dublin and John and I drove back to Donegal to deliver the other boxes. During the road trip we talked a lot and got to know each other really well. When we had unloaded the van and put all the boxes in one of the sheds on the grounds of the mansion, we went inside for something to drink. We sat at the table in the living room and met two new guests who had moved into the mansion. Daragh temporarily moved into the mansion to do some of the handy work. That way he could make some extra cash since he wasn't earning much by being an archaeologist. I helped him occasionally with some pictures of monuments that he would write about on various websites and in archaeology magazines. I tried to call Finn a few times, but so far, I always seemed to miss him, and he didn't call me back.

A few weeks later I went on a trip with Daragh. There were a few monuments that he wanted to capture. I hadn't seen much of Ireland yet, so I was happy to tag along with my camera. One day, we were in a place called Westport. Daragh always had the wish to climb the Croagh Patrick and he wanted me to join him. It took us a few hours to get up, but the view was amazing. We stood up there feeling happy and proud that we had done this. The next morning, we would go to the Aran Islands and stay on one of the islands. Daragh knew the owner of a B&B on the island and he hadn't seen him in years.

The boat ride over was very beautiful. The sun was shining, and the sky was the bluest I had seen in a long time. We left the car on the mainland and walked from the boat to the B&B. The house seemed newly built. It looked like a cabin, but then ten times as big with three layers. The owner, Diarmuid, had built the house two years ago. His parents had sold the B&B to him because they were finally ready to enjoy their pension. They lived in a cottage behind the house. His wife Naomi, who was pregnant with twins, greeted us with a cup of camomile tea.

When I walked inside, I was in awe of the beautiful wooden furniture and the glass roof of the living room which was light and filled with all kinds of plants. I sat down on one of the reading chairs that looked vintage, but the seating was decorated with a woollen mat that let you sink into the chair, so you never wanted to get up again. The only thing missing was a book.

"Can you please close your mouth. It is not polite to stare, young lady." Daragh put a hand on my shoulder.

"I am in awe. This is exactly the style I want for the mansion."

"I knew you would love this place." He walked towards the glass doors, slid them open and walked into the garden. I got up too. I was very curious. The house was already beautiful, and I wanted to know if the garden was equally or even more enchanting.

The garden was immense. There were flowers, vegetables, trees and shrubs as far as I could see. Diarmuid stood behind me.

"We own a substantial part of the island and we grow most of the food here ourselves. It's hard work, but it is very much worth it." I looked at Daragh who couldn't stop smiling. He said to Diarmuid,

"I didn't just come here to see you, old friend." He turned to me.

"I have known Diarmuid since we were little boys growing up in Donegal." And turned back to Diarmuid,

"Jenna here is now the proud owner of the Morgate Mansion and I wanted to show her what you have done with your island to give Jenna some great ideas for the mansion."

Diarmuid nodded his head.

"Feel free to ask me anything. From costs and profits to the best crops you can plant in Donegal. I am your man." Naomi called Diarmuid from the kitchen.

"Excuse me for a second. My lovely wife needs me." He gave Daragh a pat on his shoulder when he walked past him.

We explored the garden some more and I studied every detail and made a mental note of every flower and crop that I came across.

"It must have been a lot of work building this place." I said while I gestured Daragh to sit down on one of the picnic benches. I didn't see that Daragh had brought a bottle with a pink clear liquid. He poured us two glasses and sat down across from me.

"Yes, and it wasn't easy. He went through some tough times. I will spare you the details. He can tell you yourself if he wishes. It is not my story to tell, but he used that heartache to turn this place into a sanctuary for him, his wife and anyone who wants to stay here. Everyone says that this is the place where they find peace and solace."

The drink was a bit sweet, but I liked it.

"What is this?" I looked into the glass and took another sip.

"It's an old recipe. He found it in a box somewhere in storage one day. It was a cookbook that had belonged to his gran."

"Nice. But what is it?" Daragh smiled.

"He won't tell me. He always lets me guess the ingredients and I'm almost right except for one secret ingredient. Maybe you can help me."

I was so tired from travelling that I slept for a few hours after lunch. When I woke up, Daragh was waiting in the living room for me.

"Finally. I thought you would never wake up." I threw a sock at him and he ducked at the right moment.

"Come. I made you something." He handed over a ring that was big enough to fit on my head. I held it close to my nose.

"Lavender." I said as I took a big whiff and exhaled through my mouth.

"Calms the senses, helps relaxation. Basically, it's good for anything." He took my hand.

"Come. I'll show you where I got it." We walked through the garden and took a left at the end. We ended up in a field filled with clover and wild herbs. We walked over to a row of trees and walked through it. On the other side I saw the ocean and before we reached the ocean, we walked through a lavender field that seemed to go on forever. I took the scrunchy from the sloppy bun on my head, put the band that Daragh gave me on my head and stood there with my arms held up high and my eyes closed. I let my nostrils fill with the smell of lavender. I never wanted to leave this place. I just wanted to stay here and dance through the lavender. I felt empowered, like I could take on the whole world by myself.

"Watch out, or you'll get a lavender rush. It can cause extreme happiness." He walked over to me and threw a plaid on the ground.

"Here, take some water." I took a sip and looked into Daragh's eyes. I saw happiness, but also a little nervousness that I had not detected before in him. I always saw him as being in complete control, always sure of himself.

"Did you know that you are an amazing person, Jenna Chips?" He lay next to me, resting his head on his arm.

"I don't think I have met anyone more determined and more in control than you." He leant over and planted a kiss on my lips. It was soft and warm, even warmer than it was outside. It took seconds before I didn't feel his kiss on my lips anymore. I didn't want the feeling to be gone. I wanted to feel it again. I looked into his eyes and touched his cheek. He didn't care to shave on the trip and his skin felt manly and rugged from the stubble. Every time I touched his warm skin, I felt a whirlwind of feelings go through me. An ache settled in my stomach and the feeling moved down between my thighs. My breasts tightened and my chest felt like it was about to burst. I needed his body against mine so he would muffle the explosion. I put my arm around his waist and pulled him closer.

His lips immediately pressed on mine. My hands moved wildly over his body as if I wanted to learn every groove and every dent. He lifted my dress over my head, and I felt really aware of my almost naked body, but it felt good to show my body to him. He traced the line between my breasts with his fingers and I shivered. He took off his shirt and my hand went through the hairs on his chest. He made a sizzling sound and I felt him shiver under my touch as my nails grasped his nipples.

He gently grabbed my buttocks and carefully took off my undies before moving my legs over his hips. With one swift movement I was sitting on top of him. He moved his hands under my bra and slid it over my head as I bent down to kiss him. He rolled me on my back as he took off his shorts and grabbed a condom from his wallet with his spare hand.

"You came prepared," I said in a hoarse voice.

"It was bound to happen soon. I have wanted to do this from the first time I laid eyes on you," he said as he kissed me more passionately than he had done before. He towered over me and kissed my belly with his warm lips which slowly, but eagerly travelled down to my hips and inner thigh sending sparks through me with every kiss. It was almost too much. I needed him. I needed all of him. I pulled him closer and tilted my pelvis as a sign that I was ready for him. I kissed his neck and gently ran my fingers over the sweaty skin on his back, which gave him even more pleasure.

We stayed out there in the field for another hour or so. Our bodies strangled in each other.

"Did you plan this to happen here?" I smiled at him and planted soft kisses on his chest.

"Well. I hoped it would happen. I didn't plan it. I had no idea if you were into me that way. I knew we were friends." He sat up.

"I brought you to this place to show you true beauty. I was in a really bad place a few years ago and Diarmuid offered to let me help him build this sanctuary from the ground up in exchange for a place to stay. It gave me a sense of purpose. What I mean to say to you is, you can build a place like this in Donegal. You can build a place of purpose, of meaning. I don't know what your plans for the future are, but I'd say you have a great place to build a sanctuary. Grow your own food. Build your own house, a place where you can start a family. There is plenty of room on the premises." I sat up straight too so I could look at him. I grabbed my dress which was just within arm's reach.

"You are right. I'm glad you brought me here and I can see plenty of possibilities, only I can't do this on my own." He cupped my face.

"That is the beauty of it Jenna, you are not alone. There are plenty of people out there who are willing to help you. I know for a fact that Diarmuid will want to visit your mansion and give you some tips. Together we can achieve great things."

"But what if I want to travel first? I haven't been anywhere except England and Ireland." He laughed and gently rubbed my upper arm.

"I don't see why you want to leave a country such as this, but I understand what you are saying." He got up and looked for his clothes.

"Yeah, go travel the world. Take a year or even more for all I care, to decide what you want. The mansion is not going anywhere. I am not going anywhere. You could even get some inspiration from foreign cultures." He walked back to me. The sun was behind his head and I could see only his silhouette, which was astonishing. Suddenly the man I joined on a road trip was much more than that. He felt like a partner or like someone who would wait for me and give me all the space I needed and still be there for me. I felt blessed and couldn't be happier in this moment.

"You are everything I need right now and even more than that. You know that?" He was now standing in front of me being a head taller than I was.

"I don't know about that, but I do believe you are someone I could learn to love for a long time." He held me in his arms and squeezed gently.

"Let's make plans for the future and see where it leads us." I liked his realistic view on life. I wasn't sure where this romance would lead us and if it was meant to last forever, but I knew that it was absolutely perfect for now.

That evening I went down to the beach by myself and wrote in my journal. There were only two blank pages left.

Dear Mum,

Today I felt the love of a man for the first time and it made me understand a bit more about the relationship between you and dad. I understand now that loving someone is complicated and can leave you with a lot of doubts and heartache when the person is not in sync with you. Loving someone is a lot of work. I think I get that now. Even the love of a parent for its child or a grandparent even. Love is a token that you have to take care of. It does not take care of itself automatically.

This journal is filled up to the brim with memories and tokens of love and appreciation. It is time for me to start another journal. A journal that I create for myself with the things that I want to do. I am so happy that you made this one for me. It has given me back my creativity. It has helped me to think outside the box and colour outside the lines again. Something that you taught me when I was younger, but something that I had forgotten along the way.

I will give you a preview of the things that I will put on my new list:

  1. Visit every continent in the world.

  2. Build a house for myself.

  3. Love the people around me. Unconditionally and without reserves.

The rest of the list will be filled in as I go along. For now, this is enough to keep me going. I have already bought a new journal. On the first page I have glued a picture of a painting that I made a few weeks ago. I painted one of our best moments together. It makes me smile every time I look at it in the memorial room.

For now, I close this chapter. I love you, Mum. You will always be close by and you and Gran will never be forgotten. I'll make sure of that.

